#do i need to explain myself?? let it be a mystery | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

seospicybin · 6 months

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DON'T THEY KNOW IT'S THE END OF THE WORLD?

PART I

Lee know x reader. (s,a)

Chapters: Part II

Synopsis: Making a contact with an ancient object, you meet a demon who takes form of the man you desired and forces you to commit terrible acts to stop the world from ending. (14k words)

Author's note: I indulge myself with a spooky fic and demon Minho in it. Read with cautions and enjoy x

Based on an episode of Black Mirror. Content warnings: Violence, gore, mentions of abuse, assaults and graphic imagery. Reader's discretion is advised!

"Carving is easy. You just go down to the skin and stop." - Michelangelo

Oh, no! You're doing it again.

When you think you're talking in your head, you're actually talking loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. It's even worse that your voice is echoing in the big chamber of the empty gallery.

They seem to not care about it or pretend to because Kim has just walked in to check everyone's work. She's your friend from art school turns an art dealer and she has a way to control everyone around her.

"I told you to let us do it for you," she says, clicking her tongue at you and crossing her arms in front of her chest.

The gallery is having some of your pieces of art displayed for the exhibition tonight and you want to make sure that they're presented the way you envisioned it.

You carefully step down the ladder and stand next to Kim, looking at the sculpture you made of a man holding an arrow with an apple stuck at the end of the arrow.

You hear Kim dreamily sigh then look at you, "You're going to sell..." She pauses to emphasize the word she's going to say next, "Big!"

Money isn't the reason why you create these sculptures but you need it in order to keep being able to do this. You have no idea how expensive a block of stone is!

The reason why you made these sculptures is because this is what you love doing: envision your imagination onto a block of stone and you carve it to bring it to life.

Why did you choose stone as the medium? Because they're durable, stubborn yet resilient. It takes time to create one sculpture but once you've seen the result, you forget about the hard work behind it.

Kim puts her hand on your shoulder and snaps you out of your reverie, "Stop worrying about your sculptures," she says.

She turns you around to force you to face her and puts her other hand on your shoulder, "Go home. Get dressed. Put some color on those cheeks. Have a pre-party with a glass of wine or two."

Dressing up sounds like a lot of work, you'd rather stay in your dungarees and striped top, "Can I just wear these?"

It's like she has just heard someone dies, Kim's hand flies to her temple and screws her eyes shut for a second, "Trust me when I say that the people coming tonight wouldn't expect the artist behind these magnificent sculptures to look like Chucky," she says with a sneering smile.

She squeezes your shoulder and tilts her head to the side, "And that's me putting it the nicest way possible because you're my friend."

It's still a mystery how you ended up friends with someone like Kim, she's the opposite of what you are, an extrovert, a tolerable narcissist, she likes attention and is forthright to the point it's borderline insolent. You're so used to her audacious way of treating you and the blunt words that come out of her red-lipped mouth.

She's been like this even before you met her and you are the friend who likes to suffer in silence, you think that's why you became friends. Nevertheless, Kim treats you better than she treats anyone else for that matter.

That explains why the gallery staff are so afraid of her. It's always best to get out of her way unless she wants you to be there. You pick up your bag from the floor along with your jacket.

"I'll go then," you meekly say.

She grabs your elbow before leaving, "Go home," she says with a glare.

"Home. Not your studio," she says again, making it clear to you.

She knows you well enough to know that you like spending your days in your studio instead of your apartment. You sling the strap of your bag on one shoulder, "Go home. Get dressed. Come to the exhibition late," you repeat the things she wanted you to do.

Kim smiles and gently cups your cheek, "Good girl. Now go!"

Once you get home though, you spend hours just sitting in the emptiness that lingers in your apartment that is too big for one person to live in it.

This is why you prefer to stay in your studio, you like to keep your head occupied rather than being alone with your thoughts like this.

And your thoughts, they're mostly of unkind things and...

Your phone rings from inside your bag and steers your mind back to your head. Without having to look at it, you can tell who it is. There are no other people who call you daily except, well, if it's an emergency call.

"Are you getting ready yet?" Kim goes straight to the point.

"Uh... yeah, I just showered, I—" you jolt awake from lying down on the sofa.

"I'm having problems picking what to wear," you add a laugh in the hope of sounding convincing.

There's a wave of laughter from her end of the phone call before Kim talks to the phone, "Stop joking. Do you like it?"

You get completely confused because she suddenly compliments herself out of the blue, "Huh? What?"

You can hear her dramatic, low sigh and you can imagine her subtle eye roll as she's doing it, "The dress. The one I hung in your closet," she tells you.

You quietly trudge your way to the closet and open it to find the said dress.

"Yes, it's beautiful!" You hurriedly say, not wanting to let her get suspicious as she waits for a response.

"Aren't you lucky to have me as your friend?" she exclaims, sounding so confident with her words.

"I am the luckiest," you tell her as you observe the dress and already regretting hastily approving the dress as you notice it has a plunging neckline.

"I know," she brags and her smirk flashes through your head.

In the background, you hear something is calling her and Kim answers with a shout, "I'm coming."

She dramatically sighs before talking to you, "Work is calling. I'll see you tonight, okay?"

"Yeah, sure, see you tonight!" You're more than relieved to end the phone call with her.

It's too early to celebrate as she hasn't ended the call yet and she always ends the call first. You have an inkling that she'll call your name.

Indeed, she is.

"Hey, don't forget to take your meds, okay?" She says.

That's probably the only yet the most endearing thing she does to you and what makes her your friend.

"Yeah, don't worry about it," you tell her.

It's time to fully assess the dress and you're in awe of how much skin you'll show if you're wearing this. Of course, you have the option not to wear but it all comes down to wearing the dress or facing Kim's wrath.

The former seems to be the safer choice and also because you're not a confrontational person, you like to avoid conflict.

Not wearing the dress means you're going straight into conflict and you don't want that.

With a defeated spirit, you put the dress on even though you have no idea how to move in such a tight dress. You summon up your below-average make-up skill for tonight and put some colors on you.

Not forgetting Kim's words, you take your medicine and wash it down with a long gulp of water. You give yourself a few minutes as you wait for the medicine to work while you sit on the couch holding a glass of water in both hands, staring out at the view from your apartment.

Kim insisted you take this apartment when you're okay with living in the studio. Not only that it's too expensive of a place to live on your own but a big place only makes you inexplicably lonely.

However, after seeing the view from up here, you feel like you're not part of this world in the most humbling way. Seeing the city and the buildings look like pieces of block makes you realize that they don't matter that much. They're all just... material things.

You sigh as you get hit by a wave of melancholia and you take it that the medicine is working.

Uncomfortable walking out of your apartment in your dress, you put on a coat as you leave the apartment with the sounds of your heels clicking against the floor.

The owner of the building passed away yesterday, there are so many guests visiting the penthouse where he lived. The first elevator that arrives on your floor is crowded so you skip on getting on that one. You patiently wait for the next one to arrive while clutching your purse in front of you.

A minute later, the other elevator arrives and the doors slide open, you see there's someone else inside. You believe he's been from the penthouse from how he dressed in all black.

You look down to avoid eye contact and step inside, standing at the back of the limited space while trying not to look at the man's face on the reflection from the mirror that walled the elevator.

Arrived in the main lobby, the elevator dings open and the man doesn't waste time but walks out with hands shoved inside his coat pocket.

You fix your coat before stepping out and you feel your feet kicking on something, it's clattering across the floor. You bend down to pick it up, something that you guess is a pocket watch.

Your first thought is that it belongs to the man and you look around to see if he's still around to give it to him, but he's nowhere. It's as if he's gone with the wind.

"Miss, your driver has been waiting outside!" The concierge informs you from behind his desk the second he sees you.

"Yes. I'm coming!" You hurriedly shove the pocket watch inside your purse.

As Kim instructed, you come late to the exhibition and it's already filled with people dressed so impeccably for the occasion. You take a deep breath before entering the scene that is the least you wanted to be.

You take your coat off and hand it to the girl handling the coat check, along with your purse. You feel naked even though you're not, but it's not just the dress, being in the crowd is not your forte.

The first thing to do in a situation like this is to find Kim. You avoid making contact with everyone you're walking past as you look for her in the crowd. It's not hard to spot her when she's always the center of attention anywhere she is.

"There she is!" She gasps the moment she sees you're coming her way.

She puts away her champagne flute and walks up to you, embracing you like the trophy you are, "My rising star!"

Kim puts her hand on the small of your back and smiles brightly while discreetly judging your look.

"Isn't she amazing?" She brags you off to the group of people she's talking to.

You can only sheepishly smile next to her and avoid everyone's eyes.

"She is the artist behind those magnificent sculptures," she adds with that saccharine smile of hers.

They're starting to throw praises at you and you can hear all of them talking at once, making you more uncomfortable staying in there.

You take a step back but Kim's hand does not allow you to escape, she glances at you and takes the cue.

"Excuse us," Kim says to everyone, "Enjoy the exhibition!"

Kim steers you away and pulls you aside, before you can comment on her choice of dress, she snatches the chance from you.

"You could've picked nicker shoes," she whispers through her gritted teeth at you.

You automatically look down to see your heeled shoes which you think match the dress you're wearing.

"I–I think it's—"

She cuts through your words, not giving you a chance to explain. She grabs you by the elbow, "We have no time to change it," she says, then steers you somewhere.

As Kim continues to brag you around like you're the art piece instead of the artist, you start to get that feeling that she's using you.

As a matter of fact, she used you to propel her career as an art dealer. Ever since you agreed to let her sell your art for you, her career took off.

You're more than happy to be of help but she does everything extra and she's been taking you to meet a lot of people that their faces started to blur and it's getting overwhelming that you need to get out of it.

"I'll just—" You barely finish your sentence when you walk away and find somewhere to gain some composure.

You keep walking until you find the restroom and push yourself inside, lock yourself in one of the stalls just sit on the toilet, and just breathe.

You hear the ruckus outside the stall and someone probably needs to use the toilet, you reluctantly get up to start heading outside.

The plan to leave unnoticed comes to a failure when Kim is already there right outside the restroom, "Where have you been?"

You take a deep breath to calm yourself and try to explain, "Kim, I don't think I can do this anymore. I—"

Then again, she never let you finish your sentence, "One more. I need you to meet your new potential buyer."

You grip the side of your dress and you feel like tearing it apart, "No, Kim. You know how I do with people, I don't— I just want to go home," you desperately tell her just to let you go when you're an adult and can do whatever you want.

Kim lets out an exaggerated huff and sends her fringe flying off her forehead, crossing her arms in front of her and you know what's coming for you.

"You think I'm doing this for me?" She asks.

Actually, yes. The initial plan is to sell your art but in the end, she makes it all about her.

"I'm doing it for you!" She says, turning it all on to you. She always finds a way to turn it all on to you, making you feel guilty and defeated.

Talking back to her means that you're saying yes to war and you don't want to fight a losing fight. You fist the fabric of your dress trying to suppress the anger brewing inside you.

"Just one more person," you meekly say.

Her face softens at the sign that you're once again giving her the power, "That's right. Just one more and I'll let you go."

You finally let go of your dress and you wipe your sweaty palm down the back of your dress as she guides you back to the gallery.

"All you have to do is stand next to me, smiling and explaining your art to people," Kim instructed like that wasn't what you've been doing all night.

Except that she forgot that you need to fake all of that.

Kim takes you to one of your sculpture displays and three people in suits have been waiting, talking with drinks in their hands.

"Hello, gentlemen," Kim says with an extra polite voice that makes you shudder at how fake she sounded.

"Heard you're looking for the amazing artist behind these beautiful sculptures?" She continues, presenting you like you're the one who's about to get sold, not the sculpture.

One of the three seems to be the one in charge with a stance that oozes confidence and power, a smirk that only someone who grew up with a silver spoon stuck to his mouth can master. He looks years older than you but his face shows no fine lines but that's just because he never had to frown in his life.

"I adore your art so much," he praises with a teeth-baring smile.

Kim turns at you and introduces him, "This is Nicholas de Ville from the de Ville family."

The way she enunciated his last name only means that this person holds importance and she expects you to impress him.

He holds his hand out next with an expensive, shining wristwatch decorated his wrist, "I'm Nicholas de Ville. You can call me Nick."

He may seem nice and polite because all privileged people learn manners but they only apply that lesson in real life occasionally.

You take his hand or else Kim will force you to do it. You shake his hand for a while and accidentally meet his gaze as you try to take your hand back.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. de Ville!" You say as politely as you can.

"Nick, please!" He insists with a smile.

"And the pleasure is all mine." He adds with a smile that says so many things and they send a chill down your spine.

Kim lets go of her hand and lightly touches you on your arm, "Mr. de Ville wants to know more about your sculptures so..." she quietly pushes you his way.

Nick courteously laughs and says, "Would you be kind enough to give me the tour?"

You consider it for a moment but seeing Kim's glare, you know you have no option.

"Yes, sure, I would love to," you answer with a strained smile.

"Great! Please, lead the way!" Nick says.

When you think the other two are coming with you, it's just you and Nick, walking through your sculptures and you explain each one without trying to bore him like Kim has taught you a few times.

"... it's inspired by the Greek mythology. The apple in the arrow means that when it comes to love, we know no rules, we follow our desires—"

Nick is too busy looking at you instead of looking at the sculpture you're tirelessly explaining to him. Guessing that he isn't interested, you stop talking altogether.

"I'm sorry if I'm rambling," you sheepishly say to him and keep looking at the sculpture.

"No, no, that's okay," Nick says with a smile and takes a stand close to you, also looking at the sculpture.

"Your art is as beautiful as you," he says.

You're getting uncomfortable at how close he is with his elbow brushing yours. You nervously swallow air and lowly mutter, "Thank you."

Nick takes it the wrong way. He takes it that you're replying to his flirtation when you thought he was earnestly complimenting you, he starts to place his hand on your shoulder.

You reflexively shrug his hand away but that only sends his hand down to your back where he can touch your exposed skin. As his fingers make contact with your skin, you take a step back until his hand drops.

"I'm sorry," you regret apologizing for something that you didn't do wrong.

He looks at you as if he didn't just do something wrong or touch you without your consent. You feel repulsed by yourself and take another step back, "I'm sorry, I just need to—"

You keep walking away, away and never looking back.

The musty smell and dust that hang in the air welcome you to the studio.

You take your dress off the first thing you do when you get there and put on any clothes you can find in the dresser, a black T-shirt and worn-out jeans.

You put your earrings inside your purse and the pocket watch you collected earlier spills out of it, falling onto the couch.

You're intrigued to see inside the locket to get a hint on who the owner is, you're trying so hard to open it with the strength you have but it won't budge.

Exhausted from trying to open the antique-looking object, you give up and walk over to the sculpture you're working on. You put the pocket watch down on the table next to your carving tools, then pick up a chisel and a hammer.

For every hit of the hammer, you feel like unleashing something that makes you feel lighter and lighter and makes you hit the chisel harder and harder.

You eventually get exhausted and take a step back, leaning against the table while looking at the unshapen block of stone in front of you.

You grope around for a bottle of water and take a sip, putting it down as you wipe your mouth after. Your fingers nudge something as you place your hand on the table, it's the pocket watch blinking under the fluorescent light.

It seems to be calling for you, inviting you to try and uncover the mystery inside.

Looking at the small chisel next to it, you decide to give it another try by prying it open with the chisel. You slip the sharp end in the crack and use your strength to push it open only for the chisel to slide to the slide, cutting the side of your finger.

You drop the pocket watch as blood drops from the wound onto the table. It's not the first time you injured yourself, you know what to do. You go to the bathroom, wash your finger under the running water then grab your first aid kit from the drawer.

After tending to your small injury, you decide to not continue working when you're angry. You take another sip of water and lie down on the couch.

With the quiet that hangs in the room, you slowly drift into sleep.

SEVEN DAYS TO THE END OF THE WORLD.

The darkness greets you even though you have opened your eyes.

Pretty sure you kept one of the lights on when you went to sleep but it's all dark now in the room, you can't see anything but lights that shine through the cracks of the blinds.

You slowly get up from the couch to turn the light on, carefully walking to where the switch is, and once you flip it, lights flood the room.

The first thing you see is the pocket watch that is now open, you walk over to the table and pick it up to see inside that it's just a normal watch but it doesn't have numbers on it like all watches have.

You close it and see that your blood tainted the lid, this time, you can easily open it without a hassle.

"Hello!" A voice says.

Surprised to hear a voice coming from it, you drop it back onto the table. A moment later, you laugh it off, thinking that you misheard it considering that you just woke up from sleep.

With hesitancy, you pick the pocket watch again and look at it. Your thumb wipes the glass cover of the watch.

"Hi, Hello, I'm Minho. I'm a demon. You anointed this talisman with your blood so now we're bound together and—"

It speaks again and in response, you hurl it across the room until it hits the wall and drops onto the floor. You stand there, frozen on your feet, and wonder...

"Look, I've got a whole introductory speech here," the voice says again, coming from the part of the room where the pocket watch is.

For protection, you stand behind the open bathroom door and look at the pocket watch talking like a lunatic you are.

"We got to work together," it says.

You whimper hearing the voice again and you know that it's real, you're not making this up.

"Can you pick me up? Just pick me up. Come on, pick me up! Please?" It demands.

You take cautious steps to get to where the pocket watch lies on the floor.

"That's it, come on. Come on. I won't bite, I promise. Come on," it says as if it could see that you're coming to pick it up.

You swallow air and slowly bend down to pick it up from the floor, holding the pocket watch in your hand.

"As I was saying, you anointed the talisman and the rules are you've got to carry out three human sacrifices over the next seven days or else the world is going to end," it speaks again.

That's a lot of information to take in, not to mention that you're already having a hard time wrapping your head around the fact that the pocket watch is talking to you.

"W-what?" You breathlessly say.

"If you want me to help you, you need to permit me entry."

Entry? That sounds like a bad idea. You just stand there and look at the pocket watch.

"Do you permit me entry? Yes or no?" It asks.

You shake your head and convince yourself that maybe it is not real.

"You have to say yes. Just say the word yes."

This is not real, you tell yourself out loud.

"Or let's do this, if you say yes, I'll... I'll stop, okay? I'll go away. You'll never hear from me again like this didn't happen." It persuades.

This is not real, this is not real, you chant in your head.

"Just say yes. Say it! Say it. Say it. Say it," it chants louder and it starts to fill your head, endlessly echoing.

You want it to stop so you impulsively say, "Yes."

The chants stop and the light flickers off, filling the room with darkness again. You whimper in fear as the pocket watch starts ticking in your hand.

You hear something deeply breathing a few feet from behind you. Curious, you spin around on your feet to see what it is, but you can't see it as it's lurking in the dark

However, you feel good about not being able to see it as fear creeping up inside you. You walk backward until you hit the wall behind you.

"Hey, come on, what's the matter?" The thing says as he takes a step forward, revealing his form to you.

The first thing you can make out the shape of that thing is two long horns on his head and two red eyes.

"All right. I lied about going away," he says in a deep, growling voice.

"My regular appearance is a bit too much for this realm."

He takes a step back and disappears in the dark. After a while, he takes another step to the front and has already taken a different shape. He looks normal now, as in looking like a human and not just any human, he looks like...

"I peered into your soul and apparently, this is a physical look you find appealing so..." he says with his arms spread out and a proud grin on his face.

"I don't know. Let me have a look!" He walks over to the mirror hung on the wall next to you.

He looks just like the sculpture you made, he has a sharp nose, chiseled jaws, and a hair color as intense as red roses go. You feel a mix of fear, awe, and confusion inside and it's getting overwhelming.

He leans close to the mirror and fixes his hair, "Wow!"

He seems impressed by how he looks, "Okay, isn't it what you want?" He turns to you.

Not getting an answer from you, he smiles, then says, "Uh... I mean, I can work with this."

You can only whimper with your mouth parted open, having a hard time wrapping your head around this situation. If it's happening or not, is he real or not, did you take your meds or not?

"You have to calm down so we can talk. Just talk to me!" Minho says, noticing that you're in a state of panic.

For a split second, you see his eyes flash like those belonging to feline creatures, gleaming like two marbles in the dark. You can feel cold sweat on your back as you slump down against the wall until you're sitting down on the floor.

He squats down in front of you and reaches for your head but you're quick to dodge away from it.

"You know, we have got to work together," he assures you.

It's not fair that he has a face that came from your imagination, it gives you a sense of familiarity that lures you to give in. However, you're not sure if you should be giving in to him.

You bang the back of your head to the wall, close your eyes, and repeatedly chant like it's a mantra, "You're not real. You're not real. You're not real."

But that is not enough to expel him. You open your eyes and still find him there. hand and a grin.

"Like I said, we have got to work together," he tells you again.

To give you the space to gather your thoughts, he walks around the studio while talking, "You marked the talisman. I don't make the rules."

With the lights turning back on, your eyes can easily follow his figure going around the room and looking at the sculpture you're working on.

His fingers slowly graze the rough surface of the carved stone and then he turns his head at you.

"Basically, we need to deliver three human sacrifices by next Friday or else it's..." he informs you again as if you haven't heard him the first time, "burning skies time."

You can feel anxiety rising inside you and your throat is closing up, making it harder for you to breathe.

"I sense you need convincing. Uh..." Minho walks up to you again and offers his hands to you.

You look at his hands for a moment before letting him help you to get up from the floor. You imagine your hands reaching for fragments of your imagination but instead of that, you feel his warm skin and firm grip as he hoists you up until you're standing on your feet.

If he's not real then how can you hold him?

He looks at you for a second to make sure you're okay then nods, "Let me show you how this will play out, alright? What will happen if we don't succeed," he says.

He walks to stand behind you and puts a hand in front of your eyes, "You ready?" He asks, his hot breath fans your neck as he speaks.

You're not sure what he's asking you to get ready for. You're not even sure if you're living the reality right now.

"Ready?" He asks again and once again his breath tickles your ear.

"3, 2, 1!"

As if you're being transported to another time and place, you open your eyes to see fire. It's the studio but it is on fire.

"This is what we're dealing with!" Minho says but you can't see him anywhere.

Fire is everywhere and you can feel the heat of it burning your skin and thick smoke filling your lungs that you start coughing, retching for air.

"Scorching wall of flame. It's agonizing death for all and so on," he continues.

You're flailing around to get air, walking to the window to open it only to find it hot to touch and you see that the whole city burns with you. You hear people screaming and sirens blaring everywhere but anywhere you look, it's just blazing fire.

You get away from the window until your back hits the table behind you and snaps you back to reality. Your head turns to the side and see Minho there, leaning against the table next to you.

"See, burning people they smell like... a burnt slice of meat on a griddle. It's better if you dissociate from it," he coyly says.

The images are so vivid that you feel the need to escape it, run away from here and so you do. You make a run to the door and he's already standing there next to it.

"If we're being honest, I don't want the apocalypse to come about any more than you do," he says.

You turn the knob and open it, running through the hall that leads to the exit door. Yet Minho is already there too.

"So let's stop it happening, you and me, mmh?" He says to you.

"All we have to do is deliver three sacrifices in seven days," he pops at the end of the hall.

You yank the door open and find him standing outside the door.

"It's only three killings," he says with a malicious laugh.

You rush to climb down the steps trying to escape what you know is like trying to get out of your head, it's inescapable.

"Animals don't count. You have to do humans," Minho informs at the base of the stairs.

You hurriedly unlock the iron gate and pull it open, running into the street in the middle of the night but of course, he's already there too.

"We can do like one kill a day but I'm good with one kill in two days and—"

You decide to go the other way from where Minho is standing and just aimlessly walking to avoid him. You know the neighborhood but not as good as when it's at night.

You walk down the stairs that lead to the riverbank, feeling more afraid of Minho instead of being mugged at night.

"That is fewer people than die falling off ladders in the same time period," Minho magically appears on the stairs, leaning against the railing.

"You'd be less lethal than a ladder," he adds with a sly smirk.

Your eyes are watery either from the cold wind or the anxiety taking over you. You sniffle before talking to him, "If I talk to you, you're real so I'm not going—"

You walk away before you can finish your sentence and walk along the riverbank, hugging yourself.

"Well, we started conversing already so that ship has sailed."

You can't believe that he's still following you when he knows exactly why you are trying to get away.

"No, it hasn't," you persist when you know he's right.

"Oh, oh yes it has," he talks back with a mocking tone.

You stop on your track and grunt in frustration, bending down to pick whatever is close to you.

Minho stops walking as well and says, "Don't worry. We're a team. I'm on your side, you know?"

He takes a step forward and keeps talking, ignoring that he's the reason why you're so frustrated.

"Let's just get kill number one under your belt, mmh?" He says in a softer tone.

You turn at him, your finger pointing right at his sharp nose and sternly tell him, "You can stop it because I am not killing anyone!"

You take a deep breath to calm yourself down and try to face him again, "You're not real so I don't why you keep talking to me," you snarl.

Minho coyly smiles at you and calmly responds, "That's what I'm here for. Moral support!"

He takes even a closer step to you and lowers his voice, "So, just hold on to that rock and hit someone with it!"

You get confused by what he said, "What rock?"

He eyes your hand on your side, "The one in your hand, love!" He answers.

You don't even realize you've been holding it until he pointed it out. The moment you know, you can feel its weight in your hand.

You gasp in surprise and glare at Minho, "I'm not doing what you say."

You hear footsteps coming from under the bridge and turn around to see a middle-aged man, "Are you alright, Miss?"

But Minho sees it as an opportunity, he stands and looms behind you, whispering evil things into your head.

"Mmmh... yeah," he hums in victory.

"He's perfect. No witnesses. Talk about beginner's luck," he whispers to you so close that it feels like he's living inside your head.

You feel his hand resting on your shoulder as he further persuades you, "Just one quick pop to the head and you're done."

For a second, you wanted to do what he said just so he could stop bothering you. However, the conscience in you is talking you out of it.

You walk toward the man and try to seek help from him, "Please, make him stop!" You say, gesturing to Minho who's standing right next to you.

The man looks confused by what you said and asks, "Make who stop?"

Disoriented by what's real or not, you keep looking back at Minho, then at the man, getting pushed to where you hit your limit.

The man walks up to you, feeling more concerned for you that he asks again, "Is everything alright?"

The relentless demon he is, Minho stands close next to you and whispers, "Would it help if I told you I can see into this man's soul and he absolutely deserves to die?"

This time you know it's his way to get what he wants, to get you to do the deed. You look away and hastily shout, "Shut up!"

Yet Minho keeps talking about the man as he's giving you a stare, one that you're way too familiar with, and convinces you that he thinks you're crazy.

"He has a wife and a daughter, you want to know what he does to them?" Minho's words hold intense hatred in them like you can feel the bitterness of it on your tongue.

You look at him to see if he's just tricking you to kill the man, "Don't trust me? Well, get a load of this!"

Minho covers your eyes with his hand again and this time, images of the man abusing his wife and daughter over and over again that you can't bear to watch anymore.

He snaps you back to reality again and says, "You'll save them both from years of pain, shame, and guilt."

Fueled by the rage from what you've seen through Minho's vision, you launch yourself at the man and hit him hard on the head, sending him tumbling to the side and into the river.

You stand there watching his body sinking into the water until the air stops bubbling to the surface of water and that's when you're certain that he's dead.

The man is dead.

Despite the shock, you manage to walk away while still carrying the rock in your hand, and once you realize you've been holding to it long enough. You throw it into the river then break into a run back to the studio.

You vomit everything into the toilet bowl once you're back in the studio, retching nothing but saliva and air.

Minho is standing at the doorway of the bathroom as he says, "It takes some used to but a couple more of that and I'll be out of your hair," he says.

You flush the toilet and sit on the bathroom floor, looking at him with teary eyes and the shock that hasn't left your body yet.

He pulls out the pocket watch and shows you that the Roman number written inside has gone one line, "See? One line has gone which means one sacrifice registered. Two to go."

You get up from the floor and drag yourself to the couch, feeling so drained by whatever has driven you to do unimaginable things, one that you thought you'd never done in your life.

Morning has passed but you can't find the energy to live for the day.

You're lying down on the couch watching the sky turn brighter with every hour passed. It hasn't sunk in yet what you did last night. It feels like a dream but at the same time, you can still feel the weight of the rock in your hand.

Minho has been quiet but you know he's lurking in the room and he decides to interfere by standing in front of you.

He tips his head to the side and asks, "How long are you going to stay like this?"

He then sits on the other end of the couch and says, "Well, you have to, at least, do whatever it is you do as a sculptor. You can't have people getting suspicious."

How come he takes it lightly? How did he get so calm after telling you to kill a man and watch you doing it?

"Fucking shut up!" You shout at him.

Talking to him makes everything unbearably real and it makes you recollect what happened last night. The guilt, the disgust you feel for yourself, the blood on your hands, you can see everything now under the daylight.

"I killed a man," you croak, saying it hurts that tears start to crawl out of you.

"I've killed someone," you meekly say with a tear rolling down from the corner of your eyes.

"Yeah, but that was hours ago," Minho nonchalantly says.

"I keep feeling the crack of his skull on the rock," you pause to sniffle and turn to look at Minho, "I did that."

But he wouldn't get what you feel because he's not a human in the first place. Minho is a demon.

"It's your fault. You're not even—" You stop talking because it's no use to talk to an entity that knows no compassion.

You brush your hair to the back and deeply sigh. Turning your head at Minho again to ask, "Why is this happening to me?"

You use the heel of your hand to press on your eye to stop crying, "I'm not a bad person."

"No, no, no," Minho quickly denies.

He moves to stand behind the couch and leans close to you, "It wouldn't work if you were. It has to be someone corruptible," he explains.

Your forehead wrinkles and forms a questioning look on your face, trying to make sense of what he said.

"If you think about it, what's happening here, it reflects really well on your character," he says with a smile.

What he said only assures you that you are a bad person. What you did is the reflection of what you truly are, a bad person.

You nod and wipe your wet cheek with the back of your hand. You get up to sit on the couch and grab your purse, rummaging inside to pull out your phone.

"What are you doing?" Minho asks with a panicked voice.

You dial the police line on your phone and show it to him, "Calling the police."

He jolts on his feet and sits next to you on the couch as you hit the call button.

"But why?" He asks.

You can hear the dialing tone ringing so close to your ear, "So they'll arrest me," you simply answer.

Minho nervously chuckles, "Then you won't be able to do the other sacrifices," he reminds you to rethink your choices.

"Good!" You shortly respond, trying to stay in your right mind this time.

"Then the Apocalypse will happen and billions will die. I know, I know, I get it. You don't want blood on your hand but if it saves billions..." He's babbling, desperately trying to stop you from turning yourself in.

The way he puts it that way, he makes you choose the lesser between the two evils.

"Hello, police department, may I help you?" The operator speaks on the phone.

Kill three people who deserve it or save billions of innocent people?

You find yourself hanging up the call and putting your phone away, once again failing to do the right thing.

"See? You're a good person!" Minho says as he exhales in relief.

To be honest, you don't know what's good or bad, right or wrong anymore. It's one big blur to you.

You feel frustrated once again, you feel like a failure but on the bigger picture, you're trying to stop the world from ending.

But can you really save everyone?

You can't wait to dwell on everything in the comfort of your apartment. Before you can do all that, you need to set boundaries with him. You face him and look him right in the eyes, "I have six days to kill two more so please, give me a break for now."

Minho gets quiet for a moment before nodding in agreement, "That's fair."

Feeling the need to wash yourself from whatever it is clinging to your body, you get a shower and take your meds to help you decompress while sitting on the end of your bed in your bathrobe.

"I don't know why you take those pills," Minho says as he enters your room.

You quietly sigh at him and say, "Can you at least give me a few minutes until it's working?"

"Want to wash it down with wine?" He offers, showing the bottle of red in his hand.

You shake your head, "I can't drink alcohol after taking antidepressants," you answer, not sure why bother answering him.

"That sucks!" He says and puts the wine bottle down on top of your dresser, "I was thinking we could celebrate our first kill."

You feel a little faint at the mention of the word kill and celebrate being put in one sentence. You climb onto the bed and pull your duvet, "I need to rest."

Minho appears at the end of your bed, looking down at you with his dark, wide eyes, "That's right. We have a lot to do tomorrow."

"Can you turn the lights out for me?"

"Certainly."

The room turns dark but you get a newfound comfort in it.

"Goodnight," Minho's voice caresses your ears like a spring breeze.

You don't want to get used to this but you feel inexplicably at ease that there's someone else with you in this vast emptiness.

"Goodnight, Minho."

SIX DAYS TO THE END OF THE WORLD

You jolt awake to the sounds of your phone ringing on your bedside table and you know who it is without having to look at the contact name. Your fingers are tapping the phone screen as you squint your eyes to make sure you hit the accept call button.

"Yeah?" You ask as you put the phone on the side of your face while you're lying on your side with your eyes closed.

"You're still sleeping?" Kim asks, noticing the sleep in your voice.

"Mm-mmh," you hum in answer.

"You know what time it is?"

"I don't know. Nine or ten?" You wildly guess by how badly you want to go back to sleep.

You hear her sighing from the other line of the call, "It's almost 2 in the afternoon," she says.

You force your eyes to open to check the time yourself and see that it is indeed two in the afternoon.

"Oh?" You innocently gasp.

Realizing that may piss her off, you hurried to shift the conversation elsewhere, "Yeah, uh... why are you calling again?"

You fear that she's going to be mad about you abruptly leaving the exhibition or worse if she knew about Nick. You hold your breath, anticipating her answer.

"Oh, yes, I have good news," she says with a smile that you can feel from your end of the line.

"You sold four sculptures, darling!" She squeals.

That's exciting news but you don't have it in you to participate in that excitement, yet you feel relieved you can properly breathe at ease.

"That's... That's great!" You meekly say while raking your hair to the back with your fingers.

"I've been calling you since yesterday, you know that?"

"Oh? I, uhm..." You take a moment to think of an answer.

Summoned a demon? Found out that you have seven days to the end of the world? Killed someone to stop it?

"I needed—"

"Never mind!" She rudely cuts you off, "Guessing from how tired you sounded, you must be going straight back to work, huh?"

The sculpture is still a chunk of unshapen stone but yeah, you worked on it just a bit. Well, a work is a work.

"Yeah, I-I did," you sputter your answer yet thankful that all of her guesses are off the mark.

"I'll come with the paperwork tomorrow. For now, you can rest now or work some more, knock yourself out," she says, couldn't care less about what you're doing now that you've made money and she got to feed on a few percent of it.

"Thanks, Kim!" You say, because it's better to always be on her good side.

"Oh, come on! We both working hard," she kindly refuses but you know she feels entitled to this.

"Let's have a dinner to celebrate," she suggests.

"Yeah, yeah," you half-heartedly answer.

"Talk to you later, okay?"

"Okay."

"Bye!"

You don't even bother to say it back knowing that she'll hang up right after she said her bye. Since you've woken up already, you sit up on the bed and pull your knees up, hugging your feet as you gather your thoughts.

In your peripheral vision, you see a flash of red from the doorway of your room. You turn to look and see Minho standing with the side of his body leaning against the doorframe.

The all-black outfit he's wearing makes his honey skin glow and his hair look like a blazing fire under the sunlight. He smiles once he notices your eyes are on him.

"Morning, sunshine!" He sweetly greets you with a smile that is a little unsettling but a whole lot attractive.

He crosses his arms in front of him, exposing the veins coiling his forearms, "Oh, wait, it's way past noon," he says with a grin.

Looking at him only reminds you of the responsibility you're carrying on your shoulders: saving billions of people from being incinerated.

"Are you always like this or...?" Minho asks, breaking the silence that hung in the room as you think of the dire situation you're in.

Minho approaches you and stands at the end of the bed, "You can't stay in all day. We only have five and a half days left," he reminds you of the time-sensitive quest you're in.

The only way to save those billions is by killing three people. That's the only thing on the pro list, there are just too many cons, mainly on the killing part. The only good thing that comes out of it so far is that you only need to do two more killings.

God! What have you become?

"What should I do?" You hopelessly ask him even though it's a bad idea to ask a demon such a question.

"Just carry on as usual so the people around you don't get spooked," he answers.

It's you and him, him and you, there's no one else you can seek help from.

Minho is right. You can't just sit here and watch the day goes by or else the thing you've done would come to a waste.

You slowly scoot over to sit on the edge of the bed and rub the sleep of your eyes, not ready to face the day when you know you only have six days left to stop the end of the world.

"And while we're going on about the day we can decide who to kill next," Minho adds.

The devilish grin looks beautiful on his sculpted face but everything he says sending a chill down your spine.

"Oh, an old lady!" Minho exclaims as an elderly lady enters the elevator.

You silently watch as he scoots closer to her and smells her head, "She smells like... oh! She's sweet."

You silently groan in the corner watching what he's doing.

He places his hand on the lady's shoulder and says, "She can't stop thinking about the end though. She can't wait for it to come."

He looks at you with that wild grin plastered on his face, "You'd be doing her a favor."

You lightly shake your head at him to make him stop playing around the poor lady but he doesn't get the clues.

"She dreams of death. Even now—"

"Shut up!" You say through your gritted teeth.

The old lady turns to look at you, "What is it, my dear?"

You quickly put on a smile for her, "Oh, nothing," you politely say.

Minho walks up to stand next to you again and whispers in your ear, "Just do it. No one will miss her."

"Shut up!" You whisper back while throwing daggers with your eyes at him.

"She's nearly dead already!"

Thankfully, the elevator dings open and shoots his idea down as you step out of the elevator.

"We need to start to pick someone!" He persists as he follows you walking in the lobby.

Minho is such a nuisance.

It's hard to ignore him when he keeps talking, making remarks about everyone he sees, and constantly around you the whole time.

It's when you're working on your sculpture that you get to immerse yourself in your work and disassociate from reality.

All you hear is the slamming sound of your hammer on the chisel and pieces of stone falling onto the floor. Looking down at the mess you made, you spot one particular piece of stone lying close to your feet. You stare at it for too long you get the recollection of that night.

The weight of the rock in your hand, how you bashed someone's head with it, and the splashing sound of the man falling into the water, all of that vividly playing in the back of your head.

You stagger backward and drop your chisel onto the floor, the clattering sound echoing in the spacious studio.

"I've been meaning to tell you this," Minho appears from behind the sculpture, startling you.

"We should order food," he suggests.

You put away your hammer and take off your mask, walking to the mini fridge to get a bottle of water.

"You're a demon. You feed on..." You think for a moment to finish your sentence as you unscrew the cap of the bottle.

He snatches the flyer stuck to the fridge door and asks, "Pizza?"

You close the fridge and walk over to the couch, plopping yourself down before chugging some water into your system.

"You need to eat so you can—"

"Kill?" You finish his sentence.

Minho scrunches his nose and sits on the armrest of the couch next to you, "I was about to say think but yeah, that too," he says.

You untie your pinafore and throw it aside, he isn't wrong to say that you need to eat. What's the point of saving the world if you're going to die of starvation?

You let out a sigh and grab the flyer from his hand, typing the numbers on your phone screen.

"Cheese pizza, please? With a lot of pepperoni!"

How can you believe that he's a demon when his choice of pizza topping is like a toddler's?

"Good evening, Miss!" The concierge greets you as he sees you enter the door.

"Hi," you greet back, impatiently wanting to get back to your apartment to dwell on your fate again.

"Miss Kim came by and dropped something for you," he informs, taking out a big envelope from your mailing box.

There's a faint sound coming from the small TV tuned to a news broadcast when you come to the desk to collect it.

"Here it is, Miss," he slides the big brown envelope across the shiny surface of the desk. There's a note on top of it which you immediately recognize as Kim's.

You open to do a quick check on what's inside when you hear a glimpse of the news from the TV.

"...man found dead in the river has been identified as Ben Watson, a financial officer of a bank company, leaving a wife and a seven-year-old daughter who has been notified about his tragic death..."

You glance at the small screen and see the photograph of the man you killed that night. You can't possibly be wrong about this when you remember the horror on his face as you lifted the rock before swinging it hard to his head.

"Is there anything wrong, Miss?" The concierge asks.

You snap yourself out of your daze and put the envelope close to your chest as if someone about to steal it from you.

"No, no," your voice is quivering in panic at the sight of the man you killed.

"Thank you," you abruptly the conversation with gratitude and walking fast to the elevator.

The warm water doesn't work to calm you down when you're tainted inside. You feel filthy, inside and out. You feel sick seeing your reflection in the mirror.

You've been holding your medicine in your hand but you need something stronger, you ditch the pill and run to the kitchen.

You pull out the wine you have in the kitchen cabinet and drink it straight from the bottle, chugging it like it's water. You gasp when you stop drinking, taking the bottle with you as you sit on the sofa while you're still in your bathrobe.

"This is how you're going to end the day?" Minho asks, taking the bottle of wine from you to take a sip.

"Can you stop talking about killing for just—" You choke on air as anger bubbles up inside you.

Minho holds his hands up in defeat and leans back on the sofa next to you, "I'm just saying..." he meekly says.

The silence only resides for a minute until he speaks again, "Look, the earlier you get it done—" he stops talking when you shoot him a glare.

You take the bottle of wine from him and take a long gulp, a drop of wine escapes the corner of your mouth, dripping down your chin.

You aggressively wipe it with the sleeve of your bathrobe and recline on the sofa, looking out at the city lights that look like pinpricks in the dark of the night.

"I'm crazy..." you sadly remark.

Those words remind you of a sobering fact that what people think of you: crazy.

Ever since you were still an art student, people often found you talking to yourself in class, always in your little world with your imaginary friend. That leads you to this solitary life because normal people avoid crazy.

"People are right about me. I'm crazy," you state again, and saying it out loud makes your heart aches.

Minho turns his head and looks at you with his dark eyes that weirdly provide you warmth, "You're not crazy."

But why would a normal person kill a person because a demon told him to? You don't even know if he's real and not a product of your imagination.

"I'm a murderer..." you say with a heavy sigh and an even heavier heart.

He scoots closer until he sits close next to you, his shoulder bumps with yours on the big sofa that could fit five people. He looks at you and gently says, "Yeah, but not a crazy one."

Minho has a way of looking at bad things positively. You chuckle at the irony of his words. You can't tell if you should be happy that you're not crazy or sad that you're indeed a murderer.

He slumps down on the sofa to be on the same level as you, also turning his head to look at the view, "Want to know something?"

Instead of answering, you take a sip of the wine. You know he'll keep talking even if you refuse him.

"This is actually my first assignment," he shares.

He drops his hand on the space on the sofa, merely inches away from yours, "It's more of an initiation, sort of earning my wings."

You look at him and get a little taken aback by the proximity you can see yourself in his eyes. You almost forget what you were trying to say to him, "What are you trying to say?"

You look away because he looks exactly like the one you envisioned on your sculpture, divinely beautiful that it's hard to comprehend.

"I'm saying that I'm new to this too," he answers.

Again, you can't tell if you should be happy or sad to know that. Strangely though, you find comfort in his words.

You look at his hand splayed so close to yours and it evokes the curiosity in you that needs to be fed. You gently flip over his hand and gently slip your fingers on the spaces between his fingers, you can feel the warmth and the roughness of his finger pads on each finger.

Minho is real, he's real, you perpetually assure yourself.

You glance at him and he's looking at you, your eyes meet in a tender gaze.

"Are you real, Minho?"

You're aware of how much that question weighs. If the answer is no, you know the insurmountable pain you brought onto yourself.

He slowly blinks and you can see his dark lashes fanning out so beautifully. His crimson-red lips open and says, "I'm as real as you want me to be."

Words aren't enough to convince you. With the despair filling your heart, you lean in and innocently put your lips on his. It's a kiss that feels more than just a physical act, one that you didn't know you needed.

After getting the reassurance that you need, you pull away. However, the hand lingering on your jaw tells otherwise. He touches your face with just his fingertips yet it's enough to send a tingle inside.

Slowly, he leans in to kiss your closed eyelids ever so softly and before you know it, he brings your face closer to place a tender kiss on your lips.

And for the first time in your life, you feel the warmth no one has ever given you.

FIVE DAYS TO THE END OF THE WORLD

"You wake up early!" Minho says as you dress up to get ready for the day.

You ignore his words, continue collecting your things around the room, and put them into your bag.

"Are you trying to match your clothes with me?" He says, looking at your all-black outfit while sitting on the headrest of the sofa.

This morning, you woke up on the sofa still in your bathrobe and a blanket covered your body. The first thing you remember is you kissed him last night and somehow, it convinces you to keep going with the quest.

However, you still feel conflicted with what you do. You need to make sure of one thing.

"How about this handsome fucker?" Minho asks, pointing to the other person riding the elevator with you.

The man looks indeed handsome, he dressed so impeccably when it's only ten in the morning. He catches you looking and smiles at you.

You politely smile back and look away only to face Minho who's standing on the other corner of the elevator.

"He'll be losing his hair at the age of 32 and spends the next 29 years taking it out on his wife," he whispers even though no one can hear him but you.

The taxi ride to the hospital only takes fifteen minutes and you know where to go right away from the array of flower arrangements outside the separate building from the main hospital.

"Please tell me you're not doing what I'm thinking?" Minho asks in a concerned voice.

You wish to be able to shut him up for a few minutes until you can find what you're looking for. The hall is packed with people in black attire to what you can safely assume are the guests of the mourning family on the two funeral services being held by two different families.

You read the sign that leads to the Watson family yet pretend to be the one visiting the other family. Before you can sneak into their funeral service, you see someone taking the daughter outside.

"This is a bad idea!" Minho panickly says.

It's kind of alarming to hear because it's the first time he sounded genuinely concerned. You follow where the little girl is being taken and turns out, she's being taken to the park outside, probably to avoid her feeling overwhelmed.

"You're not a relative. People will get suspicious of you!" Minho nervously whispers.

You come over to the two men chatting and kindly ask for a cigarette even though you don't smoke. You stand at the other side of the door and take a drag of the smoke to be seen convincing.

"I know you're worried..." Minho sighs.

He stands next to you with his head hovering close to your ear. He takes a breath before talking, "She's not in mourning. She's not not mourning," he says as you both quietly watch the girl sitting on the bench and drinking a juice box.

"Happy that it's finished but sad that he's dead. But it has finished!" He emphasizes the last word.

You take another drag and accidentally do it excessively, sending you into a coughing fit.

"You spared her another five years of it. A lifetime of therapy," Minho explains, "a lifetime!"

You look at him to see if he meant what he said. He's a demon after all, the vision he forced you to see could be misleading, a trick to make you do what he says.

He looks back at you and smiles, "She's a mom at 29. A nan at 57," he shares.

See? He knows how to comfort you even though you don't ask for it. You give up on pretending to smoke and stab the cigarette butts onto the big ashtray. You shove your hands into the pocket of your jacket and start walking away to the parking lot.

"Why are you telling me this?" You curiously ask.

He nonchalantly shrugs as he walks next to you, "I just thought you'd like to know."

"Did you see that?" Minho shouts as he leisurely watches TV with his feet up on the couch.

You pretend not to hear him and continue sculpting, hitting the hammer harder, louder to drown out his voice. As if he read your mind, he appears behind you and places both of his hands on your shoulders.

"You should see this!" He insists, steering your body and making you watch the TV.

It's a broadcast of night news about climate change and he magically changes the channel to show news about nuclear testing.

"It's manifesting. Do you understand?"

Minho keeps switching the channel to show you every bad there is happening in the world, everything that shows the sign that the world is close to ending.

You lightly shrug him off and say, "We got this kind of news a few years ago but—"

Minho holds you by the shoulders and shakes you awake, "This is real. We don't have much time and you're the only one who can stop it!" He reminds you of the harsh truth.

Somehow that only makes you question why you have to be the one to bear such responsibility. Billions of people on earth and they chose you?

"I'm not ready yet. I'm—"

"Don't you want to see that little girl live her peaceful future?" Minho asks.

This is where you know he's being the demon he is, using your weakness to his advantage and making you give in to the temptation.

It's not so much a temptation when you have no other options, it's killing or being engulfed in flames on Friday. You muster up your courage and think of something to do.

The first killing was what Minho said it was: a beginner's luck, the man happened to be there and an abusive bastard, even in his grave, he shall not rest in peace.

This time, you plan to do it meticulously and without mistakes. You walk to the kitchen and pull open the drawer, taking out a knife you occasionally use to cut your sandwiches.

Minho shakes his head in disapproval of your choice of weapon, "You're not a knife person," he concludes.

You look at him, demanding an explanation behind that haste conclusion.

"It's messy. You could hurt yourself," he explains.

That sounds right. You put the knife back into the drawer and look around the studio to find potential killing weapons.

Minho leans into your side and whispers, "Let's choose something that is more you!"

You look at him and see that he's eyeing the table full of your sculpting tools.

You pick up the medium chisel and show it to him to seek his approval. You meet another disapproval as he strongly shakes his head.

"It's too specific. They'll know it's you. You're the only sculptor living in the area," he gives you an insight into how the devil's mind works.

You must admit that he just saved you from making a mistake. You pick another weapon that you're familiar with but also gives you the upper hand to do the killing. You pick up the hammer and turn around to show him.

A smile rises on his face as he nods in approval, "That's you! You're a basher!"

You bring the hammer close and observe it, it feels good around your hand since it's a tool that you work with most of your life.

"You've had the practice now. It'll be easier this time," Minho says with a sinister smile.

You want to believe his words so much but the nerves get to you. Your breathing becomes erratic once you realize what you're going to do with the hammer.

Minho puts his hand on the small of your back and holds you steady, "Liquor courage! That's what you need! Booze!" He suggests.

"I don't keep any alcohol in the studio," you meekly say.

Considering that sculpting involves a lot of sharp objects, it's wise to not keep anything that would dull your focus.

"Also, I just took an antidepressant an hour ago," you inform him.

"Oh, shit!" He curses and leans his body to the back, against the table.

Minho crosses his arms in front of him, then rubs his chin as he thinks of something. He then leers at you with a smirk dancing on his face, "Well, do you want a drink?"

There's a bar a few blocks away from your studio.

You got here in need of liquid courage and there's plenty of them here. You plan to only consume enough alcohol just to calm the nerves but not too much to lose your focus.

It gets you anxious to step into a new environment. You decide to go straight to order drinks.

"Whiskey, please?" You say to the bartender with a handlebar mustache.

Bartenders tend to remember the faces they have seen and yours must not have registered into his memory bank. He puts away the cloth he's holding.

"You want ice with it?" He asks.

"I'll have it dry," you answer since you came here for the alcohol, not for refreshment.

"Easy, love. We have work to do," Minho reminds as he props a hand against the countertop.

Knowing that one drink wouldn't be enough and you don't want to bother the bartender again for a drink, you decide to double.

"Make that two, please!" You hurriedly say before the bartender starts making your order.

"You don't have to get one for me," Minho grins at you.

The bartender takes another glass with him to finally fill them with your choice of potion.

"I didn't," you whisper back at him.

You immediately pay for it and bring your drinks with you to the empty spot in the corner of the bar, hidden behind the pool table.

You slowly sip your drink and feel it running through your system, stripping a layer of senses off of you, making you less aware of your surroundings.

"Okay, you see anyone tasty?" Minho asks as he sits next to you.

He cranes his neck looking for the next human sacrifice among the people who are enjoying their concoctions. His finger points to the guy with a beanie and drinking a pint of beer.

"Oh, that one perfect!" He exclaims.

He stacks his hands on top of the table and leans forward as he further speaks, "Burglaries. Mostly target the elderly. What do you reckon?" He turns to you for opinions.

The alcohol is not quite there yet so you take a longer sip. You feel the alcohol burns your throat and you wince from the bitter aftertaste.

"No?" He asks as he looks at you.

You know he's asking about the human sacrifice, not the alcohol but the answer is the same, "No."

Minho moves on. His eyes are pacing around the room to study people and check their backgrounds with his evil power.

He taps your shoulder as he finds his next candidate, "See that girl with the pints?"

You can easily spot the girl with curly hair, carrying two pints of beer in her hands.

Minho leans in close to your ear to give his intel, "She went on holiday when she was 12 years old and saw her sister drown in a swimming pool."

He suddenly lowers his voice as he tells you the rest of the story, "She could have pulled her out but she just stood there and watched."

Maybe it's true that people are the scariest.

They may look ordinary and good and all yet inside, lies this darkness that they buried deep inside them. If Minho hadn't told you, you would have taken her as a pretty girl with a nice smile and nothing more.

Minho pulls at the sleeve of your shirt and points to another guy, talking to his friend by the pool table. You're about to wave him off again until the guy turns his head and you know who it is.

"How about him? He likes to secretly film girls by drug them and once he—"

"Sent a girl into overdose," you finish his sentence.

Everyone knows who Tim Shaw other than a student in our faculty and more importantly, people know what he likes to do to innocent girls yet no one dares to make him take responsibility for what he did.

Until one night, he drugged a girl and left her on the cold floor of a club, unconscious. There's no evidence that he drugged her or it was he drugged, ended up with him getting dropped off of all charges.

You have one more drink to finish and you gulp it in one go, wanting to use this opportunity to get back for what he did to that poor, innocent girl.

Minho triumphantly smiles, knowing that you have set a target on Tim's head.

"I think we have a contender," he concludes.

Tim is exiting the bar and you take it as an advantage.

You don't need to lure him out, you wait a minute before you follow him outside to not seem conspicuous. Once you're outside, you look side to side to see where Tim is going.

"Perfect location. No witnesses," Minho answers as you both find him turning to the back of the bar.

Tim seems to hear your rushed footsteps and turns around to see you. He seems to be taken aback and you doubt that he'll recognize you. Being crazy has its advantages, you're off the asshole's radar.

You nervously laugh as he looks at you. You quickly think of something to say, "Oh, my God! It's really you, Tim!" You say with fake enthusiasm.

"I'm sorry but who..." he gets all defensive.

"I'm—" You don't know how to explain yourself other than 'the insane one from art school'.

"Oh, wait, you're that girl, the sculptor, the... uh," he brakes before he can say the infamous title of yours.

"The freaky one?" You playfully say.

He bursts into laughter and nods, "Hey, don't get me wrong. I like freaky," he says.

Minho points to the carts of empty bottles and gestures for you to use them instead of the hammer inside your bag that weighs your shoulder the longer you're carrying it.

"I was just getting a drink but it doesn't feel good drinking alone," you lie even though that's how you prefer to enjoy your poison.

"Yeah, I bet," he says with a grin that showcases his whitened teeth and malicious intent.

"How about drinking at my place?" He offers.

"Home turf. Even better," Minho comments, appearing behind you.

You don't want to seem desperate to be with Tim because honestly, you're just stalling to find the perfect opportunity to kill him. It's time to put what you learned from Kim into practice.

"I, uhm..." you rub the back of your neck and shyly smile at him, "I don't think that's..."

As you pretend to consider his offer, he's secretly checking you out. His eyes travel up and down your body, you bet he thinks of lewd things even though you're dressed like a bible salesman with the same outfit you wore to the funeral service.

He takes a step forward and smiles at you, "I live not far from here. You can easily crawl back here if you think I'm a bad drinking partner," he seduces.

Tim must have thought you were as gullible as the other. Oh, he has no idea the surprise you have for him!

"If you don't mind, yeah," you say with a low giggle.

"Okay," he says with a triumphant smile.

His house is indeed only two blocks away from the bar and he keeps boasting about how he owns a house from his inheritance and the rising price of property these days.

"Please, come in!" He lets you into his house.

You step on a crumpled beer can as you enter the living room and are horrified at the amount of trash littering the place.

"A few friends and I watched a football match last night," he concisely explains.

He takes off his jacket and hangs it on the coat rack, "How about we drink in my room?"

You uneasily glance at Minho and he nods. You look back at Tim then put on a fake smile for him, "Yes."

He leads the way up the stairs and you follow him, climbing the steps with the hammer getting heavier and heavier inside your bag.

Tim turns around and sees you being hesitant, "There's no need to be shy now," he says with a lopsided grin.

You respond with a smile, keeping your head tilted up, and continue climbing up the stairs.

"Now!" Minho orders.

"Hit him with the hammer now!" He says again so close to your ear.

Your head snaps in his direction and hisses through your gritted teeth, "Shut the fuck up!"

Tim catches you talking and looks over his shoulder, "What's that?"

"Can't wait to see the bedroom!" You lie and add a giggle to sound convincing.

He smirks at you before pushing the door to his bedroom, "Come on in!"

His room is less messy than his living room in which he helplessly tries to make it seem tidy by flattening the pile of his duvet.

"You can sit down here," he says, patting the space next to him on the bed.

"You're not really going to have sex with him, are you?" Minho asks as he quietly watches you from across the bed.

A deadly glare is enough to answer him and he immediately refrains from pressuring you.

"I was just checking," he adds.

It's when you're in his bedroom that you start to fear Tim, not when you know what he is capable of. But at the same time, it fuels your hate fire, it reminds you of the reason why you need to eliminate scum like him.

"You keep your alcohol in your room?" You ask.

It's obvious that he took you here for different intention. He's taking you here for the sole reason that is to ruin your life.

"Oh, yeah, the drinks," he smacks his lips together and awkwardly paces in the room.

He reaches for the portable speaker on top of his dresser and turns it on, "You can wait for the drinks while listening to music," he says.

You nod, "That sounds nice!"

He gets out of his bedroom and heads back downstairs. While he's doing what you believe is spiking your drink with substance, you think of a plan on how you're going to kill him.

First, you take the hammer out of your bag and practice your swing. You get panicked with each second passed and haven't found a way to catch him off guard.

The footsteps on the stairs signal you that he's on his way here. You decide to do the classic way by hiding in the back of the door, planning to strike him from behind.

You see his figure entering the room, carrying two glasses of drinks in his hands, "It's your lucky day because I found a bottle of—"

Without thinking, you swing your hammer hard and hit him right on the side of the head. It's a weak blow and you can see that from how he's staggering backward, still conscious.

There's no turning back now that you have done it. You come charging at him, attacking him while he's still disoriented from the first blow.

He collapses onto the bed and not giving him time to recover, you keep hitting his head with the hammer with blood splattering the bed and wall with every swing of the hammer going onto his head.

You whimper as blood gets on your face and see that Tim is lying cold on the bed, dead. However, you land another blow just to make sure you've done it and leave no room for mistakes.

"You're good, you're good," Minho says from across the room.

That's when you stop and take a step back. It feels like your soul has left your body, you suddenly feel drained and the hammer drops onto the floor.

You look at the mess you made, the bloody mess and dead body, your life that is once far from all of it. Your throat suddenly closes up and you find it hard to breathe.

After a moment, Minho gets to your side to say, "You can't have that lying around," he's eyeing the bloody hammer lying on the floor.

With your mouth gaping for air, you bend down to pick it up and shove it back into your bag.

"Cleans anything you touched," Minho instructed.

You take a handkerchief from inside your jacket and use it to wipe surfaces you probably made contact with even though you're sure there aren't any.

You leave the bedroom after wiping the handle of the door and make a turn to the stairs when you hear the front door creak open.

You peek from the top of the stairs and someone is turning the lights in the kitchen.

"Get out before he sees you," Minho whispers.

It's bad when he needs to whisper like that even though no one can hear or see him, but you. The adrenaline is still pumping and you make the most of it by bracing yourself to make a run down the stairs and to the front door that is only a few meters away.

You take a deep breath before quietly descending the stairs without making any noise. You can feel your heart beating in your ear yet you keep going as the door is only a reach away.

You successfully land on the base of the stairs when your bag accidentally hits a flower pot, sending it breaking into pieces on the floor.

"Tim?" The man calls.

He looks at you with confusion drawn on his face, "Who are you?"

It's too late for you to break into a run as he sees your face and officially makes him an eyewitness. You can't leave an eyewitness, at least, not until you've done all three human sacrifices.

Is it necessary to kill him though?

You can think and consider as much as you want but it all comes down to the one question: kill or end the world?

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on-my-vigilante-sht · 11 months

Text

Sorry to Meet You

Carlisle Cullen x Reader

Summary: The moral dilemma of the patriarch of the Cullen clan finally meeting his mate after 350 years.

Warnings: Angst, death, blood, accident, surgery, not beta’d, turning, grief

Word Count: 5.8k (sorry, I got a little carried away and I’m getting used to writing one shots again)

Masterlist

I rounded the corner within the halls of my father’s hospital, heading towards his oh so familiar office. I had spent a good portion of my childhood playing in the office halls of the hospital so as to not get in the way of an emergency. Every take your child to work day, every early dismissal, random day off from school, and every weekend he had to work and couldn’t find someone to watch me, he brought me here up until I was about 12.

Now I was in college, studying biology as a pre-med student at Johns Hopkins University. But today I was returning to Forks for my summer vacation in between my freshman and sophomore year. He was supposed to pick me up from the airport tomorrow but I had wanted to surprise him at work so I left a day early.

Reaching the door to his office, I entered. Embarrassingly, I had been so eager I hadn’t even checked if he was busy. As the door swung open I was met with the golden hair and eyes of the most gorgeous man I had ever seen. Given his youth I assumed he was a student or a resident but one look at his badge told me he was an attending.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” my father’s voice broke me from my trance.

“Hi!” I smiled at my father, ripping myself from the mystery man’s enchanting gaze. “I wanted to surprise you,” I explained, returning his hug. “I was so excited I didn’t even consider that you were busy. Sorry,” I apologized to both men.

“Don’t be,” the blond said in an almost melodic voice. “Trust me I understand the importance of family.”

“Yeah Dr. Cullen’s kids are here all the time,” my father laughed.

‘This guy has kids?’ I thought. ‘Plural? He looks no older than 25.’

Seemingly reading the confusion on my face he explained. “Adopted kids. My sister and I were foster kids so we always agreed we’d adopt as many as possible. So far we’ve adopted five teenagers, hoping to give them a new shot at life.”

“Wow,” was all I said, unsure of how to react. ‘Well this guy was definitely out,’ I noted to myself. ‘Not only is he your father’s colleague, he had five teenagers.’ “Well I should let you get back to it,” I said shyly, already backing out of my father’s office, embarrassed. “I’ll be at the house and we’ll get dinner after?” I suggested to my father.

“Sounds good. See you later sweetie,” he called after me.

Carlisle tried his hardest to focus on Dr. L/N’s words but he couldn’t, he was so focused on his colleague’s daughter. When she entered the office he had sucked in a breath he didn’t need. He had heard that some mate connections hit you like a brick but he hadn’t seen it with anyone except presumably between Rosalie and Emmett when she demanded he save him.

So as soon as he was done with his meeting he hopped into his Mercedes and headed towards Dr. L/N’s house. Once he reached it he found no cars in the driveway or any indication that there had been a car there recently, only wet footprints leading up to the porch and inside the door, presumably from Y/N getting out of a cab.

Continuing past the house he parked about half a mile away before running back to the house, a feat that only took him a couple seconds.

Taking a page from Edward’s book he began creeping along the side of the house, trying to spot Y/N through a window. But when he couldn’t find her he was forced to climb up some trees until he found her in what was presumably her bedroom, unpacking a suitcase full of clothes.

He watched, admiring the girl as she sorted through the clothes, tossing some in the laundry bin and others in piles to be sorted in the closet. He realized that he could watch her all day, admiring the quirks of her expression as she reacted to different situations. He hadn’t understood the other Cullens’ obsessions with each other until now.

He continued to watch for hours. His eyes sometimes drifting to the delicate curves of her body but always scolding himself for thinking of her like that given that she didn’t even really know him. But a small part of his mind whispered that she’d be his one day.

He only left when he heard her father’s car approaching, swearing to come back to learn more about her so he could strike up a conversation about her favorite things the next time they “accidentally” ran into each other.

The next time I visited the hospital wasn’t just to visit my father, it was because I had managed to slip in a puddle, earning myself a gash on the forehead.

I was sat in the waiting room going on two hours with a blood soaked rag pressed to my forehead. I truly didn’t mind waiting seeing as I knew there were far more injured people getting treated. But as I continued to wait I started to get more and more light headed. I began to make my way to the desk in hopes they could give me some answers when I got a head rush, stumbling into a very cold, hard chest.

“Y/N?” I heard the melodic voice again. This time dripping with concern. “What happened?”

“Oh nothing,” I dismissed, reluctantly pulling away from the grasp he had on my arms. “Just slipped in a puddle and my head kind of ate it,” I chuckled.

“How long have you been here?” he asked, more concern ebbing into his voice.

“I don’t know about two hours?” I shrugged, trying to not make a big deal of it. “Please don’t tell my dad, he’ll just get all concerned and angry and wonder why I wasn’t immediately treated.”

Inside, Carlisle was already feeling all those things I just described. “Well you shouldn’t have to sit there for two hours, bleeding out of your head. You should’ve been brought for a CT. C’mon, can’t have Dr. L/N’s daughter bleeding out in the waiting room.”

I smiled shyly as I felt his strong, cold hand be gently placed on my lower back as he guided me towards an exam room.

All throughout the exam Carlisle had to hold his breath. He has excellent control, it’s what many believe to be his special ability and it allows him to do what he loves but Y/N’s blood? The faintest smell alone made venom flood his mouth. And the blood soaked rag along with the fact that he had to bandage up her forehead didn’t help.

“Okay, that should do it,” he smiled, thankfully pulling back from his mate as he finished taping a bandage onto her head. “You’ll have to keep it bandaged for a couple days but your father should be able to help with that. And you most likely won’t scar.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks Dr. Cullen. I owe you one.”

He shook his head, breathing a laugh as he looked down at the girl’s chart. “Please, I’m happy to do it. And you can call me Carlisle.”

“Carlisle,” she repeated, nearly melting the vampire right there, “that’s an interesting name, never heard it.”

“Well my parents were a bit old fashioned,” he explained. “So your father tells me you finished your first year at Johns Hopkins? That’s very impressive.”

He admired her blush as she looked down at the ground. “Thanks. I think I was the only one of my graduating class to go out of state.”

“Yeah, I’ve figured out Forks is a very small town. Not many people leave,” he chuckled. “Do you know what you want to study?”

“Um I’ve always kind of wanted to be a surgeon. I know it’s the most difficult specialty but I enjoy the precision of it,” she shrugged.

Carlisle felt a sense of disappointment at the news that his mate wanted to be a surgeon. Being a doctor was hard enough as a vampire but having to literally cut people open? Even he didn’t think he’d be able to focus surrounded by so much blood. He was already dreading having to tell her that she couldn’t be a surgeon after she turned, not at least for decades while she learned control. He was suddenly snapped from his fantasies realizing that this human barely knew him and practically everything he knew about her came from his lurking outside her windows.

Dragging himself out of his thoughts which had no doubt created a long, awkward pause he spoke again. “Yes, well if you made it to Johns Hopkins then I’m sure you can do it.”

“Thanks Doc- Carlisle,” Y/N corrected before standing up off the table and heading for the door.

As she exited, taking most of her intoxicating scent with her, Carlisle sucked in a breath he didn’t need. As much as he hated watching his mate leave he needed a break from her blood. No one had tempted him the way Y/N L/N had, even when he was a starving newborn. And he realized that he would have to figure out a way to get close to her and get her to love him before he even told her about the mate bond. A difficult feat considering her father’s place as his colleague.

When Carlisle got home that evening he immediately went to his room, tipping off the family that something was different.

As he collapsed backwards onto his sofa he let his mind wander to his mate. He could picture her face so clearly, and more frighteningly he could still imagine the smell of her blood with eerie accuracy. He imagined all his future endeavors to keep her safe as a human. He’d watch over her, always be within reach to step in when she needed. He pictured their love story. It’d be slow and start with glances and fleeting touches until he invited her out to dinner once she became more comfortable with him. He’d kiss her goodnight on the porch and then make sure she got into the safety of her home before leaving. Their relationship would develop from there with more dates, with Y/N’s father’s approval of course. And when she uttered the words ‘I love you,’ he’d tell her about him and his species because he knew he had earned her love. And as much as he didn’t want to damn her to a life of hiding and being a monster, he couldn’t help but imagine her turning. He’d gently bite into the soft flesh of her throat, injecting his venom into her veins, cementing her as his forever. But the thought of hurting her and turning her into a monster made him hesitate.

As Carlisle continued to immerse himself in his fantasies, his sister entered. “Carlisle?” Esme called softly. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he agreed, sitting up. He wasn’t sure whether or not to tell his family that he had met him mate, considering they were already dealing with the human mate to Edward, Bella, who they had just moved back to Forks for. Of course no secrets stayed secrets for long thanks to Edward and Alice’s gifts. Edward could be counted on for discretion but Alice’s overeager nature wouldn’t allow that. He was surprised that Alice hadn’t already planned a party but maybe she hadn’t seen his mate in her visions yet. He had also wanted to keep her his own little secret for a while but clearly that wouldn’t be happening so he relented. “I- uh met my true mate.”

Esme’s eyes widened as she gasped. Of course living in a house full of vampires everyone heard and immediately began rushing in.

“You met your mate!” Alice practically screamed, nearly knocking over Esme.

“What’s she like?” Emmett asked with a grin. “Or he?” he added hesitantly.

“It’s a she,” Carlisle confirmed. “It’s very new. She doesn’t even really know anything about me and everything I know about her comes from lurking outside her window,” he groaned in embarrassment.

“Well that worked with Bella,” Jasper laughed.

Edward shot his brother a glare before looking back at his adoptive father. “Just find an excuse to be around her, ask her on a date.”

“That’s the thing, she’s 19-”

“You’re physically 23,” Alice cut in.

“Her father is my coworker,” he elaborated. “Besides they think I’m 31 at the hospital. And she just finished her first year pre-med.”

“So you’ll see her around the hospital!” Alice insisted, still trying to convince her adoptive father that everything would be fine. “Suggest that she comes to the hospital more to observe or do an internship! Then you can get to know her and ask her on a date.”

“That’s not actually the worst plan,” Edward admitted.

Carlisle thought for a second. That could actually work, he’d just have to figure out how to bring it up to her and her father naturally.

“So what’s she like?” Rosalie asked suddenly.

If vampires could blush Carlisle would be bright red. “Well um she has H/L, (hair length) H/T, (type) H/C (color) hair. She actually looks a lot like her father, Dr. L/N. She goes to Johns Hopkins. Look can everyone just go back to what they were doing?”

“But we want to meet her,” Alice practically whined.

In his frustration with everything Carlisle blurted out, “You may not even get to meet her.”

That dampened the mood. “What?” Esme asked softly.

“Nothing is decided yet but she’s human. We’re already dealing with Bella, the Volturi are already keeping their eyes on us, and I don’t want to doom her to this life if I don’t have to.”

“But this is your mate,” Alice insisted. “You’ve been alone for 350 years!”

“He has a point,” Rosalie cut in. “We can’t afford to have another human know about us especially with the Volturi sniffing around us. And we shouldn’t be turning people unless they’re actively dying.”

“But she’s his true mate!” Alice maintained, practically stamping her foot on the ground. “He can’t just turn his back on her.”

“Look nothing is decided,” Carlisle tried to calm Alice down. “I have to be back at work in a few hours and I need to hunt so if you’d all please let me be.”

Everyone shuffled out of the room reluctantly except for Edward. “It will break your heart to let that girl go.”

Carlisle paused. He knew that, the idea of letting her go live her life and potentially fall in love with someone else broke his heart. “I know,” he admitted. “But the thought of having to hurt her and make her like this hurts just as much.”

“So love her for the duration of her mortal life.”

“Just to watch her age, live in pain, and die? I couldn’t handle that.”

“But you’re doing it for her,” Edward pointed out.

“But if I’m doing it for her shouldn’t I just let her go live a normal life?”

Edward shrugged. “I don’t know the right answer here just that no matter what you choose it’ll kill you in some way. That’s the unfortunate truth about loving a human.”

A few weeks went by and Y/N became a routine part of Carlisle’s day. He’d usually see her at the hospital, working as a secretary. (A job she acquired even without Carlisle’s suggestion.) Because of that he had gained a reputation for hanging around the nurses station, flirting with Y/N. Not only did he learn about her through actually talking to her, he would make frequent trips to her house to watch her through the windows, even occasionally going into her room, which he felt wrong about but being surrounded by her scent dismissed any doubt from his mind.

“Y/N,” he greeted like he did every morning, bringing her a coffee.

“You must be spending a fortune on coffee,” she commented, taking the cup. She had protested several times, insisting that she pay him back but he refused every time so she just began to accept it.

“It’s nothing,” he dismissed. “But if it was it’d be worth it,” he flirted, earning a blush from the girl. Carlisle had learned a lot about flirting in these few weeks. At first it was a bit clumsy but he picked it up fairly easily with a little coaching from Rosalie and Emmett.

“Yeah well you won’t have to spend like $4.50 everyday for much longer, one of my professors is starting a research project a month before the semester begins and he invited me as a fellow,” she explained, a glimmer of disappointment behind her bright, casual expression.

If Carlisle’s heart wasn’t already frozen it would’ve stopped beating. He tried his best to hide his shock and disappointment. “Oh, well congratulations. Getting invited to stuff like this is really good for med school applications.”

“Yeah, and I like being here but it was too good of an opportunity to pass up, y’know? Plus it’ll be nice to see the sun again,” she awkwardly laughed, sensing the doctor’s unease.

“Yeah, um well I have to go get some labs. Congratulations, I’ll see you around,” he rushed out with a forced smile. He didn’t stay long enough to hear her response, rushing out of the room as fast as possible without being suspicious.

He couldn’t think straight. He of course had thought about her just leaving but now that it was actually happening, as well as happening sooner than expected, he didn’t know how to deal with it.

Carlisle had no clue what to do when it came to his mate leaving. He couldn’t stop her, that wasn’t fair to Y/N, so instead he kept his distance. Which was easy considering that he could smell her from a mile away. Until one day at the hospital when the scent of her blood was particularly strong.

“19 year old female, car crash. Resuscitated once in the field, three times en route,” the panicked voice of the paramedic echoed through Carlisle’s sensitive ears. He rushed into the ER, spotting her through the window of the trauma room. He mostly recognized her through her scent but would know that H/T, H/C hair and S/T skin through purple and blue bruises from a million miles away. But the next words from her attending doctor only confirmed the worst. “Page Dr. L/N, it’s Y/N!”

It felt like Carlisle had been sucker punched in the gut. It took everything in him not to stagger back and let out a dry sob right there in the ER. When her heart monitor flatlined he wanted to slaughter every person in that room in his grief. It was ridiculous, 350 years of self control would be gone just because of a girl. But not just any girl, his girl.

When they finally got Y/N’s heartbeat back they wheeled her up to surgery, just as Dr. L/N entered the ER. “Where’s Y/N? Where’s my daughter?” he demanded, trying to launch himself at the ER desk.

“D/N, D/N,” Carlisle tried to calm the distraught father. He had to physically hold the man back with vampire strength. Fortunately the ER was too chaotic for anyone to notice. “They took her up to surgery, she’ll be fine.”

“Surgery? Oh god,” the man began to cry. “But that’s my baby, she’s all I have.” With those words Carlisle began to feel guilty. Just a few weeks ago a part of him had been so ready to basically just kidnap this poor man’s daughter and completely shatter his world without a thought. “Oh god, surgery here is a death sentence.”

Carlisle began to protest before really thinking about it. Forks Hospital was small, their surgical staff consisted of two surgeons and whatever nurses that had completed the surgical nurse program. No one came her for surgery, they all went to Port Angeles and their non-emergent traumas went there too. The only people who came here were on the brink of death and unfortunately the two surgeons here weren’t exactly outstanding in their field. They were good enough but nothing remarkable and they usually lost their patients due to the circumstances.

Carlisle tried to carry on his day as if the love of his life wasn’t dying in a surgical suite right now. But the ordinarily smooth, confident doctor was distracted and constantly messing up. Until finally his shift was over and he went up to his mate’s room. He had orchestrated the nurses’ charts so she’d be placed in a secluded room should Carlisle need to intervene to prolong her life.

When he entered the room he was met with the most heartbreaking sight. Y/N was laid on the bed, an intubation tube sticking out of her throat. Her entire face was black and blue, some bones in her face looked like they had been broken. She hardly looked recognizable. On the only chair in the room sat her father looking like a worried mess. “Oh, hey Carlisle,” Dr. L/N said dejectedly.

“I’m so sorry, D/N.”

The man shrugged. “She’s tough. She managed to claw her way out of this place. She’ll survive this.”

“I hope so,” Carlisle agreed, staring longingly at his mate.

He didn’t want to arouse too much suspicion from Y/N’s father so he reluctantly went home to change and hunt.

After his quick hunt he re-entered his home finding Alice. “Carlisle, I’m so sorry,” she said softly. He wasn’t sure what to say to that but fortunately he didn’t have to come up with anything because she spoke again. “But you have to stay with her at the hospital if you want any shot at survival.” By now Edward had joined them.

“What?” Carlisle asked.

“She won’t survive this. You’re a doctor, you have to know that. So you’ll have to change her.”

Carlisle would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought of the scenario where Y/N was severely injured and he needed to change her. He looked up at his oldest son. “There’s nothing wrong about saving her life if she’s already dying.”

Not wanting to waste another second Carlisle sped off. He almost ran to the hospital but realized at the last second he should take the car. So he floored it, doing 150mph practically the whole way there. And finally parking in the back so he’d be able to bring her home unseen.

When he got to the hospital his ears were bombarded with thousands of sounds, something he was now used to, but because of his experience he was able to tune into his mate’s heart monitor while he got his plan ready.

Heading to the morgue he found a body that was a similar build and coloring to Y/N. Carlisle was by no means squeamish but it felt weird to break her bones and watch bruises form over her skin until her face was unrecognizable. He then scraped up as many ashes as possible to make it look like someone had cremated her so no one would go looking for her body. Setting the body aside he headed back upstairs finding Dr. L/N slumped over in a chair.

Carlisle hesitantly shook the older man awake. “Hey,” he said softly, willing the man to take his suggestion. “You should go home and rest. Get changed. I’ll watch over her.” The man hesitated, still staring at his fragile daughter. “She'll be fine, I’ll call you if anything happens.”

He reluctantly agreed before heading out, making Carlisle promise to call him even if her heart rate changed by two points.

Carlisle sat for a while, waiting for the hospital to calm down a bit before enacting his plan. First he went to the nurses station while no one was there, turning off the monitors that connected to his mate’s room. He then went back downstairs, using his hearing and sense of smell to bring the body up without being detected. Finally it was time to turn his mate. He stood over her bedside, observing her mortality for the final time. Through the black and blue of her face he admired her beauty, reminiscing the unique, flawed beauty of mortals.

This would be the most difficult transformation of his life. He was more nervous than when he had turned his sister who was his first turn. Y/N’s blood smelled so sweet he wasn’t sure he’d be able to pull away. He took a deep breath through his mouth before lowering his head to her throat, biting quickly. It took everything in him to pull away. He had never killed a human but he had tasted blood when he turned them and Y/N’s was like nothing he had ever tasted before. He knew he had to hold on long enough for the venom to inject into her bloodstream which made it even harder to pull away but he did it.

When he pulled back he could see blood seeping from her puncture wounds telling him he didn’t kill her. He quickly began disconnecting her from the machines before the venom could wreak havoc on her system. He then swapped her body for the one from the morgue, connecting the machines once again. Running down to the car he placed her unconscious figure in the backseat before going upstairs to reconnect the nurses station, alerting them that Y/N L/N was dying.

But by the time they reached her room with a crash cart Carlisle was already escaping with his prize in the back seat.

It took three agonizing days for Y/N’s transformation. Carlisle spent every moment he could at her side. He had to go to the hospital in order to not arouse suspicion where he unfortunately had to deal with her grieving father. He had called him on the way home to tell that he had gone to the bathroom and when he got back she was coding. But it didn’t seem to make anything easier for Dr. L/N as the man tried to tackle Carlisle when he walked into work. Fortunately for his secret a nurse stopped him. “You left her!” he screamed. “I lost my baby. I didn’t get to say goodbye because of you!”

At first Carlisle had been elated to finally have his mate (among other conflicting feelings) but now he was confronting the grief he had created. He realized that even if she was going to die anyway, if he hadn’t intervened her father would’ve gotten to say his final goodbye.

Meanwhile at home Y/N was laid on the soft couch in his room. She had spent the first two days sleeping fairly peacefully to the point that Carlisle was afraid he had killed her but her slowing heartbeat was assurance that she was okay. The third day was the hardest, he learned from Jasper that he could feel her pain. He was at work when the pain started and Alice had called him since she would be awake soon and Carlisle had wanted to be the one with her when she woke up.

Carlisle had been sitting by her side for a few hours, admiring her now clear skin, pure from all the bruises and broken bones she had received. In his own cold, stone hand, he now felt the same in her hand, all the warmth having been drained from it now as he played with her fingers adoringly.

Even before I opened my eyes I could hear so clearly. I could hear the rustle of clothing, the sound of skin rubbing skin as I realized a cold hand was playing with my fingers. As I became more aware I realized that my throat felt so dry it felt like it was burning.

Peeling my eyes open I was met with what seemed like the brightest object in the universe. I was half convinced I was staring directly into the sun except I could heat the hum of electric lighting.

“Is it too bright?” a voice— Carlisle’s voice asked.

Turning my head I met his warm, golden expression. When I nodded in agreement he ran towards the switch faster than I had ever seen anything move. Weird, but maybe I was just really groggy, but strangely I didn’t feel groggy, I felt more alive than I ever had.

Carlisle’s face reappeared in my field of vision, I could now more clearly see the flawlessness of his skin and the flecks of gold in his irises. Unbeknownst to me he was was also now observing the smoothness of my skin and the deep red hue of my eyes. Something about him felt safe and warm, like I never wanted to leave his side again. “Carlisle?” was all I could think of to say.

His adoring smile widened when I said his name. “Hey, Y/N. How are you feeling?”

“Good…” I answered hesitantly. I felt better than I ever had but his question made me think I shouldn’t feel good.

“That’s good. The transformation can be rougher for some people,” he explained, pulling away slightly to allow me room to sit up.

As I pushed myself up I moved so fast the couch slid to the side. My eyes widened, realizing what happened. “What’s going on? What transformation?”

He took my hands in his, now kneeling on the ground in front of me. “This is going to be strange and you won’t believe me but bear with me, okay?” he asked, looking up at me. One look in his eyes and I was melting so I just nodded, allowing him to explain. “I’m… a vampire. And I made you one too.” Laughs began to wrack my body, this had to be a joke. But one look at the grave sincerity on his face told me he wasn’t joking. “It’s true. It’s why when you sat up the couch moved. Why you’re probably really overwhelmed with all the sound, smells, lights, and feelings. Vampires are the most dangerous predators. We have better senses, are faster, and stronger than anything else.” Seeing my lost expression he rushed out the next words. “I know it’s a lot and I’m sorry I did this to you.”

“Why did you do this to me?”

“How much do you remember?”

“The last thing I remember is driv-” I suddenly realized what must’ve happened. “I was in an accident wasn’t I?”

Carlisle nodded his head regretfully. “You weren’t going to make it. That’s why I turned you. I didn’t want to do it. I was going to let you live your life as a human whether that be with me or with someone else but I couldn’t just let you die.”

“So what? You just turn every dying patient in the hospital?” I asked, trying to wrap my head around his words.

He shook his head no. “You’re the first I’ve turned in nearly 70 years. I couldn’t let you die because… well you see-” Carlisle was struggling with the best word choice to keep from scaring his mate off. “We’re mates… I knew the instant I saw you. Humans can’t feel it as strongly and it’s rare to meet your true mate but that’s what we are.” I didn’t know how to react, I didn’t even know exactly what I was feeling. “You don’t have to stay, you certainly don’t have to accept our bond but I thought you should know about it. Before you got hurt I was planning to hopefully be worthy of your love the old-fashioned way but given the circumstances…”

Before I could say anything the door swung open, revealing three more vampires. One had blonde curls, another with a brunette, short pixie, and the third had caramel hair and had a strong resemblance to Carlisle. “Hi, I’m Alice!” the bubbly brunette introduced.

“Um, girls-” Carlisle attempted to dismiss them so as to not overwhelm his mate.

“She’s probably thirsty,” the blonde insisted. Everyone looked over at me expectantly. Remembering the burning in my throat I nodded. Alice approached, opening a cup allowing the most appetizing scent to permeate through the air. I took it eagerly, frowning when I looked into the cup to find a thick, red liquid. Blood.

“It takes a bit of getting used to,” the caramel-haired one empathized.

“Trust me, you’ll like it,” Alice encouraged.

I gingerly brought it to my lips. The more I could smell it the thirstier I got so I downed the drink. The second the blood touched my lips I couldn’t get enough as I began to down the drink. Once it was all gone Carlisle gently brought the cup from my hands. “C’mon, you should meet the others,” he said, gently taking my hand in his. He led me out of his room, the three women following us into what looked like a very modern living room where there were three men waiting for us. “Y/N, these are my adoptive kids,” Carlisle explained as the blonde and Alice went to stand with their… brothers? “That’s Alice and Jasper, Emmett and Rosalie,” he pointed out the couples, “Edward, and my sister, Esme.”

The Cullen clan welcomed Y/N with open arms, including Bella when she eventually met the new vampire. It took a day or two of warming up but soon enough Carlisle and Y/N began to behave just like other mates. They were constantly together, and the rest of the Cullen clan were happy to finally see Carlisle so happy with his mate after 350 years.

Masterlist

#carlisle cullen #carlisle #carlisle cullen x reader #carlisle x reader #carlisle imagine #twilight #twilight x reader

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lexamiele · 1 month

Text

My Best Friend's Brother

Tom Riddle x Reader

Word count: approx. 7k

Summary: Mattheo Riddle has been your best friend since you were both sorted into Slytherin, and you secretly have a thing for his older brother. Then, your friends pull Tom into a late-night game of Truth or Dare. What could go wrong?

Warnings/be aware: she/her reader, ooc!Tom Riddle, Tom Riddle isn't Voldemort just the mysterious Head Boy, one short description of violence/wounds, alcohol consumption, Mattheo smokes cigarettes, one Dramione mention, "you're the only one allowed to touch him" trope, possessiveness, no blood purity ideologies in this fic

A/N: Yay, first fic on this blog is up! I had so much fun writing this. I didn't picture myself ever making a Victorious reference in a Slytherin boys fic but whatcha gonna do. Writing best friend!Mattheo was such a good time, I think he'd be such a fun bestie.

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Since your first day at Hogwarts, Mattheo Riddle had been your best friend.

You remembered that fateful day on the Hogwarts Express well. You were a Muggle-born who didn’t know the first thing about magic or Hogwarts, who shyly sat in a train car by yourself reading your school textbooks and trying to figure out what you were about to walk into. Then the compartment door opened and a boy with sparkling hazel eyes and floppy brown curls stumbled in, laughing, shoved by one of his friends. Figuring that they’d dared him to go talk to the weird kid reading by herself, you’d rolled your eyes, but he’d ignored your attitude and introduced himself nonetheless. He asked you why you were sitting by yourself and you were honest, telling him that you didn’t know anything about magic and you were trying to figure it out. In stunned silence, you watched as he chuckled before explaining that you didn’t have to have it all figured out – half of his friends didn’t, and most of them had grown up in the wizarding world with two magical parents and all magical friends. Then, he let you practically interrogate him about all things magical until it was time to change into your robes and arrive at the castle. He patted the seat next to him in invitation when he hopped into a boat and the rest was history.

“Slytherin!” When the Sorting Hat cried out your placement to the Great Hall, Mattheo was the only cheer amongst a sea of polite claps, and your nerves disappeared when you looked over to your new house table and saw him hollering joyfully. After you joined him at the table, he introduced you to the rest of his friends – Pansy Parkinson, Daphne Greengrass, Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Lorenzo Berkshire, Theodore Nott…

“And this is my brother, Tom. He’s older and wiser, so if you’ve got any questions, ask Tommy Boy over here.”

The elder Riddle’s eyes finally strayed from the pages of the book he’d been reading at the sound of the unwanted nickname, glaring at his younger brother before glancing toward you. You immediately felt the air leave your chest. He was absolutely striking, with darker curls than Mattheo and piercing green eyes that contrasted starkly with his brother’s hazel. His expression was focused and intense and you were paralyzed in his gaze.

“There’s no need to be afraid of my brother, by the way,” Mattheo said later as the two of you stood in line, following your Prefect to the Slytherin dormitories with the other students. “He likes to think he’s intimidating, but he’s really just a big nerd.”

“Oh, I’m not scared,” you responded, and he looked at you in confusion. “Just…a little caught off guard, that’s all.” He shrugged, and you were relieved that he believed you. You didn’t know much about boys, but you suspected that your brother’s attractive wouldn’t go over well.

As you grew older, you only grew closer to your little group of Slytherin friends. You’d gone on your fair share of dates, had your first kiss with Theo on a dare, and loved and lost a few times, but you’d never quite been able to shake that feeling that Tom gave you, like he could see right through you. It didn’t help that he’d transformed from striking to downright gorgeous with age – his face had hardened into sharp cheekbones and a strong jawline, accompanied by that same piercing green stare he’d always had. He’d become a truly upstanding Hogwarts student, always put together and responsible without a hair out of place, keeping the rest of the student body in line as Head Boy. His intense and commanding nature made him even more attractive to you, but even when he paused his studies and Head Boy duties to sit about with his brother’s friends, it seemed like he was a million miles away, eager to remove himself from the group’s antics. When your friends had dared you and Theo to kiss, he’d rolled his eyes in disgust, scoffing incredulously when you’d actually gone through with it.

Yet, he’d also developed an oddly gentle demeanor towards you…at least compared to the way he treated the rest of the students at Hogwarts. When you visited the Riddles’ house for the first time during the summer after second year and their parents were hostile towards you, Tom laid a hand on your shoulder and told you to pay them no mind. During your third year, you finally gotten the hang of Potions – your worst class up until that point – and he nodded appreciatively every time you announced to Mattheo that you’d earned another O on an assignment, assuring you that the class was quite difficult and you were doing well. While in your fourth year, the Yule Ball came around, and a nasty older girl in Slytherin teased you a few weeks before the event for not having a date yet. When Tom overheard, he told the girl off harshly and took points from his own house just to punish her.

“Sadie Burke is a nasty creature,” he muttered darkly, pulling you aside after reprimanding her. “Don’t listen to a word she says, okay?” He cleared his throat. “Do I need to tell my brother to get his act together and take his best friend to the Ball?” Your face reddened and you looked at the floor, embarrassed that he was under the impression that you couldn’t find a date.

“No, I…honestly, I’ve already turned down a few offers,” you said quietly. It was true – Zacharias Smith had creeped you out and you knew that Michael Corner had only asked you to make his ex-girlfriend jealous. Besides, even if you knew that he wouldn’t, you’d been carrying a slight flame of hope that Tom would ask you. “Maybe I should’ve accepted. But Enz agreed to be my backup anyway, with his girlfriend off at Durmstrang and all. So no need to badger your brother,” you added with a hesitant grin. Tom let out a sigh.

“I was hoping Mattheo would take you,” he groaned. “I’m sick of him turning up to these things with girls he won’t even bother to learn the name of.” You laughed in spite of yourself. I hoped my brother would ask you out wasn’t exactly what you’d been hoping to hear, but Tom was right about one thing – your best friend was quickly becoming a menace in the relationship department.

“It’s so annoying!” you agreed. “I feel bad for them – he never treats them poorly or anything, but he’s got the attention span of a fish. There aren’t that many girls here - at the rate he’s going, by next year he’s going to have to double back and go for a second round with some of them.” Tom chuckled slightly, a smirk tugging on the corners of his mouth.

“I want to start warning them off, just to see what happens.” He paused for a moment, then frowned. “He’s never tried any of that with you, right?” You wrinkled your nose in disgust.

“Ew, no!” you objected with a giggle. “Neither of us think about each other like that.” An indiscernible look passed across Tom’s face for a moment before he met your gaze again.

“Good.” He walked away, brushing past you and leaving you with chills where his hand touched your shoulder as he moved.

You’d ultimately gone to the ball with Enzo and had a blast, though you felt a pang of envy as you watched Tom escort some other Prefect in Ravenclaw. You saw her around the Slytherin common room a few times after that, but apparently Tom’s solitary nature ultimately won over and she disappeared like the many other girls who’d begun to realize that he was attractive. That, you realized, was the difference between the Riddle brothers. Both (objectively) stunningly handsome, but Mattheo was at least willing to humor the girls who were interested in him for a while. Tom had no interest, giving even the few girls who’d managed to drag him out to Hogsmeade the cold shoulder after one date.

As you witnessed this from the sidelines throughout your fifth year and saw no evidence that he’d change, you decided that your crush on him had to go. So you went out on dates yourself, snogged Theo, and found a boyfriend, and when that didn’t work out, another. But when that boyfriend cheated on you, Tom walked in on you sobbing on Mattheo’s shoulder in the Slytherin common room. The next day your newly ex-boyfriend wound up in the Hospital Wing with gnarly open sores all over his body, unable to remember what had happened. Not even the professors had seen a spell like it before. Mattheo confessed to you that evening that he recognized the spell as one his brother had invented.

“Why would he do something like that?” you asked, confused.

“I may have mentioned to him at breakfast that I was going to fight the bloke,” Mattheo admitted. “He hates when I get detentions, thinks it smears the family name.” Your best friend rolled his eyes. “I guess he was worried that I would get caught.”

It was sick and twisted, but your brain flashed between believing Mattheo’s explanation and wondering whether Tom’s actions meant that he felt something for you. Even though you knew it was wrong, the thought of Tom being vicious and protective over you made you even more attracted to him then you already were. In spite of your best efforts, you entered your sixth year with another major crush on him. It was one of the few points of continuity in the whirlwind that was your first NEWT year, really. Between studying for your increasingly difficult classes, homework assignments, Quidditch matches and Hogsmeade weekends, and the eternally raucous parties that your best friend threw in the Slytherin common room, you barely had time to get a word in edgewise with your life. But two things remained: your Slytherin friend group and your feelings for Tom Riddle.

“Y/N!” Pansy hissed one fall night of your sixth year as you lay in bed, ready to fall asleep. You rolled over, squinting at her in the darkness. “Mattheo just sent me an owl.” The bird flapped out of the open window and into the pitch black air as she spoke.

“At this time of night?” you groaned, rubbing your eyes. “What does he want?”

“He still has some Firewhiskey from the party last night,” she whispered. “He wants us to come down to the common room with Nott and Zabini and them so we can finish it.”

“Ughhh,” you groaned. “Pans, we’ve been drinking all weekend. Didn’t you want to get up early and go to Hogsmeade tomorrow?”

“It’s fine, we can go in the afternoon,” she reasoned. “We should kill the Firewhiskey before Snape or some Prefect finds it.”

“Fine,” you sighed. “Daph!” you hissed, launching your pillow across the room at Daphne, who was laying in her bed half asleep.

“Whaddya want?” she mumbled, snapping up and rubbing her eyes.

“Drinks in the common room, you in?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she whispered with a yawn. “Let’s do it.”

When the three of you stumbled down to the common room, you found the boys sitting about, passing a couple of half-empty bottles around, the room illuminated only by the green light of the lake and a small lamp that the boys had lit. Draco and Blaise sat back in armchairs while Mattheo, Lorenzo, and Theo sat on the floor, taking swigs of Firewhiskey.

“I wish we had some coffee with this,” you groaned as Theo passed you the bottle and you plopped down on an upholstered couch. Pansy joined you while Daphne perched herself on the arm of Blaise’s chair and he slipped an arm around her hips. You glanced at Pansy and the two of you rolled your eyes. Those two just needed to start dating already. Carefully, you took a swig of whiskey from the bottle in your hands, coughing slightly at the burn in your throat before passing it to Pansy. “Haven’t you guys ever heard of a mixer?”

“Couldn’t nick anything from the kitchens,” Mattheo explained as he accepted the other bottle from Draco. Pansy rolled her eyes.

“Please,” she scoffed. “With you, there’s always a way. You just like to feel edgy, drinking it straight and having a cig.”

“Now that you mention it,” he responded with a smirk, pulling a paper out of his pocket and starting to roll a cigarette.

As you continued to pass the bottles around with your friends, you felt your head getting lighter and warmth spread across your chest. Pansy cast a Silencing Charm on the common room so you all could talk without attracting any attention from outside or those in the dormitories and you relaxed, your slight apprehensions about getting caught fading away. You all laughed and played Never Have I Ever, the very targeted prompts revealing exactly how well you all knew each other.

“Never Have I Ever snogged some Ravenclaw at a party and then been paired up with the same guy in Potions the next day,” you said, staring pointedly at Daphne. She grinned and drank as the rest of your friends laughed loudly. It was a legendary story in your friend group, and the partnership had gone on for months. Finally, Blaise banned the guy from Slytherin parties until he requested a change, and he promptly did so. Whether it was out of fear of missing the legendary parties or of Blaise himself, you weren’t sure, but he’d been reluctantly allowed back in.

“Never Have I Ever ditched my mates to hit on some girl,” Enzo chimed in, frowning at Mattheo. Everyone laughed again as Mattheo shook his head and reluctantly accepted the charge, pulling his cigarette from his lips and taking a swig from the bottle.

“You guys are so dramatic,” he groaned.

“You do it all the time, Matty!” you protested lovingly as he passed the bottle. The others nodded in agreement. “We’re having a great time in the Great Hall or at Quidditch or whatever and then some girl waltzes up to you and poof, I suddenly don’t exist to you or her.”

“Don’t come at me for my W rizz,” he objected, crinkling his nose at you.

Theo frowned. “What…what does that mean?”

“Never Have I Ever used the phrase ‘W rizz’ in conversation,” you joked, shaking your head as Mattheo took another drink from the bottle in his hand.

“Never Have I Ever caught feelings for someone in the group,” Draco cut in smugly. You rolled your eyes. He was way too proud of himself for someone who’d only avoided crushing on one of his friends because he’d been pining after Hermione Granger for three years straight. You giggled and watched Daphne and Blaise drink, as well as Enzo and Pansy, who’d had a short-lived fling after the Durmstrang girl had chucked him. Then Pansy passed the bottle to you and you paused, your face turning red.

“Well, who counts as someone in the group?” you blurted out before you could stop yourself. With the Firewhiskey in your system, your internal filter wasn’t quite up to scratch. Your friends collectively turned to look at you and Pansy and Daphne raised their eyebrows. They were the two out of the group who knew that you were…intrigued by Mattheo’s older brother. Meanwhile, Draco scoffed.

“Y/N, Nott absolutely counts as someone in the group,” he retorted, rolling his eyes. You smirked.

“Sure, he counts, but he doesn’t qualify for the feelings portion,” you reasoned. “We only kissed on a dare. No offense, Theo,” you added, glancing at your friend.

“Oh, none taken,” he responded airily. He typically went for girls in other houses anyhow.

“Anyway, back to who counts,” Draco said dryly, “Who do you think? Everyone here. Me, Zabini, Berkshire, Nott, Matt, Pans, Daph. Can’t think of anyone else who would.”

“Right,” you replied, passing the bottle without taking a drink.

“Wait, who were you thinking counted?” Mattheo asked, raising his eyebrows. You felt your face heat up even further.

“Oh, you know…other Slytherins.”

“Such as…” he prompted and you laughed, shaking your head as the others watched your exchange curiously.

“None of your beeswax!” you protested, hurling a throw pillow from the couch in his direction as he let out a yelp of protest and tried to bat it away from his face. “No one included in the prompt.”

“Come on,” he whined, pouting at you as he threw the pillow back. “I’m your best mate, you’ve got to at least give me a hint.”

“Not to mention the rest of us,” Enzo complained. “I’m not used to being left in the dark.” Your stomach flipped nervously as you felt Mattheo’s curious eyes on you. You’d managed to prevent him from catching on to how you felt about Tom for this long – you couldn’t mess up now.

Suddenly, the conversation was interrupted by a creaking that emerged from the common room entrance. You and your friends sat bolt upright, glancing around hurriedly.

“Someone’s coming!” Pansy hissed.

“No, I never would’ve guessed,” Mattheo retorted, quickly stoppering the liquor bottles with a flick of his wand. “You all,” he continued, gesturing at you, Pansy, Daphne, Draco, and Blaise. “Get down on the floor. I’ll put out the light. It’s probably some other degenerate out past curfew, but I don’t want to have to share the liquor if they see us.” You all obliged as he waved his wand again and you found yourself hiding in the shadows.

Footsteps echoed through the room as you sat frozen with your back pressed to the couch, not even daring to stick your head up to see who they belonged to. You breathed a sigh of relief as they drew closer to the stairs, but tensed once again as they bypassed the steps to the dormitories entirely and instead continued into the depths of the common room.

“Mattheo et. al., you can come out now,” a familiar voice drawled, and your heart rate sped up. Tom. Not just some degenerate…the actual Head Boy. He must be coming back from patrols. You and your friends rose hesitantly as Mattheo re-lit the lamp. Your eyes caught Tom’s through the shadows before his gaze quickly switched back toward his brother. “I can smell that horrendous cologne you wear from the doorway.” He turned back to the group. “It’s very foolish for you all to be breaking curfew, especially at this hour.”

“Tommy, come on,” Mattheo began with a cheeky grin. “You wouldn’t report your brother, would you?”

“That depends,” Tom replied evenly, raising his eyebrows. “Do you all have alcohol?” Panic rose in your chest and you flushed under his scrutiny. Sure, he was hot, but he could also totally report you and get you detention. Frantically, you shook your head as you tried to kick the bottle of Firewhiskey nearest to you under the couch. “Don’t try to hide it,” Tom ordered, holding you in his piercing gaze and sending shivers down your spine. He held out his hand, his rings flashing silver in the light of the lamp. “Give it to me.” You retrieved the bottle and handed it to him, shaking ever so slightly. To your confusion, he unstoppered it. “Thank Salazar,” he groaned, stepping forward and sitting down on the couch. “I need a drink, it’s been a long day.”

Your friends let out audible sighs of relief as they realized that Tom wouldn’t report you all to Professor Snape. “Don’t ever mess with me like that again!” Mattheo complained, sitting back down on the floor. Tom raised his eyebrows.

“I could actually report you, if you’d prefer,” he responded dryly and Mattheo frantically shook his head. Tom scoffed. As your friends slowly began to relax and return to their seats, he smirked, catching your eye. “I really got you, huh?” You blushed, pouting slightly.

“That was mean,” you murmured softly and he let out a chuckle as you sat back down on the couch where you’d been before – which just happened to put you right next to him. As Pansy returned to her old spot, you were squished closer to him and you felt your cheeks heat up more. His self-satisfied expression was annoyingly hot.

“Doesn’t anyone have a glass around here?” he asked, his lip curling slightly as he regarded the bottle in his hand.

“Who do you think we are, bro? Adults?” Mattheo retorted and Tom rolled his eyes, shaking his head. He took a deep swig from the bottle before passing it to Draco, then leaned back against the sofa, throwing the arm nearest to you over the backrest. It was the most relaxed you’d ever seen him.

“So what happened today that drove you to drink?” you asked, intrigued, as bottles began to move between your friends again. Tom rarely even came to Slytherin parties – the one time Mattheo had managed to drag him, he’d gotten irritated and left not even an hour in – and you’d never seen him drink outside of meeting with professors at Three Broomsticks. You were surprised that he was able to down the whiskey with so much ease.

“Idiots on patrols,” he spat in annoyance, his lip curling again. “All sorts of people out of bed, and everyone acting outraged when I took points. These slow patrols full of people who want to argue are cutting into my studying time—“ He paused as you received a bottle from Pansy, took a heavy swig, and passed it to him. He drank deeply once more before passing it on. “—and NEWTS are just months away.”

“Have another drink, big bro, you need some balance,” Mattheo cut in with a mischievous grin. “We can’t have you going grey from stress, now.”

“Yes, advice from Mister Time Management himself,” Tom sneered. “Tell me, how ever do you balance all the girl-chasing with the partying and the nicotine addiction?” Mattheo just laughed, flicking the ash from his cigarette onto the floor.

“All I’m saying is that you just got here,” he replied, grinning as he handed his brother a bottle. “You should probably catch up to the rest of us.” The rest of your friends watched with curiosity.

“With pleasure,” Tom drawled, and to your surprise he took another heavy drink. After he finished, he passed the bottle to you. Not to be outdone, you chugged some yourself before handing it back to him. He took a final swig before passing it on in the other direction. He raised his eyebrows at you after doing so. “It’s not a competition.”

“Why?” you teased, emboldened in your tipsy state. “Scared I’ll drink you under the table?” He scoffed.

“In your dreams.”

“Okay losers, more Never Have I Ever?” Mattheo announced, glancing around at the others. You nodded your assent, but Pansy disagreed.

“I’m bored of that,” she complained. “Let’s play Truth or Dare.”

“Ooh, let’s do that,” Daphne agreed eagerly.

“Okay, everyone for Truth or Dare?” Mattheo asked and you gave a hesitant thumbs-up. Truth or Dare with your friends tended to get a bit…chaotic. But you could use some chaos tonight. The others nodded.

“You all are twelve,” Tom drawled, taking another drink. Pansy pouted in his direction, and he rolled his eyes. “Fine, I’ll play.”

“Okay, since you suggested it Pans, truth or dare?” Mattheo began with a mischievous grin.

“Dare,” she responded immediately, sitting up in anticipation.

“Alright…I dare you to leave the common room, do a lap around the dungeons without getting caught by Filch, and then come back.”

As the game continued, you relaxed into the couch, listening to your friends play. Your head was starting to feel heavy from the alcohol and, with a nervous glance at the boy next to you, you rested it on his shoulder. You half expected him to ask what was wrong with you or push you off, but he didn’t. Instead, he lowered his arm from the backrest of the couch and wrapped it around your shoulders, leaning back so that you could more easily rest on him. You watched, giggling, as Enzo stood on his head and attempted to chug Firewhiskey, spewing it out of his nose and toppling over onto his back instead.

“Great try, Enz,” Theo managed to get out in between gales of laughter. “Who’s next?”

“Y/N.” You sat up, suddenly alert. “Truth or dare?” Enzo asked, a mischievous grin on his face as he straightened himself out.

“Um…truth,” you replied. You didn’t have the energy to stand up, and you definitely didn’t want to be asked to do something ridiculous in front of Tom. Besides, doing anything would require his arm to not be around you, and that sounded awful.

“Great, well, I think I speak for all of us when I say that we’d love to know which Slytherin you were talking about during Never Have I Ever.”

Your eyes widened and you felt your whole face turn red as the boys turned to watch you with amusement. Pansy and Daphne, on the other hand, acquired similarly shocked expressions, and you saw them both trying to subtly glare daggers at Enzo.

“Who’s this Slytherin?” Tom chimed in before you could say anything.

“Oh, just some fortunate lad that Y/N fancies,” Theo replied smugly, clearly enjoying your embarrassment.

“Oh, I’m intrigued,” Tom drawled in response, raising his eyebrows at you. Your face turned even more red, if it was possible, and you violently shook your head.

“Nope,” you declined. “I’ll drink. I’m not doing that one.” You reached towards Mattheo for the bottle, but he didn’t oblige.

“Come on, Y/N,” he said gently, a slightly hurt look emerging in his eyes. “I’m your best friend – we’re all your best friends. Do you really not trust us enough to tell us?”

You wished with all your heart that you and Mattheo could actually telecommunicate, because the glances you were shooting him clearly weren’t explaining anything. “I just…don’t want to talk about this right now,” you insisted.

“Ughhh, you already picked the easy one anyway!” Draco protested. “Just say it and get one with it, it’s not like we’re going to tell him.”

Saying it right now would be telling him, you idiot, you wished you could shout. Instead, you stubbornly shook your head again. “Nope. We always play this game as Truth, Dare, or drink. I’ll drink.” Finally, Mattheo passed you the bottle and you took what you hoped was a deep enough drink to satisfy your nosy friends. “Okay, Enz, you can ask someone else, since I didn’t do it.” This pacified Enzo well enough and you pulled your knees up to your chest, curling yourself into Tom’s side as you listened to Blaise reveal his first Hogwarts crush – Marietta Edgecombe, apparently. Tom wrapped his arm around you again and unconsciously began playing with the edge of your pajama shorts that hung around your outer thigh. Goosebumps ran across your skin at his touch and you struggled to conceal just how euphoric you felt from being close to him.

Finally, after several rounds of the game, Mattheo fixed Tom in his gaze. “Brother.”

“Yes?” Tom responded dispassionately.

“Truth or – wait a second, why are you two cuddling?”

The entire group seemed to turn their focus to you two at once and you wanted to curl up in a ball and hide, your eyes widening. Tom, on the other hand, didn’t seem to care, and he kept his arm around you as he held his brother’s gaze.

“She’s had quite a lot to drink, I suspect if I wasn’t keeping her on the couch she would have fallen off of it by now,” he responded in a bored tone. Your heart sank. Had you been reading too much into all of this? Was he just looking out for you, like you were some other duty for him to check off his list? You sat up, hoping to prove that you were fine. “Anyway, you were saying?”

“Truth or dare, brother?”

“Dare.” Mattheo grinned.

“I-“

“Wait a second,” Blaise interrupted. “I have a great one. Call it a…punishment for noncompliance, if you will.” Your stomach flipped nervously as Mattheo’s eyebrows raised. “Let me intercept this one?”

“Let’s hear it,” Mattheo agreed. Blaise smirked. You glanced at Tom, who appeared unimpressed.

“Well,” Blaise began, giving the two of you the closest thing to an evil grin that you’d ever seen, “It seems that a whole slew of problems could be solved here. Riddle, you’re looking for a great way to relieve some stress. Y/N, if that bloke you’re into is too embarrassing to tell us about, then you definitely need to get over him. Ergo, I propose…Seven Minutes in Heaven. Between the two of you.”

You froze, your eyes wide as everyone turned to look at you and Tom for what felt like the fiftieth time that night.

“We are not getting in the closet like we’re dolls that you children want to make kiss,” Tom sneered, frowning at Blaise. “Give me the whiskey, I’ll drink.”

“No, no more drinking!” Draco protested with a laugh, leaning forward in his chair and blocking Enzo as he moved to pass the bottle. “This is getting boring. I agree with Zabini, you two have been way too friendly tonight.” He pointed at a broom closet in the corner. “Get in that broom closet, I don’t care what you do, just don’t come out until we say so.” Tom raised a single eyebrow.

“If you want us to go stand in a broom closet for seven minutes, fine,” he said evenly, standing up. You followed his lead, accepting your fate. “Enjoy the show,” he drawled as he followed you into the closet, shutting the door behind you.

You’d been in a broom closet before alone, and as tight as it had been by yourself, it was unimaginably more cramped with someone else in there too. You and Tom stood chest-to-chest with barely anywhere to go as tension rose in the air. Frankly, you were at your wits’ end. Finally, Tom had acknowledged you, held you, been so gentle and kind to you for more than a few moments only to brush it all aside, only for some stupid dare to ruin it. And now? Now you had to stand around in a broom closet for seven minutes of awkward silence with the boy you’d had it bad for since first year. You’d had too much to drink, you were tired, and before you knew it, you were crying.

“Hey. Hey,” Tom’s voice cut through the silence. He waved his wand and light streamed from it, finally illuminating the room. You covered your face in embarrassment – you couldn’t believe you were crying in front of one of the most notoriously intimidating people at Hogwarts, let alone someone you fancied, and whose opinion you cared deeply about. But you felt his hands wrap around your wrists and slowly, gently, he removed your hands from your face. “Why are you crying?”

“I’m…really tired,” you managed to get out with a sniffle, figuring that was the easiest way to explain it.

“Hey,” he murmured wiping your tears with his thumb as he looked down at you, his hand cupping your cheek. “Don’t let them get to you. They can’t actually tell us what to do, you know. We can leave if we want. Do you want to leave?” You shook your head.

“I’m just frustrated,” you responded softly. “They can be really nosy sometimes.”

“They should trust you,” he said, letting his hands fall to your shoulders. “I’m sure you have your reasons for the things you don’t want to tell them.”

“I do.” You let your head fall against his chest, then paused, recalling an old conversation with Mattheo. “Does that…bother you? Matty told me that you aren’t always the most…touchy person.” A soft chuckle resonated through the broom closet as he wrapped his arms around you, stroking your hair gently.

“That doesn’t apply to you.” His raspy voice was hushed, almost a whisper, but you heard it clearly. You felt your heart beat faster. “If I didn’t want to, I wouldn’t.”

After a pause, you opened your mouth again, your voice almost a whisper.

“I wasn’t drunk enough to go falling off the couch, you know.”

“I know.”

You looked up at him, his eyes as enthralling as ever, so dark in the dim light that they looked like the glow of the Black Lake. Daring to explore, you reached your hand up and gently brushed the side of his face, your palm tingling as you laid it to rest at the base of his neck, your fingers twining in his curls.

“But you didn’t even want to do this…” you trailed off softly, your insecurity showing its face. His expression hardened.

“I didn’t want to go into a closet with you for some dare,” he said firmly. “I want you. Salazar, I always have.” Your heart raced, and you hardly dared to believe what you were hearing. “But if we’re going to do this, I won’t go back. It can’t be for a stupid dare.”

“I’ve wanted you since the moment I first saw you,” you confessed. “No matter how hard I try not to, Tom.”

“Who’s this idiot you fancy then?” Tom murmured, his intense stare utterly intoxicating as his hands moved to your waist and his thumb traced your hip, the edge of his ring pressing into the bone. “I want to make you forget he ever existed.” You giggled softly at the irony, glancing down at the floor and in response, he took your jaw in his hand and brought your eyes back to his. Your stomach flipped eagerly as you felt his strong grip and you wondered how in the world someone could feel so much like danger and safety at the same time. “Will you let me make you forget him?”

“That would be difficult, considering that I’m currently in a broom closet with him,” you replied, a mischievous smile pulling at your lips. Desire danced behind his eyes as they stared back into yours. He released your jaw and moved his hand to the back of your neck, his other one coming to rest on the small of your back.

“Well then,” he whispered teasingly, a smirk growing on his face. “I suppose we still have six minutes or so.”

The second his lips connected with yours, you were addicted.

You’d fantasized about Tom Riddle kissing you a million times and yet, nothing could compare to the real thing. He tasted like Firewhiskey and sharp mint and the fierceness of the kiss, of the way he held you in his arms, made your heart race. His hands roamed across your body, exploring your skin, as his tongue parted your lips, making you whimper softly. He let out a moan, his fingers tracing the bare skin of your thighs as his other hand wrapped around the side of your neck possessively.

“Tom…” His name escaped your lips as his touches grew more intense with need.

Your noises of pleasure seemed to fuel him, and he moved forward until your back collided with the shelves behind you. He picked you up and you wrapped your legs around him as his lips continued to work against yours. You whined in disappointment when he broke the kiss, but it quickly became a moan of pleasure as his lips moved to your neck, making your whole body tingle with desire.

“You’re perfect,” he groaned breathily, staring into your eyes. “You’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you whimpered as he sucked on your neck, giving you the perfect mix of pain and pleasure. “All yours.”

Six minutes later, you were breathing heavily and your neck was covered in hickeys when a knock at the door snapped you back to reality.

“Uh, guys? You can come out now,” echoed the hesitant voice of Enzo Berkshire.

“Yeah, we’re sorry about the dare,” Pansy called. “It was a really stupid joke.”

“Maybe if we ignore them, they’ll go away,” you whispered, and Tom, appearing as though he hadn’t even heard the disturbance, continued to kiss and suck at your neck and collarbones, determined to further mark you as his.

“OH, EW!”

The two of you looked up to see the door open, Mattheo staring at the scene in front of him in horror.

“You guys literally dared us to!” you immediately protested as Tom turned around to glare at his brother. You snatched the nearest item – broom polish – off the shelves and hurled it in the general direction of your best friend.

“I didn’t object, that’s different than being the one who issued the dare,” Mattheo complained as the broom polish container smashed on the floor behind him. You struggled to straighten yourself out before the rest of your friends saw you. Smoothing your hair, you stepped out of the broom closet and back into the common room. “I didn’t know you were going to – that’s my best mate, bro!”

“You introduced me to her,” Tom replied evenly, a smirk dancing on his lips. “From my angle, you only have yourself to blame.”

He wrapped his arm around your waist possessively as the two of you moved back towards your friends, retaking your seats. If they’d been shocked when they saw you laying your head on his shoulder before, it was nothing compared to now. Pansy was openly gaping at the hickies on your neck, the room completely silent.

“Yes!” Daphne exclaimed, finally breaking the tension. “I knew it! Pans, you owe me five galleons and a trip to Gladrags tomorrow.”

“What?” Enzo exclaimed in confusion, just as you cried, “you two were betting on us?”

“Just about whether you two would get together before or after Christmas,” Pansy clarified. “We both knew you would figure it out eventually.”

“I had a little more faith,” Daphne added smugly.

“Wait,” Enzo stuttered. “I’m confused. So is he…?” he trailed off, pointing at Tom.

“The mystery Slytherin? Yes,” you admitted, blushing slightly. Tom pulled you in closer and you draped both of your legs over his thigh.

“Ohhhh! That makes so much sense,” Draco blurted suddenly, making you laugh.

“And they knew?” Mattheo exclaimed, looking back and forth between Pansy and Daphne like he’d been kicked.

“I’m so sorry, Matty,” you said sincerely. “They figured it out themselves at the beginning of the year. I wanted to tell you, I really did, it was just harder…”

“…because he’s my brother,” Mattheo finished. “I get it.”

“I wanted to tell all of you, I really did,” you assured your friends. “I just wasn’t ready to tell Matty yet, and then he showed up,” you continued with a laugh, gesturing at Tom, “and there was no way I was about to drop that on him in a middle of late-night Truth or Dare.”

“Uh, yeah,” Enzo nodded, eyes wide. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I messed up big time.”

“It’s okay, Enz, I forgive you,” you replied gently. “It was just the weirdest circumstances ever.”

“Guess who didn’t mess up big time, though?” Blaise cut in, grinning as he pointed to himself. “Blaise Zabini, matchmaker extraordinaire!” Daphne promptly swatted him in the back of the head with a pamphlet for the Gobstones team that sat on a nearby end table.

“This did not happen because of you, but in spite of you locking us in a closet for nearly ten minutes,” Tom remarked, glaring at Blaise through narrowed eyes.

“Hey, clearly you made it work,” Blaise retorted, gesturing at your hickies as you stuck out your tongue at him. “Put that tongue back in your mouth, I’m not Riddle.”

“If you’re such a matchmaker, why can’t you matchmake yourself?” Pansy joked, gesturing between Blaise and Daphne. He had the decency to look slightly embarrassed as Daphne flushed.

You relaxed against Tom’s chest as your friends continued to talk and joke. The conversation became progressively more unfollowable as you all finished the last of the liquor, maintaining your tipsy state. Once the bottles were empty, Mattheo Vanished them with ease.

“How is it that you got a T on your Transfiguration OWL, but you can always manage it to get yourself out of trouble?” Tom groaned at his brother, leaning his forehead into his hand in frustration.

“Because I’ve got my priorities straight,” Mattheo replied with a smirk. “We could talk about your indiscretions too, you know.”

“You mean hexing that cheating Ravenclaw bloke?” Tom asked. You glanced up at him in surprise, watching his eyes grow dark for a moment before his face softened as his gaze met yours. “I’d do it again,” he said, turning back to his brother.

“Yuck,” Mattheo retorted, scrunching up his face in disgust. “Thanks for finally showing an emotion, you can go back to the way you were now.”

“Matty!” you protested jokingly, pouting at him. “Don’t you want your brother to be sweet to me?” He grinned.

“Of course I do,” he responded with a chuckle. “Although, quite frankly, I don’t know what you see in him.” Tom frowned. “I just hope he knows that if he ever hurts you, he’s going to get the same beating I was about to give that Ravenclaw.”

“I’m quaking,” Tom retorted dryly. “And unlike some of us, I have no interest in maintaining a list of romantic casualties.” He paused for a moment, his attention occupied as he gently played with the ends of your hair before turning back to Mattheo. “Speaking of which, I hear yours are in such numbers that they’re considering forming a school club for themselves.” Mattheo laughed good-naturedly before making a face.

Your friends talked for a few more minutes, the sentences growing progressively more incoherent as everyone struggled to resist the call of sleep. They began to splinter off, wandering back to the dormitories, as your own eyes fluttered shut. You felt totally at peace until Tom gently shook you awake.

“I’ll just sleep here,” you mumbled and you heard him chuckle as he kissed your forehead.

“No, you’ve got to go sleep in your bed,” he corrected bemusedly. “I’ll tell you what. If you go sleep in your bed for me, I’ll take you out wherever you want in Hogsmeade tomorrow, how does that sound?” Your heart skipped a beat as you sat up quickly. An actual date with the guy of your dreams. He watched you, a grin emerging on his face, as you nodded eagerly.

You barely managed to stay awake for long enough to climb into bed, but as you did, you felt your chest fill with warmth, your mind flashing back to the feeling of Tom’s lips on yours as you closed your eyes. It had been a long, confusing road to get here, but it was so worth it in the end.

He was the one for you.

#tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x reader insert #slytherin boys #slytherin #ooc tom riddle #slytherin x reader #tom riddle fic #hogwarts #mattheo riddle #theodore nott #blaise zabini #lorenzo berkshire #draco malfoy #pansy parkinson #daphne greengrass

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anothertimdrakestan · 11 months

Text

Jealous Jason Todd Headcanon

~loooong requested hope you enjoy some brotherly competition~

- jason had no idea he wanted you until dick called "dibs" the first night he met jason's mysterious "friend" and newest bat-recruit

- at first, jason didn't care. like at all. but that never stopped him from being an asshole

- "my brother y/n really? what's there to like? i didn't see you as a musical theatre and dad-joke enjoyer" he'd scoff anytime dick tried to make a move

- that didn't stop richard fucking grayson.

- "hey! y/n! fancy seeing you here!" .. "it's the batcave dick i work here" .. "oh, well are you working all night? maybe we can grab some big belly burger after?" .. "we have patrol together you dork"

- honestly, it was endearing being adored, worshipped even. from handwritten poems, to a little mini batarang necklace, and all the weapons your heart could desire

- and for all his dork-tendencies, dick knew a thing or too about hand placement...

- "put me down richard" .. "you literally fell into my arms" .. "i would've landed on my feet" .. "sure princess, but aren't my arms a little better?" he'd tease, sweeping you bridal style out the back door of the gala you two had just rescued

- it was somewhere in between the gift giving, rooftop dates, and stolen glances that jason realized he might want -slightly, just a tiny bit- more.

- okay; he wanted you all to himself.

- but he's always been shit at explaining it

- where dick was obvious and flirtatious, jason started subtle: always inching closer to you, keeping a longing gaze set on your every move-even if it meant tripping himself up in battles- you noticed he would sooner get shot than let you catch a scrape

- and just like dick's coddling, it got annoying

- "jace i've been on the team for months, i think i can watch out for myself" .. "i know, i protect the people i care about" his response was almost a whisper, and before you could pry further, he disappeared, replaced with a familiar cheesy grin "hi y/n! wanna catch a movie tonight?" .. "uh, one sec dick! i need to check on jace"

- but jason was never anywhere to be found. every time he let you in, he disappeared just as quick.

- when you started toying with new weaponry jason was there, you still got butterflies remembering the way he pressed himself against you while fixing your form, his calloused fingertips lighting fires as he subtly adjusted your grip on your gun

- "jay is this right?" .. "mhm your grip is perfect, but the recoil will get you, slide your leg backwards to brace for the impact of firing" .. the minute his hand touched your thigh a shiver ran across your body, against your shaking will .. "oh, sorry i didn't mean to-" .. you cut him off "no it's good, you're good" but before you could turn around to unpack the cloud of tension in the room, jason cleared his throat and gruffly said "fire" ruining any chance of an emotional conversation. three perfect shots to the targets, and with a satisfying nod he was gone once again

- so when dick asked you out on a real date, to a restaurant whose menu alone gave you anxiety at the thought of ordering, you realized you had to give jason the ultimatum

- but for once in his (second) life, jason was way ahead of you.

- "you said yes to dick?" jason was sitting at your desk when you entered your own room, overly dramatic but it was jason todd after all.

- "do i have a reason to say no?"

- "you hate fancy restaurants. you need like a week to plan what you'll order otherwise you'll just be stressed the whole time"

- you rolled your eyes, but jason wasn't finished: "and you hate movies, sitting in one place watching a film you probably haven't heard of, pretending to enjoy the nuance"

- he wasn't wrong. "whatever jace, that doesn't-" .. "i can tell you what's gonna happen. he'll order a wine too sweet for your taste, and talk to the waiter enough to make you want to crawl under the table. then after a perfectly lovely dinner he'll take you to a rooftop to 'show you the sights' and you'll have your first kiss. but you hate the city skyline, it reminds you you're far from home. you like the sound of the ocean and the rusting of the forest. you like something real."

- your heart was in your throat. but you needed something more: "say it jason. don't tell me the future with dick. fucking say it."

- jason stood up, closing the distance between you, eyes now desperate and wild: "say what? that i've loved you since the minute i lost you? that i feel like ive known you forever? that i don't need to learn to love you like he does, i was built for it? that i feel like i was made for you? how do i put it in a few useless words"

- "you just did jay." you whispered, letting him lock his lips in yours with a smile.

- "please go break richard's fucking heart and come home to me." he grumbled, to which you agreed, letting dick down softly and promising to set him up with one of your friends in return for his kindness- a deal which he wouldn't let you forget

- years later, it was more of a household joke, dick claiming he was the catalyst to your and jason's lovestory. to which jason wholly despised, but you never minded giving dick a little credit

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nieceeee · 7 months

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“BEFORE THE BABY”

P/S: What was it like before babydaddy!eren was a baby daddy. And the reason he became one in the first place.

W/C: 4.2K

A/N: uhhh, this is a lil nasty. But this is before y/n gets pregnant and the relationship dynamic, there is a bit of dynamic shifting (d/s), pet names like babydoll, reader calls him daddy, safe words and things of that nature, of course MNDI, modern

“Look, I’m not dealing with your bullshit.” You said annoyed, trying to close the door. “I’m not bullshitting. I mean it.” he said. “Eren, I'm not in the fucking mood today okay.” You stood with your front door cracked, one foot nudged behind it to keep him outside.

“Come on. Please, hear me out.” he begged. You look into his eyes, a hint of desperation lingering. What the hell is his game this time? You were all too familiar with this cat and mouse mind maze he always played with you. Yet as self aware as you are, you somehow always fall back into the traps. Like Vickie Lo, it's always break up to make up just to break up again. Why? Who knows. You could always blame it on the toe curling make up sex every time yall had whenever you gave into him. Or the fact that you didn't respect myself enough as a woman to not allow a man to treat you like this, at least that's what your great grandmother would often remind you each time you went over for family dinners. Yet, she wonders why she doesn’t see you as much anymore. Or it could simply be that for some reason, you actually cared about him and dealing with the stress was easier than not dealing with him at all. At least that's what you’ve always told yourself each time you ran back to him. The truth of the matter is you didn't want to let him go because you didn't know how to. Eren had been your first of many things. Your best friend, Your first kiss, Your first love. You’ve known each for as long as you could remember.

It wasn’t a mystery that he would be your first in bed as well. Honestly, you both were amazing together…except when you were together. For some reason, the moment you started to take your relationship seriously, everything went to hell. It's like you couldn’t get it right no matter how hard you tried. But it was always a constant in your life, him being there. So your lives went in a consistent loop of ups and downs. In this moment, you were in another down as he stood on your porch doing the same thing he’s always done. Crawled back when he’s sick of being alone. “Babydoll. Please, just let me in.” he pleaded, pressing a hand against the door. “For what Eren? So you can pull the same bullshit you always do?” you spit out. “I’m not bullshitting you this time.” he explained, his hands pressing into the oak wood on the door. “Okay, so say what you have to say right here.” You said, putting a hand against your hip, a smirk at your lips. “Right here? On the porch?” he asks, confused. “Yes, since you got so much to fucking say. You don't need to be in my house to say it. Matter of fact..” you start to get louder but the sound of your neighbors screen door caught your attention. You roll your eyes.

If your elderly neighbor was one thing, it was nosey. She was always poking her head out searching for drama for her brunch club and unfortunately for you, your life has become her most recent soap opera. You clench your jaw in frustration as you turn your attention back to the cause for the current drama. “Eren, I really don't have the fucking time to deal with this today. So if you got something to say, hurry up and get it over with.” You say, trying to get this over with. “If you want me to then okay. I’ll say whatever right here. But I want you to listen to me this time and not just let me talk. Will you at least promise me that?” He asked. You open your mouth to speak but the squeaking of her door interrupted you again. She stood there with her head peeking out of the door, anticipating the mes to unfold. You were at the end of your wits. It was one thing to have to deal with him but, she was a whole different story. “I’m sorry. Do you need something?” You call out to her. Her eyes widen slightly before she narrows them at the both of you. You tilt your head at her, waiting for a smart comment to come out of her mouth. You’ve always been taught to respect your elders but today was one of those days.

She huffed and mumbled under her breath as she slinked back into her house, shutting the door behind her. You rolled your eyes again and turned back to Eren once more. “Now back to you.” Your anger was getting worse. Why was he even here? You were set to gave a great lazy day at home. That was indicated by the oversized university sweats hanging off his hips, your pink laced g-string peeking out of the top. A tight fitted cropped tank with the word “ANGEL” pasted across your breasts. Your snack-cuterie board was stocked to the brim and all your favorite Disney classics were queued up on the tv. You had all the makings of a lazy day in. So it was obvious to say that you were pissed that your night came crashing down once you opened your door to a set of bright emerald eyes staring down at you. “Babydoll?” He called pulling you from your thoughts.

“Stop calling me that.” You say, annoyed at him. “Okay, y/n. Please. You want me to beg? I will literally get on my knees and beg. Right here. I just need this chance. I mean it.” He says, slowly beginning to drop to his knees. Fuck you think to yourself. “Eren…” you say, letting out a frustrated sigh. He had already dropped one knee to the ground and seeing him like that sent a chill down your spine. You quickly shook the image from your mind. “Would you get up? You're making a scene.” You fuss pulling at his arm. Confusion laced his face as he lifted himself to standing. “You just told me…” he started. “I know what I said. I just…damn it. Eren, seriously what the hell do you want from me?” You groan, pressing your thumb and pointer finger against the bridge of your nose. “I want to talk to you.” He begged. “Why? There is nothing for us to even talk about.” Your arms fly up in the air with frustration at the consistent badgering. Normally he would’ve given in by now, giving you time to cool off before he came back a few days later pestering you again. What the fuck is his problem.

“All I need is five minutes. That’s all. And I’m done.” He tried compromising. This is not going to end well. I just know it. Everything in you wanted to say no. You met his gaze, he stared in anticipation, eyes widened like a lost puppy as waited for you to respond. He needed you to let him in. He knew it was a lot to ask but this time, he couldn’t walk away. Not again. Eren stood in front of you, hands hanging by his side as his fingers twitched slightly from his nerves. He opened his mouth to try and plead his case again for the umpteenth time but you spoke before he could utter a word. “Fuck. Okay, fine.” You reluctantly give in to him. His eyes widened with hope “You get two minutes. That’s it. So you better make this shit count.” You say as you ease up on the door and let him inside. He nodded his head frantically as he made his way inside. What the fuck have I done you think to yourself as you follow behind him, closing the door and turning the bolt lock

“How does it feel, baby girl?” he cooed. A soft moan escaped through the cherry gloss of your lips as his fingers gently caressed the throbbing bundle of nerves between your legs. Fuck. You think to yourself. “Come on babydoll, talk to me.” he continued, adding slightly more pressure. Your eyes roll towards the back of your head as you let it drop back into the satin covered pillow. Damn this feels so fucking good. Eren continues with slow counterclockwise circles, adjusting the pressure with each motion. Your body is reeling as the waves of pleasure roll through you. His fingers slip inside of you causing your body to jolt forward, arching your back from the bed and pressing your pussy into his hand. He presses the palm of his hand onto your clit as he pumps his middle and ring fingers into you slowly. His digits gently caress your insides, your slickness dripping out onto the sheets below you. Eren curves his fingers upwards towards your g-spot, making a “come here” gesture as he pleases you.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

He works you over slowly, breaking down your mental wall and sending your body further down the pleasure spiral. Your body has a mind of its own as it starts to shift forward, rocking back and forth against his long, skilled fingertips. A smile graced his face as he pushes the digits all the way inside of you, coaxing out another whimper from your lips. He pushes them into the knuckles as your body releases against his hand, your cum coating his palm and dripping to his wrist. Eren pulls his fingers from inside of you and brings his hand to his mouth, dragging his tongue up his palm and swallowing your juices. He quickly drops down and presses his belly against the mattress so that his face is lined up with your pussy. He wasted no time dragging his tongue from your opening up to your clit, licking up the mess he just made. You legs threaten to close but he brings his hands up to your inner thighs pressing them to the sides of the bed. “Ereeeen..fuck.” You cry out as he flicks the tip of his tongue against your clit.

Eren knew your body like it was his own. Let him tell it, it was his own. He knew every spot to hit to make you squirm underneath him. You watch as he takes his time, devouring you. His eyes raise up from between your legs and catch your stare. The burning gaze made your heart flutter. Eren stares into your soul as he slows his pace. You watch him pull back and flatten his tongue before bringing it forward and pressing it between your legs, covering your lips. He let his saliva drip all over you as he slid his tongue against your folds, swirling his tongue in wide zig zag motions as the fluids drenched your pussy. An audible gasp escapes your lips once the warmth of his mouth covers the hood of your clit. He twists the tip of his tongue in small circles around your clit as he continues to suck the hood between his lips. Your head falls back, mouth in an O as a whispered fuck coasted into the air. Your orgasm rolls into a ball in your belly, the tingles tickling your core before it explodes from your center and covers your entire body in ecstasy.

Eren watches you through hooded eyes as he sucks your juices down his throat. He loves seeing the way you fall apart under him. He would do anything to keep that blissful look on your face. He lapped at you, the wetness the only sound ringing in his ear aside from your broken pants. “Rennie…” you pant, rubbing your hands through his soft tresses and tugging at him. A growl came from his chest as he tugs your clit slightly with his lips. He cleans you with his tongue before raising himself up. Your essence drips down his chin and trickles onto his chest. He licks his lips and meets your gaze again. “You good?” He raises a brow at you. His voice is thick with lust as he hints at what he wants. You knew what he was asking for, the indentations in his voice make it evident. You take a few steady breaths before parting your legs wider and flattening yourself against the mattress. He smirks down at you and cups his hands underneath your upper thighs, slipping you deeper into his web.

“E, fuck…” your mind goes blank as he rubs his tip gently against your core. He pauses for just a moment, checking you over. “You okay baby? You need me to stop?” He looks at you, gaze still heavy but more alert that he was before to your needs. You take the time to peek pass your abdomen and down to his dick. He normally hung low but when he was erect, his soldier stood at full attention. His tip pink with arousal, threatening to leak. “Babydoll?” He asks, stepping back a bit to give you room to breathe. “N-no, I’m okay.” You drag your eyes back up to his face. “You sure?’ He asks again, still standing in his position. “Yes.” Your voice was certain this time. “I’m sure.” You assure him as you lean back again and wait for him to come close. He pauses a moment and then steps closer, gripping his dick and lining it back up with your center. He gives you one more look which you acknowledge with a slight nod, before pressing his length all the way inside of you.

“Ereeeeen.. mmm. Fuckfuckfuck.” You cry out. Your fingers pale against your grip of the sheets as he stretches your pussy out. How the hell did I fall for this again? The thought forced itself into your head. But you already knew the answers. This was nothing new. The up and down cycle. But, emotionally, something has changed. You aren’t sure if it was your lust riddled brain or the ounce of hope left in your heart but this time felt so different. The way he dropped to his knees before you on my porch. The pleading that reached up through his eyes. It seemed as if it was more genuine than you were used to. He poured into you, fucking your anger out of your system. “Oh my GOD, E!” You call out, his thrusting forcing you out of your thoughts and back to reality. “Fuck baby I missed this pussy so much.” He groans as he strokes you deeper. Your moans match his as he brings his body closer, hovering over you and pressing his hand into the headboard behind you. You shift your hips back a small fraction to try and allow yourself a slight breath from the way he was digging into your guts.

“Damn baby, you running from me already? We just getting started.” He jokes, his voice straining. He reaches his left arm and slides it under your hips and yanks you back to him, thrusting forward into your pussy, a bubble of your cum leaks out around him. You scream out to him, nails gripping into his back as he fucks you, crescents carving into his paled skin. “Rennie, please baby.” You cry. “You remember your safe word, yeah babydoll?” He asks as he pulls his hips back, allowing you to breathe. Mango you repeat in your head as you nod at him. “Good fucking girl.” He growls before ramming back into you. Your eyes roll back in your head as you grip the sheets until your knuckles turn white. His emerald gaze finds your amber one as his tips caresses your cervix. “Whose pussy is it babydoll? Who does it belong to?” He whispers through strokes. Your head was clouded with lust. “It’s yours daddy.” You bellow out.

“Fuck, you take daddy’s dick so well. My perfect fucking babydoll. I'm so proud of you.” He works you to another orgasm, your legs start to shake as your walls contract around his dick. Eren slips into your folds so effortlessly, knowing you were slowly crafted to fit his length. His muscles strained as he pleases you, he wanted to hold back. He needed to make sure you got yours even if he didn’t at all. His breathing got deep and choppy and his pace shifted. The strokes slow to a more sensual pace, a stark contrast to the rough hard ones from earlier. Eren’s hips roll into yours, pinpointing that gummy spot in your lower abdomen. If Eren was going to do one thing, it would be please you. He would give you ten orgasms and still coax more from you before he even thought about himself. But you wouldn't let him. Not this time. You are going to make him give you all of him. If he meant what he said on your porch, you would force him to show you.

“Daddy.” You moan. A shiver runs down Eren’s spine at the name, a low gasp breaking through his tightened lips. “Don’t stop, okay?” You beg, your chest rapidly rising and falling. Widened eyes met yours as Eren swallowed the lump in his throat. “Please don’t stop.” You cry out. “Oh fuck.” He moans softly. His strokes continue but at a sloppier and inconsistent pace. “Baby…I- I can’t.” He whimpers, dropping his head into your shoulder. “Please Rennie, I want it baby.” You reach your arms up and pull his chest against yours, your thighs tighten around his waist and you lock your ankles above him. That familiar sense of obsession took over you as you held his body firmly to yours. “I want it baby please. I want you to cum for me.” You plead. He lets out a strangled groan, pressing closer to you, anything to relieve himself of the energy streaking through his bloodstream. “Y/n, baby please. I can’t.” He whispers into your skin. You clench around him, your body still as he sits sheathed inside of you, your throbbing walls massaging his pulsing tip as you breathe in tandem. You give him a moment to steady his breathing but you won’t let him go.

“Do you remember your safe word?” You echo his question from earlier. It takes Eren a moment, brain still fogged from lust. “Huh?” He lets out. “Do you remember your safe word?” You repeat the question. Eren looks you in your eyes, swallowing heavily before giving you a slight nod. “Do you need it?” You ask him. He pauses a moment, contemplating his next move. You waited patiently, your big brown eyes staring into his. He takes another choppy breath before shaking his head no. A sadistic feline smile graces your plump lips as you send him over the edge

“Then cum in this pussy daddy.”

His body shudders on top of yours. “Oh my…Ba-baby, I can’t.” He stuttered. “Of course you can baby. I know you can.” You encourage him. You reposition your feet under your body, pressing them flat against the mattress so that you can grind your hips up towards his body. Eren bites down into his lips, his eyes rolling at the sensation of your bodies pleasing each other once again. “Do I feel good to you baby?” You tease him. He lets out a low guttural moan. “I can’t hear you.” You state, demanding a response from him. “Yes.” he whispers, not wanting to break. He was always the one in control. He was the pleaser, the one to care for you. This was different for him and he wasn’t sure about how far you were willing to go. But he wanted to. For once in his life, he wanted to feel something real and allow himself the luxury of being cared for. But that wouldn’t mean he would give in so easily. But that wouldn’t stop you from trying.

“Are you holding back from me daddy?” You tease him. He shakes his head in response, trying desperately to swallow the lump in his throat as your hips continue to grind against his dick. “It’s your pussy daddy. Take it.” You revel in the way his restraint was crumbling at your words. His composure slips as the transference of dominance shifted from his body to yours. “Fuck me daddy.” Your voice carries through the room. Eren felt himself toppling over the edge, the buildup he was holding back threatening to flood your walls. “Come on. I’ve been a good girl daddy please. I promise.” You sweet talk him. Your gazes meet and he stares down into your glossy eyes, tears slipping out the corners. He never takes the time to really look into to your eyes during sex but this time, he held your gaze like it was the last time he would see it. It was as if something snapped in place. A new level of possession overtook his senses as his eyes darkened.

Eren pulled his arms from your sides, sliding his hands down to your wrists. His long fingers gripped both wrists, pinning them together in a wrist lock above your head. The growl that comes from his body is nothing he’s never experienced before as he begins to stroke faster. “Yes, baby.” You cry out to him, head tossed back in bliss as your manicured toes curls into Cs beneath you. Eren widens his legs so that he can sink lower into the bed and fuck you deeper, aggression increasing with his pace. “Rennie, please—just like that baby. Fuck, you’re in my fucking stomach.” You cry. “Yeah you like that shit huh? You like me fucking you like this?” He asks. “Yes, baby. I love it. Fuck, i love it.” “Shit.” he says. He pounds your pussy without remorse, your eyes travel down his chest to where your bodies were connecting.

Your belly jumping every time his dick made contact. Thick hot spirals of energy light your body on fire as your cheeks flush from the heat. Fuck he’s going to make me cum again. You tense up, the arch in your back expanding but you watch while he continues to stroke you. “Fuck, you’re so fucking pretty babydoll. You taking this dick like a champ baby.” Eren praises you. “Baby, you're going to make me cum. Please.” Your body shakes and convulses under his touch. He grunts, strokes getting heavy. “Fuck Rennie, you’re going to split me in pieces.” You cry out as your body gushes underneath him. You release a noise you never heard before as you feel yourself let go. “Fuck, baby I’m going to nut.” He says as his seed paints the inside of your body. You feel the warmth raising your body temperature. His body convulsed as his dick throbs in your pussy. Damn he feels so fucking good. He sits there breathing heavily, still for a moment as you both process everything that happened.

“You didn't use your safe word.” You state looking up at the ceiling. “Neither did you.” He whispered. He stares down at you as you stare up into bliss. Eren took the time to take you in. Your thick hair fluffed all around your face, face glistening with afterglow, twin toned lips parted slightly as your chest rises and falls. Eren’s heart strummed in his chest. What the fuck. His brows furrowed slightly at the unfamiliar feeling trying to take over him again. You finally turned to meet his gave and his heart nearly jumped into your hands. “You okay Rennie?” You say softly. “Ye-yeah. We should get you cleaned up babydoll.” He smiles at you. “You’re finished already?” You pout. His eyes widened in shock. “You’re not??” You shrug your shoulders at his response. “It’s been a while.” You say shifting your body up. He gets caught off guard for a moment at the intensity of your stare. You smirk, pushing into his chest until he is pressed back onto the bed, your body hovering over his, pussy still dripping with both of your releases. “Babydoll.” His breath quickens, tones hands gripping your waist as he tries to force them to stop shaking.

“Relaaaax. I’m not going to do anything crazy.” You say as you lean down and press your lips to his, savoring in the softness. Your tongue grazes against his lips pulling a soft moan from his mouth into yours. You separate for air, instead trailing kisses across his jaw and up behind his ear. “Fuck…” His hands squeeze you in warning. “Okay, okay. I'm done.” You pull back. “I need food.” You unmount him and slip down the bed, feet pressing into the floor. Your legs shake underneath you and you reach out to steady yourself. “You good babydoll?” He asks coming to sit in front of your standing frame. You nod slightly, trying to get your balance. “I got you princess.” He slips off the mattress and comes up behind you. He leans you back into his arm and the other wraps around the back of your knees, lifting you bridal style and carrying you to the bathroom to get cleaned up. “Rennie?” You ask. “Hmm?” He responds. “You should apologize more often.” You tease. He laughs out loud, “Yeah, sure. As much as you want babygirl.” He says before prepping your bath.

#aot x reader #smut #aot x y/n #baby daddy eren #fem!reader #eren x reader #eren aot #eren x black reader #aot fluff #eren yeager

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taggedmemes · 4 months

Text

SENTENCE MEME BALDUR'S GATE 3 / PART ONE

i think you're past the point of saving.

together we might survive.

get me out of this damn thing.

we have no time for stragglers.

do you intend to die for a stranger?

i thought that damn thing was going to be my coffin.

you keep dangerous company.

we can watch each other's backs along the way.

enough of this chatter.

who put you in charge?

i'll trust my own judgement.

a miracle, given everything you've been through.

it'll all be for nothing if you don't find help soon.

you're alive. i'm alive. how is this possible?

seems like we're the lucky ones, judging by all the corpses strewn about.

anything's an improvement on where we just came from.

'we'? you want to stay together?

we need each other.

i can't think of better company.

i wanted to thank you again.

you should be furious, shouldn't you?

kill it yourself — you look capable enough.

i was hoping for a kind soul.

let's try to keep that lovely neck of yours in one piece.

no need for this to get messy.

i need her alive.

and to think i was ready to decorate the ground with your innards.

please, allow me to introduce myself.

of course it'll turn me into a monster.

you should travel with me.

our odds are better together.

i was ready to go this alone.

maybe sticking with the herd isn't such a bad idea.

you seem like a useful person to know.

let's hope any future acquaintances don't hold a blade to your throat by way of introduction.

no harm in a little mystery.

conversation shouldn't be made, it should be grown.

maybe i'd like to get to know you better.

i'm usually better at this.

couldn't have phrased it more repellently myself.

you don't happen to be a cleric, by any chance? a doctor, surgeon? uncannily adroit with a knitting needle?

it's not exactly a common affliction.

a parasite shared is a parasite halved.

you're both twice as tall as me but have half the bloody backbone.

no point getting killed.

second worm gets the cheese and all.

nobody's getting any damn cheese.

she obviously sees your kindness as weakness.

don't let her take advantage.

a simply 'thank you' wouldn't go amiss.

your friends abandoned you.

i've got plenty of friends who aren't soft.

let's just hope she reserves those impulses for any common foes.

what a curious way to awaken.

what is the worth of a single mortal's life?

something the matter?

you must have thoughts about our little stowaways.

thinking about it won't help.

i suppose we'd go our separate ways — not a slight on your company, of course.

no reason for us to not stay together if we get on well.

if we do survive, we'll have separate lives to return to.

let's just say it's a very person, very private acquaintance.

you're not the kind of company i'd keep willingly.

perhaps i'll return the favor at some point.

she's delightful, in a very 'look at me twice and i'll dismember you' kind of way.

i understand much beyond your comprehension.

you'd do well to observe more and question less.

and they didn't cut you from navel to neck?

i am still getting used to people like you.

that large, fleshy nose of yours looks like a mistake.

best to keep quiet, lest any drivel leak from your lips.

i do not intend to stay long in this place.

may your actions express the same mettle.

anomalies lead to surprises.

what hasn't happened may yet come to pass.

not a collaboration i'd have anticipated.

can't you tell me something real about you?

i have a great respect for privacy, especially my own.

i have a very disciplined mind.

those tricks won't work on me.

please don't try that again unless i invite you to.

we meet again, as predicted.

care to explain why you're helping me?

what kind of services can a skeleton offer?

a monster forms inside us, and you care to be idle?

i knew your kind to be fragile.

don't you know an exhausted warrior is an ineffective one?

it's a thickheaded notion in a complex circumstance.

what were you two talking about?

if that was any of your business, we'd have called you over.

your business is mine.

we're entwined.

if we're to survive, we need to trust each other.

you seem reliable.

we're overdue some good fortune.

#sentence meme #rp meme #sentence starters #bg3 meme #roleplay meme #inbox meme

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perlelune · 11 months

Text

Tag, You’re It | Ethan Landry | iv.

Happy, carefree college days meet their abrupt end when every guy who approaches you mysteriously turns up dead.

Warnings: NON-CON, Stalking, Bimbo!Reader, Clueless Reader, Loss of Virginity, Incel Ethan, Cheerleader Reader, Skin Carving (w/knife), Canon Typical Slashing, Voyeurism, Kidnapping, Forced Masturbation, Filming, Blackmail

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

"Put the phone down. On speaker," Ghostface orders.

The device almost slides right out of your clammy palm when you place it by your sock-covered foot.

"Now…"

His voice dips, its intimate echo rippling across your skin.

Tension clogs your throat as you await his next command, a mess of shivering limbs on your bed.

Whatever he asks you to do, you know you’ll hate it, and yourself.

But there’s no other option when your friends’ lives hang in the balance.

No choice besides yielding to the killer’s whims, however sick and twisted.

"I want you to touch yourself, princess."

Puzzled by his request, you blink and parrot his words back to him,"Touch myself?"

He unleashes a dark laugh, a chill dancing on your spine at the sound.

"Let me explain it in terms even my airheaded little princess can understand," he rasps, blatantly condescending. I want you to shove your fingers in that tight pussy while I watch you do it…and make yourself come." Your eyes widen in shock. "If you don’t come…" Your open thighs tremble as an air of malevolence saturates the air. "Goodbye Mindy and Anika."

The heavy, searing weight of his threat sits in your gut like hot coals.

Your lip wobbles, a tear escaping the confine of your lids.

"I’ll do it," you mutter, your quivering hand already inching to your exposed center.

"Hey, no need to rush," he chuckles. "Take your time, princess. After all…I want to enjoy the show."

He sighs and a zipping sound followed by a muffled rustle reaches you. Relief flows from his inflection as he instructs, "Why don’t you start with rubbing your hand up and down your pussy?"

Sticky wetness coats your fingers as you glide them over your folds.

Heat flares in your cheeks as Ghostface’s gruff moans rise from the phone.

Though you can’t know for sure, you suspect from how breathless and hoarse he sounds, he may be touching himself too.

You grow more embarrassed at the thought.

"Unbutton your shirt and grab your tit." He lets out a throaty purr as you undo the buttons of your blouse. You palm your breast and rub your thumb over your pebbled peak. A hiss floats from your lips at the sensation, your core clenching.

"Fuck…you’ve got the most perfect tits I’ve ever seen. You know that, princess?" He pauses, seeming to choke on his own breath before chiming, "Bet they’d look even better covered with my cum."

A shuddering breath escapes your mouth.

"Put one finger inside. Tell me how it feels."

As you keep fondling your breast, you sink one digit inside your wet heat. You gasp as you graze a sensitive, spongy spot that makes your breath falter.

"Wet. Tight…" Reflexively, as you rock inside your walls, they squeeze around your fingers. Ragged moans climb up your throat.

Pleasure builds in your belly as it tenses.

"Put a second one," he urges, his words punctuated by a gravelly whine and the faint, sloppy friction of skin against skin on the other side of the phone.

Your face ignites. While you’re not the brightest bulb, it’s not hard figuring out what he’s doing while talking to you.

A wave of sickness threatens to overwhelm you but you quell it.

You add a second digit to the first. Your lids quake, a sharp pain rippling through your core at the burning stretch.

You hardly ever touch yourself there, much less with more than one finger.

"It hurts," you sob. "Please…"

Your whimpers only appear to arouse him more, a moan following your admission.

"Oh…Fuck." You hear him swallow and exhale rapidly. "Keep going. Don’t you dare stop. Play with your clit at the same time."

Letting go of your chest, your other hand creeps between your thighs. Cheeks aflame, you start rubbing your swollen, sensitive nub in circles.

Your breath stutters. Your hips wiggle as your stomach tightens.

"Rub it harder." You chew on your bottom lip as the lustful pants leaving your throat swell in volume. Disapproval vibrates in Ghostface’s distorted, gravelly voice. "Don’t keep it in. I want to hear you loud and clear, princess."

Reluctantly, you free your lip, allowing every moan and whimper to spill out unchecked.

Your fingers pump in and out at a faster pace and the wet squelching of your cunt mingles with the shameful sounds rising from your mouth.

You massage your clit, growing slicker as your vision gets hazy.

"Remember what I said. What happens if you don’t come, pretty girl."

This incentivizes you to try even harder.

You play with your pussy with more fervor than before, teasing that tender spot inside you that has your vision sway.

You can tell how close you are to your pinnacle, the coils in your belly tight and warm tingles swirling at the apex of your thighs.

The patterns your fingers trace over your sensitive parts turn hectic and desperate.

"Tell me you can’t wait for my fat cock to ruin your tight little pussy," Ghostface rumbles through the staccato of his uneven, raspy moans.

Tears adorning your lashes, you repeat his words between strained lungfuls. "I c-can’t wait for your f…fat cock to ruin my little p-pussy, Mr. Ghostface."

His elated laugh cascades across your flesh.

"Come for me, princess."

The air dwindles in your lungs as your eyes roll back. The dam shatters at once, your legs quaking as waves of pleasure scatter through your lower body. Your body jolts and falls limply on the sheets, your back arching as your climax hits you.

"Ah, shit," he says.

The killer’s long, throaty sigh lands in your ears, the sound of him relieving himself strangely making your bundle of nerves pulse.

"Good girl," he lauds, mirth and lust radiating from his deep timbre.

His choppy breaths mingle with yours through the phone.

As you lie on your side on the bed, the haze clears and a vast well of shame blooms inside you.

After a few minutes of silence, he laughs again.

Satisfaction drips from his tone.

"I’m proud of you for playing my little game," he says. "And now, we have our first souvenir together, in 4K."

Your brows knit as you shakily pick up the phone.

"What do you m-mean?"

He doesn’t reply, instead humming softly, "Goodnight, princess."

The call ends as he hangs up.

Quivering lips bound shut by stupor, you quickly grab your bear and hold him against your chest. You bury yourself under the covers as quiet tears roll down your face.

You don’t get much sleep if any that night, tossing and turning when you’re not drenching the sheets with the salty streams pouring from your eyes.

Despite him never entering the room, terror paralyzes you.

He might as well have, his sinister presence coiled around you and the power he held over you tattooed into your very bones.

You bolt awake in the morning, the wild drumming of your heart blaring in your ears.

The first thing you do is rush to collect your phone. But frustration roars inside you when you realize it died during your fitful sleep.

Heart in your throat, you scramble in search of your charger. Once you find it in a forgotten corner of your bed, a relieved exhale ripples through your lips.

Impatient, you groan as you wait for the lightning bolt icon to shift to one percent. The painful sluggishness of it escalates your blood pressure even more.

You bounce on your bed as your phone takes what seems like eternity and beyond to turn itself on.

When it finally does, you don't even have to look through your contacts to find Mindy, your best friend appearing in your most recent calls.

You punch the number and chew your nails anxiously.

Ghastly thoughts lurk about your mind with each lingering, torturous second.

What if he lied?

What if he toyed with you for no reason?

Of course, your roommate picks this opportune moment to knock on the door.

"Hey! Did you lock me out? Open the fucking door!"

Startled, your head snaps up.

"Not now, Vanessa," you yell, herding your focus back to your phone. "Pick up, pick up, pick up…"

You hear your roommate mutter 'bitch' on the other side of the door and kick it one last time before walking away.

All your calls go to voicemail after a few rings. You lose hope, already picturing the worse. In your sleep-deprived, frazzled brain, the image of your friends’ lifeless forms lying sprawled on the floor is conjured.

Your gaze fills with tears as you plummet at the end of your bed.

While the sun’s basking your room in light, your world has never been this dark.

It’s the pathetic state you remain in as you amble across the hallways later, no cheer in your step as you drag your feet to class.

Each of your thoughts is asieged by your friends’ fate. Who knows if they even made it through the night, despite your best efforts to comply with Ghostface’s sick demands.

Your dispirited trek comes to a sudden halt as you catch sight of them, strolling to your first class with their arms linked.

You all but tackle Mindy into a hug after racing down the hallway.

"Mindy!" you shriek, overwhelmed with emotion at having her in your arms, safe, whole and - most importantly - alive.

She laughs, both she and Anika casting you a puzzled stare.

"Wow, is something wrong? Not that I mind random hugs but…"

You punch her in the rib and rear back with a scowl.

"You didn't answer your phone, dingus! I was worried sick."

Mindy winces in response to your outburst.

"Ouch. Sorry, mom," she jests, but when she notes the way your eyes fill with tears again, concern invades her features. Her tone softens as she elaborates, "Anika and I were…busy last night, so our phones were on silent."

They share a secret smile, hands twining. Your cheeks warm as understanding dawns over you.

You approach them and give them a tight hug.

"I…I’m just happy to see you both, that’s all," you mumble between quivering sobs. You take a minute to soak in the fact that they’re okay, that you can feel their beating hearts against your own.

Your friends are okay. Ghostface kept his promise.

Despite how humiliated and violated last night made you feel, at least there is one perk…your friends lived through it.

Anika rubs soothing circles on your back.

"Well, we’re happy to see you too. Always." She tilts her head and studies you. "Wanna grab lunch later? Talk about what’s really going on with you?"

Gulping a pacifying breath, you fall back. You look at both their faces, scrunched in worry. You’re thankful for them…but you can’t talk about last night to anyone.

In fact, you’d rather toss the whole ordeal into a well of oblivion. You feel dirty enough as it is. Tainted.

Still, spending time with them is just what you need.

"I’d love that," you chime, swallowing your tears long enough for them to disappear from view.

But as soon as they’ve vacated the hallway, the ephemeral mask of cheerfulness you donned before crumbles.

You shrink into a mess of tears in a dusky corner of the faculty, hiding behind a set of stairs no one ever uses.

"I have tissues if you want. I have t-three tissues."

"Ethan?" Your mouth parts as Ethan’s staggering presence crowds your vision. He’s crouched in front of you, that same lopsided, bashful smile he had at the party decorating his lips. Sun beams hit his dark curls, highlighting the russet and chestnut hues of his thick mane.

You slowly blink, noticing his outstretched hand and the tissues in it.

You accept them gracefully and dab your eyes with one.

"Hey." He sits next to you under the stairs and leans against the wall. "Wanna talk about it?"

You sniffle and shake your head in response.

Ethan nods in acknoledgement. You appreciate that he doesn’t push, settling for sitting with you as you cry in your hand.

"Okay," he says when your weeping alleviates. "Then, maybe we can go to a café and study? Since you’ve missed our first session anyway."

Embarrassment surges inside you. Right. You and Ethan agreed to meet at the library two days ago.

You were caught amidst your guilt spiral regarding Connor’s death at the time.

You squeeze his arm and bunch your lips apologetically.

"I’m so sorry, Ethan. It totally slipped my mind."

He waves a dismissive hand in the air.

"It’s okay. You were dealing with a lot. I get it."

Deflating, you release his bicep and sigh.

"Still, that’s not okay. You were so nice to offer."

"Don’t worry about it. Besides, I’ve got time now," he informs.

Hugging your knees, you flash him a hollow smile.

"Thank you. You're a really good friend." You grimace. "I'm sorry Chad and Mindy gave you such a hard time the other day."

He gives a nonchalant shrug.

"It's okay. Could be anyone, right?" He pauses, scrutinizing your face. "Even me."

This draws the first genuine laugh of the week from you.

Ethan being Ghostface? The mere idea is ludicrous.

There is an ocean of differences between the monster who coerced you into doing dirty things last night and the sweet boy who handed you tissues today.

They could never be the same person. That’s silly.

"I’d find that very hard to believe," you say between watery chuckles.

The only reply you get from Ethan is a wide, tight-lipped smile as he slants his head sideways, his gaze lighting up as it runs over you.

#ethan landry x reader #ethan landry #dark!ethan landry #scream vi #ethan landry x you #scream #scream 6 #ethan landry x bimbo!reader

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feyreswaterybowels · 3 months

Text

Shadows Dance🐦‍⬛

Azriel x Reader

Summary: You are Azriel’s mate of 150 years. Your home used to be Velaris until your sister mysteriously disappeared 60 years ago without a trace and it’s been your life’s mission to find her. That is until one day you’re back in Velaris for the first time in years to meet the new high lady and you get your first clue as to where your sister may be after all these years.

Warnings: mentions of missing child, mentions of death in child birth, implied sexual content.

Part 1 ↓

“Wait, Azriel has a mate?” Feyre gawked at her mate, eyes wide and mouth ajar.

“How did I not know this? I thought he was interested in Mor?”

“Azriel and Morrigan do have a strong love for one another. But not in a romantic sense. Azriel as been mated to (Y/N) for little over 150 years.” Rhys confirms, with a grin

“How come I haven’t met her yet?” Feyre asks, her interest peaked at this mysterious woman that’s never been mentioned to her—confused when her mate's grin falters.

“(Y/N) comes and goes. It’s hard for her to stay in one place for to long. When her and Azriel first mated he was around for a long time, a valuable member of the inner circle. About 60 years ago her younger sister went missing, she just disappeared one day. Little Sarah, was just a mere 16 years old—much younger than all of us. We never found her,” Rhys pauses, taking a deep breath. “(Y/N) can’t let it go. She won’t stay here long before she has to go back out and we let her go and just hope she’ll return home with her sister one day.”

“Oh, gods,” Feyre gasps, knowing if it were her sisters she would never stop looking either. “I can’t say I blame her. But 60 years? (Y/N) still has hope her sister is out there?”

That is silent, his eyes flicking down to the floor and Feyre feel a tug on their bond. A sad thing and she frowns.

“You all think she is?” She asks and Rhy sighs

“Honestly? I don’t know. I feel like anything is possibly until we know otherwise. Best case scenario she’s found and returned home. Worst case scenario we find out she’s…gone and we avenge her death in any way we can.”

“You all must have really loved her?” Feyre breaths, grasping her mate's hand.

“(Y/N)’s mother died giving birth to little Sarah. (Y/N) and Azriel raised her here in the House of Wind—we all did. When she was lost…it was devastating. We searched endlessly for years before we had to make the decision to stop. (Y/N) stopped for 3 years and stayed here with Azriel but she soon became restless. She needed answers about her sister and she couldn’t find them here. It was a hard day when she decided to leave. Azriel almost went with her but she talked him out of it, telling him he needed to stay here. He sees her more than we do of course, he’ll travel to her when he can. She only pops in here once in a blue moon, I think it’s too painful for her to come home to where she raised that child and not have her here.” Rhys explains, emotional and sympathetic. The loss of a friend and a child had to have been hard on them all.

“I hope to meet her one day, she seems lovely,” Feyre offers, and Rhys violet eyes meet hers lovingly.

“You two will be quick friends, just like you and Mor,” Rhys grins, and Feyre makes it a mental point to talk to Azriel—to check in on her friend knowing the situation he’s in is not an easy one to deal with.

——————————

2 Weeks Later

I slid through the shadows of the familiar halls I knew so well. I could hear voices and laughter drifting down the corridors and smirked to myself. Everyone was here, perfect. I looked up winnowing myself into the rafters, tucking my wings tightly and letting my body shift further into the shadows as it moved closer and closer to them.

Five people sitting around a dining table—only one missing. Food and wine scattered about as they talked and laughed. I grinned, lifting my shield just enough to let the shadows and house know someone was here before concealing myself completely again, watching as the three males at the table instantly became alerted to the presence of an unknown guest.

Mutterings of someone being in the house started and I laughed to myself jumping to another rafter. I half lifted my shield again, jumping to another rafter, all heads snapping above. Continuing until I was above one specific Illyrian before dropping down—gasps and shouts echoed around the room as I landed on his shoulders, shadows trying to wiggle past my shield to fight off the threat before I completely lifted it. Grinning down at my mate as I crouched on his shoulders.

“Long time no see,” I told him sweetly, bending down to kiss him.

“(Y/N)!” He exclaimed, reaching around to grab me and pull me into his arms.

Those shouts and exclamations turned into ones of my name and I laughed as my family gathered around prying me away from Azriel so they could get hugs of their own.

“You always did like to make a dramatic entrance,” Rhys grinned and I laughed as I hugged him, the second to last person standing around me.

I turned my attention to the female standing next to him hugging her as well, knowing exactly who she was.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Feyre,” I said, pulling back to look between her and Rhy. “I’ve heard so much about you from Az. I’m honored to finally meet you. I apologize for waiting so long to officially meet you.”

I take a step back, letting my mate envelop me in his arms once again.

“Oh, no apologies necessary, I’m glad you’re here now,” Feyre smiled warmly—her energy warm and inviting. “Will you be joining us?”

“Only for a bit before I drag my mate away,” I grinned up at him, the others around us laughing.

“I might drag you away first,” He growled, shadows tangling around us making me laugh.

The others snickered and made lewd jokes as they dispersed back towards the table.

My chair next to Azriel’s was waiting for me. I sit and his shadows twirl around me lovingly as he fixes a plate for me—a glass of wine appearing in front of me at the snap of Rhy’s fingers. I grin at him happily snatching the glass up and downing half of it in a large sip.

The night is wonderful, I’m seated next to Rhy who’s at the head of the table, Feyre on his other side and directly in front of me. I enjoy getting to know her—Rhy’s mate. They fit together so well. I enjoy catching up with cassian and Mor, oh how I missed her. I was endlessly happy to be back with my family.

———————

The Next Day

I woke up before the sun rose. I didn’t sleep much the night before. After Azriel and I dragged one another out of the dining room and to our shared quarters we made love over and over again to make up for time spent apart.

I had missed him so much. His hands on my body, his lips on my skin, how he would stroke my wings, his scent, the way his shadows would caress my body as he slowly took me apart with his mouth and fingers before filling me up and our silent communication—a bond only mated pairs know. It was always the perfect feeling, being with him after so long.

I couldn’t sleep though, I hadn’t slept well in this house in decades. So, I got up and dressed, kissed Azriel’s forehead and headed out into the dim hallway. I made my way to the training deck, I needed to burn off some of my pent up energy—to my surprise Feyre was standing there, hands wrapped and a few strands of hair stuck to her sweaty forehead.

“High Lady,” I grinned as our eyes met, a pretty smile spreading across her own lips—she really was as beautiful as everyone said.

“I wasn’t expecting anyone else to be awake,” She says, pushing the hair off of her forehead.

“I don’t sleep well here,” I shrug and she nods, a look of understanding in her eyes that lets me know she knows why.

“Would you care for a morning spar?” She asks, gesturing to the opening.

“Oh hell yeah,” I nod excitedly.

We spar for hours. She’s good. I can tell she was trained by the boys—but I was able to teach her a few moves of my own. She caught on quick too—putting me on my ass only after a few tries of each move.

We bantered back and forth, playful jabs of sarcasm. It was nice. I used to love sparring with Mor, too…back when I was around long enough to actually train with her that is.

“Do you yield, high lady?” I sneer mockingly, dagger pressed under her chin as I straddle her chest, knees on her elbows pinning her effectively.

I’m keenly aware when there’s a presence of another but I don’t let it distract me, my attention focused on the woman under me.

“No,” She grunts, bucking hard enough to throw me off, sending the dagger tumbling from my hand. She’s on top of me then, forearm pressed against my throat. “Do you yield, (Y/N)?”

I tap the ground three times watching her grin form before she slides off of me, sitting to my left, both of us breathless. I let my eyes find him then, standing there arms across his chest looking gorgeous in the early morning sun—I can’t help but smile at him.

“I’ll give you two a few minutes,” Feyre says with a knowing smirk, pushing up and heading inside past Azriel with a smirk in his direction, too.

As soon as we’re alone he’s on me. Hands, mouth and shadows on every inch of skin he can get to. It wasn’t the worst way to finish off the morning.

Breaking apart only when Rhys called us inside, an urgency in his voice I hadn’t heard in a very long time.

An urgency that had every instinct in my body on alert.

#so excited for this series #what is so urgent for Rhys to speak with them?#Feyre and y/n are the best together #acotar #acomaf #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel fanfic #shadow dance

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praisethesuuun · 8 months

Note

If you are still doing requests for record of Ragnarok??

If so can I please have a deaf/ hard of hearing reader. Doesn't have to be romantic. Everything in life is like an misinterpreted lyrics video 😂

•adam (paternally)

•zerofuku

•buddha

(as a certified dead person I don't mind communicating about any questions you have)

I really hope I did it good, dear🌻☀️my father also has problems hearing, so I tried to base myself with my experienced with him too

RoR characters headcanons: them with a deaf!reader

ADAM

🍃Adam's sixth father sense is always active when you are with him. He is always attentive whenever you need something, ALWAYS; and tries his best to make your life easier.

🍃Speaks very slowly when you are together, enunciating the words well and letting you see the way his mouth pronounces each single letter. He's sure you won't miss anything, so he's all over you if he sees you struggling.

🍃Adam doesn't hesitate to pick on anyone who makes fun of you or tries to pick a fight, using the excuse of deafness to insult you. He immediately takes your defense, but does not start a fight in front of you, in fact Abel has the task of covering your eyes.

🍃Together with Adam, Cain and Abel will do their best to learn how to interact with you, always inventing a different and fun way to not make your situation weigh too much. Even if, in the end, it will always be Eve who consoles you and tries harder...what a proud mother she is!

ZEROFUKU

🍀Probably, Zerofuku met you during one of his many journeys on earth, remaining intrigued by your condition given the way in which you interacted differently with those around you. Initially, he thought you were being rude, since you didn't respond when he tried to get your attention from a distance.

🍀Every time he starts talking quickly and enthusiastically about his days, Zerofuku gets lost in his little fantasy world, only stopping when he sees your thoughtful face and your half-closed eyes peering into his soul. Then he realizes his mistake, apologizing profusely and realizing that, of his speech, you understood only a few words.

🍀But for him it is not a problem! The God of Fortune starts over again, looking at you all the time and speaking loud and clear, enunciating the words! Don't worry, he would spend hours talking to you and never loses his temper.

🍀He always tries to save you from embarrassing situations, and if he sees that someone misunderstands your intentions or your behavior, Zerofuku explains your condition to them, hoping to do good.

BUDDHA

🍬"Oh, you're ignoring me? You do what you want, I respect that"

"Sorry, did you say something?"

"Yeah, just like that...cool. I like your attitude"

🍬You two become friends and you have no clue how it happened, it will always remain a mystery to you. The only thing you know is that, one day, he liked you, and now you have to get along with it. Expect lots of jokes from him: Buddha may move his mouth in front of you, not uttering a sound and inventing non-existent words, and then burst out laughing at your confused and complex face.

🍬Expect to get in some trouble with him. If he sees that someone wants to get your attention, but you ignore him because you just don't hear him, Buddha will start making up the weirdest stories to justify your lack of reaction. He would approach the person in question, saying that you are a princess and that you have no time to waste with them, or he makes up that you are his girlfriend and that they should let it go. But the Enlightened lets no one dare to get angry with you, Buddha becomes your personal protector.

🍬If he sees you're having trouble with too high a decibel sound, Buddha immediately whisks you away from that seat, plugging your ears and making sure you're okay. He gives you a candy and then pats your head, the important thing is that you are fine now.

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ramblingthoughtsofayoungadult · 5 months

Text

Unpredictable, Part 5-Limoreau x black!fem!reader fic

A/N: Again, thank you for all the love on this. It started off as a one-off and I'm glad people enjoy it. Please keep letting me know what you think!

Warnings: some violence, some mention of issues with eating, swearing, allusions to sensuality.

Word Count: 3.4k

Series Masterlist

For a while, all I could hear was my heart beating in my ears. Even though I could see everyone’s mouths moving, their words were muffled. If I could understand, I didn’t know if I’d be able to speak.

Was I breathing? Yes, it was just a little erratic.

Focus, Y/N, focus. There are more important things going on right now.

I held in a breath for a few seconds and then exhaled. It was fine, everything was fine. Emma was alive, Jordan and Marie were together, and I was breathing. It didn’t matter if my chest felt like it was on fire.

“Y/N!”

I jumped at the sound of my name and snapped my attention to Marie. Her eyebrows knitted together as we made eye contact. Then, I realized that they were all looking at me and swallowed.

“Um, sorry?” I uttered.

“We were just saying that we need to stop Sam from doing something to Dr. Cardoza,” Jordan explained.

I nodded slowly, willing my brain to start working. “Okay.”

“Can you sense anything about what might happen?” Emma asked.

“I can try.”

I closed my eyes but as soon as I tried to picture Sam, it felt like someone smacked a percussion mallet against my head. I flinched and started rubbing my temples.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” Marie asked.

I carefully opened my eyes and straightened back up. “I can’t see anything. I think I used my powers too much because I’m getting a migraine.”

“Sorry,” Emma muttered sheepishly.

If I didn’t think my brain would throb out of my head, I would have playfully elbowed her. Instead, I massaged my temples and sat on Emma’s bed. The racing thoughts and my ability were starting to become too much for my brain to handle. If only there was a way besides alcohol or weed to shut it off for a bit.

“Maybe you should stay behind,” Marie proposed gently.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and kept my eyes on the toes of my black Prada loafers.

You should stay behind since you’re useless.

“Yeah, I don’t want to hold you all back,” I agreed. “I’m feeling nauseous anyway.”

“That’s not what I meant. I mean---” Marie paused as she stepped closer to me.

I tried to force my muscles to relax as she squatted in front of me and placed her hands on my shoulders. It was hard to know where to look since she was right in front of me.

“Your blood sugar is really low,” she stated.

“You can see that?” Emma and I unisoned.

Marie didn’t acknowledge us as her eyes glided to meet my own. Suddenly, my chest didn’t feel like it was on fire but more like it was melting. I didn’t know which one was better.

“Have you eaten anything today?” she asked.

“Yes,” I answered.

“Besides the protein bar, I gave you,” Jordan commented, striding over to stand next to Marie.

He looked like a disappointed mother and made me want to shrink further away from everyone.

“I’ve been a little busy trying to help you guys solve a mystery, find my best friend, and keep up with school and Si Chi,” I defended. “I can take care of myself; just go find Andre and Cate and they can help you stop Sam.”

Jordan scoffed. “Obviously, you can’t be trusted to do that, freshie.”

“Don’t call me that,” I bit.

My tone wasn’t supposed to be that harsh and I wasn’t sure why I even said it in the first place; it just flew out of my mouth.

“Sorry, I don’t know why I said that,” I quickly apologized.

“It’s because you’re hangry; you turn into a monster every time,” Emma said.

“No, I don’t!”

“Do I need to remind you about how I had to stop you from ripping a girl’s hair out because you didn’t have a snack?” Emma retorted.

“How old were you?” Marie asked.

“Thirteen,” Emma and I answered.

“I guess I got off pretty easy,” Jordan joked.

My eyes flew back down to my shoes as the others chuckled and I wrapped my arms around me. Seconds later, Marie’s hands gently grabbed mine and she pulled me to my feet.

“Why don’t we stop by Vought-a-Burger before this…adventure?” she suggested.

I wrinkled my nose at the thought of greasy food, but my growling stomach agreed. “But I don’t know if my powers will work.”

“We can’t leave a member of Mystery Incorporated behind,” Jordan teased.

When I finally looked up, they all looked determined and I had a feeling that even with my best efforts, I couldn’t argue with them. I could feel some relief bubbling up in the pit of my stomach.

“I call dibs on Velma,” I managed.

Honestly, it would have been nice to have some space from Jordan and Marie so I could process my thoughts. They swirled around my brain like a tornado and destroyed everything in their path. The cheeseburger and fries that I had eased some of it, but I was still functioning at about half my capacity.

It didn’t help that every time I blinked, the image of Jordan and Marie kissing flooded my brain. They were so passionate that I almost felt bad for interrupting. They both held each other like they were afraid that the other would disappear if they didn’t. I thought that kind of thing only existed in movies but I guessed they were the lucky ones. It was so stupid that I was so close to buying into Emma’s delusion; they obviously didn’t like me. Plus, I’d wanted them to like each other since their rivalry started so I got what I wanted.

Didn’t I?

“What?” Emma asked.

I jumped in her lap, realizing that I was in the back of Andre’s car. The sun was almost down, and I could hardly see any of the trees or houses we passed on either side of the road. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that Marie and Jordan seemed to be trying very hard not to touch each other.

“Nothing, sorry,” I muttered back.

“So, what are Sam’s powers again?” Jordan asked.

“He’s crazy strong; it was really hard to take him down that one time,” Andre replied.

“He’s also basically indestructible. I saw him rip off so many guards’ heads in the Woods,” Emma added.

“Why do you sound like you enjoyed it?” I asked.

“I didn’t,” she insisted. “It was impressive, though.”

I laughed but it was hollower than my usual laugh, but no one would notice.

“So, he’s basically like Jordan’s male form,” Marie concluded.

“Great, chemically imbalanced and strong; perfect combination,” Cate dryly stated from the front.

“And what’s our plan of attack?” Andre asked.

“Well, we need Cardoza alive if we’re going to find out anything else about the Woods and we also need Sam alive as a witness,” I observed.

“So, we should detain Sam and keep Dr. Cardoza safe,” Marie concluded.

“And it sounds like it will take all of us to do that,” Jordan added.

I shrugged and leaned back against Emma. “Well, not all of us.”

Marie’s hand nudged mine. “Hey, are you still not feeling okay?”

“I’m feeling better but with how you all described Sam, I’m not a good match, especially not like this,” I replied.

“Then you can help me get Dr. Cardoza and his family out of the house,” Cate offered.

“Okay.”

“And let me try to talk to Sam before we do anything…violent; we connected,” Emma insisted.

“Emma has a boyfriend,” I sang.

“Shut up!”

“You first!”

A few minutes later, Andre parked around the corner from Dr. Cardoza’s house. He lived in a nice neighborhood where the neighbors were spread out enough that they would not notice six strangers sneaking through greenery to reach the targeted house. Andre led the group with Jordan not too far behind him and Emma and Marie in the middle. Somehow, Cate and I took up the rear and I chuckled.

“If this was a horror movie, we’d be screwed,” I commented.

“No, if anything, we’d be the reason everyone lives because we would know the killer or the demon or whatever was coming,” Cate playfully refuted. “I know this is kind of shitty timing but what’s going on with you?”

I hesitated. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you’re zoning out way more than usual and even though you love solving crimes and mysteries in class, you’re acting like we’re holding you hostage.”

Sometimes, I thought Cate didn’t need her powers; she was already super observant.

“I said I wasn’t feeling well earlier but they all insisted that I come along,” I explained.

“‘They’ as in Emma, Jordan, and Marie?” she asked.

I nodded. “I tried to stay behind but they wouldn’t let me.”

“So, what happened with Jordan and Marie?”

I balked. “What makes you think this has anything to do with them?”

Cate paused in her steps and arched an eyebrow. “I don’t have to be a mind reader to know that something’s up with you three. You’re all acting super tense and it’s weirding me out.”

As quickly and quietly as I could, I explained everything that happened once Emma and I got back to her dorm. Cate nodded and her expression barely changed as I spoke.

“It’s okay to be jealous, Y/N,” Cate concluded.

“But I’m not jealous; there’s nothing to be jealous of. They’re my friends and now they’re…something else, with each other, and that one time I kissed Jordan doesn’t count---” “What?” Cate exclaimed.

“It doesn’t matter. What matters is we’re supposed to be helping a crooked doctor not be pulverized by Luke’s little brother.” “Oh no, it matters. I need context if I’m going to help you.”

“It was during a sparring match; I had a vision it would help me win and it did, happy?”

“Very; you’re making progress out of your denial. Now, if you would admit that you’re jealous, you’d be even better.”

Before I could argue that I wasn’t jealous, we’d reached the front door. Andre signaled us to be quiet, which made Jordan roll his eyes, and pushed the door open. As soon as we walked it, the scent of homemade pasta and general coziness cloaked us. The house was nice and modern but eerily quiet. When we made it to the foyer, Andre signaled for us to split up.

“Who made you the leader?” Jordan hissed.

“Do you have a better idea?” Andre quietly shot back.

As they were about to continue arguing, someone started shouting from another room. We ended up splitting up, Cate, Emma, and me in one group and Jordan, Andre, and Marie in the other. After some navigating, we all ended up in the kitchen, where Dr. Cardoza and his family were cowering under Sam’s glare. In person, he was much taller and more intimidating. His glare was fiery and his jaws were clenched so tight I wondered if he broke skin.

“Sam, I’m Andre, I knew your brother, Luke, and I know he wouldn’t want you to do this,” Andre implored, calmly approaching Sam from one side.

Sam whirled around towards Andre. “I know you, you caught me when I escaped!” Andre pressed his hand to his chest. “I’m sorry about that, man, I am. I wouldn’t have done that if I knew what was going on.”

“Let us help you,” Cate added.

“Help me, how can you help me? They’ll just send me back there!” Sam turned back to Dr. Cardoza. “No, the only person who can help me is dead and the only thing that can help me stay away from the Woods is if he is dead.”

“Sam, don’t do this!” Emma pleaded.

Sam paused for a second and the look he gave her was chilling. It wasn’t scary but it was like he had given up in a way.

“Don’t try to get in the way, Emma,” he warned.

“But if he dies, they’ll send you back,” I blurted out.

His eyes snapped to mine and I tried to steady myself.

“She’s right, Sam, they’ll send you back. I can help you too,” Dr. Cardoza added.

“SHUT UP!” Sam roared.

I flinched at the noise. “The only way you win is to let him live. You won’t like it but you can’t kill everyone.”

“I can get pretty close.”

At the same time Sam began approaching Dr. Cardoza and his family, Andre started using his powers to slow him down. The screech of his shoes against the wooden floor grated my ears but all I could do was watch as Sam faced Andre and shoved him with so much force that he went flying into another room.

Cate grabbing my wrist snapped me out of my fog and I let her drag me to the other side of the kitchen island, where Dr. Cardoza and his family were still in shock. Cate grabbed Dr. Cardoza’s arm.

“Come with us if you don’t want your face punched in,” she instructed.

Dr. Cardoza and his partner seemed to hesitate but their daughter stepped towards me.

“We don’t have a lot of time!” I insisted.

The two men shared a glance before following Cate and I out of the kitchen, through some hallways, and outside.

“Stay in whatever motel or hotel you can get to and drive fast,” Cate panted, her breath visible in the cool air.

The family agreed and Dr. Cardoza’s partner started helping their daughter into the car while Dr. Cardoza faced us.

“I don’t know how we can thank you for saving us,” he expressed, his voice choked.

“Don’t get killed,” Cate offered.

He nodded and as quickly as he could, he scrambled into the car and Cate and I watched them speed down the road.

“Well, that part went well,” I noted.

Cate nodded. “Hopefully, they’ll keep a low profile.”

Then, there was a loud crash inside. As Cate and I ran back into the house, there were several more crashes and destructive sounds. I thought my feet moved quicker than they probably did in reality but when I finally got to the kitchen, it wasn’t good. Andre was still passed out on the living room floor and Marie had long blood tendrils wrapped around Sam’s ankles as he tried to approach Jordan. Sam looked like a rabid animal as he fought to move and snatched at the blood around him. Somehow, he managed to fling it off and flung Marie across the room as well.

She landed with a yelp and I instantly bolted forward. Once I reached Marie’s side, I started looking her over.

“Are you okay? Is anything broken?” I rambled.

“I’m fine. Y/N!”

Her exclamation came a little late as my head jerked back violently and I was pulled to my feet. The pain was so distracting that it took a few seconds for me to recognize Sam was holding me by a handful of braids.

“You helped them leave,” he stated.

My mind raced for anything to get him to let go of me. This was different from any other spar I was in; in those situations, it was clear that the other person wasn’t going to fatally hurt me and that it was all practice. With Sam, I was positive he would kill me if he could. We never talked about what to do in these situations.

“You were going to hurt the family too…they have nothing to do with this,” I gasped.

Sam tightened his already iron grip and I yelped. “Don’t do that; you’re not real!” “Let her go, Sam,” Jordan rasped.

I glanced up and noticed him slowly approaching Sam from behind. Jordan’s eyes were darker than usual and trained on Sam. His jaw tightened and something strange ran up the back of my neck.

“Don’t hurt him,” I pleaded.

“We said we wouldn’t kill him. Anyone can get hurt in a fight,” Jordan said, eyes never leaving Sam.

Desperately, my hands clawed at Sam’s but he didn’t move. Instead, he turned his head towards Jordan and challenged him with his eyes.

“Oh, do you like her or something?”

Jordan seemed to hesitate and I frowned at his response. Jordan never cracked under pressure, especially not when it came to fights.

Then, blood splattered across Sam’s face and he released me with a shout. My knees stung as I hit the ground and I scrambled onto my feet, narrowly running into Marie, who pulled me towards the dining room. There, Cate was standing in front of the table, watching the scene stunned while Emma ran over to us.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

“Yeah, but my head’s really sore.” I turned to Marie and thanked her.

“You’re welcome,” she responded.

We couldn’t talk as Jordan and Sam began struggling. They were both basically at a standstill and holding each other off, both their feet digging into the floor. After a few seconds, Sam yelled and started pushing Jordan, creating cracks under his feet. Then, Jordan shifted, slipped from Sam’s grip, and got behind him. Before Sam could turn, she sent an energy blast at him that knocked him through the glass door leading to the backyard.

Jordan ran after him, and Marie and I trailed after her. Sam was writhing on the grass holding his side but it was easy to tell that he could get back to fighting if he wanted to. A moment later, Andre limped outside and stood next to me.

“Okay, what do we do now?” he asked.

“He’s not even getting tired,” Jordan spat.

“If Cate can get close enough, she could get him to calm down,” I breathed. “Where did she go?”

Before anyone could answer, we were interrupted by the ground shaking beneath us. All we needed was an earthquake to cap this perfect night. However, it wasn’t a natural disaster causing the ground to shake, it was Emma. She emerged from the house about nine feet tall and she moved slowly towards Sam.

“Emma?” Marie asked.

“You can get big?” I chimed.

“Can we talk about this later?” Emma voiced.

In three steps, she stepped over the four of us, reached Sam, and carefully pinned him to the ground. Sam instantly began wriggling under her grip.

“Let me go!” he roared.

“No, Sam, you’re just gonna hurt yourself and other people.” Emma looked over at us. “We need to---”

Waking up after going out was always a strange experience. Sometimes, I felt like I’d been poisoned and stayed in bed all day. Other times, I woke up sleeping next to one of my Si Chi sisters or a friend in someone else’s dorm or house. That day was different since I was rudely awakened from a deep sleep.

“Shit, sorry!” a male voice called before a door slammed closed.

The sheets shifted around me, and I groaned as I started to tug them back over me, refusing to open my eyes. My body felt much heavier than usual and as I shifted, my leg touched something warm and soft. It almost felt like someone else’s leg and that guy who left sounded like Andre.

My mind was still halfway in a dream as my eyes blinked open. It felt like my body was fighting between consciousness and unconsciousness and unconsciousness was so close to winning. At some point in my blinking, I noticed that the sheets wrapped around me were gray.

Weird, I thought, mine are powder blue.

“Y/N, wake up,” a feminine voice urged.

“Five more minutes,” I whined.

The owner of the voice started softly pushing my back and their hand warmed up my back.

Wait, their hand was touching my bare back.

I bolted upright, the sheets falling into my lap. My eyes scanned the room and instead of pristine Etsy printouts and tasteful home décor accenting ivory walls, the off-white walls were peeling and covered in graffiti. My breathing was heavy as I glanced to my left and found Marie sheepishly looking at me, holding the sheets up to her chest.

We didn’t, we couldn’t have. This made no sense; we barely spoke since…since something. It felt like there was a gap in my brain but all I knew was that this didn’t quite feel right. But also, my heart skipped a beat when our eyes met. Then, my legs and everything else below my waist suddenly felt sore, and the more I thought about it, so did my chest and neck.

“Morning, freshie,” Jordan sang.

I gasped and my head snapped to the right. They were in their feminine form and eyeing me in a way that was not helping my breathing. When their eyes trailed down, I remembered my chest was exposed and quickly yanked the sheets up to my chin.

What the hell happened last night?

#black!reader #jordan li x reader #gen v x reader #limoreau x reader #marie moreau x reader

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