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da-rulah · 5 months

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In Cold Blood - Terzo x f!reader

Summary: Solitude had always appealed. Perhaps that’s why you took on this project… The thought of transforming a dilapidated old Victorian farmhouse into a sanctuary of your own, to live in peace and the romanticisms of a gothic home you fell in love with.

After the structural integrity of the house is replenished, you fill your days with DIY and decorating, bringing to life a house that had been frozen in time and left to rot for decades. You could enjoy the solitude of the land already, a few miles outside of a town plagued by disappearances and a fear of the dark. But you couldn’t escape the news of more missing people, nor the strange occurrences happening around your new home.

Were you imagining things? Or was there indeed a shadow haunting your sanctuary?

Rating: Explicit, 18+ MDNI Word Count: 19.6k (i'm back bitchesssss)

Warnings: Dark fiction, horror fic, mentions of murder, coercion, manipulation, obsession, masturbation (f), voyeurism, manhandling, threat and mild violence, dubious consent (later turns to verbal consent), oral sex (f receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, blood, blood drinking, unprotected sex

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WARNING: This is a work of DARK FICTION. It is a horror fic, and contains mentions of violence as well as elements of dubious consent and manipulation. Please do not read if this is going to affect you negatively. You have been warned, and I take no responsibility if you choose to ignore the warnings and triggers attached.

a/n: well hello there. It's been a while, hm? Radio silence and then BOOM, a 20k word fic outta nowhere? Well, this was written for the wonderful @angellayercake's birthday, and she's been so kind as to give her permission for me to share it. I promise, more new content coming soon, and I'll be working on an update for The Mayor's Daughter ASAP! Happy reading, creeps...

“What’s the catch?”

The real estate agent blinked at you in confusion, as if you’d just asked her to recite the square route of pi to the 30th decimal.

“The… the catch?” she asked, “I don’t understand.”

“Well, it’s just so cheap, I have to wonder which closet the skeletons are hiding in…” you joked, knowing full well the skeletons were actually in the backyard under the headstones that sat growing moss and ivy for the last six decades at least.

“Ma’am… I’ve been very upfront about the state of the house. It needs extensive repairs and renovation, it has a graveyard out back, it’s way out in the sticks and the landscaping is overrun… What more could be wrong with it?” She rang out her hands nervously, chewing on her cherry red lips as you scrutinised her body language. You’re sure there was something she wasn’t telling you, but this was a perfect opportunity for you…

Coming off the back of a decent chunk of inheritance left by a relative you’d long-since forgotten, you needed a project. You’d always wanted to renovate a beautifully gothic home from the 19th century, and when you saw the listing for exactly that on the edge of a small town? Ideal. Perfect. Exactly what you wanted. The thought of being a little out in the country, surrounded by land and away from the bustle of the city you grew up in was all too appealing.

“It has a charm to it, don’t you think?” you smiled to yourself, fiddling with the dusty net curtains still hanging in the living room’s huge bay window.

“Uh… sure, yeah,” the agent agreed with reluctance, still so confused as to why you would be at all interested in this ruin that she couldn’t even show you all of due to the structural integrity of the floorboards.

“I’d like to put in an offer,” you told her, turning back to face her with a smile on your face.

“You… really? Oh, my god! Okay, great! Well, I’ll get the paperwork…” she sprung into action, suddenly full of an energy that could only have been triggered by the whiff of her future commission.

It would take some work, sure, but this place had the potential to be the perfect project and future home for you…

It took six months, but the structural integrity of the house had been stabilised by a team of builders you’d hired to take care of the place while you got your affairs in order and ready to move halfway across the country. You weren’t taking much; a lot of the furniture left in the abandoned house was part of the project and with a little restoration would be absolutely beautiful. You were ready for the work, ready to create a home that you could be so proud of and had your stamp on it.

Moving into the house was quicker than you thought it would be, with most of your furniture sold and donated. For now, you had to live out of suitcases until you had a bedroom and closet space that was clean enough to hang your things in.

At the very least, you’d cleaned and stripped the four-poster bed that still lay in the master suite, checking the integrity of the bed itself and noting how… pristine it seemed compared to a lot of the other furniture left behind. But this was made of expensive, dark mahogany wood – it was built to last, and so with a polish, a new mattress and sheets? You had a gorgeous bed to sleep in each night, taking a little bit of pressure off when you’d spent an entire day exhausting yourself over more renovations.

One of your first jobs had been landscaping in the graveyard. You’d felt pulled to the graves, wanting to give whoever was buried on your property a much more respectful resting place, rather than allowing them to be swamped by ivy and moss.

It seemed to be a family plot, probably the last family to have owned the home. Every stone had the same surname, dating back to the first of the deaths in 1904. What struck you as odd, however, was the nature of the stones themselves…

For the time period, you might have expected angels, cherubs, perhaps a cross or two. But whilst these stones were ornate and beautiful, they were not steeped in biblical references at all. Instead, the eldest stone had a decaying gargoyle sat atop it… Another, a ram’s head at the base. One had a stone skeleton laying above where the body would have been buried, carved into a slab of concrete as if it was protruding from the grave itself. You’d never seen graves like this before, symbols and carvings you couldn’t identify but had you on edge the minute you looked at them. But one of those symbols, you certainly recognised.

A pentagram.

Now, as a purveyor of the dark and mysterious, you hadn’t minded the thought of a graveyard in your garden. For goodness sake, you loved the gothic aesthetic, the dark and macabre had always called out to you. But to find these graves had a theme to them, a darker, occult theme… It cast a deeper shadow over the home you’d purchased.

Who were this family? Were they part of an occult? You were itching to understand the history, to uncover more about the lost family that let their home fall to ruin and their graves be overrun by nature.

But it had to wait, the renovations taking over to make your house a far more liveable abode. With the graves at least clear from nature’s extremities, you could come back to them another time to give them a proper clean, to uncover the names in full and potentially use the information to gather more with a trip to the local library or a google search.

For now, you had to get to cleaning room by room so you could begin stripping and re-decorating where it needed it most.

“…The Sheriff’s office have released a statement today to calm locals calling for more action in the string of disappearances throughout town. Last Monday saw the latest in the line of disappearances, 29 year old store clerk, Andrew Walton, taking the total up to 12 missing in the last nine months. Mr Walton was last seen on CCTV heading into the alley of the 7/11 where he worked…”

The radio news bulletin caught your attention as you were working in the master bedroom, stripping the already peeling wallpaper from the panelled walls atop a stepladder. You’d only moved in three weeks ago, and yet, the little radio you always put on to work to kept churning out the same story consistently – the string of disappearances in town that seemed to be getting more and more frequent.

It would seem it was the town with skeletons in the closet, not your precious new home. The estate agent failed to mention that one…

When you first heard about it, you’d made sure the house was secure, with locks on the windows, every entrance bolted and sturdy. Being so far outside of town, you weren’t particularly worried since you rarely ventured from your home, particularly not at night when most of these disappearances seemed to have taken place. But it didn’t hurt to be safe...

Still, the thought that there may be someone out there snatching people for God only knows what purpose was a little unsettling. You could only hope the sheriff would do his job and catch whoever was behind the crimes soon – but it had already been nine months… All you could do was lay low, stay as far away from the potential risks of heading into town alone in the dark.

As the lunchtime bulletin ended, the radio began to play one of the top 40 songs you’d heard at least three times already today. Whilst it was repetitive, you’d learned the words, and found yourself singing along as you scraped at patches of wallpaper residue with your little scraping tool. You lost yourself to easily in the renovation tasks, the monotony allowing for your brain to whisk you away to distant worlds, like shooting your own music videos to the songs as you sang along.

Drifting so far off into your own thoughts is probably the reason you hadn’t realised the radio had actually cut out completely, and it was just you singing and the sound of the metal scraper to fill the silence… The batteries had died.

“Ah, shit…” you mumbled to yourself, stepping off the ladder and reaching for the radio you’d placed on the window sill. Upon closer inspection, you made the definite conclusion that it was in fact the batteries, and sighed in annoyance. Of all the things you didn’t think you’d need for a while at least, you would now have to rummage around in the unemptied moving boxes that were still stockpiled in the dining room, filled with ‘random crap’ from your ‘random crap’ drawers – the drawers every home has… You just hadn’t renovated enough of the kitchen to have a ‘random crap’ drawer yet.

Digging through the boxes, you pulled a tape measure, a pack of four highlighters with two missing, six bank statements dated four years ago and a set of tiny little wrenches from the collection, until finally, you found a pack of unopened batteries at the bottom of the box.

You fumbled with them, rushing to get them out and replace the dead ones in the radio so you could get your music back and get back to work. Just as you pushed the second battery in, the radio roared to life again, startling you with a sudden gasp. Your heart raced in your chest as you chuckled at yourself, laughing at how stupid you’d been to have forgotten to turn it off before you pushed the new batteries in.

But a sudden and much more frightening crash from beneath you had you jumping again within seconds, your grip on the radio faltering as it flew to the ground, the new batteries flying out at the impact and drenching the room in silence again.

Your head flew immediately to the old door to your left, the one that led beneath the house to the basement…

You don’t know how long you stared at it, your heart rate never calming down as your mind raced with scenarios. An animal? Old house falling apart? Ghost? Psycho killer from town? You had no idea what to think.

But you lived alone. No noise should be coming from down in the damn basement.

You stared for so long, you began to question if you’d heard anything at all. Perhaps your mind was playing tricks on you. But with a mental kick up the arse and a quick shake of the head to rid yourself of the fear, you marched over to the door to investigate like every stupid final girl in every horror movie you’d ever seen.

When you pulled on the string light, it buzzed and flickered before settling on a barely-there orange glow. Thankfully, it didn’t matter so much, the small windows in the house’s foundations letting in just enough light to deem the room visible. You could smell the must as you stepped down the wooden stairs, creaking under your feet as if some obnoxious special effects guy was dubbing the scene.

The movers had moved some of the restorable furniture you’d asked them to keep down here, stacking it in a far corner for you to come back to when you’d sorted the main structure and décor of the house. They were caked in a thick layer of dust, fingerprints from the movers clearly visible.

But nothing looked like it had fallen, there wasn’t anything broken or toppled over on the floor at all. The bang you’d heard had no source, that you could see. Even the cellar doors that led to the yard out back were still chained and bolted shut – you couldn’t blame it on a gust of wind, and upon first inspection, there was no sign of an animal somehow making its way inside either.

But to be sure, you walked through the clear space in the centre of the basement and over to the furniture pile of display cabinets, side tables, some chairs and a wardrobe you’d had moved from the master bedroom. It was one of your favourite pieces, that wardrobe. You planned to only clean it up and revarnish it, matching the ornate wood of the bed that had been kept pristine and you now used as your own. Even the mirrors on the door – oval shaped with dark ivy carved into the edges – were in fantastic condition. No scratches, just caked in a layer of dust like the rest.

A closer look proved there were no animals in the basement, no rodents or critters to try and ferry back outside. But what you did notice were the fingerprints on the brass handles of the wardrobe. Perhaps the movers had peaked inside – you hadn’t when you viewed the place. Maybe there were some old clothes still left behind from another decade?

Curiosity got the best of you, and you opened the door with a shriek of its hinges to find… nothing. The wardrobe was empty save for a few wire hangers that jingled with the opening of the door, and another layer of dust, albeit thinner, on the low shelf inside. But the dust was disturbed…

In the centre, there was a rectangle in the dust, as if it had been carefully wiped clean with absolute precision… It was about the size of a shoe box, but the dark grain of the wood stood out around the greyed and dulled wood surrounding it. Something had been in there for years, and had been removed…

Instantly, you blamed the movers. They’d gone nosing around and taken something they thought was valuable? Oh hell no. It got your back up immediately… You’d trusted these people, and they’d stolen from you? They’d be getting a phone call later.

Now pissed, you shut the door to the wardrobe a little harder than perhaps you should, the bang that sounded ricocheting off the stone walls of the basement.

That sounded like what you’d heard from upstairs.

You brushed it off, thinking nothing of it and instead looking up into the oval mirror of the door to check you’d left no damage to it.

But then you saw him. A man, in the dusty reflection standing in the far corner, the darkest spot of the basement. You could only see an outline, a silhouette. But one of his eyes seemed to gleam brighter than the other, the light perhaps hitting it just right. He was glaring at you, watching you intently in the dull reflection…

You shrieked, spinning in your place and slamming your back into the wardrobe behind you. Your chest heaved in panic, heart racing and breaths coming short and fast while your eyes searched the dimly lit corner and found nothing.

There was no man stood in the corner, nothing at all in fact. You were completely alone, your mind playing havoc on you in your heightened state of anxiety and anger. Even now, your heart was still hammering away, your lungs just beginning to regulate your breathing.

You straightened yourself up and wiped at your clothes that collected dust from the wardrobe when you’d slammed into it.

“Dumbass,” you mumbled to yourself, heading back upstairs quickly and slamming the basement door. You tried your best to shake off the anxiety, putting your batteries back into your radio and rushing back to the master bedroom to continue with the wallpaper scraping in the hopes it might put your mind back at ease. But for the rest of the day, you felt an anxiety you couldn’t shift, as if there truly was a man in the corner of every room you entered, glaring at you from the shadows.

It took a few days to get all the paper and residue off the walls in the master bedroom, careful not to mess with the panelling you wanted to sand down and keep as part of the décor. But for now, you could finally get onto stripping the paper in one of the other bedrooms, hoping to strip all of the paper from the upstairs in one go before getting around to sanding and replacing any panelling so you wouldn’t be spreading the dust into rooms you’d already finished and cleaned. There was method in your madness – strip everything down, sand, then clean.

The next biggest room upstairs had no furniture in it and was in the worst state, having been the room with the most extensive damage to the flooring and structural integrity. Builders had to replace the entire floor, and so had removed everything to do so. Apparently a leak in the roof – now fixed, of course – had caused irreparable water damage to the far corner, where they’d also removed the mouldy panelling and cleaned the remaining black mould properly and safely.

But now the rest of the room needed its paper stripped, so that’s where you found yourself. Your little radio blared the same station as always as you scraped away at the paper, making your way along the walls. It came off easier than the master bedroom, the damp of the room helping to already ease the adhesive from the plaster beneath.

As you moved to a section of the wall near the window, placing the stepladder on the floorboard, you heard one rattle beneath it. Having had the entire floor replaced, you’d assumed that every floorboard would be secured down. Perhaps the builders had missed one, but a few nails and you could fix that. So you moved the stepladder out of the way and crouched to inspect the plank that wobbled.

It had the holes in it where the nails should have been, and yet, there were no nails to hold it down… It was as if it had been secured and then pulled up again, except you couldn’t figure out why.

Curiosity got the best of you, and you pushed on one end of it to lift it from the structured beams beneath it. It opened up to a crawl space filled with fresh insulation and piping beneath the room. But when you pulled out your phone to flick on the flashlight, you noticed a rather out of place looking jewellery box had been hidden just to one side of the loose floorboard.

Instinct overruled you and you reached for it, pulling it from under the floorboard and wiping the dust from the top of it. It was a beautiful jewellery box, made of dark wood with an intricate baroque pattern carved into it and filled with some kind of gold resin. It had no lock on it, only a hook to keep its lid closed.

It made no sense to you… Why would this be under the floorboards when the floor was so new? Where had it come from? Should you open it?

And then your brain connected the dots. This box was the same shape, and a similar size to the disturbed dust inside the wardrobe in the basement. This had come from the wardrobe…

Logically, you concocted a story that maybe one of the builders had found it and wanted to hide it, come back for it later but forgot. But if they knew it was of value, surely they wouldn’t have forgotten it? And that patch in the wardrobe seemed too fresh, too pristine… Still, you had no other logical answer. You refused to believe it had magically found its way up from the basement and under the floorboards by itself – or even more horrifyingly, at the hands of someone else.

But you had to open it, right? You had to see what was inside, to see why someone would want to hide such a pretty little box at all. So you flicked the hook open, and slowly opened up the jewellery box…

You’d have to say you were disappointed. There were things in here, but nothing that screamed value at you, more like cheap and random items. There were some cuff links that you thought may have been silver, but were only sterling silver; a costume jewellery bracelet made of plastic pearls; a lipstick, worn down to within an inch of its life in a deep red shade; various little knick-knacks that together made absolutely no sense at all. The only thing that stood out to you as remotely unusual, was a watch.

This watch looked ordinary, something you’d pick up for cheap. It was broken, the glass cracked and the time clearly not moving on from 11:06 on the day it broke. It wasn’t branded, the clock face not diamond-incrusted or made of any real precious materials. But just under where the hands connected in the centre was a tiny little rotating set of numbers for a date, reading as 19/03/24 – just over a week ago. The watch had stopped working just over a week ago.

You couldn’t entertain this idea any longer. You stuffed the watch back into the box, slamming the lid closed and putting it back under the floorboards in the hope it might poof itself out of existence. You had to be imagining things, this wasn’t real. First, hearing noises down in the basement. Then, seeing the reflection of a man in the wardrobe mirror, only for him to disappear when you turned around. Now, finding a box of trinkets in the floorboards with items that were completely out of place for the time period of the old house.

You were being ridiculous, making up things that didn’t exist and had no significance at all. This must have been left by a builder, the battery being the reason it stopped, not the crack in the glass. There was just no way. No one had been by the house since you moved in besides the postman, and even he had quickly stuffed the mail into the mailbox at the end of your drive and run off quickly every time you caught him.

A creak in the floorboards in the hallway snapped you from your racing conspiracies, igniting your fight or flight response much like the noise in the basement the other day. This time you didn’t freeze, you stood up quickly and ran to the doorway to see if you could catch whatever was making the noise.

There he was again.

The same silhouette, a man stood in the hallway, backlit from the large window behind him and the sun streaming in through it. You couldn’t see his face properly, left in shadow but you could see those same eyes, glaring at you, watching to see if you would make a move…

Anger flared inside you, thinking you had an intruder in your home. You weren’t one to back down from a fight or go quietly. If this man was skulking around your house in broad fucking daylight, you were going to confront him.

“HEY! Who the fuck are you?!” you yelled from the doorway, “GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!”

The silhouette said nothing, instead stepping to the right through the door to your master bedroom. Without a second thought you ran towards the open doorway, grabbing the scraper from the floor where you’d set it down earlier as some kind of precautionary weapon.

“I said, get out of my-“ you stopped, frozen in fear. You couldn’t believe what you were seeing, confusion replacing the rage inside you.

Nothing.

There was nobody in here. And you made damn sure to check… No one behind the door, no one in the en-suite, no one under the bed… No one.

You were losing your mind. You had to be. Perhaps you had spent too long alone in this old house, maybe you needed to socialise, head into town and meet some real people instead of chasing shadows. This wasn’t healthy, all this obsessive renovation work. This was your brain telling you you needed a break, right? It had to be that, because you could come up with no sound, logical explanation as to why you were seeing a shadow man roaming around your house other than madness. None of this was really happening, this was simply a descent into insanity caused by too much isolation.

At least, that’s what you told yourself to quiet the pounding heartbeat in your ears as the fear crept its way inside, burrowing deeper with every strange happening you seemed to experience.

A day off was all you’d needed, time out of the house to escape the need to be working, to essentially touch some grass and speak to another actual human being besides the shadow you’d conjured in your head. You’d gone into town, done some shopping, sat in a local coffee shop… You’d met a lovely older woman in there – Amelie, a widow and life-long resident – who’d welcomed you to town, so excited to have a fresh and pretty face to say hello to.

Although, she had warned you to head home before the sun set… That you should never walk alone in the evenings, and should lock your doors and windows at night.

“He likes the younger ones,” she’d told you. “I’m no good, you see… He likes them young.”

That had chilled you to the bone… Perhaps the mad ramblings of a woman hitting senility, but already on edge after the last few days at home, it seemed to strike a nerve. But nothing could have prepared you for the look on her face when she’d asked her where in town you had moved into, and you divulged it was the old farmhouse on the outskirts.

Her cheeks had sagged, smile dropping instantly. She shifted in the chair she’d taken at your table, straightening out the skirt of her dress over her knees and avoiding eye contact. And then she clutched her necklace in her fist – a gold crucifix – as she reached to take yours in her other hand.

“You must protect yourself, yes? That house… Something is there. You must be careful,” she told you, her voice as stern as she could make it to hide the tremble of fear.

“I-I’m okay, really… It just looks old, it’s overgrown and falling apart but I’m working on-“

“No!” she yelled, turning the heads of other patrons in the coffee shop. Her grip on your hand squeezed tighter, her nails digging into your hand painfully. “You should leave, before it’s too late. Such a pretty young thing, you shouldn’t be there…”

You pried her bony, arthritic fingers from around your hand and gently held hers in both of yours.

“I’m okay, Amelie. Please, don’t worry…” you comforted her, but she seemed dissatisfied, her eyes wide as she conceded.

That entire interaction had sat with you for the rest of the day as you’d wandered through the local farmer’s market, picking up fresh vegetables to turn into a casserole for one tonight. It shouldn’t have unnerved you the way it did, such an elderly woman was clearly suffering the effects of an ageing mind and yet, with the experiences of the last few days? Her warning unnerved you.

You headed home long before sunset, and locked the doors and windows like she’d told you to. Did it make you feel any better? Absolutely not… But as you pottered around in the kitchen making the casserole you’d planned, slowly the anxiety started to ease, helped mostly by the music on your little radio.

You ate in peace, scrolling through your phone while you tapped your foot on the tiled floor of the kitchen. You didn’t mind these lonely evenings so much, having grown tired of the bustling city long ago. These days, the quiet of your own company was quite welcome, easily sinking into your own little world.

Even as you stood at the sink, scrubbing at the dishes, you were in your own world, humming along to another overplayed song you’d heard time and time again. You’d find yourself staring out the window in front of you at the sunset, the sky painted pinks and oranges and casting a tranquil glow over the little graveyard out back. Dusk was quickly approaching, the night drawing in as you cleaned.

Just as you placed your plate on the drying rack beside you, you looked out again at the graves, now like silhouettes as the sky turned to a deeper shade of bluey purple. But your heart dropped, every hair on your body standing on end.

The shadow figure. The same shadow figure… Stood out by the graves, looking down at them with its back to you. He seemed to be wearing the same thing as last time you spotted him; slacks, a black coat made of heavy wool that just passed his knees. He was just standing, staring…

You froze in place, watching… You felt paralysed, like you’d spotted a large spider on the wall, staring at it to make sure it didn’t move out of sight because losing it was worse than staring in fear.

It didn’t move, just standing there, staring down.

A rush of anger hit you out of nowhere – this fucker was trespassing on your property, scaring you stupid. You’d locked this prick out when you’d come home, and so he thought it was okay to skulk around your land, trying to frighten you?

Fuck that. No. Enough of this.

You wiped your hands on the dish towel to the side, instinctively reaching for the biggest knife in your knife block on the counter before running to the back door. You unbolted the top and bottom, and ran out into the evening with a surge of adrenaline.

“HEY!” you yelled, like you had when you’d seen him in your hallway, “WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?!”

The figure didn’t move, still staring down as you approached quickly from behind. You stayed back a few feet, clutching the knife in your hand and ready to use it should this fucker try anything…

“Answer me…” your voice shook with fear, no matter how hard you tried to keep it steady and strong. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing on my land?”

A dark chuckle… The shoulders of the figure shook with his laugh, and it only pissed you off more.

“Your land? Interesting…” the figure muttered, his voice thick with a heavy Italian accent and gruff like he hadn’t spoken aloud in decades.

“I-I’ll call the cops…” you threatened, “just leave and no one gets hurt.”

His head cocked up at that, turning to look over his shoulder. For the first time, you got a small glimpse at his face, and the eye that gleamed brighter than it should. He seemed to be smirking, as if this situation was somehow funny to him.

“You would hurt me, cara mio?” he teased, his eyes flitting down to the knife you held extended towards him. “I did not have you pegged for a violent woman.”

It caught you off guard, the way he spoke to you. Was he trying to belittle you? Make you question your own self-defense to weaken you? You wouldn’t let that happen.

“What are you doing here?” you asked him defiantly, ignoring his comments and still wielding the knife.

“Paying my respects,” he grumbled, as if he were annoyed by an intrusive question.

“Th-this is my property, and you need to leave. I’ve seen you in my house, and you need to go before I call the cops,” you repeated yourself, your voice shaking.

“Why did you buy this house?” he asked, frustratingly ignoring your warnings.

“None of your business-“

“It is my business,” he snapped, “This house belonged to my family,” he span on the spot, finally facing you. His expression was intimidating, his eyes – now visibly different colours – were boring into you, just begging you to try something. “These are their graves. This is their house. It does not, and will never, belong to you.”

“Well you might want to tell the bank that, Mr, uh…” his name escaped you, forgetting the surname that you’d uncovered weeks ago on the graves behind him.

“Emeritus,” he smiled sadistically. “Terzo Emeritus, and this house is mine.”

He took a step closer to you, and naturally you stepped back in fear. The grip on the knife readjusted with the second step he took, readying yourself to use it should you need to.

“But a pretty thing like you? I’m willing to share…”

“Don’t make another move…” you jabbed the knife forward a little, raising your voice in an attempt to appear threatening. “I know there’s some creep going around town, snatching people… And now you’re here, in MY house, threatening me?”

“I think I’m the one being threatened, cara mio…”

“SHUT UP!” you yelled. “Leave, now. Or I will call the fucking police.”

His hands, encased in leather gloves, shot up in a defensive pose, his smile widening sickeningly. He stopped approaching, but his morbidly beautiful eyes slowly scanned you from head to toe, taking you in, analysing. For a moment, you were locked in a stalemate, staring each other down. You thought maybe he was sizing you up, waiting for the opportune moment to strike like a predator hunting its prey.

But instead of pouncing like you’d expected, he turned back around and knelt down before the graves.

“Penso che forse lei non è così affezionato a me come io sono di lei, non siete d'accordo? (I think maybe she is not as fond of me as I am of her, don’t you agree?)” he mumbled, as if the dead could hear every word. “Non temere, non lascerò che questa bellezza mi scaccia, i miei fratelli. Questa è casa nostra e imparerà a godere della mia compagnia. (Fear not, I will not let this beauty drive me away, my brothers. This is our house, and she will learn to enjoy my company.)”

“W-what did you say?” you stuttered, still wielding the knife. He looked briefly over his shoulder at you.

“Non vedevo tanta bellezza da più di un secolo, (I haven’t seen such beauty in over a century,)” he spoke to the graves again. “Non dal mio esilio e ritorno. (not since my exile and return.)”

You were growing more and more frustrated as he spoke his mother tongue to thin air, waiting for him to do something – even if that something were to force you to defend yourself. This was just… bizarre.

He stood again, kissing the tips of his gloves and pressing them to each headstone, save for one on the end. Why he missed that one, you weren’t sure, but you couldn’t focus on that right now. He seemed to be saying a goodbye, as if he were actually going to leave upon your request.

“Until next time, bella cosa (pretty thing),” he bowed his head a little and began to walk towards you, giving you a wide berth but keeping his eyes trained on you at all times. You figured he was simply making sure you didn’t try to stab him as he passed, walking himself out of the gates of your land and a little ways down the street before he turned back to you, and blew you a slow, calculated flying kiss.

As he continued to walk away down the lane that stretched towards town, you quickly glanced back at the graves, noting now that the names did indeed all share a common family name.

Primo Emeritus. Secondo Emeritus. Copia Emeritus. Terzo Emeritus.

Your eyes widened. You were sure that was the name he just told you belonged to him? That wasn’t possible… Such an unusual name, and he’d made no mention of being a ‘Terzo Junior’, or ‘Terzo the second’. And it was the only grave he didn’t plant his kiss to…

You span around in the grass beneath your feet, looking out down the lane you’d just seen him walking down and yet, he was nowhere to be seen. He wasn’t in the fields that lined the lane into town, and the road stretched with no bends for at least two miles, no obstructions at all. You should be able to still see him walking, running even if he had chosen to. He hadn’t had time to vanish like he had, in mere seconds.

Your head whipped back to the grave – his grave? – before you shook your head of the nonsense that he might well be some kind of spirit who can appear or disappear in the blink of an eye. These ‘occurrences’ were nothing more than fuel for a spooky story around a campfire. None of this was true, you’d just… lost sight of him, or misjudged the view of the road. Something, anything, had to explain this away.

But it didn’t stop you from bolting back through the garden and into the kitchen, slamming the door behind you with the knife still in hand and bolting the door shut, heart thumping in your ears.

You slept with that knife under your mattress that night.

His face haunted you, both day and night. No matter what you did, or how you tried to refocus your mind, to fixate on only your renovations, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. In the few days since the incident by the graves, you were questioning your sanity more than ever.

Had that even been real? Was he real? He couldn’t possibly be… The way he disappeared in an instant every time you saw him led you only to the conclusion that you’d lost your mind, officially. You must have concocted this spectre after seeing his name on the grave when you’d cleared the landscaping around them. You told yourself that over and over again.

That became harder to do though, when you’d spot him out by the graves again not even a week after the first time. You’d been installing some small curtains to the window by the kitchen sink for you to hide the site from view when you’d spooked yourself at the mere thought of that night, and yet there he was again.

You stared in shock, frozen and motionless, as he turned his head towards the house, looking it up and down, before his gaze settled on you in the window. He raised his hand, but before he could gesture a wave at you, you shut the new curtains and obscured his view, darting out of the kitchen and hiding in the dining room still full of packed boxes.

Your heart pounded as it always did when your imagination ran away with you and spooked you like this. You shook your head, told yourself to snap the fuck out of it.

But then you saw him every evening.

Always by the graves, always turning to wave at you, no matter from which window you were watching him from. You did your best to hide, to ignore it and tell yourself he wasn’t real. You just had to keep going, to continue your work and maybe find a good psychologist in town one of these days.

This plan of wilful ignorance was barely working, but what else could you do? Giving this apparition any kind of attention would surely only make it worse, whether he was a figment of your imagination or a genuine ghost from the past.

Ignoring him was hard. There was such a large part of you that wanted more information about him, to learn where he’d come from, why he haunted you. He was intriguing, if terrifying. The face that followed your dreams, both day and night, was starting to become all too familiar, all too comfortable. If it weren’t for that ghostly white eye of his, he’d have quite a charming face. His glare wouldn’t seem so dark if it wasn’t pierced by the white glow, and perhaps he wouldn’t be so threatening… Home invasion and grave haunting aside.

Still, you did your best to continue as normal. The renovations continued, and before long you had stripped every room upstairs of the aged and withered wallpaper that desperately needed replacing. Finally, you could start decorating to your own tastes – starting with your bedroom.

After a trip to the nearest hardware store, and a delivery of wooden slats, you got busy creating the wainscoting that was to run along the bottom three feet of the wall in your bedroom. The idea was to panel it, and then paint everything a beautiful deep shade of royal purple. The hardwood floor was going to be stained a dark shade throughout the entire upstairs, but you’d managed to source a stunning Persian rug in a purple that matched the aesthetic you were hoping for. The furniture – the items you’d had moved to the basement – were already perfect for the room, matching the bed that had also been left behind. You’d chosen gold metal accents to replace the handles on the wardrobe and chest of drawers, and sourced lamps and trinkets in the same gold to match.

After no longer than a week, you’d completed the room with a mix and match of modern and Victorian gothic aesthetics. Frankly, it looked like a Pinterest board – but it was so inherently you.

When you’d laid the finishing touches to the room, you stood in the middle of it, proudly looking around with a wide grin on your face at the beautifully finished space. That estate agent couldn’t see the potential of this house, but you had the second you stepped foot inside. And whilst it was only one room, the rest of the house still just the bare skeletal bones of a home, this was a huge victory.

“I like what you’ve done with my bedroom, bella cosa (pretty thing).”

Your body stiffened at the sound of his voice, coming from the doorway behind you. You squeezed your eyes shut, shaking your head and willing for the nightmare to stop. You hadn’t heard him, you were imagining it. You had to be.

Except, you heard footsteps behind you, on the hardwood floors. His shoes clacked with every step, slow and deliberate as if he was taking in his surrounding, inspecting your work. When you braved opening your eyes, that’s exactly what he was doing.

He really was here.

“Grazie for keeping my furniture, cara mio. I was always fond of it, and you’ve given it new life,” he said, ogling the wardrobe as he dragged his gloved fingertips along the edge of the wood.

“And purple, too…” he span on his heels to face you, a warm smile crossing his dark features, “My favourite colour.”

“How did you get in here?” you asked, voice shaking as you watched him look around the room.

“I told you, cara, this was my house. I know every entrance and exit there is,” his mismatched eyes settled on you again, “even the ones you don’t.”

He was lying. There were only three ways in or out of the house, and they were all locked – bolted, latched, even the cellar doors in the basement were chained shut.

“This is not your house,” you argued, spitting the words through grit teeth. “You need to leave. I will call the police.”

His eyes darkened again, a veil of threat overcoming him.

“And I told you, this has always been my house.”

You weighed your options. Your phone was on the kitchen counter downstairs; if you were fast enough, you could run down to it and out the back door before he caught you, calling the police as you ran along the road into town. If you didn’t fuck it up, you could even lock him in, taking the key from the back door and locking it shut behind you, leaving him gift wrapped for the cops.

You just had to be quick.

And you tried, you really did. You bolted out of the bedroom, running down the length of the long hall towards the top of the stairs. You hadn’t heard him behind you, his shoes making no noise behind you and so you imagined he’d been left stunned by your sudden departure, giving you a head start.

So you hadn’t expected a pair of large, strong hands to grip you by the tops of your arms at the top of the stairs, and slam your body into the wall. A sharp pain radiated up through your spine, but you cried out in fear more so than pain when you realised he’d trapped you, palms flat against the wall by your head and arms encasing you.

Instinct had you closing your eyes, squeezing them shut and waiting for the next blow, or for this nightmare to end. You could feel a cool breeze against your cheek as you turned your head away from the man trapping you, as if his breath were ice cold.

“Look at me, cara mio,” he ordered, his voice deep and slow. You whimpered beneath him, trying to plant yourself flat against the wall to get as far away from him as possible. “Per favore, I want to see you.”

You wanted to deny him, but his silence said he’d wait for an eternity until you did. And you didn’t want to find out just how aggressive he could be, if given the chance. So slowly, you opened your eyes, looking at him through your peripheral vision before you turned your head ever so slightly.

His face was so close to yours, hovering above you. His eyes flickered across your features, like he was looking for something, or maybe mapping every feature and committing it to his memory for some nefarious reason.

This close to him, you couldn’t stop yourself from doing the same… You avoided his eyes, noting instead how his skin seemed pale for an Italian man, but soft and smooth without a single imperfection. His jawline was chiselled, like you’d cut your palm if you tried to slap him. He had frown lines in his forehead that came with a life of frustration, yet forked lines from the outer corners of his eyes that came with a life of happiness; neither made him look haggard, yet showed he wasn’t quite as youthful as you.

Despite his pale complexion, his lips remained a soft pink. They were full, parted as you both silently examined each other up close. That breeze you felt was most definitely his breath, which you’d expected to be warmer but given the situation, perhaps it was your fear adding to the chill.

Running out of features to scan, you landed on his eyes; the eyes that haunted you more than any you’d seen. At first glance, the colour mismatch was disconcerting. It would put anybody on edge, perhaps make them wonder if he’d fallen victim to some kind of accident or birth defect but the more you stared, the more you fell into them. You couldn’t place why, but they seemed older than the rest of his features, holding more wisdom than you might have expected.

“Are you real?” you asked him, logic and reason battling against the very real fear that you were imagining him, that he was some kind of spirit that haunted his family home you’d never be rid of. But you’d felt him. His hands had been the ones to throw you against this wall, his body was imposing on yours as he trapped you. He was solid, flesh and blood. But there was an innate and visceral fear that something was wrong.

At your question, his eyes met yours, and his lips quirked into a playful smile.

“I am very real, cara mio,” he assured, taking his hand from beside your head and wrapping his gloved fingers around your wrist. He lifted your palm, gently laying it flat against his chest. “Can you not feel me?”

You could. He was solid, like you’d now discovered and you could feel his heartbeat beneath his shirt. Still, something felt wrong. He had no body heat like a normal living man through a simple cotton shirt should, and the heartbeat you felt was significantly slower than it should be.

“Who are you?” you whimpered, palm to his chest without even an attempt to remove it.

“I told you who I was. Terzo Emeritus.”

“J-junior?” you asked him. His brow creased in confusion, missing what you were asking entirely. “Terzo Junior? The grave, it… it says Terzo.”

Now he understood, sensing your confusion and chuckling lightly at it.

“Just Terzo,” he told you, gentle grip still on your wrist. You could pull your hand away if you tried, and yet, you kept it in place as if his own slow heartbeat was somehow reducing your own to a more comfortable pace.

You were at a loss for words now, brain running far too quickly to settle on something suitable to say to him. But at least now you had grown aware of your palm still settled on his chest, prompting you to rip it from his grip expecting him to put up some kind of resistance, to which you met none.

“What do you want from me?” you asked him, unable to tear your eyes from him in the same manner you’d torn your wrist from him.

“Perhaps only your company,” he shrugged slightly, raising an eyebrow in suggestion. “To exist with you, here.”

“This is my house…”

“Sí, so you keep saying.” A beat of silence passed as you thought of what he was truly asking, what that even meant.

“I want you to stay away from me,” you insisted, finding a shred of strength within you. Terzo took in a deep breath through his nose, letting it go as he studied you.

“I don’t think I can do that, cara mio,” he sighed. His admission had tears forming in your waterline, a new fear that you wouldn’t be able to shake this man’s seemingly growing obsession with you. All you wanted was peace, solitude and an escape but you’d fallen into a web, and the spider was crawling towards you agonisingly slowly.

You took a few deep breaths, each exhale shaky. You just wanted him to go, to leave you alone. Maybe this had been his house once before, but it was yours now, and he couldn’t stay here. He already seemed infatuated with you, if the way he looked at you now was anything to go by. His eyes drank you in like he was a starving man, and you were the ripest of fruits for him to devour.

“Please, I just want to be left alone…” you begged, tilting your head back against the wall and letting the tears fall as you squeezed your eyes shut, suppressing a sob in your chest.

Silence descended, and suddenly the weighted oppression of his presence vanished with a swift breeze. Even with your eyes shut, you could feel he wasn’t entrapping you anymore but when you opened them, you saw he wasn’t anywhere near you at all.

He’d vanished again, faster than a snap of your fingers.

And you were left wondering if any of that, once again, was real or a fantasy of your own making. You were so sure you felt a solid body, a real heartbeat. You weren’t a scientist, nor a paranormal specialist but you would assume if he was the spirit of the man buried in your back yard, you wouldn’t be able to feel him in such a way.

But now he had vanished, the feeling he left with you felt very much like an oppressive presence, a lingering energy. Now he left you with the anxiety of another visit without warning, another appearance to trick you into believing your delusions were true.

You expected to see him again.

Another week passed, a surface layer of anxiety lingering persistently. All you could do was focus your attention on your project, doing your absolute best to continue as normal. Now you had finished the master bedroom, you moved onto the upstairs bathroom, which had needed gutting and refitting.

You’d had a small team of plumbers in to replace the pipes through the house just as you had electricians to rewire the place before you’d moved in, and until now, all you’d had was the bare bones of a shiny new bathroom. You’d installed some counters with a new sink, the gold hardware matching around the bathroom. The marble top was a beautifully tasteful black with gold veins to match the black wood of the cabinets.

Even in here, you stuck to your darker aesthetic. The walls were painted a beautiful matte black, the floor tiled with black and white squares. It took you all week, two of those days on tiling alone. But it was something to focus on, a room that you knew would be frequently used and so needed to be finished now your bedroom was complete.

When it came to adding the finishing touches, it felt like the cherry on top of another beautifully made cake. Your house was quickly turning into a showroom, a place that could be featured in home renovation magazines had you been willing to open it up.

But already, you’d had one too many visitors in your home for your liking…

By the end of the week, you were exhausted – more so than usual. The anxiety of feeling watched, monitored, stalked was taking its toll on you, and you needed some respite. For all you knew, Terzo Emeritus could show up at any moment to frighten, repulse and excite you. It was weighing heavy, and your mind was just as spent as your body was.

As you headed to bed that evening, you allowed yourself some self-care in the bathroom you’d now finished. The point of renovating this house was to enjoy it, right? So why deny yourself that…

You filled the new clawfoot tub with hot water, brimming with bubbles and scents that had you falling into a state of total calm before you’d even sunk into it. Your tiny little radio joined you in the bathroom, tuned to a station that played nothing but classical, and on a bath shelf you’d bought you rested some candles, a book and a full glass of red wine to enjoy as you pampered yourself.

Sinking into the water, you relished in the feeling of being submerged in its warmth. Almost instantly, the tension in your shoulders melted away, eyes closing in bliss as your head slipped back to rest against the tub’s edge. You couldn’t help but let out a hum of satisfaction, the relief and pleasure accumulating in a soft moan.

As you let your body relax, a noise caught your attention; a floorboard, creaking just outside of the bathroom door. Your eyes shot open, your body reacting and freezing in place. However when you let your eyes roam over to the mirror above the bathroom sink, you saw him…

By force of habit, you’d left the bathroom door ajar, a small gap just large enough to be able to see that ghostly eye of his in the dim hallway, and the outline of him peeking through the door. Your heart rate hammered in your chest as it always did when you saw him, but you remained still. For now, he wasn’t making any kind of move, and he didn’t seem to be aware you had seen him.

But he was definitely there, watching you as you bathed. It was violating, invasive, perverse… And yet, you did nothing about it.

Instead, you sank further underneath the bubbles, reaching for your wine glass with your eyes trained on the mirror. You took a sip, relishing in the taste and releasing another satisfied moan as if putting on a damn show for him. What possessed you to do so, you had no idea, but he’d been tormenting your mind for weeks now – why couldn’t you do the same to him?

Reaching for your loofah, you dunked it under the water and sat upright, back exposed to him. You stretched your arm out, running the loofah along your skin in a slow and deliberate manner. You were careful to never expose yourself too much, but to tease with the expanse of pretty, bare skin to conjure enough suggestion in his mind that would leave a man desperate to see more.

When you ran the loofah up the length of your leg just above the water, you heard the floorboards creak again, like he was fidgeting on the other side of the door. You checked in the mirror to see if he was still there, and he most certainly was, but you were having the effect on him you hoped for.

Perhaps you stretched it out a little longer than necessary, running the loofah over your body more than needed but you were making your point. Your wicked little mind was ticking over, aware he could only see what you wanted him to; your shoulders and head above the bubbles from behind. Do you dare to cross the line…?

Perhaps the thrill of being watched was having an effect on you too, because you came to the conclusion that yes, you did dare to cross the line.

You lay back against the tub again, using the loofah now to run across your shoulders and down between the valley of your breasts, which the bubbles were barely covering in your relaxed position. You trailed the loofah further down, reaching over your stomach and between your legs.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you brushed the loofah over your core, now realising that washing yourself so intimately – and being watched while doing so – had aroused you more than you’d first thought. A flash of pleasure had you squeezing your eyes shut again, and you couldn’t stop yourself from grazing over your centre with added pressure, hips rocking in the water.

Before long, you abandoned the loofah all together, and from where he was stood, Terzo could see it float and bob up to the surface which had him drawing only one conclusion; you were definitely not just washing yourself.

You worked slowly, methodically. It had been so long since you’d let go like this, since you’d last touched yourself at all and you wanted to savour it, to enjoy it. You were in no rush, working your fingers in gentle and slow circles over your clit under the water. The moans that you let slip weren’t at all restrained or controlled; for all you knew, you were alone, right? So why would you hold back?

It was impossible not to keep checking the mirror, to make sure he was still there and every time, he was. You couldn’t help but let your imagination run away with you, picturing him entering the room, kneeling down beside the tub and reaching his hand between your legs for you. You pictured him taking you from the bathroom, into the bedroom and having his way with you, dark, handsome and brooding as he always had been.

You imagined his hands beneath his gloves, his bare fingertips tracing patterns into your skin, his full lips trailing kisses down your still wet body. What did he look like under those layers of his? How would he feel under your own fingertips? How would he feel inside you?

But Terzo made no such move. Instead, he watched silently from the shadows, and each time you caught that glimpse of him your hips bucked towards your hand until eventually, you couldn’t hold back anymore and allowed yourself to fall over the precipice.

Your orgasm was powerful, thanks to not only the lack of self love recently, but also, the arousal of becoming an exhibitionist. It rippled through your body like the water around you, and had you crying out wordlessly as you sank further into the water up to your chin. You hadn’t felt so good in a long time, and it worked perfectly to relieve the remainder of that tension in your body.

As you came down from the orgasm, you dared to glance back at the mirror only to find that he’d vanished. Another little disappearing act, only this time, you found yourself free of the anxiety that usually came with that, and instead smug with the knowledge you might have got one over on him for a change. You’d teased him to a point that he couldn’t tear his eyes from you until it was over, and for a moment you felt truly powerful. At least, if he were real… and not a fantasy you’d concocted for yourself. There was still the very real possibility that all of this was just your own madness and loneliness, and you were just now starting to lean into the delusions as a form of self-preservation.

For a little while longer, you stayed put in the tub, enjoying your book, the rest of your wine and the music in the background. Of course, you kept checking on the mirror to see if maybe he’d return for another look, but nothing. It was twisted, the way your stomach drooped in disappointment each time, but you brushed it off. You were sure before long, you would see him again – whether real or fictional.

Once you had finished in the bathroom, draining the tub and rinsing the suds away, you floated back into your bedroom wrapped in a bathrobe and ready to sink into bed with your book. You pottered around, changing into some pyjamas and crawling under the sheets when a glimpse of colour caught the light beside your bed, earning your attention.

Hanging from your bedside lamp was a pendant, and most certainly not one of yours. They were stored in a jewellery box atop the dresser, not hung on display like this… but it was beautiful, and you reached over to lay the charm in your palm and inspect it properly.

It was simple, yet elegant. The charm was shaped like a water drop, except the stone was purple; perhaps amethyst or a rarer sapphire but it caught the light exceptionally. Surrounding it, were smaller stones that resembled diamonds, but your knowledge of precious stones couldn’t confirm whether they were in fact real, or if this were costume jewellery. It didn’t matter though, it was beautiful as it was, sparkling under your bedside lamp.

You had no idea how it got here, but you could hazard a guess. It had been left for you like a gift, delicately placed in a position that would get your attention. There was only one person it could have come from, and as you played with the unusual pendant under the light, you began to realise that maybe he wasn’t the figment of your imagination you were trying to pass him off as…

The next morning, you had a revived energy, a spring in your step from a decent night’s sleep. The time spent on self care seemed to do the job, relieving the stress enough for you to be ready to tackle the downstairs living room next. Truthfully, your new found vigour may have also had something to do with a large part of you giving in to the idea that Terzo was not a fantasy, he’d been very real this whole time.

You still had no idea who he was, or how he was a real person. You were beginning to think that perhaps spirits did walk the earth, just by how he seemed to appear and disappear on a dime. But you remembered the heartbeat, the solid chest under your palm…

There were so many questions. Who was he? A descendant of the family this house once belonged to, and rested in your garden? How does he keep getting in? He mentioned entrances you might not know about, but you’d searched thoroughly, or so you thought. Was he obsessed with you? Stalking you?

Was he dangerous?

His behaviour was most definitely shady – people don’t just come and go in other people’s homes as they please. But you’d never reported him, no matter how much you’d threatened it. To begin with you’d hoped the threat of calling the cops would be enough to deter him, but he always came back. And at every opportunity, he could have done something to hurt you, yet never did. Even last night, you were in a completely vulnerable position. And whilst peeping on you in the bath was absolutely a violation and a crime in itself, all he did was watch. And you let him.

His existence was confusing, but you’d surrendered to the notion that he did in fact exist; and honestly, that in itself was quite freeing. It felt like some kind of weight had lifted, and it made beginning work on the living room easier to stomach.

This room had suffered in the years the house sat in decay. The old windows had made way for black mould to grow around it, and whilst you’d had the windows replaced since, the mould was still present. Your first job was to clean the walls and potentially replace some of the floorboards, if the moisture had taken hold of the wood.

Armed with a bucket of diluted bleach and a sponge, you got to work scrubbing at the walls and the large window sill that you were planning to convert into a cosy nook; a perfect place to sit and watch the world go by, book in hand. Your little radio sat on the mantelpiece of the stunning fireplace you were going to bring back to life, blaring out the same cycle of tunes you were used to now you’d tuned it back from the classical of last night.

You let yourself zone out as you scrubbed at the mould, singing along to the radio now you knew most of the songs blaring from it. It was a wonder you weren’t sick of them yet, but you still hadn’t got around to unpacking your record player that was supposed to have a home in this particular room. First, you had to finish it though, of course.

As one song ended, the radio host announced a lunchtime bulletin. By this time you were only half listening, fixated on the satisfying cleaning job.

“It’s 1pm, you’re listening to 108.3fm – here’s your lunchtime bulletin. Police have made a shocking discovery after the disappearance of 25 year old Amanda Riley just three days ago.”

Your ears perked up at the news, now getting your attention. Another one? This was concerning, terrifying even. And now they’d made a discovery?

“Human remains were discovered just outside of town in a wooded area yesterday, which police have now confirmed are that of Amanda. Family members formally identified the body, and police have given a statement to locals urging caution and vigilance. Sheriff Ansel had this to say…

“‘We believe Ms. Riley’s murder to be connected to the string of disappearances in the area in the last few months. The victim was found with all her personal belongings still on her person, including wallet, cash, ID and mobile phone, however when the family came to formally identify the body, they noted that the only thing taken from her was her unusual pendant…’”

Your blood turned cold. The hand still scrubbing at the wall froze in place, and slowly, you turned to look at the radio as if it was speaking directly to you.

“‘The pendant is recognisable as a purple amethyst in a teardrop shape, surrounded by smaller white diamonds. While the item is valuable, we believe that the killer may have taken such a personal item as a trophy, which could be part of their M.O. Still, we are urging the public to please keep an eye out to see if we can trace this item, either in pawn shops or perhaps being sold online. We ask that you not panic, and please get in touch if you note anything suspicious. Thank you.’”

Your hand dropped the sponge back into the bucket of diluted bleach, drifting up to your chest where that very same pendant was sat against your skin. You’d put it on that morning, barely even thinking about it, just because you liked it.

But he’d given it to you. Left it out in the open for you, like he was proud of it. He’d given you a dead girl’s fucking necklace. And there was only one way he could have got it…

You stood up, running into the kitchen and colliding with the sink before your body displayed it’s disgust by vomiting violently. All those unanswered questions, and yet, one of them had been answered.

Who was he? A murderer.

As you coughed and spluttered your breakfast into the sink, your mind raced. She wasn’t the only missing person, just the first body to have been found. There were others. So many others, for nine months. Thirteen missing people, one of which found dead with this fucking necklace missing.

You felt dizzy, like a wave of vertigo hit you in an instant. You hobbled over to the fridge, clutching at the kitchen counter to keep yourself steady and rooting around for a bottle of water. Your hands shook as you unscrewed the lid, taking a sip to rinse out your mouth as you stumbled back to the sink to spit. You took another sip, this time swallowing and trying your best to focus on the sensation of the cool water trickling down your throat. But your head was too busy.

Trophies. He was taking trophies? Why? This sick bastard must enjoy it, he must relish in his kills, wanting something to remember each one by. What else had he taken…? And then you remembered.

The box under the floorboards.

You slammed the water bottle down on the side, a jet propelling out onto the work surface from the force. Before you knew it your feet were moving of their own accord, up the stairs and down the hall. You were unsteady, tripping into the walls as you walked. You needed to know, but you didn’t want to.

Stumbling into the bare room, you fell to your knees with a hard smack where the floorboard was loose. Shaking hands lifted the plank, reaching underneath to check the box was still there; it was. You pulled it from its hiding place setting it down on the floor while you racked up the courage to open it again.

In one quick motion, you unlocked the latch and flung the lid open like ripping off a band aid. All the items were still there, just the way you’d left them, including the watch that had made you question them in the first place. It looked like it could have been vintage, save for the date wound to March of this year.

You looked at the collection of random items; the watch, the cuff links, the old red lipstick, the cheap bracelet, a skeleton key, a tiny used bottle of perfume, a red comb, an old butterfly hairpin, a daisy pin badge, a rusty swiss army knife, a fountain pen and a vintage zippo lighter.

Twelve items.

With the necklace, that made thirteen. Thirteen items. Thirteen victims. Thirteen trophies.

“I should have hidden them better, eh?”

The sound of his voice had your body stiffening in fear, skin instantly peppered with goosebumps. You hadn’t even begun to think about confronting him or having to see him. You weren’t sure what you were going to do yet, but you’d have hoped to have time to calm yourself down and think rationally about your options.

But you were going to have to do this ad-hoc.

“I don’t often make mistakes, bella cosa, but when I do… They haunt me. I suppose my kindness is coming back to bite me on the culo (ass).”

He sounded surprisingly calm for a man who’d just been found out to be a serial killer. It unnerved you, and no part of you could figure out his next move. You were a sitting duck.

Slowly, and carefully, you stood up, turning around to look at him. Part of you worried if you startled him with sudden movement, he might strike like any predator would its prey.

He was stood in the doorway, leaning up against the wood with his hands buried in the pockets of his slacks, coat pushed back behind them. He looked far too casual, his face hinting at neither anger nor humour – nowhere on the emotional spectrum.

“Kindness?” you asked, ruminating over his use of the word. “There’s no kindness in what you’ve done.” Perhaps it was dangerous to speak so ill of the murderer in front of you, but you couldn’t help yourself.

His neutral expression darkened in a warning glare, his chin tipping up so he was looking down on you, adding to his intimidating aura.

“Not everybody deserves kindness, cara mio. Some deserve far less,” he challenged, pushing himself off the doorframe and taking slow steps into the room, keeping a distance from you still.

“No one deserves that…”

Terzo scoffed, looking off to gaze out of the window and shaking his head as if what you said offended him in some way.

“So now you know,” he shrugged, looking back towards you, his hands still shoved deep in his pockets. You kept an eye on them, mind racing with all kinds of possibilities – he could have a weapon of some sorts hidden from view. You needed to be on your guard. “I suppose you will report me now, sí?”

There was a playful glint in his eyes that you didn’t miss, like he was taunting you, waving a red flag to a bull. If you said you were, would he attack you too? But surely he couldn’t simply take your word for it if you said you wouldn’t either… Truthfully, you weren’t sure what you were going to do. Your only instinct was to run – fast.

You let his question linger in the air, far too much silence going by as he watched you, assuming you’d frozen in fear. He hadn’t expected you to dart towards the door, your only goal to get downstairs and out of the house as quickly as possible. So when you did exactly that, he watched for a split second, anger snapping inside him.

You barely made it out of the room before you felt a sudden force slam you forwards and into the wall of the corridor. A scream erupted from your chest, blood-curdling and gut-wrenching to anyone who would have heard it – but out here? No one would. How he’d moved so fast, you had no idea, but he had both of your wrists behind your back, and his whole body weight held you tightly against the wall.

“You are leaving so soon?” he asked, leaning in to speak directly in your ear as you writhed under him to try and escape, but his grip was too strong even without him putting seemingly any effort into it. “I was just getting used to you living in my house…”

“This is MY house,” you growled, gritting your teeth and avoiding his eyes.

“Then why should you want to leave? Are you scared I might hurt you, cara mio?”

Tears spilled from your waterline, giving away your fear and distress. Of course you were scared he was going to hurt you. He’d already hurt so many…

When he received no answer from you other than a sob in defeat and the stilling of your limbs as you gave up fighting his grip, he manhandled you until you span around, your back now against the wall just like it had been the other day.

“Th-this isn’t real… You’re not real…” you whispered to yourself, squeezing your eyes shut in the hopes you might wake up from your nightmare. You did not.

“I’m quite real, cara. We’ve been over this, no?” he lifted your wrist again like he had the other day, this time settling your hand delicately on his cheek and holding it there with his much bigger palm. “See?”

His gentility confused you, and when you opened your eyes, you saw a strange softness in his face. For a moment, you almost thought his expression was one of admiration. It didn’t matter what it was, but you couldn’t look away. This man – this serial killer – was being so gentle with you, his eyes cast over you like he was utterly obsessed with you.

“Why?” you whispered, more tears spilling over your cheeks. Still, you held his, despite his grip on your hand lessening ever so slightly. You wanted to understand, talk him down maybe just enough to let you go. You wanted to appeal to the softness you saw in him.

“I have no choice,” he said flatly, almost with a hint of shame. But that only crossed the wires in your mind more.

“I… I don’t understand.”

“I choose them carefully… They are not good people, cara. They have ruined others lives, even taken them and I-“ he stopped himself, looking down at the floor in shame. Your brows creased together, trying to piece your thoughts into coherency.

“It’s always a choice,” you started to argue back, softly so as not to raise any more rage within him in such a precarious position such as the one you found yourself in beneath him. But his head snapped back up nonetheless, his hand gripping onto yours and throwing it back down beside you. He kept you caged beneath him still, hands planted firmly on the wall.

“I assure you, bella ragazza (pretty girl), there is no choice. It is me or them.”

Slowly, he raised his head from where he’d stared at the floorboards between your feet. His eyes watched you closely as he tilted his head back a little, and his lips parted until you could clearly see two very white, very sharp fangs protruding from under his top lip.

For a moment you didn’t react at all, calculating what you were seeing. His hands hadn’t moved, so he hadn’t put them in himself. You’d seen him so many times, and up close too, and never saw them before… They had to be real. He had fangs.

“That’s impossible…” you whispered, “there’s no such thing as-“

“Vampires?” he finished your sentence for you, “I’m sorry to shatter your illusion of a perfect world, cara mio, but I can assure you, there certainly is.”

Finally, your survival instincts kicked in, adrenaline pumping through your veins almost in an instant. You shoved your hands against his chest and pushed with all the strength you had, trying to get him away from you, to preserve yourself. All this time you had felt like prey, and it had been instinct all along. You were prey.

Your shove did nothing. He remained unmoving, like stone encasing you against the wall. You thrashed your arms around, trying to escape him but it was completely useless. You were already trapped, and at the mercy of a real vampire.

“I’m sorry, cara mio, but you will not overcome my strength nor my speed. This is useless, I assure you.” His voice had no hint of patronising, instead of genuine sorrow. It felt as if he knew he had to kill you now, but he didn’t want to kill you. You gave up, your fists balling up against his chest as you lay your head back against the wall, out of breath and sobbing as you accepted your fate.

“Please… don’t kill me, Terzo…” you wept, head lolling forward to look into his eyes for what you thought might be the last time.

His brow was creased, his lips parted in horror as he looked back at you. He raised his gloved hand and wiped at the tracks on your cheek. “I don’t wish to kill you, cara mio… You understand, no? I must kill to stay alive, but not you – never you.”

You barely registered what he was saying before you were shooting questions at him again, needing to know more, to understand why he chose those people. Why he kept their trophies…

“Why them? Why did you choose them? They were innocent, just like me. Why did they deserve that?” you sobbed, your chest heaving as he held your cheek, still caging you against the wall.

“The girl they found? What the polizia (police) don’t know is she was behind the wheel of an intentional hit and run a few years ago. The store clerk a few weeks back? You do not want to see what was on his hard drive. All of them, vile humans. There is more evil in this world than you could possibly fathom, tesoro. They even tasted different…” he shrivelled his face in disgust, “but it keeps me alive, and my conscience semi-clear.”

The shock of his revelation did nothing to help your racing heart or foggy mind, processing everything far slower than you would like in this tumultuous situation.

“Suppose that was true, why do you keep their things?” you prodded further – there must be some part of him that enjoys it. Even if only the fact he were proud of removing scum from the earth, if that were true.

“Because I carry their souls with me… No matter how evil, they are people, and I take their life. Each one is a burden, and I must never forget that.”

There was genuine sorrow, genuine regret there. You could see it. But it changed nothing, he was still a murderer, a monster. And you were still trapped underneath him, literally backed up against a wall and inches away from deadly threat.

“But… it’s sick, Terzo! They’re kept like trophies, like you’re proud of what you do to them!” you protested. He hollowed his cheeks in annoyance, becoming more defensive as you accused him.

The hand that wiped your tears lowered to your neck, his fingertips tracing along the chain of the necklace you had yet to take off, until it reached the unusual pendant, where he played with it against your collarbone.

“And yet, you still wear it. You had time to take it off, if you were so disgusted by it. But here it is, looking so pretty around your… beautiful neck,” he sighed, his eyes roaming hungrily over the exposed skin he so clearly wanted to puncture and drink from. The fear in you started to rise again, your pulse that had just started to settle raising. More hot tears fell over your waterline as you took a deep, shaky breath.

“What… what do you want from me?” you pleaded, your voice trembling and squeaky. His eyes flickered up to yours, fingertips still playing with the pendant, grazing the skin so gently it left goosebumps. You would never admit to the thrill his touch seemed to be giving you, knowing what you know of him now.

But Terzo leaned in further, his hips meeting yours and pressing you further against the wall. The hand that had been keeping you caged against the wall all this time dropped to your waist, holding you just enough to send a wave of curious gratification through your abdomen. He was close enough that your noses would touch, should he tip his head down to you. You could feel his icy breath against your face again – a symptom of his state of undead, you now understood.

“I want you to love me, tesoro…” he confessed in a whisper, watching for your reaction.

“I only fear you,” you defied, unable to admit the curiosity his request sparked.

“Are they not the same?” His eyebrow arched up in question, waiting for your response. But honestly, you had none. You were dumbfounded, wondering what on earth he meant by that. Of course they weren’t the same, nothing about love and fear are the same. The attraction you had felt towards him in recent encounters was fleeting; a right place, right time kind of attraction. It had nothing to do with him, and now knowing what he was, it could never be him again.

Terzo understood your silence to be an internal monologue, a debate in your own mind. He pressed further, illustrating his point.

“Let me ask you, tesoro, does the thought of me make your hairs stand on end?” his fingertips grazed along the length of your collarbone, the grip on your waist squeezing slightly, “Does it make your stomach fill with the flutter of butterfly wings? Does it make your heart beat like the thrum of a hummingbird’s wings?”

You couldn’t deny it, but those were markers of fear as well as love. It didn’t mean they were synonymous. You refused to answer him.

“I can hear it, you know…” his hand flattened against your collarbone, “The pounding in your chest, the rushing of your blood through your veins. I hear them, working so hard when you are near me.”

Terzo leaned into your neck, his nose brushing against your jugular so tenderly as he breathed in deeply, enjoying your scent to the point of near intoxication. Little did you know, it was that scent that drew him out of hiding in the first place. He simply couldn’t stay away from you, and when he saw where the scent was coming from, saw your sheer beauty, he understood why you smelled as tempting as you did.

“Fear smells just like love to me, tesoro. It adds a sweetness to your already saccharine scent. Just like nectar appeals to a honey bee, you appeal to me much the same,” he continued to nuzzle his nose against your skin, his breath fanning over your collarbone. Every so often in his clumsy, inebriated state his lips would gently tickle the skin, sending a rush through you that now you were certain he could smell. “That nectar can be turned into honey, no? I wonder if I could do the same for you…”

You bit your lip, looking up towards the ceiling in an attempt to avoid his eyes that frankly were too hypnotic for their own good.

“They are all markers of fear, Terzo…” you whimpered. You felt his breath as he chuckled against your skin.

“Then tell me why I can smell the sweetest honey already pooling between your legs, cara mio…”

Your head snapped down to look at him, and you met his eyes already waiting for you, a smirk on his lips. You wanted to deny it, to slap him, to push him away from you but what was the point? He was right. There was no denying it. He could smell you.

The shame you felt, letting a monster like him have such an effect on you, was astronomical.

“Please…” you pleaded; for what, you weren’t sure.

“What is it, cara mio? What can I give you?” he asked, straightening up and again cupping your cheek with his gloved hand, still holding your waist, still pressing his hips to yours. His lips were so close, all you could do was stare at them until you snapped yourself out of it, looking him directly in the eyes.

“Everything.”

It took no longer than a heartbeat for Terzo to process your answer, before his lips attached to yours so fast and hard you felt his fangs scrape against your bottom lip. A thrill zapped your core, and your balled up fists against his chest gripped the lapels of his coat to bring him impossibly close. You succumbed so quickly to him, desperate to feel his lips against yours.

While you were sure this feeling was not love, it was certainly not fear either. ‘Infatuation’ felt closer to the truth, borderline obsession just as Terzo had exhibited towards you. But denying it was futile now, and so instead, you leaned into it. The pair of you desperately held onto each other, kissing as if this was the only way you could get oxygen, and you’d been suffocating without each other.

Terzo started to move, trailing his passion down to your jawline, underneath your ear and down to your neck. Your heartrate quickened again, knowing that his mouth near your neck could go only one of two ways. Both options seemed to excite you in equal measures…

“W-will it hurt…?” you asked him, as you felt his fangs graze against your skin lightly, like he was holding himself back.

“Just for a second…” he panted like a dog laying out in the sun. And he wasn’t wrong, the pain would be momentary, his fangs emitting a small amount of venom that acts as an anaesthetic. That wasn’t the problem, and it wasn’t what stopped him in his tracks. “But I can’t…”

You cupped his cheeks, lifting his head to look him in the eye again. “What’s wrong?”

He looked as if he were in pain, his face screwed up in utter agony. He kept shaking his head, like he didn’t want to say it, like he was hiding a secret that would break him just to say aloud.

“If… If I do this, I might not be able to stop,” he whined, “and even if I do, how could I ever let you go after tasting you?”

You searched his eyes, saw the pain and the uncertainty in them. He truly didn’t want to hurt you, and right now he looked more vulnerable than you would think a creature of the night was capable of being.

“When you moved in I couldn’t leave you, I couldn’t stay away… And that was merely your smell, Tesoro. I’m afraid if I taste you, I could never leave you alone again.”

His admission floored you, and as much as the idea of giving yourself over to him willingly seemed to appeal to you, the rational part of your brain was still working enough to understand that that was a line that should not be crossed just yet.

“It’s okay… It’s okay,” you told him sincerely, comforting his distress before bringing his lips back to yours and resuming your heated exchange. Perhaps someday you would allow him that taste, a way of committing deeper than you could possibly comprehend at this stage. But there was a reason for the phrase “blood pact”, and it didn’t originate with the exchange of open wounds between two mortals.

As enthralled as he was in your lips, feeling your pulse beneath them tempting him, Terzo had to push the thought to the back of his mind. He couldn’t lose himself to the temptation so soon. He’d frighten you away if you saw him so feral, and he couldn’t let you disappear like everyone else in his life – not the only woman to ever have smelled so divine to him. Only he knew what that meant, that pull… You were it for him. His obsession was unavoidable, you were his promised love.

It happened instantaneously for his kind, but for you? It would take time for you to see it, to feel what he felt. Human sense of smell was nowhere near as powerful, and so you could never know just by his scent that he was the one for you, the soul on the other end of the red string tied around your wrist.

To rid his mind of the temptation, he focussed on the moment at hand. His intense grip on your waste drifted over your hips and to the backs of your thighs until he was lifting them, using his hips to ground you against the wall so you wouldn’t fall. It was as if you were weightless to him, his inhuman strength making such light work of carrying you further down the hall and into your bedroom – his bedroom – until you both fell onto the bed.

No part of you thought for even a millisecond of stopping him, an intense need for him screaming from within you. You pushed his coat from his shoulders, diverting to his shirt buttons as soon as he began pulling at his sleeves to rid himself of the heavy wool. In no time at all, his chest was bare to you, peppered with dark hair that you’d expect from a man of Italian descent. You pulled him closer to you, reattaching your lips desperately.

His gloves disappeared as you kissed him, and you couldn’t help but flinch at the touch of his cold skin on yours, his hands sliding up under the hem of your shirt to hold you. He paused for a moment, searching your face for any sign his touch wasn’t welcome.

“Just cold…” you assured him, running your fingers through the dark locks of hair that had fallen over his face as he hovered above you.

“I, eh… sí, mi scusi, I am cold to the touch…” he apologised, a wave of insecurity flashing through his expression.

“I don’t mind,” you smiled sweetly, pulling him down with your hand woven into his hair and kissing his insecurity away. He regained his confidence, grip returning to your bare waist under your shirt and tightening with gratitude at your reassurance.

The way he kissed you was like worship, like he valued every second you allowed him to touch you, to be with you – and as he slowly began to undress you, his worship continued. He started with your shirt, pushing it up your abdomen and peppering the skin with more kisses as he exposed it. Over the curve of your breast peaking from above the cup of your bra, you felt the low rumble of a groan against your chest that was suppressed as he buried his face into your flesh. He was so gentle, so calculated in his motions and it was driving you crazy already.

Once your shirt was finally above your head and discarded somewhere to the side, he pulled the straps of your bra down, kissing along your shoulders and down your arms until he reached behind you to unclasp it. Your breasts bounced before him, and he immediately began to leave open mouthed kisses over them, laving his tongue over your nipples as they stood to attention under the chill of his lips. His free hand worked at your other breast, kneading like he was making the finest ricciarelli biscuit dough.

You couldn’t help the soft whines and hums that left your body as he worshipped you, hips rolling under him in a desperate attempt to feel something more. You wanted him so badly, already overcome with desire.

His hand came to rest on your hip, squeezing and he continued to suckle at your breast. His fingers dipped easily into the waistband of your paint-smeared sweats – one of several pairs you alternated when working on the house renovations. Before long, he was dragging them down your thighs, his cold knuckles grazing at the skin and sending a pleasurable shiver down your spine.

Terzo was taking his time without wasting any. He knew what he wanted, what you wanted, but he spent just enough time working your body, lavishing it to build anticipation. But before long, his kisses began to travel south, leaving a path of wet little marks down between the valley of your breasts and your navel until he was tracing the hem of your underwear, daring to run his finger along the sensitive skin.

It took a formidable amount of strength and restraint to keep your hips as still as you did, and even then, you were wriggling under his touch. But when he could tell you were growing restless, he wrapped his arm underneath your thigh and lifted it above his shoulder. Naturally, you spread wider for him, giving him complete access to your covered core where he could see so clearly the stain of arousal.

He was so close to you, the scent of your sweet honey so intoxicating. You could never understand how divine that scent was with your own human senses, but to him? It cemented itself in his memory. He knew that after today, he would never forget it. He didn’t want to rush, but frankly, it was getting impossible to resist a taste.

He lifted the hem of your panties and pierced the material beneath it with his fangs, easily tearing it away from your body before he pressed his nose to your mound, and took in a deep inhale. He growled between your legs, the vibration and exhale teasing your nerves until you were clenching around nothing.

He could wait no longer, his tongue reaching out to lap between your folds in one slow motion. He savoured the taste on his tongue, making sure to collect as much honey as he could for a truly overwhelming taste. You watched as his hips rocked into the bed below him, his hands tightening on your thighs. His tongue felt cold too, but the pressure was so welcome, a wave of euphoria passing through your core.

Expertly, Terzo used his whole mouth to bring you the pleasure he thought you deserved and yet, not once did you worry about the sharp fangs he’d used to strip you. He had the ability to retract them should he need to, and for this particularly delicate activity, he did just that. But his lips and tongue worked together to have you moaning at every lap, hips rolling underneath him.

Your hands found their way to his hair for purchase, tugging at the roots every time he sent a surge of pleasure through your clit. He loved it, moaning with you as if he too was close to an orgasm. Both of you had lost yourselves to the moment, completely enthralled in lust.

Terzo was becoming more and more desperate to have you finish on his tongue. Each pretty little sound he caused only made him want to hear more, and as you grew closer and closer to orgasm, you sweetened with added hormones that drove him wild. He unwrapped a hand from around your thigh and easily slid two fingers inside, not bothering nor needing to tease with how your body already gave itself over to him. He curled his fingers inside you, a shock of pleasure forcing your back to arch from the mattress as he found the perfect position.

His pace increased with every moan he elicited, the tension in your lower abdomen growing until you were on the verge of snapping.

“T-Terzo… Please,” you begged him. He chuckled darkly as he buried his face deeper within you, his nose adding to the equation and making your hips writhe until finally, that tension inside you snapped.

He didn’t stop, holding you down with inhuman strength as you erupted in cries of bliss. Your muscles contracted, thighs trapping his head in place and fingers pulling painfully at his hair.

Terzo slurped at your core, not letting a single drop of arousal go to waste. You tasted different as you came, the rush of hormones adding something so damn addictive that it wasn’t until you physically tried pushing his head away in oversensitivity that he snapped out of his trance, his head jolting up to look at you with his mouth and skin shimmering. He looked completely feral, his eyes wide, and you watched as his fangs returned with a snarl of a hungry animal locking onto its kill.

Your heart jumped in your chest; out of fear or lust you couldn’t be sure. But he heard it, the irregular thump as you lay vulnerable and weak beneath him. It only served to make his erection twitch in his slacks… Fear was a powerful feeling, and mixed with lust it was one of the most erotic combinations.

He crawled his way back up your body, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before diving into a punishing kiss that knocked any remaining wind out of you. You could feel his length pressing into your hip, and while you were certainly already struggling with exertion you wanted nothing more than to know how he’d feel inside you.

So you reached between you both for his belt, fiddling with the buckle as you kissed him. Taking the hint, he kicked his shoes off over the edge of the bed, and when you’d managed to undo his belt and slacks, he helped to kick them with his underwear passed his knees to follow suit. With him bared to you and pressing into your hip once again, you could feel just how endowed he was, and just how ready for you he was.

“You are so beautiful, cara mio…” he mused between kisses, his cold fingertips trailing down your neck and arm, then back up. “And you can’t ever understand how exquisite you taste.”

“To an extent, I can…” you teased with a flirty smile, “I can taste myself on your tongue.”

He stared down at you for a moment, until realisation finally settled and his lips curled into a devilish grin.

“Tu sei una tentatrice, amore mio… (you are a temptress, my love…)” he whispered, lowering himself to your lips once again.

As you both lost yourself in another steamy kiss, you couldn’t help rolling your hips up to meet his. He hummed into your mouth, understanding that you wanted him completely, and reached between the two of you to grip himself. You spread your legs a little wider to make it easier for him, feeling how he prodded at your entrance once he’d lined himself up.

“Are you sure, amore?” he stopped to ask, and you nodded, biting your lip to contain the smile as you cupped his cheeks. With your permission, he slowly pushed forwards, filling you slowly as he glided through your slick. You fought to keep your eyes open, if only to watch the look of bliss that overcame his face – and boy was it worth it.

He looked so ethereal, like his pale skin had been carved by the finest of Greek sculptors in marble burdened with the curse of perfection. The chill of his skin did nothing to quell the burning heat of yours, finding the perfect balance.

“You’re so… warm,” he moaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck while he enjoyed the feeling for a moment. “Sembra fottutamente incredibile. (feels fucking incredible.)”

Given a moment to compose himself, he began to slowly rock his hips back and forth, gritting his teeth from the sensation alone. You would be the first to admit that he, too, felt incredible inside you, reaching places his fingers had only moments ago and sending waves of a dull pleasure through you once again at the embers of your last orgasm were being stoked.

His hand gripped your thigh and lifted it around his waist, obtaining a better angle and something for him to grip onto to stop his mind spiralling into sheer madness. Already, you were so difficult to resist; temptation was calling to him in the form of your steady, yet thundering pulse where his face lay against your neck. But if he lost himself, lost control like he was so terrified to, he was afraid resistance would fail him.

It was like torture. How could he feel so incredible pumping his length inside you while simultaneously experiencing the physical strain of holding his thirst back. You were his, he’d decided that long ago. But to truly make you his, all he would need to do was to give in, to sink his fangs into the skin he was peppering with kisses. He felt like a recovering addict desperately trying to resist as someone waved a hit under his nose. In some ways, that was exactly what he was.

But not yet. It was too soon. He had to resist for now, to let you make up your mind without ancient ritual influences before he allowed himself to truly make you his. He couldn’t bind himself to you, only for you to walk away when it all became too much, or hell forbid, you found someone more human to settle down with.

Instead, he focussed on the pleasure filling his cock as he pistoned in and out of you. He focussed on your pretty moans, and the way you clenched around him. He focussed on kisses to your neck instead of bites, groaning against your skin as he indulged in you. But too easily he lost himself, and soon he couldn’t help but drag his tongue from the bottom of your neck, to right underneath your ear.

You loved how it felt, completely oblivious to just how close you were to becoming a meal to him. To you it was simply another thing to drive you wild, and when you once again wrapped your fingers in his hair, your other arm pushing down on his back to pull him against you, you had no clue you were making it so much harder for him.

He kept suckling, licking, even nipping so gently at your neck – so fucking close to what he truly wanted as his instincts began to take over. He fought them as hard as he could snarling at himself in warning but still, you were oblivious to his internal fight and mistook his anguish for noises of pleasure.

Truly, he hadn’t meant to let it get this far; but when the sharp tip of his fang grazed just a little too close to where your pulse thundered against his tongue, and you writhed under him with a targeted hit to your g-spot, he nicked your skin just enough to draw the tiniest spec of blood… He hadn’t even noticed, your scent already filling his nose that he didn’t sense it intensify just a fraction until it was too late, and he’d laved his tongue over the graze.

It all happened too fast, then.

You were mid-moan when you felt an excruciating pain where his tongue had just been, the noise catching in your throat with a sudden choke. Your fingers naturally tightened in his hair, and your nails dug into the cold flesh of his back as a scream travelled its way through your ribcage and you couldn’t help but let it out. Your back arched and your muscles constricted, but Terzo’s hips never stopped and now that he’d got a taste of you – a real taste – he growled a visceral growl that you felt rumble in the pit of your stomach.

If he thought you’d tasted good between your legs, this was the most intensely delicious thing he’d ever had the pleasure of tasting. Such pure, untainted blood coated his tongue, dribbling down your neck as he ravished it. He’d known this was dangerous, that one bite would bind him to you for eternity after the first whiff of your scent when you moved in. But now that he’d tasted you, he couldn’t for the life of him remember why he’d fought so hard to stave off.

“T-Terzo, you-“ you tried to stop him, remembering how pained he’d looked when he explained why he really couldn’t do this, but it truly was too late. All it took was one drop. He cut you off with a hand clamping over your jaw, his other holding your hip in place with bruising force.

His hips never stopped, every sensation he felt only pushing him to fuck into you harder like a rabid monster. In that moment, that was exactly what he was. In that first split-second, he frightened you. You saw the side of him he’d tried so hard to hide, and coupled with the pain in your neck, your body flooded with adrenaline – which of course, only added to the sublime taste of your blood.

But like he had promised, the venom acted fast. The pain ebbed away into nothing but a sensation of being prodded and sucked at. Still you held onto him tightly, unable to deny that this was possible one of the most intimate feelings you’d ever felt, and the pleasure started to stack up.

Even to a point, where the rush of blood through the two puncture wounds in your neck became a pleasurable experience. You’d have trouble explaining just how, but it felt unbelievable, like a massage that tickled and sent endorphins flooding your mind. Little did you know, that was also the venom coursing through your body. But it didn’t matter, because coupled with Terzo’s cock thrusting against your g-spot it was the most glorious feeling in the entire world.

As you barrelled closer to a second orgasm, Terzo ripped his fangs from your neck and looked down at you beneath him. He had a look in his eye that was so predatory that you knew immediately you belonged to him now, whether you liked it or not. As luck would have it, you did like it; very much. That obsessive look, that ownership turned you on to a point that had you squealing for him beneath his hand.

Quickly, you reached your peak for a second time, holding him so tightly you thought that maybe even you would draw blood with your nails in his back. Just as that second burst of pleasure coursed through you, Terzo reattached himself to your neck, drinking in the newly sweetened blood that a rush of hormones created for him. If you could imagine the most expensive, and decadent wine you had ever tasted, it wouldn’t hold a candle to the taste of your blood to him right now.

Suddenly he lurched back again, this time removing his hands from your body and holding himself up, only to dive in and sink his fangs into the swell of your breast as it bounced with the force of each of his trusts. Again, you were met with pain the flooded your body but mixed with the high of your orgasm, you could only scream in pleasure. He drank from you again, kneading at your other breast as he too hurtled towards an orgasm.

The pain subsided quickly thanks to another dose of his venom, but he continued to drink from you, prolonging your euphoria just long enough for him to finally and violently reach his own high.

He erupted inside you, his head throwing back as he growled and lost his rhythm, pounding sloppily into you with each twitch of his cock. In your post-orgasm haze, you witnessed the look of bliss on his face, seeing for the first time the distinct red that coated his lips and dripped from his fangs down to his chin. He looked manic, but holy shit it was intensely erotic.

With the small amount of strength left in you, you sat up just enough to push your lips to his. You don’t know why you did it, or even that you had until you could taste the metallic twang of iron on your tongue. Terzo collapsed into you, wrapping his arms around you as he rolled to the side, taking you along with him. With the mess he created of your core, he slipped from inside you, now simply intent on holding you close while he processed that you were kissing him, despite being tainted with your blood. But it grounded him, and slowly, his orgasm subsided and his mind cleared of its fog.

Your kiss came to a natural end, the pair of you exhausted, and without a word you lay yourself on his chest, not bothering to wipe away the smears of blood around your own mouth as you caught your breath.

“I’m so sorry…” he whimpered, pulling you tighter against him and obscuring your view of his face so you wouldn’t have to witness the shame that settled there. You didn’t have the energy to speak, instead hoping that the circling of your thumb over the cool skin of his chest was enough comfort for now to show him you didn’t mind, that you’d wanted that as much as he had.

You let some time pass, calming yourselves down in each other’s arms. His grip on you lessened as the minutes passed, and eventually, you were able to look up at his face. To your shock and heartbreak, you noticed his cheeks were wet with something other than blood – Terzo was crying.

“Hey…” you soothed, shuffling further up the bed to hover above him. He covered his face with his hand, hiding himself but you pulled it away, cupping his cheek and swiping at the tear tracks. “No, no no… Stop this, it’s okay.”

“Mi dispiace tantissimo, (I’m so sorry,)” he cried, “I hurt you. I did the one thing I should never have done…”

“Shhh,” you hushed him like a newborn who couldn’t sleep, “I wanted that, remember? I told you you could.”

“You don’t understand, I… I have bound myself to you, and now, when you leave… it will devastate me,” he sobbed, staring straight up at the canopy of the large bed, unable to look you in the eye.

“What makes you think I will leave?” you asked him gently, still gently swiping his fresh tears away whilst fighting your own.

“Amore mio, I have lost everybody I have ever cared about,” he told you, finally looking you in the eye. “I have either outlived them, or watched as they turned their back on me. And now I have selfishly bound myself to you, knowing that I cannot ever let you go.”

His admission broke your heart. You certainly had no intention of going anywhere, the bond you now shared with him feeling strangely cemented and more intimate than any you’d had with another. But in the end, time would come for you just as it had the rest of his family, lying under the earth of your own back garden.

“How does someone… become like you?” you asked tentatively, absentmindedly, playing with the chest hair the covered his pecks.

Terzo’s brow creased in confusion. “Why would you ask such a thing? I couldn’t condemn you to a life like this…” After all he’d been through; the killings, loss, isolation, and even the exile he’d faced decades ago when the townspeople discovered what he was… He couldn’t put you in a position like that. He didn’t want you to become part of the dark legend of the Emeritus house, another spooky story passed from generation to generation to tell around campfires for years to come.

“Just tell me, how?” you pressed. He sighed, laying his head back on the pillow and staring back up at the canopy.

“You would need to drink the blood of my kind,” he stated simply, his nose wrinkling in disgust. “I could not ask that of you. The process is not an easy one, and to become like me is to be condemned to a life of heartache.”

You thought for a moment, acknowledging his concerns but deciding that whilst that had been his experience, it didn’t need to be yours. Not with him beside you – neither of you would need to be lonely ever again.

“I’m so sorry you’ve felt that heartache, but I believe that the two of us together could avoid that.”

He raised his head to look at you again, examining your face for a moment while he contemplated what some kind of future might look like with you.

“Perhaps not yet, I understand. But Terzo, I will prove that I intend on going nowhere. And when you feel like you might be ready to trust that, I’ll be waiting,” you promised him, cupping his jaw and stroking your thumb gently over his cheek. “Until then, I can be your very own personal supply, hm?” you smiled, “You won’t need to take a life, so long as you have me little and often, right?”

“You… would do that? For me?” his eyebrows creased together in question, truly in disbelief you would offer him such a thing.

“Mhm,” you nodded, “I mean as long as every time feels as incredible as that,” you giggled. “And besides, you’ll get a decent meal at least once a month,” you joked, lightening the mood a little with a cheeky smirk.

Terzo rolled his eyes with a laugh that vibrated his chest beneath you. He shook his head at the absurdity of your offer, no matter how technically practical that sort of arrangement would actually be to a man of his kind.

“Oh, amore… sei davvero una tentatrice (you really are a temptress)…” he grinned, leaning up to capture your lips in a sweet, blood-stained kiss.

A/N: Huge thank you to @her-satanic-wiles for beta reading! If you'd like to leave me a tip, you can do so here.

If you'd like to read any of my other works, you can find them here.

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allwaswell16 · 7 months

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All the One Direction fics I read and enjoyed in February 2024. You can listen to my podcast to hear me talk about each of these fics as well as an overview of what was posted on ao3 including the fics on this month’s fic roundup which you can find here! Please let the writers know if you liked the fics by leaving kudos and comments! Happy reading!

Fanfictional Podcast #59 | ko-fi | fic recs

- Louis/Harry -

🩷 with venom on your tongue by wildestdreams / @thelavendrhaze

(E, 91k, enemies to lovers) a boarding school AU where Harry and Louis are academic rivals until they realize they’re more similar than they thought

🩷 another dream but always you by you_explode / @nobodymoves

(M, 60k, superpowers) Harry is a Dreamwalker; he has the ability to visit people in their dreams and help put them on the right path. He's assigned to Louis, who's struggling after the break-up of his band.

🩷 through walls of trees by @ineverateakiwi

(T, 41k, fantasy) Elesdon is a country divided into five kingdoms and had long been considered peaceful. After a coup in the heart of the country, Lady Sulia ascended to the throne and imprisoned the four courts, stripping them of their powers. With the exception of King Louis Tomlinson, who submitted to her favors.

🩷 Get Out Of My Head (and I'll get out of yours) by Imogenlee / @imogenleewriter

(E, 29k, exes) “You really that desperate, are you?” Despite it being a shitty thing to say, Harry didn’t mind too much, as the bitterness in Louis’ tone sounded like music to Harry’s ears. Harry was winning tonight. “Can’t find anyone new to be interested in you, so you try to hit on Zayn.”

🩷 this love is alive by @stylinsonwritingpalace

(E, 10k, writer Louis) When Louis's favorite fictional character, Harry Styles, comes to life, it's up to him to decide if he should stay.

🩷 Pretty and Preposterous by @brightlyharry

(NR, 5k, neighbors) Harry donates a copy of Pride and Prejudice to his little free library. He never expects what comes next.

🩷 In Jest by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

(T, 4k, soulmates) Louis, who smiles at Harry as he reclines in his chair. Louis, whose soulmark is visible thanks to his low-cut top. Louis, Harry’s soulmate, who seems to either be blissfully ignorant of that fact or maliciously ignoring it.

🩷 All This Time (I was Waiting for You) by @ohharold

(E, 4k, vampire/fae) Harry and Louis have always been destined for each other. Some time apart has Harry reminiscent of their first meeting.

🩷 Jealousy Looks Good On You, Baby by cigarettesbeforesex

(M, 4k, pwp) A flirtatious stranger wanted to entice Louis by buying him a drink from the bar. The handsome 29-year-old tavern manager with curly hair, who Louis (often) flirts with, is currently working on shift...Poor Curly, because he's the one that has to deliver the drink to him.

🩷 the "Falling" series by we_are_the_same / @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed

(T, 4k, exes to lovers) Harry looks like he wants to say something but thinks better of it, and just nods, putting the CD in a box that’s filled with all kinds of knick knacks from their bedroom. Or, no. Louis supposes it is his bedroom now. Or will be, after today.

🩷 spring in your eyes by @nouies

(NR, 3k, fake relationship) “Just Go with It” inspired AU where plastic surgeon Harry pretends to be married to his assistant Louis to avoid unwanted attention.

🩷 Dirty Diana by yeah_alright / @uhoh-but-yeah-alright

(E, 3k, epistolary) In the month leading up to his 30th birthday, Harry writes to his confidante Diana every day, sharing his fantasies about Louis.

🩷 From the Dining Table by @littleroverlouis

(E, 3k, established relationship) Harry's thirtieth birthday hasn't gone as expected. Things start looking up from the dining table.

🩷 You Could Give That Aspirin the Headache of Its Life by LetTheMusicMoveYou / @letthemusicmoveyou28

(M, 3k, exes) the one where Louis is a football player who gets stuck on a flight with his ex-boyfriend Harry. The universe might be conspiring against him, or is it?

🩷 What’s in a Name by @hellolovers13

(T, 2k, soulmates au) Louis had always known Harry was his soulmate. The name on his arm disagreed. But what did his soulmark know about true love anyway.

🩷 miles away from seeing you by LiveLaughLoveLarry / @loveislarryislove

(T, 1k, social media) Harry is in his final year studying marine biology, and is doing an international exchange at the University of Auckland. His boyfriend Louis stays behind in England, but they keep in touch regularly through texts, snapchats, video calls, and more.

- Rare Pairs -

🩷 Can You Feel Where the Wind Is by @fallinglikethis

(M, 3k, Zayn/Liam) He remembers arguing that he had no real power over anything, so no one would care about him, let alone try to hurt him. But that assessment had proven to be untrue today.

🩷 Skin on My Skin by Layne Faire / @laynefaire

(E, 2k, Zayn/Liam) Let me touch you where you like it Let me do it for ya

🩷 Stray by @haztobegood

(E, 1k, Zayn/Harry, Harry/Louis) Finally, Louis catches a glimpse of familiar curls weaving through the crowd. The man’s arm is firm around Harry’s waist until they stop in front of the booth. “I found this stray wandering around. I believe he’s yours.”

#28th appreciation #1dficvillage #trackinghome #trackinghappily #hlcreators #hljournal #hltracks #ficsfor4am #ficrec

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jo-harrington · 8 months

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so teeth? really?

Anon...yeah teeth? I'm weird, I'm here for the weirdos.

I've decided recently that I'm going to be a certain actor who shall only be named in the tags arch nemesis. If there's no one out there talking about his false teeth and his stained nails and his disgusting capitalist tendencies, it means I'm dead.

So in honor of a certain someone who'll only be named in the tags 30th birthday, please enjoy the sequel to this weird RPF.

Pairing: Disgusting 30-year old capitalist B-lister who's lucking out on his career x CorporateBadass!Fem!Reader

TW: RPF, Smut, jealousy, a little angst, a little degradation, and he's gross

Tagging @courtingchaos @deathbecomesthem @dr-aculaaa and @tomtomslongdong @bettyfrommars because you liked my games last time.

18+ WEIRDOS ENJOY! NORMIES STAY OUT.

It came in an email.

It always did.

Forwarded from your work email to your personal email, then forwarded onto his with several question marks. No phone numbers, no WhatsApp. An occasional GChat if you had trouble compromising over different time zones. But generally, your interactions were limited to a familiar face in an unfamiliar place; not casual conversation during normal, every day life.

You joked once, in an Uber on the way to the airport as you were fixing your disheveled clothes after a quickie before check-out, that you might as well sync your google calendars and that…seemed pretty appealing to him, if only someone else didn’t handle his calendar for him.

“Must be nice,” you joked. “Big important star with an assistant.”

“It’s one of my manager’s assistant,” he argued. “And you have an assistant too.”

“It’s an admin for the department. And they only book the travel. They don’t manage individual calendars. Sorry I’m a peasant dragging my cadaver up the corporate ladder.”

Regardless, he woke up to your email one morning—some remnant of your personality from a former life—at the top of his inbox with the word “London???” above an itinerary for two weeks of franchise meetings and property tours around the city he called home.

His city. No coincidences, no “accidental” run-ins at LAX or JFK that the two of you bent in your favor. You were coming for to him. During a week that he otherwise had no plans.

He acted on impulse. Perhaps a little desperately. Especially considering how little he knew you.

“If you want, you can just stay here. I have plenty of room. You’ll have your space. Pretend it’s a VRBO for the week.”

Realization hit him once he hit send. Dread.

Invite you to stay at his house, a house that he was just settling in to being a home. Where all of his things were, where he had pictures of family and friends.

His house.

Where he was someone and not no one.

He hoped that you would realize the impropriety—as improper as it could be after he’d stuck his cock in you more times than he could count at this point—and be the more level-headed of the two of you, as you usually were, and decline the offer.

It took 48 hours for you to respond.

He thought that meant he was in the clear.

Until your reply blipped in his inbox between emails containing sides for self tapes and negotiations for his next potential public appearance.

“Great, thanks. I won’t take up too much space. I’ll barely be there.”

Followed by the airplane emoji and the sleep emoji.

He got irrationally angry for a moment.

How could you do this? How could you cross this boundary? Partial anonymity…that’s what you both agreed on and here you were…suddenly reneging on that agreement.

Invading his space.

Only you weren’t invading, he invited you in.

Invited you to know Joe a little more than you knew Joseph.

And he could know you too.

He missed getting to know people; he chose not to know people. He knew enough people.

Now he’d get the chance to get to know you.

You’d be here in a week.

And suddenly you were.

Not an email away. Just there.

You sent him a WhatsApp from the car—a necessity now that you’d be with him for a prolonged time—double checking his street. Then suddenly you were ringing the bell.

He went over the mental to-do list that he’d made ahead of your arrival—schedule planned so he’d be available if you wanted or needed him anything, the cleaning service came through, groceries were delivered, and he’d even got flowers for your room…just a nice little thing he thought of—and then he opened the door.

It had been awkward, the initial greeting.

It wasn’t like your typical hotel room rendezvous. It wasn’t straight to business. You both just stood there staring.

“Consider me a vampire,” you joked, slightly jet lagged and weary since you had gone to meetings straight away after you’d landed. “I need to be invited to come in.”

“Of course,” he stepped to the side to let you in. “Make yourself at home.”

You let him carry your suitcase and shoulder your backpack as he led you straight to the guest room. Then you touched his cheek fondly, thanked him…and promptly shut the door in his face so you could sleep.

Well…he at least thought he was going to get something more than that.

But he didn’t get much more than that. For almost an entire week.

At first it was fine. You were busy, and so was he.

He made (ordered) breakfast for the two of you for the first morning. You grabbed tea and a biscuit (“when in Rome…yes I know…but this was part of the Roman Empire so…No I thought it was funny Joseph ok see you later then”) and ordered an Uber to make it to your first walkthrough of the day. He had a copy of your schedule in his email, made sure to run his errands, make his appointments, and hang out with friends while you were busy so he could be there when it was time for you to return at the end of the day. Only to get another peck on the cheek and be thoroughly ignored as you trudged off to bed.

He felt a little bad. He knew those days where they just never seemed to end; come back to wherever he’d been put up only to check his phone and pass out.

Then he’d hear you around midnight, waking up from a dead sleep and tapping away at your keyboard. Sending communication to your boss or your team or whoever else back home. He didn’t know if you knew he was awake, or if you would venture out of the guest room to find him or get a drink…something. But you never did. Didn’t roam around, didn’t even chat him on WhatsApp; you just clicked away until the clicking stopped and you passed out again.

That’s when he got annoyed.

Because he’d been patient enough; he waited. Waited for something for those first few days. Some kind of sign that you were here with him. He’d sit and watch the telly, pick something from netflix or YouTube, read a book waiting for you to say more than hello to him when he opened the door for you. Have a conversation with him. Something! Sure that wasn’t really how the two of you operated, but even when he still had a roommate and they lived a very separate schedule there was at least a “hey mate, how’d the day go” and it gnawed at his insides that you couldn’t even be bothered.

Who were you? Just some no one, playing at possibly having an executive position one day.

And who was he? He was Joseph Quinn. Eddie fucking Munson, as much as he loathed it. He had people screaming for him, screaming his name. You even screamed his name from time to time.

Just not now.

Was he even going to get to fuck you at the end of this torture? Probably not. You’d be off to Heathrow to catch your flight back home with a simple peck on the cheek and a pat on the head.

“Good boy Joseph, letting me stay in your guest room, thank you for the red carpet treatment.”

So after three days of radio silence, he stopped playing such a gracious host. You insisted that you weren’t even there? He would act like you weren’t.

He stopped living his life around your schedule, left you a spare key so he wouldn’t have to make a fool of himself and open the door for you. Got dinner with his friends, drinks with some people his manager wanted him to meet, all on his own time.

He did exactly what did, he ignored you.

And that’s what got your attention, or so it seemed.

He saw you “in the wild” a bit more. You and your American lean against the bar at the pub he frequented, wine glass in hand as you chatted with someone in a suit; he decided he’d rather get a beer somewhere else that night. Came home late from a friend’s party on Friday to find you in the kitchen, with a sandwich, going over some contract. You waved at him, maybe a hello or to get him to join you, but he just walked away. Woke up late the next morning to find you actually sitting on his couch with coffee in one hand and phone in another. Your eyes brightened a little when you saw him.

“Morning! I have an appointment at 1, but…dinner?” You asked. “I’m getting so sick of cateri—“

“M’busy,” he cut you off. He didn’t like the way you just nodded, just pressed your lips together accepted it. The way his plans meant nothing. Still, you were out here. Instead of in your room…or just gone.

“Maybe tomorrow night?” He offered, a little more gently.

“Sounds good.” He smiled. “I’ll put it on my calendar.” And the smile went away again, and so did he.

You put him on your calendar like another business appointment; he shouldn’t have felt bad about it, it’s what you always did when you met up in one city or another…but he did. Because this wasn’t “make a run-in happen” this was a meal with the person whose house you were living in for two weeks.

He probably should have asked someone if he was overreacting—probably should have asked you to be honest—but who could he ask? His friends didn’t know about you; they gave him enough shit about his current situation as it was, let alone some American airport fling. Couldn’t exactly tell his manager, they’d have you in to sign an NDA or something; all of the times he planned his travel around “running into you,” he just said it was meeting up with a friend.

So let the feeling stew in his head all day. He came home late again Saturday night to avoid you, and stayed out the entire day Sunday, missing the time you’d made for him on your calendar. Good riddance.

Until he rolled in at 1am, well on his way back to sober after a night out, to find you sitting on his couch, some YouTube chef on the telly, Diet Coke in hand, and his takeaway box of leftovers from dinner the night before on the coffee table.

“That was mine,” he accused. No greeting, just fire as he walked over and looked at the remnants of his gnocchi carbonara.

“It was really tasty,” you nodded.

“I know, because it was mine.” He scoffed and crossed his arm over his chest. “You know if you were really hungry, there’s plenty of other food in the kitchen. Or you could’ve gotten a sausage roll or something. Ever heard of Uber Eats?”

“No I ate your pasta because you told me once that you don’t eat leftovers but you always felt bad that they’d just go in the garbage at the restaurant,” you explained calmly. A little too calmly. “Instead they’d just go in the garbage here. So I enjoyed your scraps, cold, like a peasant, oh King Joseph, most conceited and decadent of all. Because you forgot we had plans for dinner.”

“S’that what we had? Plans?”

“Yeah, I blocked off time for you and everything.”

“Talk about most conceited,” he grabbed the takeaway box and started walking towards the kitchen to dispose of it and this conversation, but you were hot on his heels.

“Excuse me what was that?”

“You heard me, conceited,” he threw the box in the bin and then turned back towards you. “Lemme pencil you in on my calendar, Joe. Dinner, Sunday, 8 o’clock does that work?” He mimed holding a notebook and jotting down the appointment.

“Have you lost your mind? That’s what I need to do if I want ten minutes to myself, let alone a whole dinner. You know I didn’t even put sleep on my calendar for this trip?”

“Lemme not even say good morning because I have a call I need to get on Joe, thanks for the biscuits.”

“Did you miss the entire point of me being in London when I sent you my itinerary? Or did you think this was just me coming to fuck you for two weeks?”

“Maybe not the whole two weeks,” he sneered at you. “But even a how was your day would have been nicer than being treated like the hotel manager.”

“At least the hotel staff cleans shit up,” you scoffed at him. “You know I went out for drinks the other night, went to that pub you told me about, because we finally figured out a contract and I spilled wine on myself. Came back here to throw it in the wash only to find the machine full of dirty clothes. That was really fun to see your stained and faded tighty whiteys at the top of the load. Were you just waiting for the maid service to come back to start the wash for you? You’re so famous now that can’t even hit the damn button yourself?”

The next scathing remark stopped dead on his tongue at that, and then he felt the shame build up.

But only for a moment, because before he knew it, you were crossing the distance and smashing your mouth to his. It was a quick play for control as usual, neither of you caring that you’d just butt heads because the real winner would be whoever could succeed at your little game first; he was in such a mood, such a state, that he actually tried to put up a fight, wanting to get you to cry out for him like he’d been wanting all week. Wanting to be wanted, needed.

He pulled away to remove the bridge from his mouth, mindful of the complaint you’d made about kissing him last time you’d met up, and you did something unexpectedly delicious.

“You rich rat,” you growled at him as you tugged his shirt free of his waistband with one hand and started working his belt loose with the other. “You better be wearing clean underwear right now so help me god.”

And damn if he didn’t get hard just from your words alone.

The aggressive snap of his belt hitting the tile floor also helped.

“They should be,” he grinned cheekily and pulled your sleep shirt over your head. “Agnetha did a load before you got here.”

“You’re pathetic.” You worked the buttons of his shirt as quickly as you could. “How much is this shirt? ’S it dry-clean only? Does she take your dry cleaning in too? Bring it back and make sure it’s folded nicely only for you to shove everything in the drawer anyway. Like the useless boy you are.”

Yeah that was doing it for him.

“She washes the sheets too.” He dropped to his knees before you now as you leant against the counter, fully intent on pleasing you right here in the kitchen. “Changed them right before you got here. Shouldn’t be any more questionable stains.”

“Useless,” you hissed at him but ran a hand softly through his curls as he kissed along your abdomen and peeled your leggings down your legs. “Utterly useless.”

The thing about you though was your self-restraint, your discipline. You didn’t like to lose; you’d deprive yourself of things to get some advantage over your adversaries—usually corporate adversaries—and come out on top. And you made that very well known in the bedroom too when this little game got started. You’d gotten him to cum easily the first time you slept together and then used him to chase your own pleasure, commanding his mouth and tongue here and fingers there.

Just like you were doing now. No moans, just little hitches in your breathing as you steered his head and used the leg you’d thrown over his shoulder to bring him deeper into your center.

When you got close to completion, you used the upper hand again to push him away and you both descended together. His trousers and pants shoved down to his knees with his shirt bunched up under his head so he wouldn’t be sore from smacking it against the tile when you sunk down onto him. And when he felt the delicious squeeze of your cunt, he couldn’t help himself from throwing his head back; good for you to have the foresight.

He had the foresight too though. He knew your moves, they made him see the light of God, seductress that you were. You told him your secret once as you basked in the afterglow when you’d rendered him particularly speechless.

“Spell the word coconut.”

“C-o-c--“

“No, I spell the word coconut. As I’m on top. Read it in a magazine or something during my last layover.”

And he could feel it now, predict it. Feel the motion of your hips, around and around and up and down and squeeze.

He couldn’t tell just by looking at your face, he had to feel it; close his eyes and feel the tempestuous slide of you over him, bringing him higher.

Maybe he would win the game tonight?

He wasn’t one to lose either; he could be competitive just like you. In fact, he was excellent at manipulating a situation in his favor. School, money, life. And with you he’d won enough times to know it could be done. You’d made him feel so…meaningless over the past week—even if he’d misunderstood and overreacted—that a win would be even better than the pleasure itself.

You pried one of his hands off your hip where it was clinging for dear life and directed him to play with your clit so you didn’t have to. For a moment, he lifted his head and watched his own nicotine-stained nails and your prettily manicured ones mingle against the engorged and glistening junction of your sex, and where any other time it would have him groaning at the sight, he couldn’t help but notice how disgusting his hands looked in comparison to your own. For a moment the confidence faltered.

When had he last washed them? Maybe you were right, he was gross and pathetic…

But then you moaned, and from his point of view It looked like it even surprised you even. You stuttered in your pace and your eyes went a little wide.

He felt all the doubt leave him.

He would win tonight…

He took advantage, used his leverage, to turn the tables. To sit upright and guide you to take his spot; you couldn’t even protest before he pistoned into you, before his fingered took an unrelenting pace on your clit.

He could spell coconut too, and he did. He would tell you all about it after his victory. Boast over using your own tricks against you.

You watched him with unblinking eyes as your nails dug into his bicep and shoulder, as you bit your lip so hard he was sure you’d bite right through it, and you kept the little whine that emanated from your throat as soft as you possibly could. Still, he could hear it through the desperate, wet sounds of your fucking.

He closed his eyes and focused on the finish line, focused on keeping the tension of his mounting pleasure back as he could feel you grip tighter and begin to spasm around him. He needed to win, it would be glorious.

“Joe,” you moaned, and he thought it was over. But there, underneath the neediness, lay the condescension, the obvious upper hand. “Can you hurry up? I have a call at 7am”

He came, seconds before you did. Collapsed against you and spilled inside of you before you found your own release.

On his kitchen floor, spent, laughing together, basking in the ridiculous pleasure found in the presence of one another, another game came to an end.

And he might have lost, but in the end, did he really lose?

Happy Birthday asshole. I'm following you into 30 in 10 months with a vengeance.

No love lost, The better Jo(e) </3

#tw: rpf #Joseph quinn rpf #rpf #Joseph quinn x reader #stranger things fic

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lemonlyman-dotcom · 10 months

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Hello friends!! It’s December! Which means it’s officially TK Strand’s 30th Birthday month 🥳 I thought to celebrate I would invite you all to revisit TK Strand’s Sweet 16 (times 2) (minus 2) (this is also a good time to catch up on this fic if you’re planning on attending the Reyes Family Nochebuena: The Greatest Gift I’ve Found, The Sweetest Thing I’ve Known It is not a sequel, but it takes place in this same canon-compliant universe and will contain all the same fluffy Reyes family feels 🎄).

As a treat, please enjoy the sweet boy himself on the morning of his 30th birthday.

“Hey beautiful boy,” Carlos whispers as he nuzzles his nose into TK’s cheek. He’s crawled over TK so he’s laying flush on top of him. TK groans and burrows into the pillow. “Come on. Wake up, it’s your birthday.”

“Mmm, don’t I get to sleep in on my birthday?”

“Yeah. You do. It’s almost nine o’clock,” Carlos laughs and pinches TK’s side before sitting up. He reaches for the tray containing a plate of pancakes and a cup of fresh coffee that he’s laid on the bench at the foot of the bed. “I made you pancakes.”

“Breakfast in bed?” TK asks. He sits up a little and points a raised eyebrow in Carlos’s direction. “Who are you and what have you done with my husband?”

“Whoa, dramatic much?” Carlos feigns offense. “I’ve never had a problem with breakfast in bed.”

“No food in bed, TK,” TK says in a low voice — a terrible impression of Carlos. “You’ll attract ants.”

“Okay, okay,” Carlos laughs with a hand to TK’s cheek. He places the tray across TK’s lap once he’s sitting up properly. “This is different. It’s your birthday.”

“Hmm, it’s my birthday,” TK says wistfully as he takes a sip of his coffee. “Thirty, that’s old. I don’t think you can call me your beautiful boy anymore.”

“Oh no, cariño, you’re always going to be my beautiful boy,” Carlos says as he leans in to place a soft kiss on TK's lips. TK wrinkles his nose, undoubtedly because he hasn’t brushed his teeth yet.

“Even when I’m 80?”

“Especially when you’re 80.”

The Huntington’s scare was almost a year ago now, but the fear it sparked in Carlos – the fear of losing TK at such a young age, of helplessly watching him slowly deteriorate – that’s still fresh in his mind. He’s going to be grateful for every birthday, every anniversary, every day they get to celebrate together.

TK, ever attune to Carlos’s subtle mood shifts and inner thoughts, reads his expression and reaches a hand out to run through Carlos’s hair. Apparently over being worried about assaulting Carlos with his morning breath, he moves his hand down to the back of his neck and, very carefully, pulls him in for a deeper kiss. “Thank you, baby, you’re very sweet.”

“So are you,” Carlos says as he leans back.

“Okay,” TK says as he lifts the tray and swings his legs around off the side of the bed. “Let’s go eat, I'm starving and this smells so good.”

“Wha-what?” Carlos sputters, utterly confused. “You’re not gonna eat your breakfast in bed, in bed?”

“Oh no, baby,” TK says as he stands up. “Eating in bed is gross.”

“Oh my god, I love you,” Carlos exclaims as he clambers out of the bed and follows TK out to the dining room.

Continue reading on ao3.

#tarlos #tarlos fanfic #tk strand x carlos reyes #911 lone star #911 lone star fic #TK Strand’s Sweet 16 (times 2) (minus 2)

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ashtonisvibing · 11 months

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"I kissed a boy, and I liked it"

Fandom: Jacksepticeye Egos

Alternate Universe: None? (Jackie isn't a hero in this universe)

Ship(s): Marvelsepticeye

Character(s): Jackieboy Man, Marvin the Magnificent

Warning(s): Alcohol, Sexual Actions(?)

Originally Published: Aug. 30th, 2023

Author's Notes:

so, you guys ever heard of that way better cover of "i kissed a girl", by jupither where it's instead gay (mlm)?

yeah so what if that but it's marvelsepticeye? but also minus the "hope my girlfriend don't mind it", only cuz i feel like it tbh. jackie's single here. and it's more loose inspiration (just the "kissing a fellow guy and getting confused by liking it" bit)

jackie thinking he's straight as a ruler until BOOM, hot guy comes walking up to him at a club

turns out he's very much not straight-

uhhhhh please note that i have NOT written people making out in... a while, so this might turn out like complete shit, and i apologize for that. but hey, can't get better if you don't start somewhere, right?? just be lucky i'm not turning this into a smut piece like i'm thinking of doing, the cringe levels with that writing would be off the charts- unless you guys would be fine with that then i dunno, part two maybe??? you'd have to watch a guy try to fumble around trying to describe sex LMAO

also, you might notice me using masculine terms for marvin. while yes, (my fanon interpretation of) marvin uses they/them pronouns, they're also just totally cool with masc terms! they're fine with any terms, i just sort of default to masc terms with them lol. but don't you worry, i'm not misgendering them, they just got that fun gender where they don't care.

okay, that's it, let's see some guys kiss!

jackie: he/him

marvin: they/them

Full Story:

Clubs were always too loud and too bright for Jackie to enjoy them like everyone else. He could barely stand to look at the flashing lights, and the music was so loud he couldn't hear anyone. That was ignoring the multiple conversations he could hear around him. He couldn't make out a single one, there were too many speaking at once. And that didn't help when someone tried to talk directly to him. It was like their voice became blended with the sea of others. The only safe spot to keep him from developing a migraine was the bar, but even then he'd need noise cancelling headphones to keep the voices from overstimulating him. It didn't help that he also got weird looks from the other bar patrons because all he ordered was a glass of water. He just hated the taste of any alcohol, no matter how much added mixings you might put into them.

The only reason he was even here tonight was because a friend of his wanted to celebrate their birthday here. And despite knowing that clubs were a sensory nightmare for him, they still begged Jackie to come along, even claiming that he was "trying to ruin their birthday". He... Really didn't understand why he still hung around his friends. They never really seemed to respect his boundaries, and he'd laid those out several times for them. He didn't have his car with him but he could easily just call a cab and leave, and he doubted any of them would even notice. They were too absorbed in the dance floor. That's how these club outings always went.

He was just about to pull out his wallet to pay for his water when someone sat down next to him. A man, seemingly a few inches shorter than himself, with long lavender purple hair tied into a loose braid. There were patches of burn scars on their face, hands, and neck, and those were the only ones that could be seen thanks to their long sleeved black dress and tights. Honestly they looked like they were somewhat dressed for Halloween with how much of a witch-y vibe Jackie got from their outfit. And god, were they gorgeous. Jackie didn't need to be queer to recognize that. They had such an elegant and mysterious aura to them, and he took one look and just wanted to know more about them. He wanted to know everything about them.

"So, what's a hot guy like you doing all alone here, hm~?" The person practically purred as they looked over at Jackie, a soft and playful smirk on their lips. Now that they were facing him, Jackie could see that the four card suits were drawn onto their forehead in a diamond layout. Or maybe even tattooed? Their eyes were also a vibrant blue and purple, seemingly glowing in the slight darkness that the bar area provided. But the strangest part of all was their voice. It was a heavenly sound to Jackie, almost hypnotic by how it pulled him in. But it also sounded so... Clear. Like every other voice was immediately drowned out the moment they spoke. But that didn't seem possible, maybe Jackie was just so curious about this person that he could push past the conversations for once.

"Just enjoying a glass of water. And considering leaving." Jackie yelled over the music and voices so the other person could hear him, just in case the noise was too much for them as well. But they just simply laughed and quickly ordered themself a drink; a Bramble, no ice.

"No need to yell handsome, I can hear you loud and clear." They chuckled softly, leaning an elbow against the bar top. "But then again, wonder what other ways you could yell~"

That caused Jackie's brain to just stop all trains of thought it had. Oh, okay, this guy was flirting with him. He didn't really know what to think right now, he'd never had anyone besides women flirt with him. And he never expected to actually... He quickly shook his head in the hopes he could clear his head and make his bright red cheeks fade back to their usual paleness. He didn't know why he suddenly got flustered like that, this had never happened before.

"So- Sorry, you've got the wrong guy, I'm straight." Jackie mumbled a little as he took a sip of his water to try and calm himself down. And to try and ignore how weird it felt to say that. A bad kind of weird. "I'm sure there's plenty of other guys that would love someone like you trying to get into their pants.

The mystery person simply hummed as they took a sip of their own drink now that they had it, swirling it absentmindedly in their hand. "Really now? Never seen a straight guy blush that hard over my words. But hey, what's one quick fuck? Or will that hurt your masculinity too much?"

That got Jackie to nearly choke on his water. He coughed a few times to get his throat cleared before looking back at the other. "Look, I don't know who you are, but you're being a little bit of a dick. I'm sorry I'm the first guy who didn't wanna fuck you, I guess." Oh wow, someone who actually bit back. The other person had to take a moment before just... Smiling, extending a hand to Jackie. Their fingernails were painted a crimson sparkly red.

"Marvin, they/them. Pleased to meet someone who actually has a back bone." They chuckled a little. Jackie looked at the hand held out to him like this was a trick. Marvin had just insulted him a second ago. But he still shook it nonetheless, albeit with slight caution.

"Jackie, he/him. Please to meet someone who spits venom, I guess."

That got a laugh this time from Marvin. "Sorry about that. Sometimes I forget to hold my tongue, it gets me into so much trouble you see." They leaned their head on their folded hands, propped up by their elbows. "But you must admit, quite strange of someone so straight to become so easily flustered, especially with no alcohol. I hadn't even reached my peak."

"You just- Caught me off guard, that's all." Jackie quickly looked away from the other lest his returning blush be shown. He hated that Marvin wasn't really wrong. There was something about them that sparked a feeling in his heart, one he'd certainly never felt before, not even from any women he'd been with. And it was scary. There was nothing wrong with being attracted to other genders, obviously. But he never liked change, even now. Change was unpredictable, he couldn't rationalize it. He didn't know if this was temporary or meant to last, this new feeling.

Marvin only gave a little nod in response, finishing their drink and pulling out the money needed to pay for it. "I'm not one to be lied to, darling. I can read people all too well." When they looked at Jackie, they didn't have a flirty smirk or a condescending look. Just a small smile that actually seemed genuine. "But hey, you clearly don't want to be here. Overstimulating, I'm assuming. You've been wanting to leave for a while. Why not leave with someone you can talk to? Nothing more than that, I promise." They chuckled a little and stood from their stool. "I know when I need to keep my hands to myself."

Okay, at the very least they weren't trying to invite him over for any sort of sex. He thought it over for a few moments. It scared him so much, not knowing what this feeling in his chest was. But at the same time... He wanted to know more. He wanted to discover who Marvin was, even if just for the night. Maybe he'd be able to figure out this feeling if he went. And it wasn't like his friends- No, not really friends. It wasn't like the people he came here with would care. He could just block their numbers if any of them tried contacting him. So with a shrug he stood up as well, placing his pay under his glass and putting his jean jacket on. "Alright, lead me to your place, then."

That brought a smile to Marvin's lips. As said they could easily read people like they were open books, and Jackie posed no challenge. They could see that curiosity now showing in him, over both themself and what happened with himself earlier. And that's why they invited him over: To hopefully help him learn something about himself, in whatever way they needed. Marvin didn't say a word, just taking Jackie's hand and quickly leading him outside and into the alleyway next to the club. Jackie just let himself get towed along. Maybe their car was parked behind the building. But when they stopped halfway through the alley he got confused.

"Um, I don't think this is where we can get a car from."

"Oh trust me hun, we don't need a car." Marvin chuckled. "Just for some privacy." They then held a finger up in front of them, and as they drew shapes in the air those same shapes appeared in front of them both, glowing a soft teal. And once they were done drawing they tapped the middle of the shapes, causing them to glow brighter until they revealed a living room. A portal right into a living room. Jackie backed away a little. There was a portal, right in front of them.

"What the fuck...??" Was the most he could muster. Marvin only chuckled before they stepped in and disappeared into the still image, their hand poking out a second later and beckoning Jackie to follow. He knew, logically, he should be running. He should be trying to wake himself up, there was no way he wasn't sleeping right now. But his curiosity was so peaked right now that he really didn't care. He needed to know what the fuck was currently in front of him. So he decided to take the hand poking out from the portal, just in case something might go wrong, and let himself walk through. And he was in the living room that the portal displayed. And no limbs were missing or suddenly a different color, nor were his clothes suddenly gone. He stepped through and was perfectly safe. And now standing pretty much chest to chest with Marvin, who was letting soft giggles that they couldn't help.

"Pretty good for someone who's never seen magic before, I was fully expecting you to have run off on your heels." Marvin giggled, unknowingly intertwining their fingers together. Just something about how their slightly smaller hand fit into Jackie's so nicely... It had a cozy feeling to it that he wanted to keep for as long as he could.

"Holy shit, that was actually magic..." Jackie ran a hand through his hair before letting out a soft laugh. He actually just experienced magic. Magic, that shouldn't be real, yet there it was. Maybe he really was just dreaming right now. He didn't know when he could have run into someone like Marvin in real life, but that didn't matter. For the moment he just let himself believe without turning to logic and reason. Just to let himself have a little bit of wonder for once. "That was magic, you just used magic."

Marvin found it adorable how excited the other was over such a discovery. Some simply didn't believe them, no matter how many tricks they pulled. Others just ran away out of fear. Jackie was the first to react so positively, and with such joy as well. They were thanking their lucky stars that they met this man tonight. "And I can pull off a lot more than just portals, hun." They giggled softly and tugged at Jackie's hand that was still in theirs (the realization of it making Jackie blush), guiding him to the U shaped couch and sitting him down in the middle. "I'm going to go make myself some tea." They said as they walked out of the room, presumably to the kitchen. "You want any?" They called out.

"Oh, uh, no thanks. More of a coffee guy personally." Jackie responded. And now that he was alone in the room he had the chance to look around and observe all of the surface level things. The living room had a very dark magic vibe, having a dark blue, purple, and red color scheme to it. Against the wall in front of him was a television stand with the standard things: TV, internet box, blueray player, as well as several movies stacked in the side cubbies of the stand. A coffee table stood in the middle of the couch with a stack of moon shaped coasters off to the side. Silk drapes and glow-in-the-dark stars hung from the ceiling to give an even more magical vibe. There were two shelves on either side of the TV that were filled with books, photos, and various knick knacks. He wanted to get a closer look at the photos to see who or what was in them, but he didn't want to be too intrusive. He didn't know how much of their private life Marvin wanted to give out to a complete stranger.

After a few minutes Marvin returned with their tea, sitting down next to Jackie and setting their cup down atop one of the coasters. "So, what do you think?"

"Um- About what?"

"About my living room, silly." They laughed softly, which pulled a sheepish blush to Jackie's cheeks. "Obviously you were looking around at it. But you don't seem like the type to snoop in other people's drawers so I trust you."

"Well, it's... Definitely you. I- If that makes sense." Jackie shrugged a little as he took a quick glance over everything. "Like, when I look at you, this is definitely what I can expect from a living room. At the very least." He rubbed the back of his neck once his eyes returned back to the person across from himself. "Sorry, that probably makes no sense."

Marvin just chuckled and picked up his tea, taking a sip now that it was a little cooler. At least not so hot that it would burn their mouth off. "It's actually the best reaction I've gotten. Every other guy I've brought home has told me it's so dreary, that I need some color or whatever. I suppose it's a good thing that they were all one night stands."

"So what, picking up guys from bars is a common occurrence for you?" Jackie laughed softly. He already knew the answer for that if their interaction at the bar was any indication of how the magician acted around other men. "But I've never been one to judge people on their taste in... Whatever. I guess unless it's, like, genuinely harmful or something. But this just looks like a vampire threw up over everything." Marvin had to keep themself from laughing lest they choked on their tea. Thankfully they got it down and just turned into a coughing fit. Jackie immediately bolted up in his seat when he noticed, rubbing the other's back in a poor attempt to help a little. "Shit- Are you okay?? I- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to almost kill you."

"No, no-" Another couple of coughs interrupted Marvin's sentence. "Don't worry, you're fine." They chuckled a little before clearing their throat to try and get rid of the tickling feeling now sitting there. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. Nearly choked on my tea from laughing."

Jackie let out a small breath of relief. Admittedly he was scared that maybe the magician would have been upset at him for making a joke while they had tea in their mouth. "Well, it would've been a hell of a way to go then." He let out his own little chuckle, earning a small laugh from Marvin.

"Truly would have been one of the stranger possibilities. But to answer your question, yes. But you're the first one to not push me against the wall and shove a tongue down my throat so... You at the very least have class." And now it was Jackie's turn to nearly choke, but this time it was on air and out of complete surprise. He needed to get used to Marvin's bluntness over everything, even intimate details like that.

"I- I mean, there's also the obvious bit of me being straight, so of course I wouldn't do that."

"Denial doesn't look pretty on you, hun." The magician hummed as they took another sip of their tea.

"I-" Jackie was about to protest. But the words got caught in his throat, and he really had to consider if it was worth it to just... Keep ignoring this feeling in his chest over the person next to him. He didn't know how long it would last... Maybe he could get some answers. "Is it really that obvious...?"

"With how much you bring up your lack of gay, yes." Marvin chuckled a little, earning a sigh from the other, who was running his hands through his hair.

"I just-... I've never felt this way about any other gender." He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, his foot tapping out of a need to do something. He always got like this when having important talks, and this was very clearly important. "But then you come along and... Not to get too personal, but suddenly I've got this want to pull you in and make out with you. And I don't even think it's cuz you present femininely, but I don't know what else it could be besides... Apparently I'm gayer than I thought!" He did little jazz hands as he exclaimed. "And obviously, there's nothing wrong with that. But when you think you're one way your entire life and suddenly something happens and you're now something else..."

"It can be really scary, yeah." Marvin interjected, looking down at the scars on their hands. "I get that, trust me. Maybe a little more than you." They then shifted themself so that they could be closer to Jackie's face. "But you've got the urge to make out with me? Well, why not go for it then?"

Yeah, Jackie really needed to get used to that bluntness.

"Wh- Because I've literally never met you before tonight??" He backed away a little when he realized just how close Marvin had gotten. His cheeks were now red and he was looking at literally anything but the magician in front of him. And there was that urge again. To grab this person by the face and see what their lips tasted like. And he really couldn't push it down now. "I'm not going to just kiss a stranger without permission."

The magician then gave a shrug and a playful smirk in response. "I give you permission then. Go on. You don't seem like the kind of guy to try and take advantage of me, not in this state anyways. That and I could easily overpower you with a quick spell. But let's see if maybe this feeling is a one off thing. And if it is, no need for a sexuality crisis."

Okay, Marvin was really opening the floor for this. They were fine with Jackie experimenting with them. He was... A little thankful for that, honestly. At least he was experimenting with someone he probably had a genuine interest in. And so, he gave a nod for confirmation, leaning back in to Marvin to rest a hand on their cheek.

"Just, um, let me know if I do anything wrong. First kiss with a guy and all that."

That got a laugh out of Marvin. "I don't think it's any different than kissing a woman. But I've never kissed a woman, so who knows. Just... Do whatever feels right." They couldn't help as they bit their lip a little from anticipation. Jackie wasn't the only one who'd been having strange new feelings towards a complete stranger. The magician had felt a pull towards the other this entire night, something they hadn't ever felt towards someone before. They wanted to do so much more with this man, and for once they weren't even thinking about sex. To even just lay in his arms seemed like it would be a blessing. Jackie only gave another nod, taking a few seconds to prepare himself before finally connecting their lips.

Cherry. Marvin's lips tasted like cherry. He hadn't noticed any lipstick, so maybe this was lip balm. It was a surprising taste, he would've never associated them with cherries. But he loved it all the same. He loved this kiss all the same.

It remained slow at first, with Marvin making sure they let Jackie control the speed the entire time. They didn't want to possibly go too fast and overwhelm the other, no matter how much they wanted to. Jackie's lips on theirs felt like a breath of fresh air. Like they could finally breathe after having waited all night. And when Jackie wrapped an arm around his waist to pull them closer they were quick to respond with an arm around his shoulders, their other hand reaching up to undo his hairbun and tangle their fingers into his hair. And that pulled a hum from Jackie that nearly sent shivers down their spine. Oh if that simple hum caused such a reaction who knows what the other sounds that Jackie had would do to them.

Unfortunately the kiss didn't last for much longer, as Jackie pulled away for air, leaving them both staring at each other as soft pants left their lips. "So... How was that...?" Marvin spoke softly once they caught their breath enough.

"Good... Really good..." The other spoke just as softly. He didn't want to break whatever atmosphere had been created.

It only took a second for Marvin to be pulled back in for another kiss, much to their pleasant surprise. But this one was much harder, needier than the last one. It nearly turned the magician's brain to putty from the rush of emotions they were getting. And Jackie felt all the same, plus so much more right now. He didn't know why he kept himself in denial for so long if this is how amazing the kiss would feel. It didn't even matter if this was only his first with a guy, it was enough for him to know he wanted it all from Marvin.

A soft noise of annoyance and displeasure came out of him when it was Marvin's turn to pull away. But it was only to place a hand on his shoulder and push him back against the couch, now straddling his hips as the kiss resumed. Evidently the magician was a touchy one. Jackie's arms and shoulders weren't left alone from Marvin's hands. Those hands found themselves moving down to the other's torso, and with a hitched breath and slight arch of his back they were given permission to slip their hands up his shirt to keep feeling around. Jackie was a sensitive one when it came to touch, the magician was learning. His back was almost painfully arched into their hands, and they were sure that if they weren't making out right now they'd be hearing loud moans and whimpers from the other.

And Jackie managed to get some revenge for it. All it took was a little nip at their lip and a slip of his tongue for Marvin to become weak in his arms. Not like Jackie wasn't practically the same way, he was glad that his brain hadn't been turned to mush from all that he was feeling. The way their hands trailed over every inch of his chest, all of the soft moans he was managing to pull from them, the knee now pressing itself and rubbing a little against his crotch.

He was quick to pull away at that new feeling, gently pushing Marvin's knee away a little bit. The magician hadn't even realized what they were doing, but they were filled with dread with how fast the other stopped them. Maybe they'd completely ruined this now. "Shit, I'm... I'm sorry, I didn't even realize... I was moving too fast..."

Jackie shook his head at that as his grip tightened around the magician's waist, taking a second to catch his breath. "No, you're good, I... I just got thrown off is all.." He chuckled a little, his eyes now meeting Marv's. And theirs looked quite happy that they hadn't ruined anything. "But if we're going that far I think a bed will be better than the couch, yeah~?" Oh stars, help Marvin. That voice was enough to drive him up the walls.

"Yes, please~"

#ashton is writing #marvelsepticeye #jackieboy man #marvin the magnificent #jacksepticeye egos #jse egos fanfiction

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notsocheezy · 2 months

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Brain Curd #129

Brain Curds are lightly edited flash fiction - practically first drafts - posted daily (haven't missed one yet!) and sometimes written with the express intention of being terrible… but, you know, in an endearing way. Please like and reblog if you enjoy - the notes keep me going!

The party was absolutely packed with people, all there to celebrate Gary’s birthday. Winona and Hector mingled on the couch.

“So I asked my mom, ‘What if the tourists win?’” Hector giggled at his own anecdote.

“That’s soooo funny,” Winona said, easily able to because she was not laughing. “Let me tell you a story.” She downed the rest of her beer and tossed the red plastic cup toward the trash bag in the corner. “So there I was, minding my own business, sitting at a bar, when I looked out the window and saw a group of snarling hug-sniffers.”

“A group of… what?”

“Save your questions for afterward. Anyway, I’m watching them invest all over each other in the parking lot, right? But then they saunter over to my truck and start ordering the whole damn thing! They reticulated my pickup!”

“I’m having trouble visualizing this.”

“Yeah, I was too, man. And I was looking right at them! They retired on top of the dumpster and started chowing down on epithets. Weirdest thing I’d ever seen, so I walk outside to tell them off, right, and they hurl candy bar wrappers at me!”

“Epithet is a kind of candy?”

“No, no, pay attention. They got the wrappers from the dumpster. There had been a candy bar scarfing competition the previous day. That’s how I remember the date, it was February 30th.”

“That’s not a real day.”

“I beg to differ. My sister got married on February 30th of 2017. Are you suggesting my sister isn’t married?”

“I don’t know your sister.”

“That’s what I thought. Stay in your lane, pal. Anyways, the hug-sniffers. Those economy goblins were throwing all manner of garbage at my head, so I ran to my truck and tried to start the engine. But it wouldn’t turn over! One of ‘em must have drained out all the starter fluid!”

“Listen, I know for a fact there’s no such thing as starter fluid. It’s electric.”

“My F-150 runs on gasoline, friendo. Please don’t assume. I had to run over to the AutoZone across the street to pick up a bottle of starter, but before I got back, the hooligans fertilized the vehicle to pieces! So I sprayed ‘em with the starter fluid and set the lot on fire!”

“Oh my god…”

“It’s not a big deal, lay off. But I lost my lighter, which was just the cherry on the pie, you know? Got no truck, got no lighter, and the bartender poured out the margarita I’d left on the counter. It was a contender for the worst day of the solstice.”

“I’ll be honest with you, I have no idea what any of what you just said even was. Did you just admit to arson?”

Winona smiled and shrugged her shoulders. “What’s a little arson between friends?”

“I’m the District Attorney! I think I have to indict you.”

“I’d like to see you try. I used to be the President.”

“President of what?”

“President of the District Attorney Club. I know all those guys: Seth Riegler, Bobby Dentistry, Mister Phlegm, all of ‘em. We go way back.”

Hector sat for a moment in silence. “You know Seth?”

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discodeviant · 2 years

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HARRINGROVE WEEK, DAY 1: Nineteen | Teen | 2k

Gift Wrapped: Two Tickets to a Baseball Game

Flavor Combos: Spring Break & Roommates

Specific Dialogue: “Did you keep the receipt?”

I want to preface this by saying that none of my fics for this will follow a coherent timeline lol, so his 30th birthday (spoiler teehee) isn't him turning 30 in this fic's universe etc etc. Please enjoy 💖 !!

Read on AO3 @harringroveweek

“Hey.”

It was a week before spring break. Billy lay on his side of the room, on his bed with a book on his chest, window shut tight to save him an awful allergy attack. He didn’t tell Steve that his birthday was in three weeks; that was something Steve learned by chance (or berating it out of his sister when she visited for Christmas, but the details didn’t matter). He also didn’t tell Steve that he’d been keeping close tabs on the Indiana Imps game since it was announced in October, but there was a day when he left the radio on in the shower, Steve returned a little earlier than expected, and, well…

Steve watched the expectant, if confused, eyebrow lift behind Billy’s book, and trailed over a t-shirt, to shorts, to bare feet before he found sky-grey looking at him too. “Hey,” Billy said, and suddenly the monologue all but melted out of Steve’s memory entirely. “You gonna close the door or what?”

“Oh—“ Steve stepped forward and pushed it closed with his back, still hiding his hands as his face and neck pricked with heat. “Uh, so… you’re… still going on that spring break thing, right?” It was a trip organized by the debate team, which Billy had been a member of since the new semester.

“Planning on it, yeah. Why, you gonna miss me?” He chuckled and focused back on his book, folding his legs under the covers.

Steve rolled his eyes. Flatly, he said, “Yes, because I am in such agony thinking about being away from you for a week.” Billy laughed so hard that he snorted, and Steve wished it wasn’t a lie. He wished that getting stuck with Billy Hargrove in August meant arguing so much that one of them forced the other to move out, but they’d actually gotten along. High school was over, they both ended up at Purdue because rich parents and scholarships were useful sometimes, and they were friends, much to Steve’s dismay. He’d wanted more since Halloween of senior year, but more never came.

“Shut up, man. Yes, I’m going. Why?”

“How early do you have to be up?”

“Uh… I don’t know. Seven, eight?” Finally, he looked up, laid the book on his chest, and gave Steve his full attention. “I will do my best to let you have your beauty sleep. Is that all?” Steve shook his head; Billy frowned. “Then what?” he asked, and the answer came as two slips of paper in Steve’s hand that he couldn’t read. “What’s that?”

“… Happy birthday?”

Billy’s shoulders shrunk into the pillows. “It’s not my birthday.”

Steve shrugged. “Close enough. Do you wanna go to the game or not, because I can just—“

“What—what game?” Billy asked, and he was up on his feet in an instant, grabbing the paper from Steve’s hand to see that they were two tickets for the Imps game on the twelfth. “What the fuck, Harrington? Where’d you—did you just get these now?”

“Maybe.”

“Are you for real? How did you even—… how much were they?”

“Why’s that matter?”

“I’ll pay you back!”

“No, you’re not paying me back, dumbass. It’s your birthday.”

“It’s not my birthday.”

“Early gift.”

“Did you keep the receipt?”

“No, I didn’t keep the receipt! What’s the matter with you?”

“Steve—“

“Billy.”

Both of their hands were in a stale mate, each holding the tickets while one trembled a little more than the other. Steve looked down into Billy’s eyes, unable to decipher sadness from disbelief. “You’re serious?”

“Yes, I’m serious. Jesus. Have you never gotten a damn birthday present?”

“Not—“ Steve regretted the question as soon as Billy’s shoulders slumped down with a huff and rolling eyes. “Not, like, fuckin’ expensive ones.”

Steve let go then, letting Billy gloss over them in full. “Well… I thought it’d be fun. I don’t know.”

“Shit, these seats are insane too.”

“I’d hope so,” he said, and Billy looked up for a moment before wrapping him in a hug that he’d have leaned into forever if it wasn’t so awkward when it was over.

“Thank you.”

“Yeah, no problem, man.”

Game night came and went in a flash, mostly because Steve stopped following baseball in middle school, and because his focus was on Billy the whole time. Billy, who stared blank-faced on the way home; who didn’t say a word when the game was over; who stiffened and stuttered and reddened like a beet when the stadium focused the camera on the girl next to him. Straight Barbie-blonde hair, shimmering lip gloss, the focus of the Imps’ kiss cam before it panned over to Billy laughing smugly at the attention.

Steve didn’t know what came over him, whether it was jealousy or the prodding worry that it was now or never, but the impulsion that used to get him in so much trouble won yet again. He pulled Billy towards himself by the sleeve, put a hand on the back of California curls, and yanked him in for a kiss—because if Billy Hargrove was going to kiss anybody at a damn Imps game, it wasn’t gonna be some hussy he’d never seen in his life. It wasn’t gonna be a stranger.

What got Steve more than the wild screaming around them at the stadium, more than the announcer laughing along, more than his own courage then, was that Billy kissed him back. It was short and hard, full of adrenaline and beer and overpriced hot dogs and grape soda, but he did. Steve melted at the other tongue suddenly in his mouth like it was testing the waters before retreating again. Like it wasn’t sure, like Steve would bite it off and swallow it with Billy’s pride.

It was nearing one in the morning when they made it back to their dorm, and Steve kicked his shoes off before Billy asked, “Why—why’d you do that?”

“Hm? Do what?” Oblivious as always, Steve bent down to straighten his shoes against the wall the way Billy liked to keep them. “Better?”

“No, I—the—the camera, I mean, you didn’t—don’t—“ Billy inhaled, sharp and hard through his nose, then recollected himself. “That was just for the camera, right?”

Steve froze and looked back with panic. “Right,” he said, too fast, too loud. “Yeah, it—yeah.” Too humored.

“Mm.”

And he dressed down some more, changing his sweater out for a tank top, jeans for shorts, new socks to sleep in because he was a freak, supposedly. Billy, though, he stayed by the door, stiff as a board, hands in his pockets and staring at the floor. Steve recognized the way he chewed his lip the same way he’d chew on the butt of a cigarette. Waiting, grinding, thinking.

Steve then said, “Kind of,” and Billy looked up. “I mean, I don’t know.”

“I—Steve…”

“Should I not have?”

“No, it’s—“ Billy whispered now. “Not that.”

Steve’s heart was in his throat, trying to tumble out and hide at the same time because it wanted Billy just as much as Steve did, and he might have held his breath a little too long. “Then what?”

Billy turned around to put his stuff down, pieces of memorabilia that Steve also insisted on buying for him. “Nothing, never mind.” But Steve was right back next to him, tugging the sleeve of the jacket he wore because Indiana spring was still too cold at night. Billy faced him, still not making eye contact. Steve wished he would, but the momentary focus was enough. He didn’t want Billy to run away—not now, not ever, and certainly not because he backed out too soon. “Steve—“

“It was for me, okay?” he said at last. Soft, gentle, lacking most of the confidence that he had just a few hours before. Now what remained was the memory that Billy didn’t jerk away. Billy didn’t get angry or yell or hit him or spit the taste of his mouth back out onto his shoe. He may have in high school if Steve pulled the same stunt. But not then, not two weeks before his nineteenth birthday, not when he’d been fine, when he’d been away. Not when Steve made him feel safe. “It was for me.”

Steve crowded him between the door and the desk without realizing how close he’d gotten. Both hands rested on Billy’s lapels, fiddled with the buttons down his chest. He continued: “Look, man, I just—I’ve wanted to do that for a really long time.” He whispered a burning breath between their noses, black cherry slushy still on his tongue. “I just—you know, the camera, and it was on you and that chick, and—“

“Didn’t take you for the jealous type, Harrington,” Billy said, a weak smile on his lips that made Steve smile wider.

“Well, maybe I am the jealous type, Hargrove.” They both laughed small huffs that brought them even closer, and Billy met Steve’s eyes. There went his guard in pieces on the floor, the last shell of King Steve having all but disintegrated. “Can I do it right this time?” His finger dragged along Billy’s jaw, down to his chin, a thumb just a breath away from an anticipating lip. He’d have missed Billy’s nod if he blinked, but his eyes were wide open until they closed again when he leaned in.

Their kiss this time was gradual and careful, treading a sheet of ice that may have been thicker than he thought it could be. Billy slacked underneath him, a hand finding the hem of his shirt, barely touching his side before it pressed a little harder. Now he could savor Billy for everything he was. Strong and divine but soft in places he couldn’t control—his hands, his lips, his heart that Steve felt against his own and knew he’d never stop craving.

His toes pressed against Billy’s boots, unafraid of being stepped on because Billy was careful too. Though pliant, he remained strong in the grip on the back of Steve’s shirt. They shared smoky fruit and spearmint, deep sea cologne and sandalwood. Foreheads pressed against one another after a long minute, maybe two, and Billy sighed; they were both out of breath already.

Steve ran his fingers through Billy’s hair as they fell onto each other’s shoulders and embraced against the door. “Get comfy and come lay down with me.”

Billy asked, “Do you mean lay down or lay down?” and Steve laughed, then shrugged.

“Whatever you want.”

Smiling—“Yeah, alright”—Billy brushed his nose against Steve’s again, asking for another kiss, and Steve gave him just that. Shorter this time but just as sweet, and it was so cold when he let go, but it would be warm again.

So they both got ready for bed; Billy dressed down to briefs and a t-shirt, then took the other half of Steve’s twin. They kissed once and kissed some more, deeper with every breath and rut against each other. Two handjobs later—one drawn out until Billy had to beg—and it was three o’clock. Steve massaged his head, falling asleep in the comfort of Billy’s arms and fingers drawing scribbles on his back. Billy yawned into Steve’s neck, naked against his thigh and toeing those damn socks. “You’re still weird for that.”

“Shut up, my toes get cold.”

“But your dick doesn’t?”

“Mm, not with you to warm it up,” Steve said, shifting so his weight was on Billy.

Billy laughed. “Shut up.” Kissed him again, languid and worn out from the hours of excitement.

With another scratch to Billy’s scalp, Steve said, “Come on, go to sleep. You still gotta be up early.”

He groaned. “For what.”

“Your debate trip, dickhead.”

“Fuck debate,” Billy said, pulling his arms up to hold Steve around his shoulders. “And fuck you if you think I’m going anywhere.”

“Why, would you miss me?”

“You know what, fuck you anyway.”

“Save that for tomorrow.”

“If only you’d be so lucky.”

“I think I’ve got a pretty good chance.”

“Mm…” Billy yawned. “Maybe.” Steve kissed him again, and before they fell asleep: “Thanks for taking me to the game.”

“I’m glad you had a good time.”

“Me too,” he said, wiggling under Steve’s weight until they settled more comfortably. Steve kissed his neck and shoulder and forehead and cheek, then lips one last time before laying down on his chest.

“Goodnight, Billy.”

“Night, Stevie.”

#harringroveweek #harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #billy x steve #steve x billy #one shot #fanfic #.discowrites #ao3

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hotarutranslations · 8 months

Text

Spring Concert Tour Dates!

Evening

🌎Morning Musume '24 Concert Tour Spring MOTTO MORNING MUSUME

Everyone! The spring tour has been decided! Yeah!

I'm happy

Thank you very much😌🫶🏻

3/16 (Sat) Tokyo 3/17 (Sun) Tokyo 3/23 (Sat) Osaka 3/24 (Sun) Osaka 4/6 (Sat) Aichi 4/7 (Sun) Aichi 4/13 (Sat) Hokkaido 4/20 (Sat) Miyagi 4/28 (Sun) Nagano 4/29 (Mon, Holiday) Niigata 5/4 (Sat, Holiday) Fukuoka 5/6 (Mon, Holiday) Ehime 5/12 (Sun) Okayama 5/18 (Sat) Gunma 5/19 (Sun) Tochigi

16 days, 31 performances🌏💫

With the tour title, Are you curious? with this title, right

Its just, "more"

For myself I'm still at the stage like, what is it!? If I get an explanation and take some time with it, I'll properly let you know soon~~🫶🏻

For the opening days, there are 4 performances over the weekend, It feels like a schedule we didn't have in the autumn so, Its really been a while, For the members, I think the hardest one is here-- lol

For the Miyagi performance, there is only 1 performance in Tohoku but…… .🥺🥺

I'd be happy if you could visit us!

We're also having a performance in Nagano, Akane-chin's hometown after its been a while!

There will also be Kanto performances at the end, in Gunma and Tochigi!

With Fukumura Mizuki-san having graduated, I think this spring tour, will be the time of the most changes

Everyone definitely,

Please watch over us!!!

I'll do my best!!!

Ah~~ But I'm looking forward to it~~

I can't wait! Already!

I hope that I'll be able to meet, with everyone!

It'd be nice to perform in Fests in May as well……

"HELLO! PROJECT STREAM"

Morning Musume '23 Concert Tour Fall "Neverending Shine Show ~Seiki~" Fukumura Mizuki Graduation Special

January 19th~January 31st📺✨️

It seems you'll be able to enjoy the stream again! For those who can't wait for the blu-ray, by all means!

Birthday Stream Event Is Here

January 19th~January 25th📺✨️ Don't miss it,,

Birthday goods are also here

~Deadline to buy is January 30th🩵 Please take a look--

Tokyo Sports note Series✍️

#138 Mentally Strong Birthday Girl

Releasing on February 7th "Hello! Project BEST SHOT!! Vol.26"

Ishida AyumixOda SakuraxNonaka Miki Fukumura MizukixIshida AyumixOda Sakura🫶🏻

Up To Boy They're delivering unreleased shots

.👗👠 Aoyama Clothing x Morning Musume '24

see you ayumin <3

#Ishida Ayumi #Morning Musume '24 #Morning Musume #Hello! Project #Translation #Blog

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lu-zijing · 2 years

Text

Hello and welcome~!!

I'm Lu 紫晶! ~ "Lu Zijing"!

My Channel/Blog is known as "THE AMETHYST ARCHER"

YouTube is my main platform - I would say, but Tumblr comes next. You can find me there and on TwitterX, and Instagram as well.

TUMBLR: Here I mostly post drawings, discussions, and whatever, whenever I feel like it. And is just more active for reblogs and chatting.

YOUTUBE: On YouTube, I'm trying a more persistent release schedule. With specific dates for releases. Read more about that on the community side on my YouTube.

INSTAGRAM: Only drawings and finished products are posted here. Short said It's a more organized place for many of my drawings.

TWITTERX: I'm not that active here, but when I am, it's mostly for discussions, thoughts, and comments.

Links to all Social Media longer down in this post.

5 FUN FACTS ABOUT ME ~

I LOVE Cats. Drawing them, petting them, looking at my cat--

I ABSOLUTELY ADORE drawing Chinese Dragons, Wings, and yeah, Cats. Under normal circumstances, I would not turn down a request including some of those in any way.

I DO WRITE AS WELL. Am working on a oneshot right now, but haven't released anything yet.

I LOVE DANMEI and just Asian especially Ancient Chinese Culture.

And ehhhh, for the last one, I'm From the North of this Planet. Where? Well, you will have to guess ~

____

I hope You will or am enjoying my content! Be sure to leave a reaction to let me know if you did~! But only if you did!

This Masterpost is here so You can get a clear view of what is practical knowing about me/my channel, and what to find on my blog here! I hope It will help and make your day a little easier, faster, and maybe a little funnier!

Iff you do have any suggestions for improvements, I'm always all ears for some good feedback!

PLEASE NOTE that I use a lot of content and designs that are not mine, but are fanart and likewise.

And DO NOT ever take any art or content and repost it somewhere, without permission or credit. No matter if it is written on the post or not.

Please report any who might repost my art without giving credit,

Thank You!

Status: Active

/ Currently focusing mostly on Bungou Stray Dogs (BSD) and a little on LEGO Monkie Kid (LMK)

Relevant LINKS and INFO:

About Me and My Channel

Different names - The story behind them: N/A

What to call me?

My Social Media

YouTube

Instagram

Tumblr

Twitter

My Art - Last updated on the 25th of February

Flaming Cat

A Night Full Of Stars

Lunar New Year of the Dragon

Lunar New Year of the Dragon without text

BSD FanArt - Last updated on the 30th of July

HAPPY BIRTHDAY NAKAHARA CHUUYA!!! (29th of April 2024)

Nakahara Chuuya digital Screenshot Redraw + drawing process

Dazai Sketch "I went a bit wild with the colors in the darker nuances"

HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAZAI OSAMU!!! (19th of June 2024)

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TACHIHARA MICHIZOU!!! (30th of July 2024)

BSD Discussion - Last updated on the 16th of August

They are sold in Magazines??! Gorgeous Official art!!

So this IS official art, after all, My thoughts, Soukoku

Official Art Outfits/Clothes Appreciation Post!! LIKE DAMN-!!!!

Fitzgerald DOES speak Japanese, but...

A Reblog: Chuuya WASN'T happy when Dazai left -that IS clear- but it's not like he was a sobbing mess for months either

So... BSD CHAPTER 117—!!!!!!!

A Reblog: Is Amenogozen truly killing people?

Official art parallels between SSKK and SKK..!!!!

Is this Official art or not?? SSK

LMK FanArt - Last updated on the 31st of July

Color Shift: Wukong and Macaque

Color Shift: Red Son and Mei

Sun Wukong Design

Macaque Design

My Fancomic: Forgotten Memories - Not started yet

MK doodles on paper

Wukong and Macaque on paper

Yin and Yang, Shadow and Light

Sun Wukong - ATTACK!

An exercise in perspective with the Golden staff

The Great Sage Equaling Heaven, Sketch

The Demon Bull King, Sketch

MK, the Monkie Kid, Sketch

Descendant of the White Dragon Horse - Mei, Sketch

Expansion of "Descendant of the White Dragon Horse - Mei, Sketch"

MINI-COMIC: With SWK and MK - "What.....?" "...What...?"

POV: Realization came. Or you could just call it smug Wukong~

Quick Analog Sketch of SWK

Mo the Cat (Screenshot Redraw)

I WATCHED S5 AND COULDN'T HELP DRAWING SOME STUFF/SKETCHESS ALREADYYY

LMK Discussion - Last updated on the 28th of May

A Reblog: How many layers of ‘glamour’ does Macaque have?

A Reblog: What if it is his clones?

S5 Trailer: Is that The Black Tortoise of the North MK is attacking?

Crossover FanArt - Last updated on the 2nd of May

A kinda crossover.. New releases from my YT channel with sketches from both TGCF and LMK

Other/Reblogs - Last updated on the 29th of July

Go watch Heaven Official's Blessing - 天官赐福, It's good :D

BSD: A book about how to live, a book about how to die - AMAZING detail-!

WRITING TIP: An Injury doesn't always need to be accurate in fiction

——

Fandoms on YouTube so far -

The Owl House (TOH)

Tangled The Series (TTS)

LEGO Ninjago

LEGO Monkie Kid (LMK)

Heaven Official's Blessing - 天官赐福 / Tian Guan Ci Fu (TGCF)

Bungou Stray Dogs - 文豪ストレイドッグス (BSD)

Content on YouTube so far -

AMVs

Edits

Lyric Video

Humor Video

MEP

MEP Part's

Collabs

Theories/Analyses

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katberk · 2 years

Text

Fanfic Ideas #3

Dividers made by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

And here’s number 3 :)

I’m also a very big person on fluff and hurt to comfort so the majority or all will probably just be that lol

1st list, 2nd list

x = Romantic

& = Platonic

🌸 = Someone wrote/read story

If you find any of these/write them please tag me 🥰

———————————————————————

~22nd one~

Eddie Munson x reader, (Eleven & reader)

Reader’s in California while Eddie’s still in Hawkins. Surprise surprise her new neighbors are the Byers and she can’t help but become best friends with Eleven and be an older sister to her. When school starts for the kids reader works as an assistant teacher in their class. When she realizes that the class isn’t being to nice to Eleven she steps in and gets down to business.

(More of an experience in California and how the reader helps her new neighbors — so more of Eleven & reader)

*Goes up behind Angela and slaps the back of her head, then leans down and whispers in her ear* “Pay attention and stop being a snobby bitch”

~23rd one~

Joe Keery x reader

In an interview together the interview starts to ask super uncomfortable questions to the reader. Luckily Joe’s there to make sure the reader’s comfortable and happy while he tears the interviewer apart for upsetting his S/O

“Ummm excuse me?!”

~24th one~

Eddie Munson x Cheerleader reader

In a rush Eddie forgets his important binder for Hellfire! Only noticing when he gets there he tries his best to stall and figure out a plan. All of a sudden there’s a knock at the door and in walks the reader with said binder in hand!

“Umm hey! You forgot your binder at home!” :)

~25th one~

Joe Keery x reader

You and Joe tell how you met to your fans at a con. To say the least, it’s super funny. (Have you guys seen the Domino’s commercial?! ❤️)

“How did you guys meet?!”

“Domino’s”

~26th one~

Billy Hargrove x reader

Billy had a great idea for a date. That idea was to surprise reader with a horror movie marathon to hopefully scare them into his arms. Instead he’s the one scared and the reader is the horror fanatic!

“ The Exorcist?! Hell yeah!!!”

~27th one~

Billy Hargrove x reader (Soulmate au)

(Where you get the same scars/injuries as your soulmate)

What if Billy never died from the hands of the Mind Flayer and instead lived but at the cost of scars all over his body? What if one day at the pool he spots a girl with the same gruesome scars as his?!

“W-where did you get those?!”

~28th one~

Joseph Quinn x reader

What’s an amazing birthday present? Two tickets to Metallic’s concert! What can top that? Your boyfriend playing Master of Puppets with the band! What else is there? Well when the song’s finished Joseph decides to pop the question!

“Eddie Munson himself said that you would enjoy this!”

~29th one~

Eddie Munson x reader

You’ve read the fanfics where the reader hits Jason with their lunch tray! If I was being bullied (Or him picking on Eddie) by Jason and my food (especially if it was spaghetti) fell all over me I would bash him over the head until he’s unconscious!!! So that’s exactly what the reader does!

“STOP. PICKING. ON. ME. (EDDIE.) YOU. PATHETIC. BITCH!”

~30th one~

Bat Eddie Munson x Mouse reader

Predator and Prey oh how that’ll go down, but to everyone’s surprise the two hybrids show that love can come to anyone and anything! You know what they say opposites attract!

~31st one~

Joe Keery x reader

Joe and the reader spend their Christmas together after long months of shooting their new movie. Enjoying warm coco and snuggling in warm blankets reader has a giant surprise!

“Merry Christmas Joe!”

#stranger things fanfiction ideas #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #billy hargrove #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x y/n #joe keery #joe keery x reader #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn x y/n #eleven #bat eddie munson

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 4 years

Text

The Boss From Hell

Summary: After Hell rose up under the rule of Boyking Sam and took over the earth, the reader has found herself working for Hell Corp and trying to be as productive an employee as possible to save herself from death. When she gets a call to meet with Sam himself though, he has a new job for her, one involving seducing his demon brother...

Pairing: Demon!Dean x reader

Word Count: 3,700ish

Warnings: language, threats, smut, angst

A/N: Enjoy!

_______

“Y/N. Sam would like to see you in his office,” said your boss, Todd. You swallowed, frozen in your seat. “Sweetie the longer you take the bigger odds he kills more slowly.”

“Right,” you said with a nod. “Um I’m almost wrapped up with the Johnson file but it’s final touches on the charts if you can do that after I’m, you know, dead.”

“Of course. I look forward to working together with you as a demon again,” he said. You swallowed and stood, Todd smiling. “All you humans are always so concerned about that. Trust me, this is better.”

“Looking forward...to it,” you said as you left your cubicle. Todd rubbed your shoulder before you went down the hall and out to the elevators. You were barely able to press the button down without shaking like a leaf. The doors shut quickly and you went down to the ground floor, quickly rushing over to a pair of large wooden doors where two demons in suits waited outside. They opened the doors for you and you forced yourself to step into the room.

It was no office. It had a lone chair and smelled faintly of blood. The doors shut behind you and you felt a presence close by.

“Y/N, isn’t it?” said Sam, his voice coming from directly to your right. He had a dark smile on his face as he walked in front of you.

“Yes sir,” you said as you lowered your head. He leaned down to get at your height and you shut your eyes.

“You think I’m going to kill you?” he asked. You nodded once and he laughed. “Well I do have a habit of doing that to most humans that come in here. I hear good things about you. Your bosses take credit for all of your work naturally but I know who puts in the long hours and does the real work. I’m quite impressed.”

“Thank you sir,” you said. He grabbed your chin and you looked up, Sam smiling back at you.

“I also know that you used your job here to help your human family. I don’t mind a rule broken here or there. You do work for Hell after all,” he said. He dropped your face and straightened himself up. “I’d like to promote you.”

“Oh, that’s very kind of you, sir,” you said. Sam smirked and you frowned.

“This isn’t an office job. You’re familiar with the resistance group known as W?” he asked. You nodded, used to seeing them all over the news. “My brother leads it. He’s...annoying. I’ve struggled to get a mole into his group for years. I feel as though you might be the one to help me change that.”

“Sir?”

“I want you to go undercover and gather intelligence for me.”

“Sir I thought…” you trailed off as he stared at you.

“Speak your mind. This only works if you tell me everything after all,” he smiled. You swallowed and nodded.

“I thought your brother was...a demon. A Knight of Hell,” you said.

“He is. He’s my second in command which is precisely why I want you to substantiate these rumors for me. Use any means necessary. Sex tends to work with him,” he said.

“You want me to have sex with a demon?” you asked, Sam releasing a booming laugh.

“Oh you’re so adorable. I want you to do whatever the fuck you have to in order to get close. The demon version of him is a little...slutty so use that to your advantage,” he said.

“Okay?” you said.

“You’re dismissed,” he said. He started to walk away and you opened your mouth. “Do not make me ask twice.”

You quickly left and went back to your cubicle, Todd surprised to see you still alive and human.

“Hey! You didn’t die! That’s good! Was this about the promotion I mentioned for you,” he smiled. “I bet it was.”

“Yeah,” you said wit a nod. “I um, got a promotion. I’m not working under you anymore though. Sorry.”

“Nah, it’s alright kid. You’re gonna do great things in upper management,” he said. “You mind finishing up that last report for me before you go?”

“Yeah, sure thing, Todd.”

You sighed as you stepped in front of your closet mirror that night. Sam had texted you some more information on Dean. You weren’t to come into work anymore unless he asked you to. You were a simple human now that had plenty of cash and resources and didn’t give a fuck about anything.

You spun around and winced at the shirt you had on. The backless shirt you had on. The last time you’d worn it was on a girls night to the club and you’d had an amazing time. But that was fun and a simple little backseat quickie with a handsome guy. This felt like you were selling your body.

“If I don’t go, he’s gonna torture me and kill me. If I do...I might get really hot sex and I might get to be safe from bad shit. Okay. Okay. I’m having sex with a demon tonight. I can’t believe I just said that but it’s happening. Okay. Here we go. Let’s do this. Let us do this,” you said, making a face. “Ah, why’d I have to be good at my job. Fuck.”

You took a deep breath and put on a pair of five inch heels, hair and makeup already done.

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” you said as you headed out to the club known for hosting demons.

“Two shots of vodka and an old fashioned,” you said at the bar thirty minutes later. The demon behind the bar nodded and you felt the eyes on your back. Lots and lots of black eyes in meat suits on your back. You threw back the shots once you got them, chugging the old fashioned before you got another.

“Rough day, princess?” asked a demon in a suit. He ran a finger up your spine and you narrowed your eyes.

“I don’t think princess said to touch,” said a voice. You turned your head and recognized the red shirt immediately. Dean Winchester, Knight of Hell and Sam’s righthand man. “Get lost.”

The demon took off and you got your drink, sipping it slowly as Dean came to lean back against the bar next to you.

“You know this is a demon bar, don’t you, sweetheart?” he asked.

“I ain’t your sweetheart. Sweetheart,” you said. You drank half your glass before you set it down. He smirked and picked it up, finishing it off. “That was mine.”

“I’ll buy you another one,” he said. He waved his finger and two shots of brown liquor were in front of you quickly. “You want to have tonight sweetheart?”

“Oh, you might be the Knight of Hell but I ain’t your typical girl,” you said. You took your shot in your hand and he smirked as he picked his up.

“I’ve heard it before. Let’s see if you live up to the hype,” he said. “Cheers.”

“Cheers, demon boy,” you said, clanking your glasses together.

“Another round. I like this one.”

“I said down,” you growled thirty minutes later in the room above the bar. You bit at his neck and rolled your hips, Dean thrusting up into you as you sucked his skin hard. “I. Said. Stay. The. Fuck. Still.”

He groaned as he released himself in you, your walls squeezing him, his tip hitting your g-spot and giving you a nice, deep orgasm. You kissed his marked up skin as you moved a few more times, smirking as you sat up. His hickey disappeared and he smiled, laughing to himself.

“Wow. You are not like other human girls,” he said.

“Demon or not, a bottom loves an in charge top,” you said. “Now I think it’s time you cleaned up the mess you made.”

You slid off of him and crawled up the bed, settling yourself over his face. He immediately starting eating you out, his tongue swirling and diving deep. You came quickly and he licked up your juices until you were sure there was nothing left.

“Good demon,” you said as you rolled off of him. He sat up on his elbows as you walked over to get dressed.

“Y/N,” he said. You tensed. You hadn’t told him your name. You looked over your shoulder and his smile seemed...sad almost. “Marcy’s 30th birthday. You went out with your friends. We uh, we had some fun in my car.”

“Blue flannel guy,” you said as it came back to you. “Wait, were you a demon-”

“No,” he chuckled darkly. “That improvement came later. Something about you in that shirt I can’t resist apparently, human or demon.”

“I live in town if you’re ever…”

“Looking for a fuck?” he asked. “I don’t have too hard of a time getting those.”

“There’s a difference between a fuck and a good fuck. How am I batting so far?” you winked.

“Two for two,” he said with a smirk. “Why’s a nice human girl like you in a place like this? I remember the hot sex. I remember the backseat cuddling too.”

“The demons are in charge, Dean. Hell won. I want to be on the winning side of this thing. You guys tend to fuck better too so there’s that.”

“The boyking is in charge. He’s the one to worry about,” he said.

“Isn’t he your boss?”

“I suppose. Change the guy’s diapers and this is how I’m repaid. Fucking vice president of this shit hole,” he said.

“Well, you’re hotter,” you said.

“He’d kill you for that you know. I should kill you for insulting him like that,” he said.

“Okay,” you said. He got out of bed and you stared up at him when he walked in front of you. “You’re still hotter.”

“He gets a lot of credit for being smart. Most everyone’s always thought he was more intelligent. I mean how obvious was he trying to send a mole after me?” he said. You didn’t move a muscle and Dean brushed your hair behind your ear. “Your only give away was getting out of bed and not trying to cuddle. I can’t blame you for that.”

“There’s no point in me trying to lie, is there,” you said.

“No, not really,” he said.

“Please kill me quickly,” you said. You shut your eyes and swallowed. “Please.”

“I think you’re going to come home with me and we’ll decide the answer to that. Get dressed. Now.”

Twenty minutes later Dean was leading you by the arm into a relatively normal looking home. He cut through the house and over to a kitchen table, dragging a chair out and setting it in the middle of the room. You sat down, Dean grabbing another one and swiveling it around to face you. He straddled it and sat down, lifting up a finger. He pointed it at you and curled it, your arms tight by your side.

“Understand?” he said. You nodded and the pressure came off of you. You set your hands in your lap, Dean looking you up and down. “I can’t blame you. Your options were agree to be a mole or death. It’s not really a choice at that point. He kills his loyal followers most slowly too I’m sure you’ve heard.”

You stared at him and he smiled.

“How about we come to a...similar agreement,” he said. You shut your eyes and he chuckled.

“You feed Sammy whatever information I tell you to and I will allow you to continue to live,” he said.

“Not much choice there either,” you said quietly.

“Do you know where he gets his powers from? Demon blood. Guess who’s blood he likes the most,” said Dean. He wiped his thumb over his forearm and you saw a scar appear. “I am sick of being his blood bank.”

“It keeps you weak, doesn’t it,” you said. “It’s why he does it. It’s why you haven’t challenged him.”

“Perceptive aren’t you,” he said. You knew he respected strength and you were valuable to him now. You stood up and he watched you carefully. You walked past him and felt a pressure keeping your arms by your sides but that was it. You could move forward, you could turn your head.

“You’re more than weak,” you said. He growled but you took a step forward and another, only stopping when his hand caught your arm. “I find it hard to imagine that the Knight of Hell gets that much power zapped when some blood gets taken from him. You’re weaker than the lowest level demon.”

“He did something to me. Now who’s side do you think I’m on? Demons? Or yours?”

“What’d he do.” He rolled his eyes and you shrugged him off. “Maybe I can help.”

“I am barely demon. He made me harmless. I keep him fed and that’s all I am anymore. He thought I was going to fuck him over. Well his big fuck up was nearly changing me back. Fuck him and fuck the demons. I’m gonna be in charge.”

“Are you going to end the world or just play dirty in it?” you asked. He smirked and raised his chin.

“You know I’m not as bad as him. I’m the lesser of two evils. You...want to help me. Oh, that’s even better than I thought. Shit, I could turn you in and probably get him to back off of me,” he said. You held your ground and he nodded. “Good. You know I was bluffing.”

“We can help each other,” you said. He rested a hand on your hip and gave it a squeeze. “I’m not your personal slut.”

“Understood. No reason we can’t indulge in a little fun while we work together though,” he said. He moved his hand aside and nodded. “I assume you want something for this.”

“What?”

“What do you want? Money? Power?”

“I don’t want to be afraid anymore. Everyone is always so afraid of what the demons will do to us. If you’re in charge, you and the other demons can play in our world but this is a human world again. Understand?”

“If my brother goes bye bye, Hell will go back to as it was. I swear on my soul,” he smirked.

“Alright then,” you said.

“Well, now that we got the dirty talk out of the way, how about I make you come screaming my name again?”

“How about you go upstairs, edge yourself and tomorrow when I come back, maybe I’ll be nice and let you get off,” you said.

“As you wish,” he said. “Don’t bother locking up. Nobody steals from us.”

“Dean,” you said as he headed upstairs. “Don’t fuck me over on this.”

“He’s not Sam anymore. I like you a hell of a lot more than him right now,” he said. “Wear something you don’t mind me tearing to shreds when you come by tomorrow.”

“We’ll see, demon boy.”

You swallowed as you followed Dean up to his bedroom the next night. You’d spent the day researching and understood what Sam had done to make him barely demon as he put it. One more shot of the right kind of blood and he’d be human.

“Y/N,” said Dean as he stepped aside and you saw a large bed. He grabbed your clutch and opened it, frowning when he pulled out the syringe of blood. “What exactly were you going to do with this? I thought we had an understanding.”

“You can help me. If you’re human then I know for sure you’re-”

“If I’m human, he knows it’s me. He knows it’s you. He’ll destroy us both. I am so much more valuable as a demon and this? This causes trust issues, sweetheart.” He snapped the syringe in his hand and you tried to take a step back, Dean slamming the door shut with his finger. “Here’s what’s gonna happen. I’m in charge and if you don’t like that, too fucking bad. Understand?”

“Yes,” you said. He walked until your back hit the door, a dark smile on his face as he peered down at you.

“Now how about-Fuck!” he shouted as you stabbed the syringe from your back pocket into his leg. You ran past him and over to a bathroom door, Dean falling down to the floor and clutching his body. He passed out and you looked around, Dean coming around quicker than you were expecting. You ran over and took out the pair of restraints from your pocket and put them on his wrists. Dean groaned as you tugged them taught and stepped back. He got up to his knees, black eyes staring at you that dissipated into deep green ones.

He shook his head out and took a few breaths, squeezing his eyes shut momentarily.

“Y/N? From the car?” he said. He looked around and down at his wrists. “What the hell is going on?”

“You don’t remember a thing?” you asked. He shook his head and swallowed. “What do you remember?”

“Sammy was...that can’t be real,” he said. “None of that is real.”

“Dean, your brother is the boyking of Hell and he rules not only Hell but earth too,” you said. He shook his head and you stepped closer. “You were a demon. I turned you human just now. Sam made you demon but kept you only kinda demon I guess for your blood. You sounded like you wanted to help and I’m sorry but you were too dangerous as a demon to work with.”

“What do you mean boyking?” asked Dean. You sighed and pulled out your phone, Dean’s breath hitching as you showed him the articles about your demon overlords. “This can’t be happening.”

“It is. I need your help. I know you hunted monsters. I need you to hunt this monster down with me.”

“You mean my brother,” said Dean. You nodded and leaned down, Dean holding out his hands. “Let me go. Please.”

“Are you going to tell Sam?” you asked.

“You have no idea what you just did,” he said. “This mark? On my arm? Eventually, I’m gonna lose it and I’m gonna kill anything in my way.”

“Then we get it off.”

“There is no getting it off. The only way to get it off is if somebody else takes it from me,” he said. “You can’t trust me as a human.”

“Are you kidding me? I just risked my life to save you.” He sighed and snapped the plastic ties, shakily getting to his feet. You stepped back and he held up a hand.

“We got some time before I go ballistic. Probably a few months. If we can get this thing off my arm...somehow...we might have a chance.”

“Then let’s get that off your arm,” you said. He nodded and smiled at you. “What?”

“I always had a good feeling about you was all. Let’s get out of-” he said as you heard a creak down the hall. You both looked out the bedroom door and saw Sam there.

“Y/N, Y/N...I should have known you’d be drawn to him. Now I have to kill him,” said Sam.

“Sammy, don’t,” said Dean, Sam suddenly by his side and snapping something. Dean dropped to the floor and you backed into a wall.

“Give him a minute. He’ll wake up all demon again real soon. This time, he’ll do as told,” said Sam. “He’s very...pliable when he first comes into his new life.”

“Pliable my ass,” said Dean as he yanked Sam down to the floor. Sam grunted and you dove into the bathroom, a lot of smashing and crashing going on in the bedroom. It went quiet and you swallowed when you heard footsteps. You looked up, Dean staring down at you, his eyes narrowed. “You followed the plan very well. I knew Sam was watching and he did exactly as expected.”

“Is he dead?” you asked.

“No. He’s going to detox now and when he’s done, he’ll be a simple little human,” said Dean. “As for our, arrangement...your family and friends are safe. Demon corp is no more.”

“Okay,” you said with a nod, wondering how the hell you were going to help either one of them now. Sam sounded like he was screwed but you knew deep down it wasn’t his fault. He was manipulated and you couldn’t blame him for that entirely. Dean, well him you just needed some blood and then you’d have time to get the mark off of him.

“Pack a bag,” he said. You raised an eyebrow and smirked as he squatted down. “I like loyalty. You’re loyal to me, aren’t you, Y/N?”

“I’m still not your slut,” you said.

“Didn’t say you were,” he said. “And I said pack a bag.”

“Why?”

“Because you just gave me Hell. I’m gonna give you whatever you want as my second in command.”

“Excuse me?”

“I feel like this is going to be the start of a great relationship, sweetheart,” he said as he flashed you a wink. “Don’t you? I’ll be by your place in an hour whether you’re ready or not.”

He walked out and you took a deep breath, closing your eyes.

“Well shit.”

________

#spn #supernatural #dean x reader #dean winchester #dean x you #dean winchester x reader #demon!dean #demon!dean x reader #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction

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itsbeaconhillsbaby · 3 years

Note

I love your writings, they’re so good and realistic and not weird and cringe like some others on here, by far the best I’ve seen in a while !! Was just wondering if you’re taking requests and if so if you could do one when your an actress and have always had a crush on him but you meet him at an after party at a premier or something and have flirty banter and maybe more ? Thankyou x

hello my lovely x

this is so unbelievably sweet I've been screaming since this popped into my inbox. I wanted to start this off by saying a massive thank you - this is my first ever requested piece and I am so excited to be able to create something for you! this is a milestone fic: the 10th fic that I've written for tom, and is also one of my longest!! I also want to apologise for how long it has taken me; I started on this a while ago now and you have been so patient and kind! please enjoy and let me know what you think! (also the timing that this is now coming out on his birthday is all the spook!!)

after party antics || tom holland x reader

word count: 2729 warnings: alcohol use summary: premiere after party meet cute

Circular tables filled the floor as glittering chandeliers hung low from the ceilings above. Pretty foliage and large blooming fresh flowers in pastel pinks, greens and blues, draped through the room, entangling themselves around chairs and across wooden beams. Lace, satin and chiffon brushed along the floors as what felt like the entire film industry conversed with one another; hands clutching at suit jacketed arms, glasses clinking in cheers.

Music, chatter, camera flashes and laughing filled the room - sounds reverberating all around. You glide through the crowds, smiling and nodding your thanks as people congratulated you from either side.

Taking a detour from your path, you spotted the signs for the bathroom and let out a shaky exhale when it appeared empty. Resting your hands on the wash basin and closing your eyes, you took a couple of deep breaths before your face erupted into a toothy grin, a small squeal of excitement bubbling from your lips.

You were at an after-party.

For your very first film.

Surrounded by some of Hollywood’s finest.

WHAT!

If your best friend woke you up stating that this was all some insane dream, you wouldn’t be surprised. It would make more sense, actually – this just couldn’t be your life.

You could feel yourself spiralling and spritzed a little bit of water onto your face to calm yourself down, making sure not to ruin the amazing make-up look that your team had spent so long perfecting earlier that day.

The premiere had only just finished.

You had walked across the red carpet on wobbly legs – cameras flashing, thousands of fans screaming from behind barriers, photographers and press overpowering each other in order to get the best angles and shots; screaming for you to ‘look over here’, ‘turn to the side.’

The premiere had only just finished up as you sat amongst a drool-worthy cast; some of the biggest names in Hollywood. Joining such a large cast was daunting, especially considering who some of those people were – and more so since it was with Marvel, one of - if not the - biggest film franchises out there.

You took another look in the mirror, tucking your hair behind your ears and smoothing down the front. Giving a twirl in your signature Teuta Matoshi gown, the tulle dress embroidered with tiny little yellow daffodils and white daisies, you took a moment to admire your favourite designer as you adjusted the slightly puffed sleeves before leaving the restroom.

You held the door open behind you to allow for a gaggle of tall women to enter in beautiful flowing gowns, turning abruptly to shift yourself out of the way - smiling at them as they all smiled back.

Up on the tips of your toes, wobbling slightly in your heels, you try to peer over the heads of the masses of people. You were eagerly looking for your team, consisting of your incredible manager and your best friend, who you dragged everywhere with you. But you could barely see past the sea of heads in front of you.

You decided to head for the heavy, wide double-set doors that stood open, leading out into the freshly manicured gardens; alive with luscious trees, plants and flowerbeds. A separate dirt path led into a lowly lit rose garden that was nestled in amongst the grasses.

It was a little quieter outside, but not by much.

There was a large marquee to your immediate left. A bar was situated at one end as bottles were flipped in the air - waiters passing out trays lined with champagne flutes. Pristinely clothed tables were crowded with guests; bodies tumbled past you as they headed into the marquee - parties splitting into different locations now that the main event had concluded, leading into a very alive and wild after party.

Your cheeks ached as the smile on your face refused to drop. Too amazed by your surroundings to let it relax. You stand out on the patio area, looking out across the gardens towards the glow of the city in the distance, lights twinkling in exchange for stars. Despite the dry warmth of the evening you could feel the lightest of winds raising the tiny hairs on your arms.

“Room for another?”

You jumped slightly at the interruption, the voice light and questioning. You turn, your dress dancing around you.

“Sorry, I hope I’m not interrupting. I’m Tom, I’ve been meaning to introduce myself all night. Congratulations on the film!”

As you exchange pleasantries, your cheeks gathering up some heat beneath the radiant glow of your make-up, he presses forwards leaning in for a hug as you do the same. You can feel his hands against the bare skin at your back leaving behind tiny little goose-bumps in their place, your skin tingling from his touch. You couldn’t help but breathe in his cologne, the pleasant woodsy scent engulfing you.

“Ah, so you’re the spider guy? I think I’m getting the hang of these superhero names now.”

Your lips twitch, forming a playful smile.

He tilts his head ever so slightly to the side, eyeing you up as tiny crinkles appeared around the outside of his eyes. They were looking at you inquisitively with a sweet kind of intensity.

You could feel your heart kick up a notch under his gaze. You scolded yourself internally for your lack of composure. Of course, you knew who Spider-Man was, you’d been such a fan of the Marvel films for years and you’d have to have been blind not to notice the cute, brown haired, quick witted, web-slinger who the world quickly fell in love with. They weren’t the only ones; did he look even better in person? How was that even fair? You shook your head slightly at your thoughts in an attempt to dispel them from your conscious.

“Sorry, I don’t know why I said that. I’m a fan of yours – your work is brilliant.”

You continued on with your bumbling word vomit – a light pink blush evident across your cheekbones and nose.

Tom’s face lights up more as you stumble over your sentences, his eyes glistening in the darkening sky.

“Oh really? Big fan, hm?” He wiggles his eyebrows teasingly, before calling upon one of the many smartly dressed men and women swooping seamlessly through the crowds with their glossy black trays.

You take a moment to drink him in. His crisp navy suit sat comfortably unbuttoned, the satin shirt hugging the figure beneath. He looked older than you’d seen him portray onscreen; his jaw strong and chiselled. His shoulders and body filled out his suit comfortably, hair beautifully fluffed; although it did seem slightly rumpled, as though he had been running his hands through it.

“Oh yeah,” You paused for a beat before continuing, “Then again, I think you’re about the 30th actor I’ve said that to tonight.”

He nods, laughing, his eyes lighting up at your relaxed, playful energy.

“Oh. Okay, nice. No, I see how it is. New girl keeping us all on our toes with the flattery.”

He holds one of the crystal champagne flutes out to you before picking up his own. Shimmering, golden liquid danced as you accepted the glass, fingertips brushing over open palms.

The cool bubbles gently slid down your throat. You could feel eyes on you as you focussed on the glass in your hand.

“Have you met everyone yet?” Tom gestured towards to the lit-up marquee, “A lot of us were talking about how great you were in your film, they’ll want to meet you.”

“Now who’s full of the flattery,” You tease, nudging his arm slightly as he shakes his head at you, “But honestly, I haven’t, I’m kind of finding it all a little bit intimidating. I’ve also lost my team which is not helpful.”

You took another sweep of the area. Now low-key wishing that you wouldn’t find them for a little while, not if it meant that you could continue to talk with Tom with no interruptions.

“Well hey, I can introduce you? I was so terrified when I did my first Marvel premiere, but everyone is so great. Trust me. It’s like a strange, crazy dysfunctional family. I think you fit in perfectly.”

“Are you calling me strange, crazy and dysfunctional? You have an interesting way of making friends, Holland.” You both laugh, “Only if you’re sure though? I don’t want you to be stuck introducing me all night.”

“Don’t be silly. We’ll make it fun. C’mon.”

Tom led you through the entrance of the marquee, turning on the charm as people fist bumped or pulled him in for a quick hug or handshake. Every time they did he peered through his eyelashes at you, inviting you to introduce yourself.

As you made jokes and conversed with your new peers, Tom couldn’t stop himself from watching you. Your name had been all the buzz recently and he’d been eager to meet you. Not only because you were undoubtedly going to be working with each other on future projects, but because you were also getting thrown into the Marvel spotlight like he had been. Little did he realise just how enamoured he had become with you in such a short space of time. There was something about you, he thought, as your cheeks glowed, a wide grin resting upon your face, eyes dancing wildly as you spoke with your new peers - something that he felt drawn to. You noticed him staring and gave him a little wink, shaking him out of it as he joined back into the conversation.

****

The two shot glasses sloppily thump against the bar top.

“Ha!”

“What! No, I was totally first!” Tom protested loudly, throwing his hands into the air.

“I definitely beat you!”

You smiled politely at the bartender as he collected the row of glasses lined up in front of you before turning wildly to face Tom.

“You just can’t face the fact that I won.”

He gestures to his brother who had pulled up a stool to join you both, “Harry c’mon, I won right?!”

“You can’t ask him that, it’s cheating. He’s your brother, of course he’s going to pick your side.”

“Tom, I hate to say this mate but I think she has you beat…” Harry said regretfully, camera slung around his neck as he nursed his own drink, mouth falling into an upturned grin as he supervised the pair of you.

You looked past Tom, straight at Harry, grinning proudly, “I take it back, Harry’s opinion is very important.”

Tom gives Harry a gentle shove as they mess around. You feel an arm slink around your shoulders, giving a playfully gentle squeeze. Your heart thumps along to the beat of the bass, music pulsing through your very bones as the three of you continued to laugh and joke around. Tom’s hair had gotten far more rumpled as the night had gone on, a long way off the perfectly styled look that he’d started off with.

You decided you preferred it messy.

Tom was sitting close by you on his stool, your knees both knocking together. His foot was tapping the footrest to the beat of the music. He’d discarded his suit jacket, and it now hung from the back of the chair, leaving him in his fitted shirt. You couldn’t help but notice his defined muscles as he ran a hand through his hair before resting it on the back of your seat.

“You look really pretty tonight. I saw you walking the carpet earlier, you completely owned it up there.”

“Tom Holland, are you flirting with me?”

You spun in your seat a little bit, making direct eye contact as your hand rested gently on his knee.

As soon as the pair of you had challenged each other to a drinking competition (involving a lot of shots) the night flew by, and you found yourself becoming more and more comfortable with Tom. He was quickly going from that cute actor who you had a little crush on, to someone you were actually spending time with? The intimidation you were feeling from earlier had dissipated, leaving you feeling slightly fuzzy and very happy.

He shrugs, that cheeky grin appearing again. A twinkle shining within those gorgeous brown eyes.

“I don’t know. Am I?”

He slides off of his seat, holding a hand out to you, palm up.

“C’mon.”

“Where are we going?” You questioned, as Harry returned with the drinks.

“Dance floor.”

You can feel your face light up as you hopped down from the high stool, gripping onto Tom’s hand as he helped navigate you back down to solid ground. He whispered to his brother who comfortably started up a conversation with the people around him, before giving him a pat on the shoulder as you dragged him over to the dance floor.

The floor was already packed with bodies. A live DJ station was against one wall facing out into the crowd; flashing, swirling lights brightened up the outdoor space. You pointed out a space in amongst the crowd and Tom led you both towards it, far better at making a path through the wayward limbs than you would have been.

The space was small, and the pair of you were in extremely close proximity. This was the most at ease you’d felt all night, allowing yourself to just feel the music and dance with one of the sweetest, most charming and insanely attractive men you’d possibly ever met. The space quickly filled up, growing tighter until you and Tom were practically chest to chest. He was a quick mover; his hips, legs and arms moving in all the right directions.

Your bodies were pressed together tightly, rapid heartbeats beating as one.

He leans in, pressing up against your side, brushing some stray hairs out of your face, “I also meant what I said earlier. You’re really beautiful tonight.”

“Just tonight?” You whisper into his ear, leaving him to flounder slightly on the dance floor. A little colour flushed to his cheeks as he lifted an arm, spinning you under it.

Before he has a chance to answer, you continue.

“You don’t scrub up too badly yourself, Holland.”

As the two of you lock eyes; the heat from the dance floor, the pounding of the music and the dancing, twinkling lights all fade to the background. His eyes dart to your lips, and you can't help but follow his lead, when you can suddenly hear your name being called out in the crowd.

"Oh my god, I got her. We've been looking for you for ages!" You were suddenly no longer face to face with the cute boy but instead looking into the slightly stressed face of your manager, "It's nearly 4am, the car is here and we gotta go!" She took a moment to look between you and Tom, who suddenly now looked a little bit embarrassed and sheepish - nervously rubbing at the back of his neck.

"Oh. Sorry, I've interrupted something here, haven't I?" She awkwardly made her way back through the crowd after whispering a sorry in your direction.

You smile at Tom, and make your way out from the dance floor. He was close behind you, nodding to a group of people back up at the bar.

He pulls you in for a goodbye hug, embracing you similarly to how you'd hugged earlier in the evening. Except this time was full of promise and a strange tension that hadn't been present before. You could feel the goosebumps prickle your skin where he touched it - his hands gentle as he held them tight around your waist, breathing you in before pulling away.

"Thank you for tonight, Tom. I owe you, seriously."

As you hurriedly caught up to your team, dress fluttering behind you as you immediately begin laughing and chatting animatedly to them, you could feel eyes on you. You looked back as you continued to vacate the marquee and head for the cars out front. Tom was stood, staring after you, a bright smile on his lips.

Something told you this wasn't the last you'd hear from him, and your stomach flip-flopped immediately at the very thought of seeing him again after tonight. For now however, the image of the brown haired, glossy eyed young man smiling after you in awe would have to be enough.

#glamour-l #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland imagine #tom holland fluff #tom holland meet cute #asks #lisa writes #you should've seen my reaction to getting my first request THE EXCITMENT #I haven't posted fic in ages now tho and im all shy and nervous again omg #I really hope you like it

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headinthestaticsky · 3 years

Text

Extras for The Dusk Calls for me.

Authors Note: While I plan out the next few chapters of my story, enjoy these memories I did for the re-write I did on Wattpad.

TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions and a attempt of SA

Time: This Takes place a year before the beginning of The Dusk Calls for me.

"Makes me feel like flying

Top-down backstreet driving Dusty road all alone

Tip my hat Puff of smoke, smoke

Makes me feel like flying

I just run ."

American Gurl by: Kilo Kish

I was finally out, those words of bile my mother and sister spew toward me finally pushed me over the edge. Yet those words finally got me back with my father in Forks, where I always belonged.

Flashback: One Week Ago.

"FLEUR! GET DOWN HERE NOW!" My erratic mother Renee yelled from downstairs.

My heart started beating out of my chest, what did I do this time? I walked into the dining room, Renee and Isabella were sitting at the table across from where I was sitting. Bella had a smirk on her face relishing in the tension between Renee and I.

"Yes?" I asked.

"You always have to cause trouble don't you?' She replied back, malice laced her voice.

"What? What are you even talking about?"

"Bella told me you've been saving money to go see your father in Forks." She spat at me.

My rapidly beating heart sunk down into my stomach, I had been trying to see my dad in Forks for a year now. My mother refused to get me a plane ticket herself, she always told me I reminded her too much of my father and that I didn't need to be around him anymore than I already was which wasn't often.

"Mother, it's my money I can do with it as I please," I said calmly though I could feel the rage beginning to boil in my blood.

"YOU AREN'T GOING!" She yelled demandingly.

I couldn't control myself, it was as if someone else had entered my body.

"WHAT IN THE HELL IS SO WRONG FOR WANTING TO SEE MY FATHER!?"

"I'M NOT GOING TO WASTE THAT KIND OF MONEY ON YOU!"

"Well you aren't now aren't you? It's my own money and I will use it however the hell I want to!"

"Oh don't you..." Renee started.

"Are you going to tell me you would be doing the same thing if Bella was the one wanting to go see dad?"

"She isn't a trouble maker." She snapped back.

"How am I a trouble maker? For wanting my mother to be kind and considerate? For wanting my mother to treat me with respect? To get an ounce of love from the frozen, undead heart inside your chest?" I asked, my face heated up it felt like it was burning.

"If you can't stand to be around us so much why don't you just move down there to Forks?"

"I will, just give me the rest of the money for the plane ticket and I swear to god the second I walk out that door I will NEVER come back!"

"Fine..." I turned away from her before she could say anything else. Before I reached the stairs I turned around again, looking directly at Bella.

"Get away from her while you can Isabella, or you're going to end up being just as toxic as she is." I then left before they could say anything else.

Flashback over: 2 years before the Original story begins.

I looked to the side, staring out the window. The desert plains had disappeared while I slept and now the lush green forests overtook the view. The fog wasn't heavy but the skies were covered with dark grey clouds and a downpour of rain. The cold weather was a lot more favorable in my opinion, the sun couldn't burn my skin much here. The plane had begun to shake signaling that the plane was beginning to land. I couldn't wait to see my father again, I hadn't seen him since my 12th birthday. When I got off the plane I stretched, being cramped in a small plane for an almost 3-hour flight wasn't exactly the most comfortable.

I walked through the crowded airport, scanning the area for my father. I bumped into some disgruntled couples and quickly left before I was caught in the crossfires of their mood.

"Petal?" I heard from behind me. I turned around quickly recognizing that voice, it could calm me down before I got into trouble.

"Dad..." I said fondly before running up to hug him.

My heartfelt I little more full, and the pain my mother inflicted on me was healed for the time being. We walked out together, each of us was carrying a bag. The wind was strong today and my hair was flying all of the places. Its cooling touch raised goosebumps on my skin, mom didn't buy any warmer clothes for me so I was stuck in the typical Arizona tank tops and shorts. Luckily for me, the car was already warmed up so I dethawed quickly. We drove for a few minutes in silence, the roar of the engine and other passing cars were the only sounds filling the space.

"So, how have you been? I feel like I haven't seen you in a while." Dad said.

"I've been better, you know how mom is," I mumbled.

"I don't know what happened to her, she wasn't like that in high school. If she was I wouldn't have even wasted a second on her."

"I know you would've dad...she's cruel for sure. She's just good at hiding it from people she wants to impress."

"Yeah, she is."

The drive was a giant wave of nostalgia, being 16 now and seeing all of the familiar sites and views brought back fond memories. The old ice cream shop dad use to take me to, the reservation that Sam and Leah lived on, it all brought me back. It also fueled anger, however, as my mother constantly kept me under the brutal radiation of the sun. Dad must've seen the look on my face and put his hand on my shoulder.

"It's going to be okay Petal, you're away from her now." He comforted.

"It's not just her dad... Bella's acting like her too."

"That's a shame... it really is."

"Yeah... it is." I sighed.

"I just can't wait to get back home, the attic is calling for me."

Dad chuckled before speaking again.

"You know... I heard you just got your license... So I got you an older car."

"You did not have to do that dad."

"It doesn't get in until next week, so I'll have to drive you to school until then," Dad said as if that would balance out the fact he got me a car.

"That's fine dad. What is it?"

"It's an old Mustang, a Fastback."

"Thank you, dad..."

"No problem Petal.

When we pulled into the driveway of our small but beautiful home the nostalgia fully set in. The colors were exactly the same, and the grass was just as muddy and dead as before.

"Well I cleared off some shelves for you in the bathroom, your room was a bit dusty so I just cleaned it for you," Dad explained as he helped me take my luggage upstairs.

"Sounds good, thank you again, dad, I love you."

"Love you too Petal." He kissed my head before closing the door behind me. The room was bare, I would have to fix it later on. I collapsed on my bed, facing the ceiling.

"I'm home."

September 17th, 2004.

"Dad I have to go, I don't want to be late on my first day!" I exclaimed throwing on a leather jacket.

"Petal I am almost ready, I never knew you were so much of a bookworm." He joked, ruffling my hair.

"Dad I am an entire school year ahead of where I should be... I take my education very seriously." I said, trying to hide the growing smirk on my face.

"Alright alright let's go," Dad said, taking my arm and pulling me out the door.

We were only driving for a little bit when I decided to roll the window down, I placed my arms on where the window used to be and rested my head on them. My hair blew out of my face and the cool mist of Forks hit me. When we arrived at the school dad was scanning the parking lot looking for a place to park when he passed right by a group of people. They were all gorgeous, their faces seemingly perfectly sculpted, and they all had the same colored eyes, golden. My eyes locked with one however, they were filled with pain for a second before melting into shock. something strange filled my chest and my heart began to race. As we drove past them I gave him a smile, hoping to ease his shock.

Timeskip: September 30th, 2004

Something was up, the boy I saw outside that window, Jasper Hale was more than what he seemed. He was freezing cold all the time, and I swore I saw his eyes turn black for a split second when he saw a boy from another make a gesture toward me. It was strange really, we had been friends for a few weeks but he seemingly had a protective...energy over me. But at the same time, I still felt something... I couldn't explain it. It was as if we were connected to each other in some way. My dad had to take my car to the shop and he couldn't pick me up today so I decided to take a trip to the library, hoping to find some new material to read.

I didn't realize how long I had been in the library until I looked out of the small windows of the building. The sky was darkened and daylight was running out, I checked out a few books and left not wanting to be stuck walking in the night. I was a few blocks home when I heard 3 men talking behind me.

"Oh looks at this one..."

"She seems perfect for us."

"Come here girly... we just want to talk."

My heart raced and my pace quickened, speed walking home. I tried taking weird turns and cuts but they wouldn't fall for the bait. I decided to run for it hoping my legs would be quick enough to evade them all. I was then pushed against the wall 2 minutes into my escape again, the smell of alcohol made me want to retch.

"You aren't very good at listening to orders." One murmured, his face was inches away from me, he breathed in my scent and began to chuckle.

"Don't be too hard on her... I like ones that fight." Another said

"Make this easy on yourself girl..."

One reached down to take off my clothes when he was suddenly thrown back a few feet into the air. I just stood against the wall shocked, I saw Jasper standing over the man before making his way over to the other two men. They both took off leaving their "friend" behind but Jasper zoomed toward them. His speed was inhuman and his strength was unprecedented yet I couldn't stop myself from moving from my spot. The other two men were flown into the air and scream on impact. Jasper grabbed them both by the throats.

"If you EVER try to touch her or any woman for that matter like that again... I. will. kill. you!" He growled before releasing them down on the ground. They gasped and ran again, babbling in terror toward one another.

Jasper walked toward me with a guilty look on his face, his hand reached out for mine and I took it without even thinking.

"Come with me Darlin' I have a lot to explain to you." He said softly, his mood had completely changed with me.

We walked for a few moments in silence, I side-eyed him for any shift in behavior, when it didn't I decided to interrogate him.

"How did you do that?" My voice trembled.

He sighed before replying.

"I'm a vampire." He said blatantly.

I looked at him and laughed thinking it was a joke... when he didn't join I stopped and looked at him with shock.

"You're serious?" I said, my eyes widening again.

"Yes I am, I've been 17 for...141 years. I got changed during the Civil War."

"Damn... you're old... wait were you in the Civil War?"

"Yes, I was drafted to the Confederate Army when I was 17..."

"Yikes..."

"You're telling me, I ran away the first chance I got... I wasn't going to fight in some war that was fueled by warped and disgusting ideas just because I was forced to. I never thought the way they did... I never understood why someone could think so low of a human being just because of his skin."

"That's very brave of you."

"I had just made it to Galveston when I decided to take a break... I ended up on a beach... that's when I ran into an immortal named Maria. She was creating an army and decided that I would be a good fit for it."

"She changed you against your will?"

"I didn't even know what she was doing until I felt searing pains from my arms all the way up to my neck." He explained rolling up his sleeves and showing me his scars."

I traced the teeth marks on his forearm before looking up at him again.

"I'm sorry that happened to you..."

He looked up at me in shock.

"You... you feel sympathy for something like me? I'm a monster..." He said sincerely.

"It wasn't even your choice as to what you became... and I don't think a monster would've saved me back there. Face it, Jasper, you're a big softie who's had bad experiences in his long... long life."

He chuckled before glancing at me, we made it back to the house, dad still wasn't home yet. We walked into the backyard, sitting in patio chairs and looking up at the stars.

"There's something else I have to tell you." Jasper admitted in the darkness.

I looked at him in confusion, what else did he have to tell me? He's a werewolf too?

"You're..." He hesitated. "You're my mate." He said quickly.

"What? How... vampires have mates?" I asked in shock.

"Yes we do, and we instantly know when we've met them. Didn't you feel it, when you looked out that window at me? It was enamour... love, something I have never experienced before."

"I haven't either... but I have to admit I felt something too. I just didn't know what it was, I felt connected to you somehow though. But... I'm 16... falling deeply in love isn't exactly something I planned."

"I understand completely. I won't force you to do anything you don't want to do. I understand I am a vampire... this is a lot to take in." Jasper said lowering his head in shame, his curls covered his eyes.

I sat up and turned to him.

"Hey, hey it's not just because you're a vampire honest! I just need to think things through... we can still talk in and out of school I won't push you out." I said a bit faced-paced. I didn't want to hurt his feelings he did just save me after all.

He looked and me and grabbed my hand.

"Take all the time you need Fleur, I will accept your answer no matter what is it." He said sincerely.

"Thank you... Jasper."

"It's not any trouble." His face lit up all of the sudden, car headlights entered my line of view. I felt my hand by dropped by his cold one and a whoosh of wind flew my hair forward. I turned back around and he was gone.

Timeskip: October 16th, 2004.

It was hard, weighing the pros and cons of being with Jasper.

Pros: We were soulmates... destined to be with each other, He knew my limits and respected my boundaries, he gave me a choice, not forcing me into something I might not want to do, and he was a kind and gentle soul. We understood each other, our hearts and souls were connected and I would never find someone else I would be so close to.

Cons: He was a creature who thirsted for blood... a thirst he didn't always have the best control over, Being in a serious relationship at such a young age was a huge commitment I didn't even fully know who I was... would I ever be able to find out who I am being so committed to someone If I did become involved in a relationship two things would happen... I would die and leave him lonely for eternity, or I would be turned into a vampire... leaving my family behind.

My mulling over of the pros and cons was interrupted, a girl had cleared her throat. I looked up realizing I was still in the school library, standing in the back of the constant isles of books. I turned to the voice and my eyes were shocked to see Rosalie Hale looking at me.

"Rosalie? Is there something you need?" I asked.

"Let's go for a walk, I need to talk to you in private." She said she seemed tense about something.

I checked out the books I got before following her to the outside, we walked near the edge of the woods. The dead leaves and grass crunched underneath our feet.

"I know Jasper told you about us... and he told me that you wanted to think somethings over with him." She started.

"Hey... I just wanted to let you know I would never tell anyone about you guys... And I'm not trying to hurt Jasper with me thinking our relationship over. It's just a lot of process." By the time I finished that statement she laughed and patted my shoulder.

"Don't worry Fleur I completely understand why you want to think over some things... I would too if I were in your shoes. Besides, I trust you... I get a good vibe off of you." Rosalie replied smiling at me.

"I want to get into a relationship with Jasper I do but... I don't want to leave my father... he's all I got right now and I'm all he's got."

"Hey, I promise no one would force you into becoming a vampire in our family... I especially wouldn't force you to."

"Really?"

"Yes of course... It's nice to meet someone with a respect for mortality."

"It's just... I always to do certain things... like going to that art school in Cayon City Oregon... the Art Museums down there are amazing... and I always wanted to kid when I was older... a little boy." I explained smiling fondly at the thought.

"I did too... I always wanted a son."

"But at the same time... I wouldn't want to spend all my time with Jasper... only to leave him alone for eternity you know?" I asked her hoping she would get my point of view.

"Of course... I can tell you've been conflicted these past few weeks about it. But I wanted to vouch for Jasper... he's willing to do anything for you, and his thirst for blood has never been more controlled than when he's been with you. He won't take you away from your family either... he would never want to hurt you in any way possible." She explains turning toward me to look me in the eyes so the message could really sink in.

"Thanks, Rosalie..."

"Of course...give Jasper a chance, I promise it'll be worth it." She said.

"I will... I'll talk to him tonight, thanks for the guidance."

"No problem."

Timeskip: October 16th, 2004: 10:12 PM

Dad was gone, he had to work late down at the station tonight. My palms and legs shook nervous to tell Jasper my decision. I was sitting in the same spot I was in when Jasper told me I was his soulmate... the cool air calmed my nerves slightly before I closed my eyes and sighed.

"Fleur? You said you wanted to talk to me... are you okay?" Jasper's voice asked worryingly behind my closed lids.

"Yeah, I'm fine... I just wanted to give you an answer about... everything."

He sat down adjacent to me and nodded, wanting me to continue.

"I will get into a relationship with you... thank you for giving me the time to think about things."

He smiled before asking me if he could kiss my cheek. I said yes of course and it seemed my body melted in bliss and content. All the past weeks' tensions and worrying left me and it was replaced with love... and a sense of stability. We looked up at the stars and I pointed toward the largest one in the sky.

"You see that one?" I said.

"Yes, I do Darlin'."

"That is the star of the path I started with you..."

#twilight saga #twilight #jasper whitlock x oc #jasper hale x reader #jasper hale x oc #jasper whitlock #jasper cullen #jasper hale #jacob black #esme cullen #edward cullen #carlisle cullen #alice cullen #rosalie hale #Emmett Cullen #bella swan

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assembledherethevolunteers · 3 years

Text

The Nanny Named...

A/N: Hi all! So,it’s been a while. I have been in a real nostalgic mood lately and totally binged ‘The Nanny’. Annnd then all I wanted to was write a story about it. So I’ve been writing a multi-chapter story with Y/N as Fran and Gwil as Maxwell. I hope you all enjoy this prologue. Any feed back would be appreciated! And if you’d like to be tagged, please let me know! Love you!

Pairing: Producer!Gwilym Lee x fem!Reader

Summary: You need a job after you walk out of your last one. Your friend sends you to an interview and it…doesn’t quite go as planned.

Warnings: Cursing, some angst, and cheating

You leaned over the counter, trying to make out what your boyfriend had written down for the specials for the night. Why couldn’t the man learn to write like an actual grown-up?

“Oooh, Y/N,” one of your best friends, Mel, came in. “Have you heard?”

“Heard what?” You replied, not looking up.

“J.C. and Erika? They just got engaged.”

That got you attention. You looked up at her. “Are you serious? They’ve been dating for what? Three seconds?”

Melanie laughed, taking her coat off. “I think closer to three weeks, but yeah. Isn’t that crazy?”

You sighed, looking back down at the notes. “To each their own, I guess.”

You were happy for them, on some level, but it was a bit hard when two people that you considered ridiculously obnoxious were engaged in less than a month but you and your boyfriend had been dating for almost four years and were still not living together.

“Think that’ll make Kurt move any faster?”

You shook your head. “No, there’s nothing that will make him move any faster. We’ve talked about it countless times. He’s just happy right where we are.”

“Yeah, but you’re not.”

You huffed, not disagreeing. You had wanted to at least living together by now. Maybe not married (you still weren’t even sure if you wanted to get married), but at least the notion that the relationship was going somewhere.

“Maybe you should bring it up to him again,” Mel suggested as she tied on her apron.

You thought about it. Maybe you should. It had been a few months since the two of you had had any kind of conversation about it. Every year when your lease was up for renewal, you brought it up just to see if you should renew. And Kurt always told you ‘yes’.

“Yeah, maybe. But for now, I’ve got to figure out these damn specials he’s decided to jot down like a first grader after a lunch of cake and ice cream.” You grabbed the paper and then knocked on the door to his office. “Kurt!”

“Yeah, babe?”

You went into the office to see him staring at his phone. He glanced up at you for a second before going back to his phone.

“Hi, sweetie, can you decipher this chicken scratch for me?” You walked over and sat up on his desk.

Kurt sat his phone down, face up, and took the paper and squinted at it himself. “Uh…I…huh. Ribs of some kind. I’ll have to go look in the fridge quick. Be right back.” He pressed a kiss to your temple before getting up and leaving the office.

You swung your legs, waiting for him to come back, thinking about the dinner rush on the Friday night that was going to hit. But hey, at least the tips would be good.

And then you saw something light up on the desk.

You glanced down to see Kurt’s phone on full brightness. With a notification from Tinder. Saying Kurt had 3 new messages waiting for him.

You picked up the phone and stared at it, fighting back tears. You’d had a feeling something like this had been going on, but it was a totally different story when it was staring you in the face.

“Beef ribs are the special tonight.”

You stood up and shoved Kurt’s phone at him. “Great. Maybe whoever these 3 can serve it!” You stormed out.

“Wait! Y/N!” Kurt chased after you. “This isn’t how I wanted you to find out!”

“Oh, fuck off!” You yelled at him, turning on your heel to yell at him. “This isn’t how you wanted me to find out!? What the hell kind of excuse is that?!”

“Can we discuss this back in the office?” Kurt offered quietly.

“No, because there’s nothing to discuss.” You untied your apron and threw it at him. “I quit and I am DONE with you! FOUR YEARS! I’ve wasted four years of my life on you in this stupid dying restaurant!”

“It’s not dying!”

You stared at him stunned. “That’s all you have to say? Four years down the drain and all you care about is this damn rat trap?!”

“It’s not a…!” Kurt took a deep breath. “You know what? Fine. Go ahead. We don’t need you around here!”

“Obviously!” You screamed before grabbing your coat and stomping out.

You walked all the out to the street, hailed a cab, and got in the back. You gave the driver your address and then fell apart.

“Um…a…are you alright, dear?” The cab driver asked you, glancing in their review window.

You could only shake your head. “Okay, well, there should be a box of tissues under my seat. Help yourself.”

You reached down and grabbed the box, pulling out tissues. You blew your nose and wiped your eyes.

“Just put them in the trash when you’re done.”

You nodded your thanks, making a mental note to give them a big tip.

The rest of the time the two of you were silent as you tried to make yourself somewhat presentable so your roommate wouldn’t ask what happened. You were not in the mood to talk about it.

The driver pulled up to your building and told you the total. You paid and started to make your way out before they called to you.

“Whatever it was, I hope it gets better.”

You gave them a smile and wave before you shut the door and started to into your building. You ran up the stairs instead of taking the risk of running into a nosy neighbor on the elevator. You got into your apartment and collapsed on the couch. You started sobbing into your pillow.

How on Earth could he do that to you? Sure, the two of you hadn’t gone beyond dating but four years?! You had given four years of your life! Not just romantically but you’d worked your ass off to help with his restaurant. You’d hired nearly all of the servers! And three of the cooks! Who the hell was he to kick YOU out?

You woke up to your roommate, Olivia, coming home, not sure how long later.

“Y/N? What are you doing home? Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

You sat up, your entire face felt swollen.

“Oh, Y/N,” Olivia sat next to you and wrapped an arm around you. “Did something happen at the restaurant?”

You tried to explain what happened, but you couldn’t get the whole story out without bursting into tears.

“Oh sh, sh, honey,” she rubbed your shoulder. “I know. He’s a scumbag. I’m so sorry.”

You just nodded, crying into her shoulder.

“Do you want me to call Rosie and see if she’ll let some the dogs loose in the kitchen?”

You chuckled for a moment. “Think she would? I know she’s very attached to them.”

“Well, they are shelter dogs. They deserve a good meal.”

You pulled your head up and gave her a semi-smile. “You are the best person I know.”

“If only I was available to you.”

“I can love you better than Rosie can.”

“Yeah, but can you afford an apartment in Hell’s Kitchen like she can?”

You sighed, pretending to be defeated. “I guess not. I give you my blessing then.”

“I can run down to the bodega and get some wine and ice cream. I don’t have to work tomorrow.”

“Oh good, then get something for yourself.”

Olivia pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Great, I’ll be right back.”

You laid back down when Olivia stood up.

You and Olivia spent the rest of the night drinking, eating ice cream, and complaining about Kurt. It made you feel a little better.

At nearly one in the morning, you finally stumbled to your bed, hoping that you wouldn’t dream of Kurt, the restaurant, or anything to do with your love life.

THREE WEEKS LATER

“Y/N!” Olivia announced as she came home.

“Whaaaat?” you called back to her from the couch. You’d barely left it in the past couple weeks. You’d barely even left your apartment, if you were being honest.

“I think I’ve got you a job!”

You sat up and looked at her, somewhat skeptical. “Where?”

“Manhattan.”

“Oh,” you were surprised. Olivia had been trying to get you jobs, but this was the one that sounded like it might actually be promising. “What is it?”

“Rosie’s brother has a catering gig and needs a good waitress, but the homeowners want to interview everyone individually. They want you there at 3:30 for your interview.”

You jumped up. “Are you serious?!”

“One hundred percent!”

You threw your arms around Olivia’s neck and pulled her in for a hug. “Oh thank you thank you, Ollie!”

“Ooof. You better stop thanking me and get in the shower.”

You got on the subway to make your way up to Manhattan a couple hours later. You hadn’t been there since last year when a friend of yours had their 30th birthday party at some pretentious hipster bar.

You kept glancing at the passing stations, hoping that this was going to work out. You could still hear your mother’s voice in your head telling you that you should’ve known better than to take a job at the man that you were dating’s place of work.

The past few weeks, you’d been miserable. You had barely left the apartment besides your runs down to the bodega to get alcohol, ice cream, or the minimal amount of groceries that you could afford and actually wanted. Your bank account was screaming at you before you’d left the restaurant, so as much as you’d wanted to just wallow in your self-pity on the past four years of your life that you had wasted, you needed to get a new job.

You got off at the correct station and walked up the stairs, stepping onto the streets of Manhattan. This part of the city always seemed different to you. Sure, you’d grown up in New York City, but it had been in Queens.

You walked to the correct block and took in all the gorgeous buildings that were there. It sort of took your breath away, the way the trees were just starting to bud in the spring air.

You nearly ran into somebody on the street and apologized, hoping they couldn’t tell how out of place you were.

This was insane. Who in their right mind would hire YOU to work some cocktail party that was going to have people there that blew what you paid in rent on a quick trip to Macy’s? You thought about turning around and just heading home, but then you remembered that your bank account had about $15 in it.

As you walked down the street, you were hit with a strong smell of rose, jasmine, and vanilla. It was comforting and made you a bit more confident in yourself. Like everything was going to work out, regardless of how the interview went.

You glanced down at your phone, making sure that it was the right address before taking a deep breath and walking up the stairs to the front door. You knocked and then waited.

A man in a suit opened the door. He had black hair and kind brown eyes. He seemed unsurprised to see you standing there.

“Hello, are you here about the position?”

“I am.”

“Well come in, come in, Mr. Lee should be ready for you soon.” He ushered you inside, taking your coat for you. “Would you like me to drop off your resume to him?”

You hadn’t thought about bringing that.

“Oh, um…no, that’s okay. I’ll just…get it to him if he asks for it.”

The man raised his eyebrows but didn’t say anything before he lead you to the couch and gestured for you to sit down.

You sat down and waited for him to return. Or for this mysterious ‘Mr. Lee’ to appear. You looked around, amazed at how high the ceilings were.

Suddenly, there was a scream from upstairs and the pounding of footsteps coming down.

“Help! Help! I’m hurt!” A little boy with dark, curly hair came running into the room. He collapsed right in front of you, his eyes closed and his tongue sticking out.

You looked down at him, trying not to laugh. “Ya okay, hun?”

The boy opened one eye, quickly shut it again, but didn’t say anything.

“Ah, Master Aled, I believe this is the third time today you’ve passed on. I’ll make sure your father and sister mourn the proper amount,” the man appeared again, stepping over the child and coming to stand in front of you. “Miss, Mr. Lee will see you in his office. If you’ll just follow me and please don’t trip over the expired, younger Master Lee. He’ll need to get up for his Little League practice in about thirty minutes.”

“James!” The boy, Aled apparently, sat up and glared at the man, James. “You ruined my plan!”

You stood up and the two of you walked into an office. It was decorated with different awards, pieces of art. The hardwood on the floor matched the desk that was in the middle of the room. Sitting at the desk was a man writing something.

He had a dark, thick head of hair. He stood up, a pair of piercing blue eyes behind a black, horn-rimmed glasses. He was wearing a black turtleneck, gray suit jacket, and black pants.

“Hello, I’m Gwilym Lee,” he offered you his hand.

“I…um…hi,” you smiled and shook his hand. “I’m Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Thank you, James,” Mr. Lee told him. James nodded and started to leave the room. “Now, do you have your resume?”

James sent you a pointed smirk, before leaving the room all together and shutting the door behind him.

“Um…no, I don’t. Sorry, Mr. Lee.”

He frowned at you. “Alright, Miss Y/L/N. Well, tell me about your work history then.”

You cleared your throat. Rosie had neglected to tell you that the man you were going to work for was this handsome. “Well, I’ve worked in multiple, high class restaurants over the past ten years. I was working at my last job for nearly three years.”

Mr. Lee squinted at you, but you kept talking.

“And I’ve been a server, a hostess, and a bartender. I could work anywhere that you’d need me tonight.”

Mr. Lee took off his glasses and continued to stare at you.

“S…so, um…I can give you references if you need,” you finished lamely.

“Um…Miss Y/L/N, I believe there’s been a bit of a mix up.”

“Oh,” you replied, totally defeated. “I understand.”

“It’s just…this job is far too difficult to do without any experience and I think…”

“I mean, I…I have SOME experience. I once served at the River Cafe,” you tried to argue.

“Oh no, don’t get me wrong…”

“Daddy!” A little girl came running into the room, seemingly in tears, and hugged Mr. Lee’s arm. “Aled said that there’s a monster in my closet and then he took and threw her in the closet to the monster!”

Mr. Lee picked up the girl and placed her in his lap. “Oooh Afon, sweetheart, I’m sure he didn’t mean to…”

“Yes, he did!“

“I did not!” Aled came running in too.

Mr. Lee sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Aled, please just go get the bunny out of the closet. I am in the middle of a meeting.”

“Fine, let’s go, Afon. Daddy is a veeeery busy man,” Aled grabbed his sister’s hand and took her out.

Mr. Lee just watched them leave, a somewhat longing look on his face before meeting your eyes again.

“Miss Y/L/N, this interview was for a nanny position for my children. You see, our last one just quit and I…I’ve been interviewing people for nearly a week now and…” Mr. Lee shook his head. “I’m sorry, you don’t need to hear all my woes. I’ll have James see you out.”

Why had Rosie sent you here? If this was an interview for a nanny position you were WAY out of the running. You barely even liked the younger cousins that you had. Maybe you’d gotten the time wrong and they had meant to have the caterer interviews earlier in the afternoon?

You jumped up, an idea coming to your mind. “Ya know, Mr. Lee, I actually do have some nannying experience. I was a nanny for a family on my block every summer while I was in high school.”

It technically wasn’t a lie. You’d babysat for your neighbors. Once a week. When their mom had her PTA meetings. For about two hours.

Mr. Lee was shaking his head and standing up. “No, I couldn’t subject you to this. I’m very sorry. But if we ever need a caterer, I’ll keep you in mind.” He gave you a smile, coming around the front of his desk.

You sighed and stood up. “Well, thank you for taking this interview with me anyway,” you offered your hand again and Mr. Lee shook it.

“Of course, now could I escort you to the door?”

“I suppose so,” you told him.

Mr. Lee gestured for you to go through the door and followed you out of the room.

You were halfway through the living room when the phone rang. James, who had been wiping down the coffee table, quickly grabbed the phone off the hook. “Lee residence…yes…yes…oh how unfortunate…I will let him know…yes, thank you, goodbye.” James hung up the phone and looked at Mr, Lee. “That was the service. They won’t be able to send anybody tonight. They are booked solid.”

“Oh no,” Mr. Lee rubbed his temples. “That’s totally unacceptable. What happened to that woman that we used last weekend?”

“She’s refusing to come back. Something about a near death experience,” James looked over at Aled who sunk down behind the couch to hide.

You hesitated at the door. Maybe this could be your chance. Even if he just used you tonight, as long as you didn’t kill the kids, you would get paid. And probably pretty well guessing on the house. You could at least offer, you supposed.

“Um...Mr. Lee. If you need somebody for tonight, I’d be available.”

Everybody’s heads whipped around to you, all eyes wide, surprised.

“Well,” Mr. Lee ran a hand through his hair and sighed heavily. “I don’t know. James, couldn’t you…?”

“It’s my night off, sir. Remember? I’ve got my niece’s dance recital.”

“Oh right, of course,” Mr. Lee looked you over, seemingly arguing within himself about what to do. “Look, Miss Y/L/N, I...I usually don’t do things like this, especially where my children are concerned, but I am...desperate. I’ve got a meeting with one of my biggest potential backers this evening and I need someone to watch my children. So, if you could…”

“Oh thank you! Thank you!” You pulled Mr. Lee into a hug before you knew what you were doing. “You won’t regret this! What time should I be back here?”

“Before I change my mind,” Mr. Lee muttered.

You pulled away, laughing a bit, before you heard James say something about six-thirty. You then quickly left before Mr. Lee could’ve said anything else.

You practically ran to the subway, nearly giddy. You had a job. You FINALLY had a job! You were walking down the stairs when you pulled your phone out. You had four missed calls and fifteen text messages. Just when you were going to read some of them, it started to ring. You saw it was Rosie.

“Hey, Rose, what’s…?”

“Oh, thank GOD! Ollie, she’s okay. Where the…?”

“WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?!” Olivia yelled in the phone.

“In Manhattan at the interview your girlfriend sent me!”

“Nooo, you never showed up to the interview! We’ve been calling you for almost an hour now!”

You frowned at that. Why were they so upset? Rosie had sent you to the interview, how was she so confused?

“What house did you go to?”

“The one Rosie sent me to,” you told her slowly, hoping she would calm down. “1781.”

“She says she went to 1781,” Olivia must’ve relayed to Rosie. “That’s what you told me!…Soooo, funny story. You were supposed to go to 1871. That’s where the catering job was.”

“It’s fine! I got a job anyway! I’ll explain when I get home, but I’ve got a job tonight!”

“What?...She got a job by going to the wrong house….I don’t know! She said she would explain it when she got home…When will you get home?”

“As soon as the subway will let me.”

The whole way home you felt like you were floating. You were hoping that you would at least get paid enough to buy some groceries.

How were you going to take care of two kids tonight though? They didn’t look that old. The boy, Aled?, seemed like he was about nine or ten. The girl, in the brief moment that you had seen her, seemed to only be about five or six. You supposed you could entertain them for a couple hours. Hopefully they had all the streaming services. Just stick them in front of the TV and wait it out.

You walked into your apartment and got tackled into the wall by Olivia.

“I WAS SO WORRIED ABOUT YOU!”

You laughed and gave her a hug back. “I’m fine! You leave me here all the time to go to your girlfriend’s house, but me going into Manhattan scares you.”

Olivia pulled back and glared at you. “Whatever. Tell us what happened!” Olivia started to pull you towards the living room where Rosie was sitting on the couch. “Ronnie told us you never made it to the house and then you weren’t picking up.”

You went into the whole story of what happened. Explaining the kids, the mansion, the butler, and finally, the man that hired you.

“…name’s Gwilym Lee.”

“Wait,” Rosie sat up a bit straighter. “Gwilym Lee? The producer?”

You exchanged confused looks with Olivia.

“Oh, come on, neither of you know Gwilym Lee? He was like this huge producer at Disney. He’s been involved in all the Marvel movies.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Are you serious?”

“Yeeeeeah, did you not see anything in his house that gave it away?”

“No,” you answered honestly. You hadn’t. You were sure that there was something that you had missed, but you were too worried about the interview and trying to get a job that you weren’t paying that much attention.

“And he’s going to trust you with his kids?”

You slowly nodded, suddenly much more nervous about tonight than you originally were.

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