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dragongirlpoet · 7 months ago

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Dark Signs 3

Summary: As Alucard grapples with his grief over what he has done, secrets are unveiled and graver foes awaken. Is it too late to save you? (Plot takes off months before *that ending* in part 2. Some parts are off-canon.)

This chapter is written in Alucard’s POV.

Themes: Dark fantasy, horror, romance, angst I Words: 4k

Warnings: MDNI. Horror, blood, gore, violence, religious themes, mentions of suicide, grief, depression, anxiety, slight smut

Pt I I Pt II I Pt IV

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To the lovely folks who are holding out for part 3, thank you! 💛 Sorry I couldn’t put this out sooner.

@s-i-l-v-e @kawaiiskeletoneggsnerd @celly-fahrenheit @skychaser777

I tasted blood, cherry and salt.

And I wanted more, more, more.

We were tangled in each other, our bodies suspended in the cosmic cerulean of the deep ocean.

She was my salvation. Her kiss was my atonement. And her blood, oh her blood…it was a gift so heavenly. All my immortal life had desired only that very thing, and now that I had it, I couldn’t let go.

Every shred of my primordial essence — powerful yet cursed, now entombed in the marrows of her soul. My blood now flowed in hers, as her blood, mine. We were fused as one, we were divine.

My darling’s fingers traced the sharps of my jaw as she kissed me, our married blood spilling from her mouth, diluting the water. They formed red rivulets around us, as if in symbolic reverence that we were the almighty givers of ichor.

We were safe, entwined together in eternal damnation.

I love her. I love her so deeply that I’d doomed her with my blood curse, so I could have her by my side till the sun swallowed us whole. And for that, I’d forever fester in my blasphemous sin.

“Adrian…” she seemed to say, but the snare of the ocean strangled her words, slowed our every caress… as if time at all wanted to still for our undying love.

Oh what I would give to hear her voice — seraphic, like a birdsong, my name chaste upon her lips.

Her ivory chemise clung to her body like sculpted granite, her nipples just peeking through. They were for my eyes only. Yes…her being, her blood, her body…they all belonged to me.

But in that sacred moment, something felt…amiss. There were those jade-green veins, palpable under her eyes… they ran like fine cracks on marble, so like those on a delicately-carved statue.

Raven hair hovered around her tiny frame, resembling venomous serpents held buoyant by witchcraft. They were so in contrast to my gold, like the exact moment dusk bled into dawn.

There was the red rivulet again, this time saturating the white ribbons of her nightdress. They coiled around my arms, binding me to her. Not that I’d ever let go.

But I had to, for her lingering touch was frost impaling even my vampiric skin. Why was she so cold?

“Adrian…” again she seemed to call out.

Her eyes, despite being underwater, were wide open, the blacks of them bereft of the soul I once knew. She was pale. So pale. And she looked every bit the angel of death.

My angel…when did she slip from my arms?

Our fingers entwined one last time, before a sombre gloom dragged her under. Slowly she sank, like a fallen star ousted by the heavens, syphoned of its light.

But I’m right here, darling. Stay.

I willed all of my immortal power to reach for her outstretched hands, but my body was deadened, as if held prisoner by spirit shackles. Further and further she sank from me, and I so terribly wanted to tell her that wasn’t where she was supposed to go.

Words evaded me, as my tears had.

The hollow abyss seemed to rise up — impatient, almost — to receive its new sacrifice.

Blood gushed from her mouth — they were viscid, as if so thickened they had to be forced out or she would choke. The blood kept coming. They streamed out of the sockets of her eyes, running like bloody tears of the living dead.

They say that monsters like us lack the ability to fear, yet I’d never felt more afraid than I did then. The love of my life, drowning, dying, yet I could do wholly nothing. Alucard, son of Dracula — weak, worthless…

A fissure cracked her chest open, the cavity creeping wide to reveal her beating heart. Her human heart.

The blood kept coming.

“Come back to me…” I begged, the futility of it sickening me.

Still, she descended. I watched in horror as the godless ocean buried her in its oblivion, until all I was made to see was the compunction of my sins.

On her neck that I used to so lavish with kisses, lay the wounds only a wretch like me could inflict.

I did it. I killed her.

“Adrian…”

____________

I jolted awake.

A numbing despair perforated my insides, a feeling I knew all too well. I stared out the window through heavy eyelids, the red moon magnified by sweat teardrops trickling through my eyelashes.

For a long moment I just sat there, my lungs crushed by torment, my heart shattered by grief. I’d lost count of the nightmares that had plagued me over the decade…no, it’s been 96 years, Adrian. A century. A century she’s been gone.

What was I living for?

Memories I longed to forget writhed their way into my mind, forcing me to once again relive the hell that fateful night.

I had sat in the castle hall for days, her lifeless body cradled in my arms. My eyes burned from tears, and I wanted to die. I fed her so much of my blood, my immortal blood, still she slept. I summoned spirits, conjured the most powerful of magicks, still, she slept. My hope hanging by a thread, I fused my father’s sciences with my mother’s elixirs…still, she slept.

I was about to drive my own sword into my heart — the only one ensorcelled enough to kill a dhampir, when a familiar voice stopped my contemptible deed.

“Alucard! This place reeks of death, and here I thought we’d gotten rid of your father long ago.”

“Stop it, Belmont!”

“What? He may be pristine but his home sure isn’t. Alucard! Honey, we’re home!”

“Will you stop yelling?”

“Alucard’s probably busy shoving it in her, ha. I need to make sure he can hear me above their grunts and moans. Have you forgotten how loud you get, Sypha?”

“You’re disgusting, Belmont.”

“Alucard! Ah, there you are. In the hall, really? You two really are something. Do you have food? I’m starving. I…”

“Belmont.”

“Fine, fine. Beer is good as w…”

“Belmont!”

It took Belmont a long minute before he alas perceived what Sypha meant. My two dearest friends — immobile in silent trepidation, distress distinct on their faces.

“What happened, Alucard? Was she attacked?” Sypha was the first to speak. As always, her presence seemed to bring solace, but it dissipated promptly.

“I killed her, Sy…Sypha. She asked mmme… to…tto turn her, and I…I drank too much…I killed her.”

Mere speaking incinerated my throat, and it was then I’d realised I hadn’t stopped crying. I could scarce breathe through my wheezing, let alone enunciate words.

“I…I tried ever…rything, help me please…ppplease…save her please…”

Belmont, in a rare display of empathy, knelt beside us and took my hand in his. “We will find a way to save her, and we will not stop until we do. I promise.”

At his oath, I collapsed into Belmont’s arms. Anguish, shame, relief…they all coursed through my body — my face buried in his shoulders, weeping. Every emotion that I’d held in, all unfettered at the fact that I had someone, that I wasn’t alone to fight my battles.

“Fault yourself not, Alucard. She never would’ve blamed you.” Sypha’s voice was soft, soothing, enveloping us in a reassuring embrace. I fell apart completely.

A loud pounding at the doors disturbed our bittersweet reunion, arousing our every alarm. There seemed to be a clamour of sorts — yelling, mocking…definitely humans. Belmont took to receive the unusual affair, leaving a gap just wide enough to acknowledge a throng of men — bishops, priests and followers of the church.

“I don’t remember ever calling for your conceited services, Father.” Belmont sneered.

“It’s Father Caine to you, and I could hardly expect couth coming from especially you. Excommunicated and still, never learning the error of your ways…

I sense a great evil here…more so than I daresay…Dracula himself. Forgive our ruckus, for we, the good men, merely wish to rid the town of all that is malign…Hand the girl over, and all shall be well.”

Sypha and I exchanged uneasy looks. What was he talking about?

Belmont, entirely irked by the bishop’s pretentious drivel, was barely holding it in. “Take your horseshit hubris and shove it up your a…”

“Oh, but don’t you want to know why we want the girl? Not the speaker-magician…the dhampir’s lover.”

What?

The dastardly bishop, words of scorn and malice, continued, “She now has the blood curse of the dhampir, and something in that transformation awoke creatures of the night…dark, hateful creatures…ones that possess an ancient evil…It is easy. We exorcise and burn her body, and as I’ve said…all shall be well.”

Blood searing in my veins, I raced past Belmont, the parasite parish’s body dangling midair in my chokehold. Eyes bloodshot and fangs hungry, I crushed his throat harder. He let out pathetic struggles of breath, rosary still firmly clasped in his hand.

“Where is your God now, Father? If we are the impurity you so seek to vanquish, then what of the innocents you slaughtered unrepentently, all because they did not fit your cause?”

I thought of my mother, the Belmonts, the heathens who simply held their own beliefs…and most of all, I thought of my sweet angel, so kind and full of love…

“What the…” Belmont cursed when we were doused with buckets of Holy Water. The “Men of God” started chanting prayers, as if their contrived communion would somehow free their pious leader.

I let out a laugh.

“The absolute gall you have, Father. Despite my mourning, I shall grant you this last mercy. Command your men to leave and never again return, and I shall kill only you. Fail to do so, and I’ll rip the tendons from all your wicked hearts. After all, I am a monster, am I not?”

A few men flinched at my words, casting hesitant glances to the others, while some implored Father Caine to choose wisely. Such cowards.

The bishop shifted a little in my grip, a faint smirk splayed across his face. “M…ark my words, vampire. Dark times ar…are ahead…The girl must di…”

I tore his heart right out of his ribs.

He was right. I was a vampire. I was omni-sentient. I was a monster and a God all at the same time. The farcical impudence he had to order the execution of my beloved…Anyone who touches her will die.

With his blood on my hands, I felt my hunger creep in once again, ripping off the human mask I wore like a virtue. I needed to feed.

It wasn’t until Belmont started swinging his Morningstar than I realised the tumult that had ensued. “And God shits in my dinner once again…Alucard! Left!”

Veins palpitating from the heart I’d just consumed, I saw that the rest of the church, quite possibly under the predetermined order of the bishop, lit a pyre that massacred the foliage we used to read under, devoured the quince fruit trees we so loved to frolic around.

They will all die.

“Get back!” Sypha cried, mutating the fire into swirls that wavered to her bidding. She channelled them towards the men, trapping them in rings of flame. Out of nowhere, fire arrows flew in our direction, narrowly missing Sypha’s face. That was enough to send Belmont into a scalding rage.

His Morningstar cleaved through half of the men, dismembering some, dissecting others. My estoc weaved through throats and hearts, beheading some, mutilating others. The tragic irony of it all — the very men whose sole mission was to protect mankind, to do good, on an aimless rampage to kill because of a misguided prophecy.

And so the fighting went on for months, years... Night creatures, more members of the parish, vampires seeking a new world order…valiant efforts, alas they were no more than vermins effortlessly exterminated by us three.

We weren’t certain why they had kept showing up. Whether it was a curse set off by my turning her, or the fact that they simply wanted us dead…it mattered not, nor did I make it my business to find out. I was going to kill them all.

Sypha and Belmont had kept to their promise. Come hell or high water, they stuck with me, even moving into the castle with their son. We battled foes, and never once did they abandon their cause to revive the love of my life.

“Alucard, you need to seal her. Keep her somewhere safe, where no one but you can find,” Sypha had one day told me. I was no fool, I’d known they wouldn’t be around forever, and if I’d succumbed to my grief, all their efforts would’ve been in vain.

“Promise me that when she wakes, you two will look after our kids, and grandkids, and great-grandkids, and…” Belmont trailed off, seemingly stumped by staple discourse.

“They’re called descendants, you idiot.” Sypha rolled her eyes.

Managing a genuine smile I haven’t had in a long while, I replied, “I promise.”

“My lord.”

I wasn’t sure if I wanted to yet leave my reverie.

“My lord,” Centrio again addressed, this time with more urgency. There, bowing by the door, dressed in fine leather that I had gifted, stood the first human I’d turned after…her. I’d found him by the docks, and he was all but an emanciated vagrant on the brink of death. Perhaps it was the matyr in me, but I thought it more I had wanted to experiment…if he indeed turned, perhaps there was a way…

“The council is ready for you.”

Donning my guise of Imperious Vampire Overlord — terrifying, deadly, merciless — I made my way down to the great hall with my most loyal emissary. I clutched at the pendant around my neck — a vial forged with obsidian and laced with gold, encased with her blood. It was the only way I could feel her if she woke.

An excruciating sorrow once again took shape, like an enemy planting tiny splinters in my heart, except those splinters were tainted with the most malevolent of poisons, inching slowly to ravage my vital core.

“My lord,”

The council all greeted in unison, heads bowed in utter veneration. Men, women, young, old…I had sired them all. To have a contingency if I ever needed one, to delegate my task of finding a cure, to have some goddamn chatter in the forsaken castle…

“We’ve received word that the denomination led by Gwyth is storming in from the highlands of Brasov. They are…angered by the vampires you’ve sired. She thinks just because…”

“Just because what?”

The gathering fell silent, as if fearful to draw my ire. Good…that’s how I intended it to be.

“Tell me, Finnor, does your gallantry waver in my presence? If so, perhaps it was my oversight in appointing you General?”

“Forgive me, my lord. She thinks it’s a travesty that we, vampires a mere century old, are…” Finnor cleared his throat before continuing, “...exhausting all the human blood supply here in Braila. Some of our own have gone over to bordering cities, and they’re most displeased. She thinks that just because you’re… Dracula’s son, doesn’t give you the right…”

“Dracula’s son?” I scoffed.

“Did I not sire you all? If Dracula is my father, then does his blood not also run in your veins?

“Yes!” My council concurred in earnest.

Does that not make you powerful?”

“Yes!”

“Good! Then let them come. We will defend what is rightfully ours, will we not?”

“Yes!”

At that, they broke into a resounding cheer, half howling, the rest pounding staffs, swords and what have you on the marble floor. Contrary to the revelry below, I, worshipped like a God on my throne, felt wholly insentient. I cared not for war, nor truimphs, nor reign. If I’d created bloodthirsty monsters, it was merely a means to an end.

I wanted only one thing.

Was this how my father felt when my mother died?

“Kindly see to it, Centrio. I wish not to be bothered.”

“At your service, my lord.”

There she was — immaculate in white, clutching the garland of daffodils I’d made her, so detached from the pain I’d caused…I had all but little choice when I’d sealed her in the underground castle chambers. I had cast a spell so powerful, that save for the both of us, no one could enter, or find, our fortress in Wallachia.

Living in the castle without my friends, without her, seeing her lifeless body…it went on for months, years…I couldn’t bear it. Her lying there, bereft of a heartbeat, of a breath, broke me in ways I never knew existed.

And so I resolved to start over in Braila, it was the only way to keep her safe, it was the only way I could honour my vow to save her.

Cape dragging behind my lifeless steps, I trudged back to my study, thoughts once again lost in her. Innumerable letters I’d written, infinite words I wanted to say — all frozen and wayward like misplaced luminaries in an interstellar void.

What have I done, darling? I’ve created…abominations... so many innocent lives lost because of me…Will you still love me when you see what I’ve become?

“Adrian…”

I spun round, completely entranced by her voice.

In the doorway, against the crimson glow of the stained-glass window, wearing the white chemise just as she always had, awaited my beloved. It suddenly became daunting to breathe, my mind apprehensive to behold the sight.

“Darling? Is it really you?” I uttered, my words close to a tremble.

She said nothing, but merely moved to me with such litheness I was taken aback. Her steps were languid, like a lone willow swaying in a bleak winter tempest.

“H…how did you find me? You don’t look well, do you need to feed? Here,” I offered my bloodslit wrists to her. She pressed her lips to them at once, as though thoroughly acquainted with my gesture.

“I missed you so much, I…”

“Shhh…” she hushed, sinking to her knees.

Her hands made quick work of my trousers, and too soon had my entire length in her mouth. My cock twitched as her tongue lapped over the ridges of my growing erection, licking hurried circles around my tip.

“Fuck…baby…I missed you so fucking much…” I panted, pushing her face deeper between my thighs. “Ahhh…that feels so good…” and threw my head back, shutting my eyes, relishing in the absolute ecstasy of her eagerness.

Pumping my sex in rapid fervour, she took it further down her throat, sucking, constricting…the weight of my every burden reduced to an indistinct drone.

“Slow down, darling,”

“Yes, my lord…”

My eyes flew open. My lord?

From where I was, I alas saw it. The sable of her tresses ran an incomparable lustre to my darling’s raven. I flung the devil thrall into the windows at once, shattering the glass, red fragments giving way to golden gleams of the inconspicuous sun.

“How very dare you,” my voice dropping to a haunting hiss as I stalked towards her. “The audacity you possess to employ such pitious artifice…who sent you?”

The thrall quivered at my unrestrained wrath, straining to speak against the bleeding shards skewered in her throat.

“Y…you…did…m…my l..ord…”

I froze, the lunacy of my suffering clear as day. I must already be dead.

Refusing to bear the yoke of that truth, I instead directed all my shame and hurt at the dying vampire whom I’d sired.

“Why do you get to live, but she doesn’t? Why do all of you get to persist in endlessness, possess my blood gift, but she is doomed to sleep for all eternity? Why!”

All that remained was the anguished aftershock of my tirade, and the spurting of blood that had slivered their way to the soles of my boots.

“F…forrr…give me, mmy…lord…”

“I want you to listen closely. She transcends your every breath. You will never be her.”

I compelled my estoc to sever her head.

____________

I liked it out here. At times the ocean waves would susurrate, tonight it was a thunder against the cliffs. It offered a quiet respite from my heartbreak, the inane vampire politics, and the endless blood war of the undead.

My hair whipped in the frigid windstorm, yet I felt nothing. I was a lighthouse abandoned — hollow, crepuscular — fleeting through the years devoid of purpose. There were nights where I would see her in the middle of the violent sea — so alone, so tormented — does she know? I would cross oceans of time to find her.

Something snapped.

I remained still as death, my gaze shifting calculatedly to the untimely intruder foolish enough to trespass into my castle grounds. Their steps, though fairly distant and furtive, stood little chance against my heightened hearing.

The clanging of chains reached my ears long before my sword ensnared the metal. Holding it mere inches from my face, I studied the peculiar weapon — intricate weaving of iron, spikes flared at the tip…and that leather whip.

“Simon Belmont. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Save that garb for someone who gives a shit, vampire.”

I smirked at his salutation, perhaps a little more than necessary. “I see the Belmonts have a tradition.”

Unlike his forefathers, Simon had fallen out of favour with the Belmonts, insisting that vampires, regardless of their intent and relationship, are considered foe and should, at all costs, be exterminated with their bodies wrung out to dry.

“The odious horde you have sired are arrogant beyond their means. Do you not care for the turmoil they have caused? The innocent lives they have claimed?”

I no longer have the capacity to, I wanted to tell him.

“I come here not to befriend, or beg, or ask. Halt the atrocities of your vampires, or I shall finish what my grandfather so failed to do — kill you.”

“Are you threatening me, Belmont?”

Taking advantage of my affront, he wielded the Combat Cross — one I’d noticed too late — for it struck the pendant around my collar, barely missing my chest. I watched as the vial containing her blood fracture into pieces, her lifesource splattered and devoured by the earth below.

Seething, I lunged for Simon, teleporting behind him while coiling the Morningstar around his neck. He threshed around his imminent asphyxiation, blindly stabbing his dagger, attempting to find purchase on any of my organs.

The tip of his Morningstar however, managed to etch itself onto my arm, igniting an unsteady glow. It would not combust in me, for I was neither human nor demon. Still, a searing pain barelled through the recesses of my body.

I released Simon as he collapsed onto the ground, his chest heaving from the lack of air. Hovering my sword above his heart, I recalled the promise I had made to Belmont.

“This is a fight for another day, Belmont. Take your weapons and leave, for I have little forbearance for charity such as now.”

Flinging a shard of the Transmission Mirror next to Simon, he was pulled into its magic before he could contend. As the mirror engulfed him in its sorcery, he glared at me with such loathing I thought it incredulous I had loved his grandparents dearly.

But it was his last words ahead of being teleported that unnerved me, roused me back to the verity of that very moment — “I know what you’re searching for, Alucard.”

I stared at the spot where Simon was, now an insignificant mass of rocks, amongst them lay fragments of my obsidian vial.

An uncanny cold snaked about my heart. Clutching at it, the hammering intensified to a booming knell, in the same manner as nights where the parish would pound at my castle doors with boulders, clamouring to burn her. My breathing soon withered to a wheeze, then a gasp, and I fell to my knees.

Without the pendant, I could feel her no longer.

What if she woke? The indefinite dangers she would face outside the castle walls…Simon…what if he knew a way to find her…to kill her…

I was sickened with fear. Haste was of the essence, but the Transmission Mirror teleported at random — there was no telling where I would end up. Trembling, I raced to ready my stallion.

I was going back to Castlevania.

Pt I I Pt II I Pt IV

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bunny-jpeg · 8 months ago

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kink-o-ween - day twenty

lance stroll - brat

cw: smut/pwp, brat taming, brat tamer!lance, brat!reader, dom/sub, punishments, spanking, dirty talk, mean!lance, kitchen sex

kink-o-ween masterlist <3

"you've been a bad girl." lance's words curled into your brain. it made you feel hot all over. how could you not feel the heat? because when you were a bad girl, you got the punishments that you craved, "honey." he said after the montreal grand prix, "i'm going to enjoy taking you apart tonight."

you bloomed under his stern gaze. everyone knew him as a pretty boy. but, when you two were alone and you got under his skin just right. you saw a totally different side of him. the brat tamer

his place in montreal was where you lived most of the year while in university. lance expected for you to keep it clean. so imagine his surprise when he returned from the grand prix and found his apartment in a bit of a mess.

so after the first round of spankings. his heavy hand up against your achy ass, leaving it a bright shade of bruising. he made you clean up in just your panties. pick up the laundry, vacuum the floors, put away the dishes and even wash them.

lance waited by the couch, hard in his jeans as he admired you. you were living in his home, rent free. he made sure you were taken care of while he was racing around the globe. he watched your breasts jiggle with each of your movemennts. you almost looked like a housewife. that made lance twitch in his jeans.

"missed a spot." he said.

you looked aty him then to the mop. you muttered something under your breath that made your love perk up.

he asked, "what did you say?"

"nothing." you replied as you continued to mop the floors.

lace got up and crossed over to you on the wet floor. he grabbed you from behind and said. "oh no, honey. i think you said something." he groped your bare beasts, he even gave your nipples a hard tug.

you whined, "fuck, lance." then whined louder because he rubbed himself up against you. he then got you over to the kitchen island. there were now footprints all over the freshly washed floors.

lance slapped his hand across your ass, "you're a brat. you know that right? i take care of you all the time and you give me attitude?"

"fuck." you gasped as your panties were yanked down past your hips. your achy cunt was exposed to him. the wetness clung to your pussy lips. you enjoyed this. of course you were. you were a dumb little slut.

'you're such a brat." he said, "a huge brat. but you love it. you love being a stupid slut for me. no amount of education is going to fix that."

your ass was smacked raw, for sure bruised come morning. not that lance cared, too bad you won't be able to sit when you visited friends in the afternoon. hopefully you'll be finally good for him.

"are you sorry?" he asked. his voice was low and twisted your stomach into knots. there was such a mean streak to him. and the deepest parts of you yearned for it. for your mean lance.

you nodded and before you could form words, you heard the buckle of his belt. and before you could form a different sentence, he was pushing his cock into your quickly. he gave you little time to adjust to the size.

your back arched as you tried to find some support on the counter. but found none. your cheeks against the granite countertop. you almost yelled when he started to fuck your needy cunt. you liked it, you liked acting out and the consequences.

"this is so much better, don't you think? that you can take me so well with little prep. made perfect for me and only me. from your head down to your toes. you are mine." his pace was bruising. he loved you deeply, especially when you became his stupid little slut. when you acted out, it only gave him fuel to put you back in your place.

you whined.

he continued, "you're such a stupid little slut." which made you moan louder, his words were venom and it paralyzed you from fighting back. he pulled your head back from the counter and pressed a searing kiss against your lips.

he had you in a painful position as he fucked your poor pussy. no matter how much you squirmed or whined, he didn't let up. you gasped when he groped your bruised ass tightly. he was making such a mess out of you all over the expensive counter.

"if i need to spank you every day, i will. i'll leave your ass bruised and your pussy full." he said almost like a promise. if you were going to be a brat, then he'd simply treat you like a dog that needed to be trained. maybe he'd even throw a collar in.

you loved his words. it was commanding in a way that left your knees shaken. your could feel the pleasure of it all the way down to your core.

no one made you feel like that. not so sexually shaken that you almost came right on the spot. you whined to your lover, "lance." everything fel like as sexual blue as your body craved more of it. more of the bruising affection lance gave you.

it left you pathetic, letting lance run his mouth and it felt like you were on another planet. he pressed against you perfectly, hit all the right spots as you felt the drum of excitement course through you.

"please, lance." you near begged.

"my stupid brat. you're always try to get the upper hand but you never will. you'll always have to be a good girl for me." he pressed further into you further and made your back arch, "because i pay for everything, don't i? from the apartment to your schooling to your vast collection of toys to keep you busy while i'm away."

you didn't have a response. you knew he was true. you barely contributed, maybe lance was right to punish your bratty behavior. your bruised ass, your debauched pose over the counter, your slick cunt. you had potential to be the perfect woman for him. your ass jiggled as he continued to fuck you with heavy thrusts that bruised your hips against the counter. he was trying to fuck the brattiness out of you. to make you perfect for him.

"ah, fuck, lance!" this was the taming of the brat in lance's eyes as he continued to fuck you. you apologized so pretty.

he groaned as he helf onto you tightly, bouncing you on his thick cock. the kind of cock that made you mouth water at the sight of. you were at his mercy.

"fuck, this is what i like to hear, you could so sorry. you know how to behave. i want a good girl. not a massive brat." he was met with your sweet moans which only spurred him on further to fuck you up against the counter.

you arched your back a little and gripped onto nothing for some kind of leverage while your sweaty breasts stuck to the countertop. you whined, "lance, fuck, it feels so good!"

he kissed the back of your neck which made you shudder. your nipples grew hard and your pussy clenched. it didn't stop, the pleasure rocked your world. your noises became louder and more pathetic. your panted were animalistic. you were hanging on by a thread.

"that's it, honey." he groaned. the thrusts were uneven. his pace was erratic and fucked the breath out of you.

you soon came around his cock, your mouth hung open as he felt the crash of pleasure through your body. you tensed up and then relaxed. tour sweaty skin pressed against the counter as lance fucked you harder. he slammed his entire length into your as he finished. his pulse jumped as he came up against your softest parts.

lance stopped his movement, but kept his cock snug inside of you. he grabbed at your bruised ass and kissed your neck. between the heavy pants he asked, "are you going to behave from now on? be the good girl i know you can be."

you nodded dumbly, his words didn't fully register. whatever lance wanted, he got. you swallowed and raised your head from the counter. and lance patted your heated cheek.

the followed week, lance was at the track early. he was surprised to hear your voice when you called his name. when he looked over, he was in a bit of shock. there you were in a t-shirt that showed off more than lance wanted you to show off, and a skirt that was painfully short. your lips were glossed to perfection. and as lance looked at you for a moment longer, he wondered, would your mascara run if he choked you on his cock? <3

#bunny writes #kink o ween #kinktober #reader insert #formula one imagine #formula 1 #formula one fanfiction #formula one smut #f1 smut #f1 x reader #lance stroll x you #lance stroll x y/n #lance stroll smut #lance stroll x reader #lance stroll #ls18 smut #ls18 #ls18 x reader

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winchesterwild78 · 1 month ago

Text

The Arrangement

Master List

Characters: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: Angst, heartbreak, infidelity, arranged marriage

A/N: Sorry I’ve been away for a while. Been dealing with life, the NJ convention and end of the year craziness. I hope to be back more. I’ve needed to write. This story will be in several parts. It’s just a crazy rollercoaster ride of a story that popped in my head. It’s full of angst and heartbreak, but I think it’s a good one.

This is not real like and doesn’t depict it. It’s FICTION! No disrespect to Jensen or his family.

Minors DNI 18+

The ornate invitation, thick with gilded script, felt like a death sentence in my hands. Jensen Ackles. The name shimmered, famous and impossibly handsome, but carried the weight of a life not my own. Our families, both prominent in the entertainment industry, had orchestrated this. Not for love, but for PR, for image, for damage control after some whispered scandal I wasn't privy to. I knew, even before the ink dried on the pre-nup, that this would be a loveless marriage. It broke me before it even began.

The wedding itself was a blur of flashing cameras and forced smiles. Jensen, polite but distant, barely met my eyes. He had a girlfriend, a beautiful actress whose name I’d only seen in tabloids, and he made it clear she wasn't going anywhere. My heart, still foolishly clinging to the hope of connection, ached with a dull, constant throb.

The honeymoon was a cruel joke. A sprawling villa in Tuscany, designed for romance, became a monument to my solitude. Jensen spent most of his time on calls, or away, presumably with her. I explored ancient cobblestone streets alone, ate gourmet meals across an empty table, and cried silent tears into opulent silk pillows.

Back home, in the house that was now ours but never truly mine, the loneliness deepened. Our lives were separate, intersecting only for public appearances, where we’d play the part of the happy couple. But behind closed doors, a chasm yawned between us.

Then came the nights when the chasm wasn't enough. He started bringing her to the house. Not subtly, not sneaking around, but openly, as if daring me to protest. I'd hear their laughter echoing from the living room, her sweet voice mingling with his deep rumble. My stomach would clench. My breath would catch. And then, the undeniable sounds of them, just doors away. Sharing what should have been our marital bed.

Those nights, the guest room became my sanctuary, my prison. I’d lie awake, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling, the cold air seeping into my bones. The irony was a bitter taste: I was married to a man who shared his bed, his life, his love, with someone else, all while I was a phantom in my own home.

The old house groaned around me, a symphony of settling timber and whispering drafts. It was sometime in the dead of night, the kind of hour where shadows played tricks and silence felt heavy. I couldn't sleep, not with the faint, unsettling sounds from the master bedroom echoing in my ears. Pushing myself from the lonely expanse of the guest bed, I wandered to the kitchen, a phantom in my own home.

The moon, full and indifferent, poured silver light through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the cold air. I leaned against the counter, the cool granite a small comfort against the heat of my shame and sorrow. A single, silent tear tracked a path down my cheek, then another, and another. My throat ached with unshed sobs, a physical manifestation of the crushing weight on my chest. I hugged myself, as if to physically hold my breaking heart together.

"Can't sleep?"

The voice, deep and startling, shattered the quiet. I flinched, my eyes snapping open to find Jensen standing in the doorway, a dark silhouette against the softer light of the hallway. He was dressed in sweats, his hair mussed, looking more human and less like the polished celebrity I was forced to call my husband. My breath hitched, and I quickly swiped at my face, a pathetic attempt to hide the evidence of my grief.

He stepped further into the room, the moonlight catching the slight furrow in his brow. He saw it, of course. The streaks on my cheeks, the redness around my eyes, the tremble in my lower lip I couldn't quite control. A flicker of something unreadable crossed his face – surprise? Discomfort? Pity? I couldn't tell, and frankly, I didn't want to know.

"Are you... okay?" he asked, his voice softer now, almost tentative.

The question hung in the air, mocking me. Was I okay? Married to a stranger, living in a gilded cage, my husband sharing his bed with another woman while I cried myself to sleep in a guest room. No, I wasn't okay. Not even close. But I couldn't say any of that. The words were trapped, choked by the lump in my throat. I just shook my head, a slow, desolate movement, and another tear escaped, tracing a path I was too tired to wipe away.

His question, "Are you... okay?" was a cruel echo in the vast, silent kitchen. How could he even ask? Did he truly not see the shattered pieces of me scattered across this cold floor, illuminated by the unforgiving moonlight? My feelings were a tangled mess, a suffocating knot of humiliation, despair, and a raw, aching loneliness.

Humiliation burned brightest. To be caught like this, exposed and vulnerable, by the very man who was the architect of my misery. He had a girlfriend, a beautiful, vibrant woman he openly loved, and here I was, his supposed wife, a tear-stained ghost in the middle of the night. Every cell in my body screamed in protest at the indignity of it all. I felt like a pathetic cliché, the discarded wife, and his mere presence amplified that feeling to an unbearable degree.

Then there was the despair, thick and heavy like the night air. This wasn't just about a bad marriage; it was about the death of a dream I hadn't even realized I held. The dream of a partner, of connection, of warmth in a shared life. That dream had been suffocated before it could even breathe, replaced by this barren reality. Each silent tear was a drop of pure sorrow, mourning a future that would never be.

And the loneliness. Oh, the profound, desolate loneliness. It was a physical ache in my chest, a hollowness that no amount of grand house or expensive wedding could fill. To be so close to someone, sharing a name, a home, a public facade, yet to be utterly, completely alone in my pain. He was standing right there, looking at me, but he might as well have been a million miles away. His question, though perhaps well-intentioned, felt like a chasm opening between us, highlighting the vast, unbridgeable distance.

There was also a tiny, desperate flicker of resentment. Resentment that he got to have it all – the fame, the woman he loved, and the convenient PR marriage – while I was left with the wreckage. Resentment that he seemed so oblivious to the devastation he had wrought, or perhaps, simply indifferent.

I couldn't speak. The words would have come out as shattered fragments, choked by tears and anger. So I just shook my head, a silent acknowledgment of my brokenness, hoping that in that simple gesture, he might grasp the immensity of what I was feeling, even if I couldn't articulate it.

He stood there for a long moment, watching me, his silhouette framed by the moonlight. I braced myself for something – an apology, an explanation, anything. Instead, a soft, almost melancholic smile touched his lips. It wasn't a genuine smile, not one that reached his eyes, but a fleeting, distant expression that offered no comfort, no understanding. He didn't say a word, just held my gaze for another beat, then slowly turned and walked back into the shadows of the hallway, his footsteps fading as he ascended the grand staircase.

The click of the master bedroom door closing was a definitive, brutal sound. It was the final nail in the coffin of my shattered hope, a punctuation mark to the end of any illusion that he might care, even a little. The air in the kitchen, already cold, seemed to drop several degrees.

A ragged, uncontrollable sob tore its way from my chest, hot and violent, unlike the silent tears that had preceded it. It was a primal sound of raw pain, of utter desolation. I crumpled against the counter, my knees giving out, and slid to the floor, wrapping my arms around myself in a desperate attempt to contain the torrent of grief. The moonlight, once soft and ethereal, now felt like a spotlight on my humiliation, my brokenness, my profound, aching loneliness. He had seen me, truly seen me, and offered nothing but a hollow smile before retreating to the arms of the woman he loved. And that, more than anything, was the most painful truth of all.

The next morning, the kitchen felt strangely quiet, the early light doing little to dispel the lingering chill from the night. I was nursing a mug of lukewarm tea, my eyes gritty from lack of sleep, trying to construct some semblance of normalcy for the day ahead. The taste of the tea was bitter, a fitting parallel to the taste in my mouth. I had scrubbed my face raw, trying to erase the evidence of last night's breakdown, but the ache in my chest remained.

Then I heard it. The familiar murmur of voices, growing louder as they approached the kitchen. My heart hammered against my ribs, a trapped bird desperate to escape. I gripped the mug tighter, my knuckles white. There was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide.

The double doors swung open, and they stepped in, bathed in the gentle morning light. Jensen, looking impossibly put-together even in a casual t-shirt and jeans, his eyes a little tired but otherwise betraying nothing. And beside him, she. Her name was Isabella, a cascade of sun-kissed hair and a smile that seemed to radiate genuine happiness. She was dressed in one of Jensen's shirts, too big for her, making her look endearingly rumpled and utterly at home.

They were laughing about something, a shared intimacy that felt like a physical blow. Isabella leaned her head on Jensen’s shoulder, her fingers absently tracing patterns on his arm. They looked like a couple in a magazine spread, effortlessly beautiful and deeply connected. The air crackled with their comfortable presence, a stark contrast to the brittle silence that usually surrounded me.

Jensen’s gaze flickered to me, a brief, unreadable glance before it slid away. Isabella, however, offered a bright, almost apologetic smile. "Good morning!" she chirped, her voice warm and friendly, making the knife twist deeper. "Did you sleep well?"

The question was innocent, yet it felt like a barb, a cruel reminder of my lonely night. I managed a tight, polite nod, unable to force words past the lump in my throat. I watched as Jensen moved to the coffee machine, his movements fluid and familiar, while Isabella went to the fridge, their morning routine already seamlessly intertwined. They were playing house, in my house, in what was supposed to be our home.

Isabella's bright "Good morning!" and her innocent, "Did you sleep well?" twisted the knife deeper. Did I sleep well? The words echoed in my mind, dripping with bitter irony. How could I sleep well when my husband was in the next room, sharing our marital bed with another woman? My throat tightened, a wave of nausea washing over me. Every fiber of my being screamed at the injustice, the sheer audacity of their blatant happiness in my space. The humiliation was a physical ache, a hot flush that spread across my cheeks. I wanted to scream, to shatter the idyllic scene they were creating, to expose the sham of our marriage. But the words caught in my throat, choked by a cocktail of despair and fury.

I forced a tight, brittle smile, a mask I'd perfected over these six months. "Good morning," I managed, my voice barely a whisper. My gaze, however, found Jensen. He was pouring coffee, his back to me, seemingly oblivious to the radiating pain in the room. This was it, the perfect moment to remind him. The only leverage I had in this twisted arrangement was the carefully constructed public image we presented.

"Jensen," my voice, though still quiet, held an edge of steel. He paused, mug in hand, and slowly turned to face me. His eyes, usually so expressive on screen, were unreadable. "Don't forget," I continued, making sure my voice carried, "we have that interview later today. The one about 'our journey' and 'our wonderful first six months of marriage.'"

The words hung in the air, thick with unspoken meaning. Isabella, who had been reaching for a fruit bowl, froze, her hand hovering in mid-air. Her bright smile faltered, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her face before she quickly composed herself. Jensen's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, and his eyes, for a fleeting moment, met mine with a sharp, cold glint. The unspoken challenge was clear between us: We have a show to put on. And I was just the unfortunate co-star.

Part 2

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#hes gorgeous #so damn sexy #jensen ackles #jackles #jensen ackles x plus size reader #jensen ackles x reader

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authorhjk1 · 1 year ago

Note

I’ll try my luck in requesting.. Plot is, reader asks SNSD Yoona who is his gf to dominate him femdom style.. I’d want to see kinks like pegging and well.. To be honest body worship especially armpits.. Thanks for reading and if you choose to decline it, all good.. But I really wish to a great writer’s take on this humble request of mine..

Submitting to her

(Lim Yoona X Male Reader)

This is how everyone sees her. Lim Yoona. One of the younger members and the center of Girl's Generation. Most of the time a cute, playful sunshine. But when it comes down to it, she can also be fierce and borderline sexy.

But no one will ever be able to see her, how you see her. That is something no one will ever know.

You met Yoona about a year ago for the first time. You couldn't believe she actually walked into the bar you were working at. It was a very expensive and prestigious one, yes, but you didn't really think of Yoona as big bar goer.

And you were quickly proven right. She was only there, because of one of the two friends she was with, was celebrating her engagement.

The three women were sitting at your bar the whole night, chatting away and drinking more and more of your most expensive liquor. While you were serving them and the other guests as well, the newly engaged woman seemed to have drunk too much. First, she kept on showing off her ring to Yonna and the third woman, but as the night grew longer, she also started to flirt with you.

You thought nothing of it at first, blaming it on the alcohol, but she got more and more into it. You could tell that Yonna was getting a little uncomfortable at her friend's behavior, but she didn't say a word.

"Would you mind mixing me another cocktail, babe?"

Yes, you did mind. And no you didn't like the fact she called you increasingly worse pet names. Blaming the alcohol would have been only a sorry excuse at this point. You could already tell that her future husband would probably catch her cheating at one point. It was so clear it could've been written on her forehead.

Eventually, her and Yoona's other friend went to the bathroom. The rude woman definitely drank too much. And while you were wiping parts of the black granite surface of the counter, you were hoping she wouldn't completely ruin the ladies' room.

You heard Yoona groan, after she took the last sip of her cocktail.

"Would you like a refill, Miss?"

To your surprise, Yoona suddenly glared at you.

"Oh, please, lover boy. Don't pretend like you would say no, if she asked you to spend the night with her."

You felt that was a little out of the blue. But the alcohol and her being annoyed by her friend, probably made her search for some kind of release.

"I would say no."

You would never sleep with another man's girlfriend, wife or whatever.

"Really? Why wouldn't you, huh?"

You suddenly felt trapped. Was that a trick question? Did she want you to mess up, so she could let out all her pend up frustration on you?

"Never mind, I'm sorry."

Yoona cut you off, before you could answer.

"It's just... I'm always too busy, you know? Barely free time, no time for dating, or a boyfriend and especially no time for a husband."

"Another cocktail it is, then."

Yoona chuckled as you started to mix the same cocktail she had before.

"You're really good at that, you know?"

"I hope so, I've been doing this for years."

As you added your finishing touches, Yoona let out another sigh.

"You are still young, so take some advice from me. Make sure you find the right person to be with. Don't wait as long as I have."

"I'm sure there are a lot of good men out there, who would like to go on a date with you, despite your busy schedule."

Since the granite surface was a little bigger, you let her new glass slide over the stone. It came to a hold just in front of her. You leaned over the counter and reached behind her ear.

Yoona slightly backed away, but you pulled back already, holding a small cocktail umbrella in your hand.

"Myself included, of course."

You blew on the umbrella, opening it up, before you let it fall into the drink.

You usually weren't that straight forward with guests. But this wasn't a usual guest. This was Yoona.

"That was smooth."

She playfully wiggled her eyebrows as she acknowledged your skill.

"Like I said, years of work and experience. Once I start something, I only finish once I perfected it."

"I like the sound of that."

Her smile was warm, but at the same time a little seductive. Her eyes sparkling with amusement, but also looking at you as if she was searching for something.

You later asked about that moment.

"I liked you. You looked handsome. And I wanted something she couldn't have."

That was her answer. Almost the perfect way to describe the start of your relationship.

"Although I don't have a man, I do have needs. I don't have enough time to date, but I can definitely make just enough time to take care of those needs."

You were surprised at how hopen she suddenly talked about herself. You were still in a public place.

"I could use someone like you. Dedicated to a task. Not stopping until he is satisfied. I would repay you of course. How much money do you make?"

While you were standing there, totally bamboozled by her sudden offer, you realize you could've seen that coming. Yoona is lonely, doesn't have time for a proper relationship and has more than enough money to find herself a sugar baby.

And for some reason, you did like the sound of that. Her terms were clear. Wherever and whenever she wanted, you would do your best to worship her entire body, make her feel good. But for that, you would have to quit your job.

"Don't worry. I will pay for everything you need."

While you were still debating on saying yes or no, her friends came back. They were eventually done drinking and were about to go home.

Yoona gave you one last look.

Decide right now, or you will regret it for the rest of your life.

You quickly wrote your number on a napkin and gave it to her.

The dynamic in your relationship was clear from the get go. Yoona was literally your sugar mommy and paid for everything, while you were tasked with pleasuring her better than anyone had ever before. Outside of the bedroom, she was the dominant one, but when it was about sex, you were the one who took care of her.

After staying at her place a couple of times, you, unconsciously, slowly started to move in with her. It started with a toothbrush and it ended with your computer and desk in her guest room. Not that Yonna minded at all. The living together and sleeping together, made it impossible to not start developing feelings. And finally, after ten months of sex with no strings attached, you both agreed on your new status of your relationship.

"10 Minute break in twenty minutes. Need you."

A simple text from your now girlfriend and you are on your way.

You enter the SM building slowly after, making your way to one of the smaller rooms on the third floor. As soon as you walk in, Yoona crashes into you. You haven't seen her since this morning. She looks just as good as she did then.

As soon as you saw her outfit this morning, you knew this is gonna be one of those days. She doesn't have them often. But on those days, she sometimes shows you a side of her no one can know about.

Most of the time, the power during sex is equally distributed. Sometimes it's Yoona, who leads, sometimes it's you. But most of the time, the two of you are equals. Yoona isn't the kind of woman who loves to get fucked like a cheap whore. She does enjoy you, being a little rougher with her at times, but never something too crazy.

And on rare occasions, just like today, you can see a fire burn inside of her. A fire that makes her lust and arousal grow immensely. Until now, she always had herself under control. But you do know, that if her self control breaks, you will be the one who will have to bear the consequences.

"Oh, fuck. I need your tongue so bad."

She whispers into your ear, after just having kissed the life out of you.

You lean down and push her hair behind her shoulders, before you start to kiss her naked skin. Yoona loves how you take care of her. How you worship her. To say that she has a praise kink is an understatement. More like goddess kink.

"You taste perfect, mommy."

Yoona purrs, at your words, letting out a satisfied sigh. Yeah, one of those days. You know you are doomed tonight, if you can't satisfy her well enough right now.

And at the same time, you don't mind at all. You actually welcome the idea of Yoona punishing you for doing a bad job. You want to find out what happens, when that fire inside her does take over her being. You are just not sure yet, if you can handle it.

Once you have dutifully peppered her shoulders with endless kisses, you pick her up and carry her towards the window.

"Oh, yes. I'm craving that. Oh, baby I'm so thirsty for your touch."

Yoona always turns into a mess, whenever you start to worship her like this. She loves it. And you do too.

After putting her down on the windowsill, you quickly start to take off her belt. This is just the right height for what you have in mind. Once her suit pants are around her ankles, you reach into her panties. The black lace traps your hand, forcing you towards her pussy.

"That's it, baby. Be a good boy."

Yoona moans in delight as she feels you pushing a finger inside of her. You lick your lips as you see her closing her eyes, ready to bring the second half of your plan to life.

While your left is slowly fingering her wet pussy, your right hand is now reaching for her wrists. Already knowing what you have in mind, Yoona gladly raises her arms. Standing next to her, you are greeted with the magnificent sight of her left armpit.

The slight sweat on her skin sparkles in the sunlight from outside. You unconsciously take a deep breath, enjoying Yoona's scent. After you spend hours after hours worshiping her entire body, you know how she tastes everywhere and how she smells too. Usually sweet, with a hint of sweat, because it's a hot day.

After taking another breath and pushing a second finger inside of her, you stick out your tongue and place it right underneath her armpit. Yoona lets out a deep moan. This combination has always made her cum pretty quick. And you have limited time right now.

The slight salty taste hits your taste buds as you use one long lick to move your tongue across her armpit.

"That's it, baby. Lick your mommy clean."

Yoona moans out loud as she feels your tongue now delivering longs swipes across her armpit. Your fingers in her pussy aren't idle and soon, Yoona succumbs to the pleasure you force onto her.

It takes you a minute or two to complete lick her armpit free of her sweat and just a little longer to reward yourself. The more you can have of her, the better. Yoona's sweat is now replaced by a small amount of your spit.

You change position as you keep your fingers inside her, your thumb now rubbing her clit.

"Hurry, baby. If you don't make me cum..."

Her whispered threat is interrupted by your tongue, finally reaching her armpit on the other side. The saltiness seems to be a little bit more prominent on this side. You gladly lick it all up, while Yoona starts to buck her hips against your hand.

"Damn it!"

She sighs heavier as her breathing becomes faster.

"Make me cum already."

Her heightened arousal makes her a little more aggressive today.

You keep on licking her skin and fingering her pussy. You know that she is slowly getting there. Maybe a couple of licks more. Or maybe a third finger...

"Yoona?"

You stop immediately as you hear someone outside the room. Yoona holds her shakey breath.

"Y-Yeah?"

"We have to get going now."

"Give me a minute, manager-nim!"

Yoona quickly urges you to pull your fingers out of her. As if you wouldn't have thought of that yourself.

"This isn't over."

She looks up at you with that fire in her eyes, once she is done making herself look presentable.

"As soon as I'm home..."

She let's that threat linger in the air as she walks out of the room. Yes, this is one of those days. But today seems more intense than usual. You wonder, if you asked for it, would Yoona let that raging fire consume her? Would she let go off her primal instinct and use your body for her pleasure, without thinking about you?

A shiver of anticipation runs down your spine. What do you have to do to make that happen?

You know that Yoona will be busy for the rest of the day. You're sure she mentioned something about a magazine cover photoshoot, but you can't remember. Her schedule is stuffed with way too much events and appointments for you to know all of them.

And that's why she catches you by surprise, when she suddenly crashes through the door to her apartment.

"I have ten minutes."

It looks like she is on a break again. And it seems she came straight from the photoshoot. She is still wearing that outfit.

And you can tell by the fact, that she only came here for sex, that she is close to breaking.

You try to get off the couch you are lying on, but Yoona is quicker. The advantage of her skirt is, that she can just sit down on your face, without having to undress.

Barely ten seconds after she came home and your tongue is already buried inside her wet pussy. Yoona quickly holds onto your hair with both hands. Too impatient for you to find the proper rhythm, she just starts to ride your face. You have no choice but to lie there, enjoying the taste of Yoona's sweet pussy.

A minute passes. Then two. Then three. You do your best, trying to get her off as quick as possible. But that small voice at the back of your head starts to talk. What if...

Yoona breathes heavily and leans forward, trying to catch her breath, as she realizes that this isn't enough. Not enough for her to orgasm. Not enough for her to satisfy her hunger.

She quickly gets off your face, leaving you with trails of her juices all over it. Before you can react, your pants are already off. And a second later, Yoona has already straddled you, her pussy hovering above your cock.

"Oh, damn. That cock."

She sighs, her eyes closing in bliss as she impales herself on your cock. Without even thinking about it, one of her hands move towards your throat. She keeps riding you, her pleasure now increasing by the second. After almost getting caught earlier today, she really needs to find that high right now.

"M-Mommy."

She hears you coughing after calling her. Her eyes shoot open and she realizes that she has been choking you. Yoona quickly moves her hand away, an apologetic look in her eyes. She has never done that before. She never let herself go that far.

"Babe..."

She wants to say sorry, wants to apologize. And yet, a small part of her mind tells her to put her hand back on your throat. To make you cough, while she rides you like a dildo, not giving a damn about your well-being.

It scares Yoona for a moment. Those thoughts. But she can also see that you seem to know, what's going on inside of her.

Her eyes grow wide as you slowly start to nod your head.

No need for words. Yoona takes a deep breath, before she puts her hands back on your throat. For the first time, she starts to let go of herself.

You lie on the couch with wide open eyes. Yoona left barely a minute ago. It's hard for you to get up. You didn't expect her to go that hard. She rode you like her life depended on it. You were barely able to take it yourself, her pace and power were almost too much for you. Reaching for your throat, you grimace in pain. It's not that bad, but you don't need a mirror to know that that's gonna leave bruises.

You are glad you were able to cum, just in time, before Yoona came herself. You wonder if she would've cared about your orgasm at that point. Maybe not. But that thought alone almost makes you reach for your cock, which is still wet with her juices.

The rest of your day goes by without anything major happening. You are excited about what is gonna happen tonight. Despite having climaxed earlier, Yoona still didn't look very satisfied.

Trying to make time go by faster, you sit down in front of your computer, planing on gaming a little, until she comes home.

"Turn it off."

You almost have a heart attack, when you suddenly hear Yoona's voice. You didn't hear her come home.

"H-Hi, babe."

Her tone made it clear, that this day is still not over. The only question is, how rough Yoona is going to be with you.

Once you turn off the computer and look at her properly, you know what kind of sex she has in mind. She is now wearing a different outfit. Probably another one from her photoshoot.

"You look gorgeous."

You can tell she is holding in a smile as she leans down, to be at your eye level.

"I've had a long day..."

You get the hint as you stand up, just to walk her over towards the bed. Knowing you have the rest of the night, you start slowly. First, her hands. You kiss each of her knuckles and the back of her hands. She sighs, as Yoona lies on the bed, enjoying your work.

You soon move upwards, switching from one arm to the other, while you pepper her skin with kisses. It's smoothness takes your breath away every time. How can she be this beautiful?

Reaching her shoulders, you take a short trip to her collarbone, licking along it's length, before returning to her shoulders. Yoona lets out a satisfied hum. But you know that, at least today, this won't satisfy her enough. You move her arms away from her body a little, giving you access to her pits.

"Baby. I need to fuck you."

Yoona sighs, her first words since she told you to take care of her.

You know what she means by that. The fire in her eyes still there. As you dive in, licking her right armpit, you know that she is thinking about something far different from just riding you, like she did earlier today.

Yoona's fire urges her on to take control. To take you. To make you hers. And there's only one way you will truly be hers.

Yoona shifts around a little, while you keep worshipping her body. Once you're finished with licking her armpit clean, you kiss along her collarbone towards the other one, before diving in again.

Her hand finds itself in your hair as she lets out a heavier sigh.

"I need to-to take you. Now."

You realize that Yoona is approaching her breaking point. Should you push further? Ignore her real needs for just a couple of moments longer?

You eventually decide to be forward.

"You can do what you want with me, mommy."

You kiss her armpit one last time, before looking up at her face.

"Please. Be as rough as you want."

This is the only way for her to be happy today. To be satisfied. And you are more than willing to help.

"A-Are you sure?"

You nod your head yes.

"Do with me what you want."

You can see that dangerous fire flicker in her eyes. Yoona's inner voices are fighting each other. Eventually, she pushes you off of her, before she jumps off the bed. You watch her walk towards the big closet. Once she opens it, you can see what's lying on the middle shelf.

Four dildos, lined up and sorted by length. A belt, to make a strap on out of one of them, on their right. You gulp, knowing that there is no turning back now.

It's not like this your first time. Usually, at least one of you is in the mood for it. And you are the one, who decides which one gets used, before you start.

But you are very aware that Yoona is already using the one on the right. She put it on the belt already and is now tying it around her waist. The biggest one.

Her black outfit seems to fit the blue plastic perfectly. You don't choose that one very often. But now you know Yoona's true thoughts. The others aren't big enough for her taste.

"Strip."

She says, before even having turned around.

You hesitate for a moment. It's not that you don't trust her. It's the fact that you don't trust that fire within her. How far will she go...

Yoona's movement quickly makes you jump into action. As she turns around, you're just getting rid off your pants. She steps towards the edge of the bed as you take your shirt off.

Without a word, Yoona stares at you, lust burning in her eyes. She does a come hither motion with a finger, making you crawl towards her.

"Suck my cock, baby. If you don't want to get hurt..."

Yoona only used lube at the beginning. But after having tried this a couple of times, she started to make you suck the dildo first, before pegging you. Your own spit being the lubricant. That should've been a sign that something like this would come sooner rather than later. A sign you should've read.

You look up at Yoona as you open your mouth. Her fiery gaze stares back at you. You can't tell how rough she is going to be exactly. Should you be using a safe word?

But as Yoona pushes her hips forward, the blue dildo pushing past your lips, you realize that the time for setting a safe word has long past. You feel the plastic in your mouth, the unforgiving material dragging along your tongue. Yoona places her hand on the back of your head, holding you in place as she forces you to take it all at once. The tip slightly grazes the back of your throat, once your lips reach the base.

"Look up."

You do as your told. Yoona stares down at you, her face cold, while her eyes are burning. You catch her biting her lip slightly, before she moves her hips back. A moment later, she pushes them forward again. She starts to pick up the pace soon after, letting her other hand wander towards the back of your head as well.

Yoona is now fucking your face. Not as hard and fast as you occasionally do with her, but enough for you to cough once in a while. Due to her constant thrusts, the blue plastic is eventually covered in your saliva. Some of the liquid is already staining your lips and chin.

"What a good boy you are, sucking mommy's cock."

Up until now, you had both of your hands placed on the mattress, supporting your weight. Now, knowing how horny Yoona is, you reach forward with one hand. Since she is wearing a one piece, it was hard for you worship her whole body just now. So you try to make up for it by placing your hand between her thighs.

"That's right, baby. Mommy comes first."

Yoona slows down a little to make it easier for you to rub her pussy through the black fabric. Whenever you send really big jolts of pleasure through her body, Yoona thrusts forward uncontrollably. And soon, she is fucking your mouth again, while you try to pleasure her.

"Press harder."

You follow her orders, applying more pressure on her pussy.

"Fuck, yes!"

Yoona hisses loudly at the sudden increase of pleasure. Her hips move as fast as your hand, the two of you in a silent competition on who can go the fastest. It doesn't take long for Yoona to win as she forced herself inside of you exceptionally deep, making you gag and lose control of her your hand.

"Turn around."

She tells you, while you still recover from her sudden attack.

Once you do, you feel Yoona climb on the bed as well, kneeling behind you.

"If you are going to be a good boy and take it well"

Yoona leans over you slightly, the wet plastic pressing against your ass cheeks. It sends a shiver down your spine as you know very well what's next.

"I will reward you by letting you lick and kiss every single part of me."

It's an offer you can't refuse. For one, because you would do anything to get that opportunity. And two, because you are literally unable to refuse. Even if you would try, Yoona would just laugh at you.

You feel the dildo poke your butt hole as Yoona readies herself. She lets her hands wander over your cheeks, before she reaches underneath you. A moment later, her hand holds your cock, slowly stroking it.

"Don't cum too early, baby. Last time, you made a mess of yourself while cuming."

One would think that Yoona is just being considerate. But her tone says otherwise. It drips with her lust and you can tell that that's exactly what she wants. For you to lose control over your body as you cum.

Finally, Yoona slowly pushes forward. You breath a little heavier as you try to adjust to the new feeling.

"Relax, or this is gonna hurt."

Usually, Yoona would stop if you had trouble taking it and speak some encouraging words.

Not this time. Instead of waiting, she pushes the plastic tip past the ring of your muscles. You hold onto the sheets as Yoona slowly pulls you towards her, while she moves forward.

More and more of her length you take. Inch by inch, the blue dildo stretches your ass.

"Oh fuck, baby. Your ass looks so tight."

One of her hands squeezes your cheeks, while the other keeps stroking your cock. You grit your teeth as Yoona pushes further. Having taken this dildo a couple of times already, you can tell that you're halfway there. You feel every new inch drag past your muscles.

You feel fuller than before as Yoona keeps going. She doesn't stop, until you've finally taken it all.

"Good boy, taking all of mommy's cock."

Yoona whispers sweet nothings into your ear. You know that this only the calm before the storm.

Without asking if you are ready, which she would usually do, Yoona starts to pull out of you. Your hole clamps down on the plastic, not wanting it to leave your body. Just when only the tip remains inside, Yoona pushes forward again. She does this very slowly a couple of times, before she starts to pick up the pace.

It hurts a little as she becomes faster, but you don't complain. You can take it and you don't want to get on her bad side.

"Oh, damn. You're so hard already."

The whole time, Yoona has kept stroking your cock. She removes her hand for a moment and you hear her spit on it. Her now wet hand goes back to working your cock, while the plastic cock in your ass keeps moving back and forth.

Just as you are getting adjusted to the current pace, Yoona starts to fuck you faster. Some thrust leaves you breathless as she pushes your face into the mattress with her power.

"Mommy..."

You don't dare ask her to stop, but you need to warn her. You feel like you are losing control. Your thighs start to shake, your cock twitching a little.

"Not, yet."

You can tell she is gritting her teeth as she fucks you from behind. Both her hands are now on your ass as she keeps up the pace. Soon, she is pounding away with no regard for your comfort. The plastic inside of you drags along your inner walls and keeps splitting you open.

"Mommy..."

It seems that is the only word that you can force off your lips. As she takes your ass, you can tell that Yoona is really enjoying herself. Her nails are slightly digging into your flesh as she holds a tight grip on you. Apart from her breathing, which is now a little faster, you can hear her deep moans and an occasional grunt.

"Mommy, I think I'm gonna-"

You suddenly have a mouthful of the mattress. Yoona has pushed your head down to shut you up, ignoring your warnings that you're about to cum.

You can't help it. The plastic dildo in your ass keeps dragging along your inner walls as Yoona fucks you hard. You hiss, feeling slight pain, as she bottoms out inside of you.

You want to warn her again. Tell her you're about to cum on the sheets. But your words are muffled by the mattress, while Yoona keeps fucking you further into it.

"Don't cum too early, baby."

She mocks you, her hand finding it's way to your cock again. She squeezes it slightly while she strokes you faster and faster. Timed with her thrusts, her handjob pushes you further towards your climax.

Because you can't talk, you can do nothing but take Yoona's cock in silence. You feel your back arch as Yoona pushes your head even further into the mattress. It enables her to drive herself even deeper into you.

That's the final push you needed. You let out a deep moan as you climax immediately. Yoona's dildo feels even bigger now, her hand drains you of all of your cum. You can tell you've ruined the sheets, without even having to look.

"You've taken mommy's cock so well, baby."

Yoona leans down to kiss your cheek. For the first time today, she seems to genuinely care for you.

"Time for your reward."

You lift your head, once Yoona has removed her hand. You fall to the side, still breathing a little heavily.

Yoona uses your small break to untie the belt, before tossing it off the bed. She straddles you and leans over you with an expectant look.

You move your head upwards to lap at her armpits, cleaning her off the sweat that had just build up over the last couple of minutes.

"Get your tongue in there, yes!"

Yoona sighs in delight. You let your hands wander over her clothed back, trying to find the zipper. Once you do, you slowly reveal what's been hiding underneath her one piece.

You move from her armpits, over her collarbone, towards her chest. You suck on Yoona's nipples, once your reach them. She moans out loud. Her tits are quite sensitive, especially while you dedicate yourself to worshipping her body.

More and more of her skin gets covered in kisses, until you've been everywhere at least once.

"Make me cum, baby."

Yoona quickly strips off her entire one piece, now leaning over you completely naked. The sight makes you hard again already. She quickly lowers herself onto your cock. Just like earlier, she doesn't wait for you to adjust yourself. She quickly picks up the pace, using your cock like a dildo.

"Use your tongue, damn it."

She groans as you stop for a couple of seconds, because you are too captivated by her beauty.

While she rides you, you keep your tongue on the skin of her upper body. You make sure you don't miss a spot. Her tight midriff, her chest, her collarbone, her shoulders, her pits. All deserve equal attention as you do your best to reach each spot.

Eventually, the combination of your cock inside of her and your tongue all over her pleasure her too much, Yoona finally orgasms on top of you. Her body shakes as she rides out her high.

Once she comes down, you are surprised by feeling her getting off of you.

"Mommy-?"

You'd hoped she would allow you to stay inside her longer. Maybe even cum in her.

"You are not done yet."

Yuna turns around and lies on her stomach on top of you. She purposefully puts her feet in the direction of your face. You feel her lips wrap around your cock, while you dart your tongue out to get your first taste of her feet today.

As you shift around a little, you can tell that your going to be sore tomorrow. But it won't be too bad. Because once she woke up, Yoona will be the beautiful sunshine she usually is. You wonder how long it's gonna take until her next rampage.

------------

Hi, everyone.

This is the first time I tried writing kinks like armpits and pegging, so the quality might not be as good as you expected. But I hope you were still enjoying reading it.

Stay healthy!

#ask #anon #kpop #kpop smut #kpop girls #kpop gg #male reader #yoona girls generation #girls generation smut #girls generation #lim yoona #snsd yoona #yoona snsd #yoona #snsd smut #snsd

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sergeantbarnessdoll · 7 months ago

Note

Consider:

Reader wanting to cross some stuff off a bucket list and wanting to go skydiving with Bucky.

Maybe a bit of angst with the quite-literally-falling-into-HYRDA’s-arms thing, but mostly y/n (and Sam) making fun of him for not doing it until he caves and does it in spite of his fears

Bucky didn’t like it all that much, understandably so— but it gets Dr. Raynor off his butt for the week, so maybe it wasn’t that bad

Bucket List » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Best Friend/TFATWS!Bucky Barnes x Best Friend!Female Reader with Sam Wilson/Falcon

Summary: You want to cross sky diving off of your bucket list and you ask Bucky to go with you.

Warnings: Fluff, tiny bit of Angst, language, pet names

A/N: Thank you for the request, nonnie🩵

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIF IS NOT MINE! Gif credit goes to the creator.

“Bucky, just the person I was looking for!” You said as you walked in the living room. “Do you want to do something fun and adventurous with me?” You asked, sitting down on the couch next to him.

“That depends on what your definition of fun and adventurous is.” Bucky says.

“Sky diving.” You say.

Bucky stayed silent. He doesn’t really want to do anything that involves falling off of something. Like what happened in 1945 when HYDRA got their hands on him.

“Well?” You waited for him to respond. “Doesn’t it sound fun?” You asked.

“No.” Is all he said.

“Why not?” You asked.

“It sounds dangerous.” He says.

Sam laughed out loud when Bucky said that.

“You think sky diving is dangerous? You literally jumped out of a plane without a parachute the other day.” Sam said.

“Wait what?” You said. “Did he really jump without a parachute?” You asked, looking at Sam.

“I have it on video.” He said. “I can show you if you want.” He says.

“Do not show her that video.” Bucky says, narrowing his eyes at Sam.

You pouted and moved closer to Bucky.

“Are you scared of heights or something?” You asked.

Sam laughed out loud again.

“This man isn’t scared of heights.” Sam says.

“I can speak for myself, man.” Bucky says to him.

“Then give her a reason why you won’t go sky diving with her.” He says.

You and Sam stared at Bucky, waiting for him to give you a reason why he doesn’t want to go Sky diving with you.

“I already said it’s dangerous.” Bucky repeats. “That’s my reason.” He says.

“Bucky, you literally do dangerous things when you’re on missions.” You say.

“She’s not wrong.” Sam chimes in.

“What’s your point?” He asks, turning his head to look at you.

“My point is…” You handed him your little notebook that has your bucket list of things you want to do. “I want to cross more things off of my bucket list and sky diving is one of them.” You say.

Bucky opened your little notebook to your bucket list page. You had stars drawn around sky diving.

“Sorry, doll.” Bucky tossed the notebook on your lap. “Find someone else to go with you.” He says.

You laid across Bucky’s lap so he couldn’t get up.

“Please?” You begged, staring up at him.

“No.” Bucky says.

You pouted and stuck your bottom lip out. You know Bucky can’t resist it. It’s taking everything in him to not say yes to sky diving.

“Nice try, doll.” Bucky gently moved you off of his lap so he could stand up. “I’m not going to give in with that look this time.” He says.

You sat on the couch, watching as Bucky walked to the kitchen to get something to drink.

“I think the real reason why he doesn’t want to go sky diving is that he doesn’t want you to hear him screaming like a scary cat.” Sam jokes.

“Probably.” You giggled.

Bucky stood at the kitchen counter, listening to you and Sam basically making fun of him. He was quickly growing irritated. He slapped his hands on the counter to get you two to stop. You and Sam jumped at the sound of Bucky’s vibranium hand coming in contact with the granite countertop.

“Are you two done making fun of me?” Bucky asks, sounding irritated.

You and Sam know better than to irritate Bucky. Let’s just say it never ends well.

“I’m gonna leave now.” Sam stood up from the couch. “Good luck trying to get the bionic staring machine to go sky diving with you.” He says, patting your shoulder as he walked past you.

Bucky sighs loudly and rubs his hands over his face. You stood up from the couch and walked over to Bucky.

“I’m sorry.” You wrapped your arms around his waist. “I shouldn’t have made fun of you.” You apologized, putting your chin on his chest.

“It’s ok. I’m not mad at you.” Bucky says, wrapping his arms around you.

Bucky leaned against the edge of the countertop while he held you in his arms. A grin formed on his face. If he goes sky diving with you, that means he doesn’t have to go to therapy. At least, that’s what he thinks.

“Ok, fine.” He finally gives in. “I’ll go sky diving with you.” He says.

“Yay!” You cheered, kissing his cheek. “You’re the bestest friend ever!” You say.

That warmed Bucky’s heart when you said that.

You grabbed his hand, leading him to the car.

“Did you actually jump out of a plane without a parachute?” You asked curiously.

“Yes.” Bucky answers. “That wasn’t one of my finest moments.” He chuckles.

“I’m still gonna watch that video Sam has of you jumping out of it.” You say teasingly.

When you and Bucky got to the sky diving place, you felt yourself getting more and more nervous by the second.

“It’s ok.” Bucky whispers in your ear. “You don’t need to be scared. I’m here with you.” He coos.

You smiled and nodded. You took a few deep breaths before the sky diving instructor told you and Bucky can jump. Bucky had his vibranium arm wrapped protectively around your waist the whole time.

“You were right.” Bucky said as you two got to the ground. “This was fun and adventurous.” He says.

“I told you!” You exclaimed with a smile.

Bucky seen your little notebook with a pen in your back pocket and grabbed it. He opened it to your bucket list page and crossed off sky diving.

“Let’s see how much of this bucket list we can cross off in a week.” Bucky says with a smile.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

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thedarkmistress16 · 5 months ago

Text

A/N: The last two parts were mostly finished so thats why this chapter and future ones are gonna take longer to pump out btw. sorry in advance!

my schedule is still kinda inconsistent, lol. and i got sick, but I luckily kicked procrastination and writer's block in the ass to finally pump this chapter out! it's been too long, sorry for the wait! this one's longer so settle tf in chat.

Stalker!Yandere!Tony Stark x Fem!Reader- To Steal and Dote On (Same tags as prev. apply, plus: Camera stalking, Watching without consent, Listening without consent, Recording without consent, Tampering with private property, Tony the delusions of grandeur extraordinaire, Tony having perverted thoughts of Reader, Pepper's having none of Tony's antics, Tony and Pepper interacting like siblings? probably Ooc there sorry)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 |

Chapter 3: Give and Take

(source is unavailable; gif is not mine I promise.)

Taglist: (if anyone wants to be added for this fic just let me know!)

——————————————————————————————————

There’s another package.

You falter mid-step, keys loosely dangling from your finger. They lightly jingle as they continue to sway with the remaining momentum and ring together from impact.

It’s the only sound accompanying your thoughts as you stare at the wrapped present sitting in front of your door.

You almost feel like you’re sent back in time repeating the events of yesterday, but… no. This one is different.

A basket, not a box.

Decorated with all the bells and whistles, unlike the unassuming box of chocolates. Gift filler and bows galore wrapped securely in cellophane.

There is one similarity that mocks you: a thick cardstock folded in half, your own name staring at you in black ink.

And just like last time, there’s a message.

“Some more for you to try, (Name). The best of the best. Hope you like them. —Your knight in rose-gold armor ❤️💛”

Peeking through the contents basket for the first time, you saw various boxes stuffed inside with different signage and decals that hinted at something familiar.

…

More suspicious chocolate?

From the same sender?

Your head swivels back and forth, analyzing the halls on the off chance that whoever dropped this off was still lurking closeby to gauge your reaction.

No dice.

An exasperated exhale leaves your lips as you turn back to the basket.

Reluctantly, you haul the thing inside.

Unwrapping it leaves you more befuddled.

It's a slew of chocolate brands you've never heard of, and all from different countries. Each has their own origins with confectionery detailed in fluffy and exaggerated scribbles, too. You take a wild guess and figure they’re in the caliber of high-end decadence.

Despite your unease at the quantity, you highly doubt all this chocolate is poisoned.

So, at least your admirer doesn't want you dead.

Still, it is an excessive amount to go through, so you suppose the first step would be figuring out the ones you do like.

You limit yourself in testing the most basic flavor you can surmise out of the assortment; one brown morsel per box to test the brands in an effort of fairness and avoiding sugar-induced nausea.

Just like that first time.

Cut to you leaning against your kitchen counter swigging a glass of water with two piles of opened chocolate boxes on the granite surface of your counter, littered with crumpled up wrappers next to you.

Moving the glass from your lips, you breathe out a sigh as your eyes fall upon the last unopened one of the bunch. Scooting it closer with one hand as the other sets down the water, you peel open the packaging with practiced ease. Plucking out the blandest one you need to test, you pop the last chocolate in your mouth and chew.

Oh…

…

Oh?

You blink. Then blink again. Your tongue moves around, drawing out more of that taste as your hand lifts the accompanying chocolate guide card to your face. Upon re-reading the flavor profile of the confection it is that you're savoring, you realize you don't want to spit this out.

It's good.

It's really good.

Which is surprising, considering the rest of the chocolates were subpar or duds, at best. Gazing the said piles of opened treats over, you figure you'd share them with your coworker tomorrow, pawning off what you could to her and dumping or rationing out the rest as you discreetly keep the one good box to yourself.

This was given to you as a gift, after all.

There'd be no harm in that— in keeping just one… right?

——————————————————————————————————

To say (Friend name) was over the moon when you showed her your newfound chocolate stash the next day at work would be a gross understatement. She was practically fawning over them to the point of unhealthy infatuation. She had then briefly explained that she recognized them in a previous business trip she took, and something about the brands being the best of the best, alongside mention of another trip she was taking soon.

You had honestly stopped listening to the details at that point, her excitement over something that was disconcerting for you severely dampened your mood enough to confide in her about the first gift.

Judging by her initial reaction when you walked in today, you had a dreaded feeling that you would know how she would take your impromptu therapy session, and it went over about as well as you expected. Yet it didn't hinder the intensity of your emotions at her response any less.

“So… what’s the problem?”

You sigh, completely at your wit's end after explaining your dilemma in full a second time now and she still didn’t get it. (Friend name) was more content with sampling the morsels of cacao, sugar, and milk to really pay your worries any mind. Or at least with the level of severity that you did, anyway.

“Look,” you hear her roll closer with her chair as you busy yourself with planting your face onto the surface of your desk, your arms encircling your head as a cushion. “You’re getting gifts from this mysterious admirer, right?” You silently nod your head, still not looking up at her. “Right. And you don’t know why this person likes you?” She further questions through audible chewing, though it sounds more like a statement she's telling herself.

The air around the two of you falls silent for a moment.

“And you still don’t want them?”

At that, you groan aloud, muffled by your arms.

“Hey, all I’m saying is don’t look a gift horse in the mouth! If this person hasn’t threatened you at all, then what’s the real harm? And besides, it’s not like you can really do anything other than leave a report.” The comment hits you like a jab in your side, a sudden sharp sting of cold-hard reality dousing your brain cells. It unfortunately made sense, as much as you hated to admit it.

A shuffling sound of plastic can be heard as her fingers dive for another treat.

“Still, I mean if you don't want them…” She playfully ventures, gazing at your pitiful form, “I can always take any excess gifts off your hands.” Another groan escapes your lips as she laughs heartily at your expense.

You’re almost envious of how your friend is taking this all in stride before you remember that she isn’t experiencing this first-hand. Feeling the unease and caution that swirl in your gut with the first gift that was untampered yet clearly not meant for you. Not knowing who it's from and why it was happening to you, only to receive more even after trashing it.

Or maybe she's only saying this because gift receiving is her desired love language.

Regardless, your friend is clearly of no help in hindering this behavior. And despite her assurance of the harmlessness of it all, this mystery is eating you up alive.

Another miniscule part of you darkly recognizes that this all can become sinister in the blink of an eye.

You had to try something, you just don’t have any clue where this all begins.

And not only that, but…

It’s just— there’s just no way all of this stuff is for you.

——————————————————————————————————

“Seriously, (Friend name), this is ridiculous.”

Tony's ears perk up when he hears your voice through the surveillance feed of your apartment he's had opened in the background as he looks over schematics. Now, however, his full attention is on you as he spins his rolling chair for a front-row view.

“Silent lockdown, J.” The billionaire mutters, his eyes scrutinizing you through the camera as you flit about the kitchen and living space. You're on the phone as you carry a bouquet of flowers under the crux of your arm, almost like an infant.

The ones Tony sent over on his lunch break earlier today.

A pleased smile spreads across his face as you place your cellular device down and hold the tall glass in the sink, running the tap into the vase.

You want to keep them alive, he realizes with soft eyes.

“Oh, come on girl, it can't be that bad.” The call’s on speaker now, he notes, as he can hear your friend, her tone full of light teasing. It's too high pitched to sound anything short of shrill and it has the man cringing, vaguely reminding him of his past conquests. “Whatcha get this time?”

“Flowers,” you mutter. A dejected sigh falls from your lips that has Tony's heart feel a tiny bit heavier and his eyebrows furrow. Did you not like them? Were you not a woman who cared for flowers, then? That wasn't a problem, he could fix that. Tony’s eyes cut to another monitor, pulling up a document and using his finger to cross out the word in a bullet-pointed list. He peers back to observe your fingers gently stroking the leaves and the action has the stalker thinking about how soft your skin is. Your cinched expression, however, draws the man's focus as he peers at you, a plethora of inquiries running through his mind.

“What's wrong sweetheart?” Tony ventures in a hushed tone, as if whispering to you yet no one at the same time.

“I just don't understand. Why me?” Tony entertains the notion that you had just heard and answered him for a fleeting second.

“Uh, why not you, (Y/N)?” While the implication that you're dumb in her grating tone irks him, he can't help but agree with your friend’s statement.

“I mean, what did I do to deserve this?” You sound exhausted and saddened as you gingerly place the gift in question onto the countertop of your kitchen. As you run a hand through your hair, Tony's gaze falls down your body, humming at your cute business ensemble of a button-up dress shirt, knee-length skirt, and heels. He licks his lips as he spots a tiny slit cut into the fabric of your skirt that subtly gives him more of your leg to see. He runs his hands over his jeans, briefly acknowledging how clammy they are as he thickly swallows the saliva pooling in his mouth.

Could he get you to work for him?

Move into the tower out of convenience for your job and his spying?

Have you wear the same outfits?

…

More provocative ones?

…

Nothing at all?

“Are you still pouting about this? Girl.” Your friend deadpans unsexily, popping Tony out of his daydreaming. “And are you seriously asking why you don’t deserve flowers?” Your head shakes, and the way your hair flows with the movement has the man mesmerized again.

“I don't even know who would bother going through the trouble of—”

“You are more than worth the trouble, (Y/N).” (Friend name)’s tone is softer now, as if trying to be encouraging. “And it sounds to me like your little crush thinks so, too.” She sing-songs as your face burns, absolutely speechless. Then you’re indignant, chastising your friend as she giggles in the background.

Tony loves every second of witnessing your reaction, unexpectedly laughing from the sheer delight he’s feeling. (Friend name) took the words right out of his mouth. He mulls the thought over for a moment, then concludes that as long as your friend continuously acts as his wingwoman unknowingly from the sidelines, he could tolerate her presence in your life.

For now at least, until she does something to hurt you.

Still, it wouldn't hurt to further clarify her oh-so helpful sentiment…

As he stares at you, something else clicks in the brunette’s mind and he starts swiping and tapping away at the other screen again; this time perusing a new website for a little number he can't wait to see you in.

——————————————————————————————————

After the mysterious second chocolate bundle was sent to your door, many other random care packages were sent your way.

Coffee and tea pods and packets.

Sample meats and cheeses.

Party-sized chips and cookie packs.

Soaps, perfumes, and lotions.

The gifts kept coming with no sign of stopping. It feels like you're being pushed out of your own apartment by whoever’s responsible for sending them. It’s been driving you up the wall so much that you took advantage of the absurd amount of deliveries to exercise your best efforts into unearthing some answers.

All potential leads you followed resulted in absolutely nothing to show for. Anyone you could think of in close proximity to the occurrences— neighbors, landlord, the post office— were all of no help. No one in your apartment knew of or saw anyone dropping off these packages at your door. Nor did the establishments care to tell you who ordered the deliveries in the first place; it was “private information that couldn’t be released,” apparently.

That’s when you finally decided to report the incidents to law enforcement.

The only thing the police were good for was filing a report to build a case. But even without looking at the officers’ faces, you knew that what you provided wouldn’t lead to anything substantial. You barely had a complaint, really. You were just lucky they decided to humor you with opening a case instead of immediately shutting you down.

Luckily, you still had the notes that came with the gifts to hand over, proving they were meant for you and were referencing the deliveries.

Unluckily, it only helped to prove that someone had taken a shine to you; and because the contents were all printed out with a typed font, you couldn’t prove that it wasn’t just yourself who set this all up to cry wolf for attention.

Yes, that was a real speculation the officers had to your story.

Their assumptions confused you at first, but the more you thought about it on the walk home, the more peeved you got.

If this weirdo admirer wasn’t doing this to you in the first place, you wouldn’t have to deal with all this nonsense.

Pouting all the way back to your apartment, your emotions immediately turn to displeasure as your vision recognizes the slew of things piled up at your doorstep. You surmise that many of these were delivered as you were out just now, causing a pit to form in your stomach.

The clacking of shoes echo down the hall, and your head tilts up to notice a man walking in your direction. It’s an older gentleman; the hair on his head and chin are greyed out and he sports a long sleeve shirt and fleece vest combo in green, blue, and brown plaid. His dress slacks are devoid of wrinkles and are of a toffee color just like his loafers. The closer he approaches, the easier you can spot the round, thin wire spectacles perched on the bridge of his nose.

Compared to the neighborhood you resided in, the male was completely out of place— which was expected of him considering that’s who he was as your landlord.

He looks at the pile of stuff at your door before halting. He makes eye contact with you and nods, which you return in kind.

“Miss (Last name), I trust all is well?” Like with every question he poses, it comes out as a gruff statement or observation.

“Yes, Mr. Garrett, I’ve been fine.”

His attention noticeably shifts to analyze the stack of gifts once more and you shift your weight from side to side uncomfortably.

“Have you solved your little problem yet?” You know he’s essentially asking you if you’ll bother him again— his words— after questioning him on the matter a few days ago. Mr. Garrett claimed to be very irked by your insinuation that he was somehow responsible— you said nothing of the sort— and for you to kindly leave him out of your trouble. You had to end the call abruptly before you became more infuriated and did something you couldn’t take back, like yelling at him and unceremoniously granting yourself a one-way ticket to the streets. After that unpleasant exchange, you weren’t too keen on probing your landlord on the subject again.

“I already went to the police.” You announce resolutely, squaring your shoulders to steadily meet his eyes. “They’ll handle it now.”

“Good.” He curtly responds, turning to walk past you now. “Rent’s due in a few days.”

You nod in acknowledgement, reminding yourself to travel to the bank to pull the necessary cash out and place the money in an envelope, as your landlord preferred to do things the old-fashioned way “to ensure his tenants actually paid him.” Perhaps he was fooled one too many times in his youth to allow anyone an inch of leniency.

Mr. Garrett stops mid-step, turning to brazenly stare at your doorstep for the third time before locking eyes with you. “Don’t leave them there too long. A pileup like that is considered a fire hazard and I will have to fine you for it if it's not moved.” It takes a good chunk of your willpower to keep your frustrations at bay.

“Yes Mr. Garrett.”

He departs without so much as another word, and it isn’t until he turns the corner that you release the breath you’ve been holding in. You glare at the offending packages, cursing whoever they were for causing you this much of a headache.

Reluctantly, and despite your overwhelming desire to be petty and leave the gifts there, you begrudgingly bring them inside your unit and start opening and organizing the products like you had just gone grocery shopping.

You falter, almost dropping the box of coffee in your hands when a realization hits you.

This will help you save money, wouldn’t it..?

If you accepted these gifts?

You adamantly shake your head, placing the coffee where it belongs in your kitchen.

The last thing you need to do is encourage this behavior, no matter how convenient it makes your life in certain aspects.

When you finish putting everything away, you move into your living area and pick up the remote for your T.V. You thumb the power button and start walking back toward your kitchen to fetch yourself a snack. The familiar noise of the television powering up is cut abruptly short as a loud, electrical popping noise startles you before your unit falls silent.

Swiveling on your heel to turn back toward your T.V., you quickly discover that it had just decided to short out on you if the still-black screen was anything to go by. “Aw, hell. There goes my vegging out for the night,” you casually muse to yourself as you power the device down and place the remote back on your living room table.

Ultimately shrugging off your ruined plans, you really don’t have the energy to get worked up over something like this. You didn’t use the thing that much anyway, and when you did it was once in a blue moon for an indulgent night of nostalgia films. You could always watch them on your laptop or phone if you needed to.

You then resign yourself to start getting ready for bed, hoping that tomorrow will be a better day.

——————————————————————————————————

Watching over the recording of your little technical mishap last night was a wonderful reason for Tony busy himself in your space again in the heroic effort to repair your modest electrical box for you, free of charge.

And, well— Tony Stark was nothing if not an opportunist.

And possibly, a glutton for adrenaline-induced activities.

Because why else would he make another trip to your apartment so soon with the intent of modifying things in your unit when you could arrive home at any time instead of sending you a new smart T.V.?

Not because he wanted a chance to survey you in your element a lot closer than his cameras would allow at a safe distance.

Or for him to selfishly indulge in your natural scent lingering in your space and pretend he was a welcomed guest.

Definitely not Tony Stark of all people, and surely not because he was an antique restoring, sentimental man at heart.

Of course not.

But he digresses.

Dismantling and understanding the issue your television had was a fairly quick feat, repairing it even less so.

He then got a better understanding of your personal tastes as he rifled through your cabinets for the items he sent. He also took notes of the shopping reminders magnetized on your fridge for preferred products he wasn’t privy to before.

The only problem that came with finishing both tasks was figuring out what other excuse he could use to linger in your apartment without feeling more like a creeper than he already was. Tony had quickly decided to meander and poke around to find more unaware issues his mechanical prowess could easily solve.

He soon found himself half-under the pipes of your kitchen sink, various tools scattered around his body as he eliminated a pesky leak and improved the water pressure for your faucet.

Then he was tinkering with the electrical wiring in your lights.

And later, when he thought there was absolutely nothing else to do, he almost exited your apartment via the front door like he was actually supposed to be there. Tony recoiled quickly, fractals of icy fear nipping at his heart, and quickly turned on his heel to finally leave your apartment.

Maybe for good this time.

His brain, however, was bugging him about how horribly the doorknob jiggled in his hand, like it was about to fall off if given a good tug.

How easy it would be for someone to…

Tony’s face cinched together as his hands curled into fists, his nails biting uncomfortably into his skin as he fought with himself to continue walking.

He did, just in the wrong direction.

That is how the man ended up kneeling at your front door that had to be slightly ajar to be tinkered with, opened toolbox at his side while he played with the locking mechanism.

It was akin to a mantra as he continuously told himself he had to do this for your own general safety and not out of his own selfish need to deter any foul players from stealing you away from him. Reassuring himself that he was doing this because he was a superhero in Gold-Titanium armor looking out for a New York civilian in a shady neighborhood. That he was Tony Stark who did what he does best: taking precautions and countermeasures to avoid future complications.

Not because he wanted you all to himself.

“Sir,” Tony's A.I. drawls abruptly, too loudly for the covert operation he was attempting right now.

“Not now, Jarv, I'm almost done here.” The man chides to the robotic voice under his breath, frustrated over how long it’s taking to fix your finicky lock. His hand fumbles with the tool in his hand, and the billionaire grumbles before huffing in irritation. Thanks to his A.I., Tony’s concentration broke and caused his grip to slip and almost nick the metal handle of your doorknob. He's not too sure that little detail would go unnoticed, and leaving evidence like that is the last thing he needs to worry about right now.

“Sir,” J.A.R.V.I.S. insists, and Tony grits his teeth as he wipes an arm across his sweaty forehead. “(Y/N)’s heat signature is rapidly approaching.”

The man freezes in place, his blood running cold.

Then his ears distinctly catch distant footfalls thumping against a hardwood floor, accompanied by a muffled speaker.

“Yeah, (Friend name), I’ll be free this weekend.”

“Shit!” Tony hisses, flinging himself away from your door like it burned him and his hands fly around to throw his supplies back in his toolbox at the speed of light. He all but sprints toward your window, hastily fiddling with the rusty latch. In his panicked state, he almost doesn’t contemplate how long it’ll take for him to climb up to the roof, and urgently commands J.A.R.V.I.S. to bring his suit down, now.

When your window finally unlocks, Tony uses all his strength to lift the frame and shimmy out in one fluid motion. He has to turn back and let the glass slide down gently with both hands, but then he hears a familiar whir behind him. Tony pivots himself in one fluid motion to lunge toward the peeled-open metal casing of Iron Man hovering just past your building's metal staircase.

He bursts off in flight when his body's fully concealed, soaring dangerously fast into the sky. Tony almost can't think when he's breathing this hard, yet his mind's in overdrive. It's a perpetual cycle that burns his lungs, quickly leading to tunnel-vision that is all-too similar to another experience.

Then he reaches the roof of Stark Tower, touching down on the landing pad. Mechanical arms help open up the metal armor as he walks further down the platform and Tony feels he can finally start breathing properly again, gulping in fresh air like water for his dehydrated lungs.

“Where have you been, Tony? I've been looking for you everywhere!” Pepper, clad in white and black business attire, speeds toward her boss with a binder and manilla folder clutched to her chest.

Releasing a shaky breath, Tony’s mask retracts and his head turns to grin dazzlingly at his secretary despite feeling accosted.

“Pep! I didn't know you were capable of missing me that much.”

She rolls her eyes at his double-edged-ness. “I think you’re confusing me with the world in that statement.”

Tony heaves a sigh when he’s out of his suit and the action draws his assistant’s eyes back toward him. Pepper gives the man a once-over and wrinkles her nose.

“You look awful. Where were you?” She presses tersely, and Tony's face falters. “I can't even count how many meetings have to be rescheduled, and that's if those prospects aren't lost now. You can't go AWOL like that without telling someone, Tony. I almost called Rhodney.”

“Ouch,” he remarks, striding over to the closest couch. “Straight to business as always, huh, Pep?” There is no verbal response as Tony plops himself down onto the cushions, letting his body start to relax. “It was nothing, just a little charity work. Some fixer-upper stuff.”

Pepper raises a brow.

“Okay,” Tony relents, his hands raised in a surrender motion before dropping, his brain calming down and beginning to think coherently again. “It wasn't exactly charity; more like a favor for a friend. I was repairing some things of theirs, and had to bring my tools with me since they’re not very mechanical-savvy.” It was the closest he would get to telling the truth, as unintentional as it was to reveal. But knowing Pepper Potts, she would poke until the answer was satisfactory or she got tired of his deflecting. If he went with the latter option today, she'd come back to the topic with a vengeance. And after the close call he had, the last thing he wanted was Pepper digging into this matter and being a thorn in his side over it. “Oh yeah,” He continues, closing his eyes and rubbing his forehead with his hand for a moment. “While you’re over there doing nothing but lecturing me, could you be a doll and bring over that toolbox I mentioned?”

Silence ensues, falling over the pair.

Curiously, Tony opens his eyes to find a frown souring her pretty face— a detail Tony's about to comment upon when she speaks up.

“What toolbox?” She bluntly states, staring him down with an unreadable expression.

Tony freezes before twisting his torso to look around where he last was, and—

…

Oh.

…

Fuck.

——————————————————————————————————

This is bad, clearly.

The person sending this stuff hasn’t made themselves known and there’s been nothing more substantial you could submit to the police, either.

But it’s not as alarming as using your address as a drug delivery hotspot or something. And you checked them again— your cards had no outrageous or suspicious charges on them, so that info was safe. It was only your home address that was being utilized without your consent.

As far as you were aware, at least.

You shiver at the unspoken thought.

Bottom line, this could’ve been a lot worse.

You looked over at your doorstep, spotting another package greeting you from your long day at work as it lies there innocently.

But it doesn’t mean you want this to continue happening either, you solemnly think to yourself. Lifting the object up and clutching it against your chest with one arm, the other searches for the distinct ring of jagged metal in your purse.

Fishing out your keys successfully, you select your apartment key and hold it out in preparation as you continue to focus your gaze onto the cardboard box, peering at your name scrawled on top of the attached parchment. Stepping forward, you blindly thrust your arm out and feel the door impact the metal tool in your hand before it yawns in protest.

Your eyes shoot up and your breath stops.

You realized with growing panic that it had— indeed, gotten worse.

Someone broke into your apartment.

——————————————————————————————————

#moi writing #tony stark x reader #yandere tony stark #yandere tony stark x reader #not me writing this in my bed during sick recovery as my lungs scream to die yknow as you do haha #as opposed to the last installments mdb did not directly influence this one #this was written in silence more than anything lol i think music distracts me too much to write actually

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creepyclothdoll · 8 months ago

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Pit

I have a friend who lives in a tar pit.

I love them. But if you hang out with them a lot, the tar gets on you and you can’t get it off for the longest time. It’s really easy to get stuck to them and fall into the pit if you’re not careful. But most people are. Most people avoid the pit entirely. That’s why my friend is lonely most of the time.

When I first met them, they were about waist-deep in the tar. You’d never know it, but under that black sticky mess was a pair of the most cutsey socks you ever saw. White fluffy pomeranians crocheted on. That’s what they said to me, anyway. All I could ever make out were the beady eyes of little black creatures clinging to their legs, slicked with viscous, heavy liquid.

They made some jokes about the tar pit, and we laughed. It was harder to pry them out than you’d think. It took all five of us, days of patience, and several contraptions. They sat down on the edge of the granite ledge overlooking the tar pit, their lower half covered in hot black ooze which stuck to the dirt and accumulated dead leaves and sand.

They wrinkled their nose at this.

“How come this isn’t happening to you?” they said, looking at our blue jeans and dusty hiking boots, which were mostly clear of tar.

“It is,” I said, showing them the tarry mess on my hands and elbows, coated with debris.

“Only because you touched me,” they replied, staring at the dirt and tar on themselves with growing disgust. “I think I would have died if you hadn’t come,” they said to me. When we started to leave, they started to cry. “You are abandoning me now? After saving me?” They asked.

“Obviously we want you to come with us,” I said.

“It’s because I’m made of tar,” they spat.

We told them they were not made of tar. But nothing we said could convince them. We tried to scrape the tar off of them, but they only panicked when our hands came away blackened again.

“We have to leave,” my other friends said to me after a long long time. “We can’t stay here forever, waiting for them to be ready. No one can survive here.”

They were right. The tar pit stank. The tar gurgled and sucked and emitted foul-smelling gasses. Nothing grew around here, and nothing could live long in this place.

My friends left us. I was the only one who stayed.

“I will prove to you that the tar comes off,” I promised. “I will prove to you that you belong in the world.”

Every day, we took a little walk further and further from the tar pit. My friend saw things that delighted them. They heard birdsong. They tasted crabapples and raspberries and wild leeks. But sometimes, insects would get stuck to the tar on their legs, and would die from the effort of escaping. And my friend would believe they were horrible again. Every day, we scraped a little more of the tar away. But my friend would see new tar on their fingers and mine and believe the stain was only spreading.

When I needed to go home to sleep, to see my family, and eat something that didn’t taste like smoke and oil and petroleum, my friend would weep.

“I know you like them more than me,” they’d cry. “You only feel sorry for me. You’re tired of all this tar. I’m noxious, I’m poison.”

One day, when I came back to visit them, I didn’t see them at their usual resting place near the edge of the tar pit. I walked to the ledge and looked down, and there they were, ankle-deep in the tar again, among the animal bones and the boiling toxic fumes.

This time, their excuse was that they’d left their favorite watch somewhere in the tar, and they wanted it back. Their arms were sticky up to their elbows, searching for it. I can’t remember if they found it or not. Not that it matters.

They had a lot of excuses over the years. They’d scream for help and someone– sometimes me, sometimes other passing folks– would hear and come lift them out of the pit. And each time, there would be fresh, hot, sticky tar on their skin, and anything that touched them would stick to them and die there or come away stained.

We tried soaps and creams and pumice stones. Sometimes, these things worked. But as the tar started to come off, so too would the dead mice and luna moths and spiders, the dead white flowers preserved in the black, the suffocated frogs and trampled baby snakes and those allegedly pretty crocheted socks and layers of skin. And it hurt. And it disgusted them. And then the next day I’d find them back in the tar pit again.

I visit them every now and then, of course. I bring them snacks and little things I think they’ll like.

I’m not the only one. Once, I saw them pull another would-be-rescuer deep into the tar with them. He screamed and strained to get away from the tar pit, but my friend clung to him, desperate and grateful, dragging him deeper and deeper into the thick, viscous, stinking mass. He only barely escaped, spitting and crying and swearing to me that he’d never return to this place.

“He abandoned me,” my friend despaired. “He said he wanted me, but he left. He acted like I was disgusting.”

“That wasn’t nice of him,” I said, passing them the bottle of sticky-sweet honey mead, their favorite.

“It’s because I’m awful,” they said, taking a drink and passing it back.

It’s because you tried to drown him, I thought.

“I want you to come out of the tar pit,” I said. I say this every time. “Come out and try again.”

But a long time ago, they stopped trying.

“This is my home,” they say. “I’m made of tar.”

They get angry at me when I tell them they are not made of tar. They are made of blood and flesh and that’s why they hurt so much. That’s why they can’t survive.

You don’t notice it creeping up on you, but at some point, when you hang out near the tar pit, when you spend so much of your time trying to save the person inside, you become aware that all of your things are stained with tar. You go to kiss someone and your fingers stick in her hair, and you have the sudden and terrible sense that you’re becoming tangled in some terrible trap you can never escape and you flinch away so hard that you rip her hairs out.

“I’m sorry,” you say. “It doesn’t come off. I feel horrible.”

“You’re not horrible,” she says. “It’s just the tar.”

But it feels like the tar is a part of me now.

“I love you,” I say to the person in the tar pit.

“I’m going to die here,” they cry up at me. Nowadays, they’ve sunk in up to their neck. Their pretty pink shirt has long been submerged in the burning black tar. Their hair is a sheet of slick black rubbery ooze. Their lips are close to the surface.

“Please come out,” I say.

“I can’t,” they reply. “I’m trapped.”

“Take my hand,” I say.

“I can’t,” they reply. “It’s too far away.”

“I’ll throw down a rope,” I say.

“No. It’s too hard to raise my arms from the tar now. The tar is too thick and heavy.”

“Why aren’t you calling for help?”

“I’ll just drown them. There’s no point.”

“We can get lots of people. We can bring machines.”

“There’s no point,” they say. “I’ll just stain them. They’ll all be cruel to me anyway. No one wants a tar monster ruining them with their touch, spreading tar everywhere they go. And I hate them all for that.”

“The tar comes off,” I shout.

“You know it doesn’t.”

“You have to try,” I plead.

“I’m going to die here,” they say.

“Let me help you. Let anyone help you. Come drink the mead you like. Come eat the cakes you like. Come get a new pair of fluffy socks. But you have to do something to save yourself. Please. You have to try.”

“I’m going to die here,” they say.

I’m sitting on the ledge now. I’m watching their eyes as their face sinks closer to the surface of the tar.

“I love you,” I say again.

“No one loves me,” the sea of tar responds. “I am poison. I am rot. I will suffocate you.”

“I do love you,” I lie to the tar.

“I ruin everything. I am hate.”

“I love you,” I lie again to the tar.

“Why are you lying?” It gurgles and hisses and steams. “All you have for me is pity and resentment. Touch me and I will drown you.”

I am lying because I still see my friend’s eyes peeking over the black oily pit. I can still see the color they dyed their hair on top– pink, their favorite. I can still see the bunny hair clip they like.

They’re still in there.

My friend lives in the tar pit.

Only the tar speaks now.

It will not let go of them. They will not let go of it.

#short story #psychological horror #creative writing #mental health #original fiction #horror #tw: mental health #tw: depression #tw: suidice #dark fiction #writers #tar pit #dark #angst #fiction #tw: sui mention

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skzdreamer13 · 2 months ago

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Solace Chapter 6

Solace Chapter 6 ~ Granite

Hyunjin Apocalypse AU

Pairing ~ Hyunjin x OC (Sarah)

Word Count ~ 6.8k

Info ~ Panic Attack, Implied child death, Mentions of blood, SMUT!!! MDNI!! [brief and not super descriptive]

Heya! It's been so long I know, and I'm so sorry. This chapter is my baby and I put a lot of love and effort into it so please love it. I'm so sorry to make anyone wait long. Still, I hope you all enjoy ♡

Solace Chapters Semi proof read, but there may still be some mistakes, sorry!

I feel like I’m one more minor inconvenience away from a break down. I drag my body over to the table in the corner of the room and throw myself down in one of the chairs. My body feels heavy and my world feels like it’s shattering. After all this time I’d spent alone, here are two people standing in front of me. Meeting Hyunjin felt like a fluke, the world sending me reprieve after having tortured me for so long, after kicking me while I was down, after having chewed me up and spit me out. Meeting Bex feels like getting spit in the face.

‘You just didn’t look hard enough’ the world says to me while laughing in my face.

I feel dizzy. I drop my head down into my hands as my elbows rest on my knees. My eyes are closed tight as I attempt to take a deep breath but it’s like oxygen is slipping through my fingers and wants nothing to do with me. Another cosmic joke.

“Oh Jesus, don’t pass out now.” I must be hyperventilating, because Bex has expressed her distaste for my situation. I feel a large, warm hand on my back rubbing up and down and I know it’s Hyunjin. It’s insane how easily this man I know so briefly eases me to the depths of my core.

“Easy, don’t listen to her. What’s wrong? Talk to me.” His voice is soft and I know it’s because he’s trying to keep our conversation to just us. His tone gives him away though, while he is mostly calm and reassuring I can hear the edge, the tense annoyance in his voice as he refers to her. I shake my head, my legs bouncing up and down as my fingers involuntarily dig into my scalp and tangle in my hair. The pain grounding me. My breaths come out shaky and every gasp for air I take is a chore, like sifting through sludge just to gather clean air to breathe.

Almost as if instinct takes him, his hands are on my face cupping my cheeks. His hands radiate warmth against the skin of my cheeks, his large hands are gentle but firm as they bring my face up so our eyes meet. I have to stop myself from leaning into his touch, it’s like everything I’ve ever wanted. He immediately grounds me, the weight in my breathing dissipates with every millisecond his dark chocolate brown eyes, filled with concern, stare into mine. He searches my eyes, relentless as if the answer to everything lay right here in this moment between us. The air grows heavy as his beautiful eyes continue to explore mine, his eyes softening as though he can tell me everything is going to be okay with one glance. And I believe him. It’s like I can hear the soft buttery smooth sound of his voice in my head, the words caress my heart like a warm embrace, and even though no words leave his mouth I hear him loud and clear.

You’re okay.

I’m here.

I’m not going anywhere.

“Ahem” Bex makes herself known once more. We both practically leap out of our skin, so enthralled in each other to have remembered there was another person in the room with us. That’s what this was right? I couldn’t have imagined that, the tension was thick and his eyes were soft and I could stare into his eyes until the end of time. But maybe I’m just lonely, and maybe he’s just kind. My face flushes at what I feel is an overt display of affection but deep down I know he doesn’t see me that way. How could he, we are just trying to survive. It would merely be out of convenience, last people alive and all. Though I guess that isn’t the case anymore. Knowing there is more than just him and I left in this city, who knows who else we could come across. Are his brothers still around? Did they come back for him and have been looking for him? If we find them, will he want me to come, or just go without a second thought? He lets his hands drop from my face, the movement feels hesitant as he lingers for a brief second before he stands straight, coming up from his crouched position in front of me practically between my legs, as he starts to pace the space between the front door and sofa. I watch as his eyebrows furrow as he enters deep thought and I can’t tell if he is trying to find a solution to our current predicament, or if he is spiraling in his own mess of emotions like I am. Did he feel it too?

Gosh Sarah there are bigger problems, get your head out of the clouds!

The sound of banging from the hallway has ceased. But having been awakened from their docile states, the once living creatures, now pace the dark hallways. Their cries, and moans sound through the thick wood of the door that separates us from them. The shuffling and thudding of their heavy uncoordinated footsteps keeps us alert. I can tell when one approaches the door, and when they pass. Slowly, and maybe subconsciously I start to keep track. Three have now walked past the door, so there are three on the left hand side and who knows how many on the right hand side. The exit, the stairs, is to our right. We’re screwed.

“So what now?” I ask aloud, my voice is meak and soft, not wanting to grab the attention of what I know stalks through the hallway right outside the door but also not really wanting to grab the attention of the human companions in the room with me. Stirring conversation seems like a disaster waiting to happen, but we have to talk eventually right? Bex hasn’t moved from her spot on the sofa, her green blood stained sweater pools around her thighs as she leans deeper into the soft cushions. Who’s blood is that? Her own? Someone she didn’t know? Someone she loved? We’ve all been through too much. Bex seems to agitate Hyunjin. He seems like he would rather be anywhere else than here in this room with her. And while I would too, he seems especially on edge. I can tell he doesn’t trust her, I don’t either, I don't know her. But I don't know why he is so apprehensive. I mean she did save us, the least we could do is be nice to her. Right? Hyunjin looks up at me from his pacing, he is biting the inside of his cheek and now that he’s farther from me I can get a good look at his frame. He looks like he could break down at any moment. The way his hands fidget, masking the way that he shakes with what might be a mixture of nerves and the chill that lives in our bones from lack of warmth and resources.

“I guess you two can stay here.” Bex pulls herself up from the comfort of fluffy cushions. She sniffles and runs her hand under her nose as though to catch the nasal drip before it escapes. The cold of winter affecting all of us.

“Well no shit, where else were we gonna go?” Hyunjin mutters under his breath as he racks a hand through his dark hair, his fingers gliding through the greasy strands and tugging lightly to free them from any knots or tangles. What I wouldn’t give to glide my hands through his- Stop

He continues his pacing and I watch as Bex’s face scrunches in annoyance and what looks like disgust. She starts to stride towards him but I stand up and walk in front of Hyunjin, placing my hand in the center of his chest to stop him. If he won’t be cordial, I can be for the both of us. I would hate for us to lose our heads and gain the attention of our not so friendly companions residing a wall apart from us.

“I’m sorry about him. It’s been a long night, maybe we should all get some sleep and come up with an actual game plan in the morning, yeah? How does that sound?” I speak to her, though my eyes are on Hyunjin’s.My tone is stern. I cannot afford to be seen as meak by a woman who clearly is a loose cannon. I need her to know I can play by her rules in her space, but I also will not be stepped on. I also need her to know, I can keep him in check, she needs me. I am valuable. I turn to face Bex, her eyebrows are furrowed in a deep thinking manner. Her soft features juxtapose the power stance she holds, her legs spread and arms crossed over her chest like she is ready to make a point and win an argument no one is trying to fight. A second passes and she rolls her eyes before turning around with a loud huff. I watch her shoulders slump slightly and she sniffles before wiping her nose with the back of her hand. How awful it must be to also be under the weather while living in the state of the world we’re in.

“Fine. But the couch is mine. There are beds in the rooms down the hall. We’ll talk tomorrow.” She throws herself back down onto the sofa, the cushions jump under the impact before settling. I turn to look back at Hyunjin. His jaw is tight and his eyes are locked on her. What is wrong with him? Why is he so apprehensive?

“We sleep in the same room.” He says matter of factly, no room for arguments, in a low tone so only I can hear him. He steps back, my hand losing the warmth of his chest, his heart beating strong underneath now gone. He turns and grabs both of our bags and strides down the hall. I grab my hammer and his axe before striding down the hall after him. I feel as though I’ve just defused a bomb but the timer is still counting down and I don’t know how to make it stop. I follow Hyunjin down the corridor, his broad shoulders and large frame block the view of the end of the hallway. The sounds of his boots, a light pitter patter, with every step he takes. My own steps light and soft behind him. There are photos on the walls, crooked as though they’d been bumped into, a few frames litter the floor, their glass cracked but not shattered. The photos are of a family, a mother, father, son and daughter. The son seems to have been older. For a moment, a split second, I wonder what happened to them? Are they alive? Who did they lose? Did they make it out?

I hope so.

The hallway is dark, the night sky the bane of my existence as it provides no light in the apartment. The faint glow from the lanturn in the living room is all that remains in the black void as we walk. Hyunjin clicks his flashlight on ahead of me, his hand coming up to his chest to light the way. The white bedroom door is slightly open and while I know Bex has obviously been sleeping and spending time in this space, I cannot help but immediately be on alert.

We walk into the room and I feel my heart clench. The room is small. A window on the side of the room is open, the cool winter breeze rustles the sheer curtains and make the temperature of the room feel ten degrees colder than the hall. The single beds are on either side of the room, staggered, though they may have once been tidy, they now sit crooked as though someone pushed them in an attempt to make an obstacle. There is blood on the ground, it’s splattered on the walls and the purple duvet of the bed that looks like it belongs to a little girl. Another duvet lay on the ground crumpled, a blue checkered pattern gracing the fabric, blood flecked atop it. A bloody hand print smeared on the window sill and I know what happened in this room. The story this bedroom tells is horrific. Devastating. Only one thought crosses my mind. Be it the family that once resided in this home, or someone like us just trying to make it, I hope they went quickly.

Hyunjin stands in front of me, shoulders drooped, flashlight held low, his eyes soft and glossy. I know he can see the story that is playing across my mind, and I can’t help myself but instinctively I reach out and lace my fingers with his. His long nimble fingers don’t hesitate to close around mine, our hands locked together. So easily we soothe the ache in each other's hearts. Neither one of us will forget this room, the lives that it held, the lives it must have seen lost. This room will sear itself into our brains. With a heavy breath I pull him out of the room and close the door to not disturb the horrific scene we both encroached on. Our hands stay locked tight, and I know at this moment, no matter what lies ahead of us, we’ll brace it together. He is my peace, my safety, my rock grounding me to the dusty wooden floor boards that sit beneath my feet. With eyes wide, hearts heavy and brains alert, Hyunjin leads us towards the second bedroom. He grabs the door handle, long thin fingers wrapping gracefully around the nob as he turns it. The door cracks open and I hold my breath unintentionally. He pushes the door open all the way and I release my held breath at the sight in front of us.

I wouldn’t call the room untouched, but there is no sign of any horror having taken place here. There are clothes littered across the floor, the bed looks like it was made in a hurry, as though the original residents knew they'd be coming home to sleep in it later so there was no point in making it perfect. Little creases in the duvet, the pillows leaned up against the headboard neatly. There is a big bay window off to the side and a door open next to it. I walk into the bedroom, my steps soft and light as I glide through to peak through the open doorway. It's dim, but there is a window in this next room that lets enough moonlight through to give me enough light. It's an on-suite bathroom. While plumbing may not exist anymore, it is still nice to sit in a toilet to do my business rather than have to do it in a bucket or the corner of a room. A shudder runs through me at the thought and my shoulders release their tension. My alert drops, though I'm never truly relaxed, but for now I can be relaxed enough to appreciate that there is a warm bed to sleep in. One bed.

One. bed.

My face heats and a blush creeps up my neck and face. Sure we've been kind of, sort of sleeping next to one another, but it was different! There were always two beds that we pushed together, and granted we basically slept on the seam to gather warmth from one another. Somehow we'd always end up touching. My chest against back, my arm around his waist. His chest against my back, his face nestled in close, breathing warm air on my neck as he drifted peacefully into sleep. My presence brings him as much peace as he brings me. While I fluster about the arrangements for a moment, Hyunjin walks into the room, as though on a mission, he walks up to the dresser on the side of the room. It looks like real wood, and must have cost a pretty penny. Strange to think these are the things that used to matter to me, to anyone. Hyunjin grabs the dresser and pulls it, he's trying to barricade the door. The dresser scrapes the wood floor and a small, but the screech resonates, bouncing off the thin walls of the silent room. The sound makes my heart drop, like nails on a chalkboard I cringe, shoulders raising and eyes shutting tight before looking over at Hyunjin. His body stiffens and neither of us move, his jaw flexes as his eyes shut tight like he is cursing himself out internally. I hear the wheezes, groans, screeches and shuffles of the bodies that lurk the hallway outside this complex. We may be inside, but with these flimsy walls, we need to be careful. I walk to the other side of the dresser and I grab Hyunjin's attention.

“Let me help you.” His eyes open and for a brief moment he looks like a deer in headlights. Eyes blown wide, eyebrows high and worry etched on his face. As quickly as the expression came, it went and he nods at me before firmly placing one hand on either side of the wooden dresser. Our eyes lock and for a moment, I wish the circumstances were different. Would we have met in the world before all of this? Would we have been friends? Would we have been more? The thought leaves me stunned for a heartbeat before I nod and we lift the dresser. We shuffle over and gently place it down in front of the bedroom door, our only escape now blocked. Though I guess there is always a window.

The loud screech brought in the tide. The hallway that was finally starting to go silent and die down was full again. I can hear them, feet dragging, bumping uncoordinatedly into each other and the walls. Groans and moans, loud wheezing echoing through the thin wall that separates us from the danger. Bex has finally settled. She knows trying to yell at us and break down the now barricaded door won't help to clear the infected, keeping us trapped here. When I heard her stomp down the hall towards our door, I thought we were done for. Maybe they’d gotten in, maybe we should let her in. Safety in numbers and all, but when I’d gone to open the door, Hyunjin stopped me. His arm out in front of me, stopping me in my tracks, his eyes searing into the locked door handle, the most intense stare I’ve ever seen. Bex lost her mind, whisper screaming through the door, the handle jiggling as she tried to twist it but it wouldn’t give her access to this space we now claimed as ours. I could hear the pound of bodies on the wall that is behind her, the hallway wall. They’d heard us, but with no brain function, they don’t know where the front door is. If we stay quiet for the rest of the night, within a day or two they should clear themselves out, finding other things to stimulate their hunting instincts, so that we can get back to the stairwell. We let Bex frustrate and tire herself out, no use trying to argue, that would only make things worse.

It’s been so long since I took a second to just look at the world. The Bay window provides a clear view of the now dawn breaking sky. We’d been up all night, neither of us able to relax enough to sleep proper with the sounds right outside our door. They sky a beautiful dark blue being overtaken by the intense reds and oranges of the sunrise in the distance. The sounds of the dead, softer now, the rustle and shuffle still there, but hungry and agitated groans and whines are sparse compared to before. I can’t help it as a yawn is pulled from me, and I rub the tired feeling from my eyes.

“You should get some rest.” Hyunjin speaks softly. His voice gravely from lack of sleep and lack of water. I turn to look at him. He is sitting on the bed, the covers pulled back as he was just beneath them attempting to get rest himself, but I can see it in his eyes. The tiredness that lingers there in his gaze, in the way his eyebrows knit together slightly and the dark circles beneath his eyes. I sigh and turn back to the window.

“It’s almost morning, dawn is breaking. I’m okay. You get some more rest.” I curl up in the cushion of the window seat, my body leaned against the cold glass of the window pane. The city looks so beautiful, so peaceful from up here. Untouched. You would never know that the world is in ruin below. I wish I didn’t know. I wish it wasn’t.

“Sarah.” His voice is closer. I turn around, the movement unhurried and calm, like I can take my time with him. He is standing in front of me now, eyes heavy and dim, like the joy has been leached out of him. For a moment my heart stutters. My eyes widen for half a second before I realize he has his hand outstretched for me to grab. His palm is faced up, fingers relaxed, and I hesitate for a moment before I gather a shaky breath and place my hand in his. His long skinny fingers curl around mine as he lightly tugs me to guide me to stand up, and I let him. My body is heavy and slow as I unwrap myself and stand, and walk with him as he brings me to the bed. He leads me to the side he had just unravelled himself from and I sit on the edge facing him, my hands resting palms down on the sheets beside me. The sheets are still warm from his body heat and it takes me a second to understand that is the reason he led me to this side, so I’d have the warmer half. My heart swells at the sweet gesture before my breath is stolen from my lungs. He bends down in front of me, one knee bent and the other on the ground as he firmly but gently places one hand on the back of my calf and lifts it to start removing my shoes.

A shiver runs up my spine at the fact that his hand on my calf is so warm I can feel it through the fabric of my jeans. I haven't taken a normal breath since his knee hit the ground, my lungs falling to work as I hold my breath while he unzips my boots carefully and slips them off my feet with the utmost gentleness before placing them off to the side. , as he then pulls my socks off of my feet as well. My breaths are shaky as he softly moves my foot off of his knee and sets it down on the floor, the cool wood replacing the cradle of his warm hands. Silently he stands and I sit there at a complete loss for words. My heart feels like it’s going to jump out of my chest and place itself directly into his hands. I look up to meet his eyes and the expression he wears is that of pure calm. When his face is relaxed his lips curl down, he looks scary, though I’ve never been afraid of him. Right now, there is a slight uptick in the corners of his lips, the faintest smile. His eyes are soft, like he is looking at his favorite thing in the world. My skin heats and a blush covers my cheeks as I tear my eyes from him.

“Let’s get some rest. We’ll need it.” The words are serious but I can hear the soft lilt in his tone. There is a shyness in it, he must know how intimate our interaction felt, or at least how it made me feel. I’m not exactly hiding my reactions well right now. I hear his soft footstep go around the bed before I hear the rustle of sheets as he pulls back the comforter to slide underneath it. His body shivers at the cool touch of the blankets enveloping him. I gather myself and with a deep breath beg my heart to steady, before I push my legs underneath the thick comforter and lay down next to him. I make the conscious choice to lay facing away from him, my eyes locked open with the way my heart pounds in my chest. I’ve never felt as unsteady as I do right now, he makes me nervous in the best way. Like a little school girl who is experiencing the simplicities of a high school romance for the first time. This isn’t something I should be feeling or worrying about right now. The world is in shambles. People are dying. The world is dying. My life is in danger 24/7 all the time and I am wondering if the cute boy in bed next to me likes me? What am I doing? I have to get my priorities straight. I have to-

“Sarah?” His voice is a whisper behind me. I turn my head to look at him behind me. He’s beautiful like this, ethereal really. Is he even real? Sometimes I swear my imagination made him up just to keep me from jumping off that bridge that night. His long hair is splayed out gently on the pillow underneath him, his eyes have dark heavy bags under them from lack of rest but his gaze is serious and wide awake. As awake as I feel right now. He has his thick bottom lip pulled between his teeth, a cute oral fixation of his, he is always biting on his lips.

God what I would give to do that to-

Oh my god shut up sarah.

I internally roll my eyes at myself and roll over to face him fully. I push the strands of dark curly hair that fall onto my face back and immediately think ‘what do I even look like right now?’ When was the last time I looked in a mirror? Gosh I must look awful. Self consciousness takes me and I tuck my face into the blankets, the lower half of my face under my nose being hidden behind the blankets before I look up to meet his eyes. The way he looks at me is so soft and gentle, a caring feeling as his eyes bore holes directly into my soul.

“Are you scared?” His voice hasn’t come up from a whisper. It’s not like the cautious conversation we had at the pharmacy, worried about making noise as it could put us in danger. The way he whispers is as though he’s asking for my secrets, an entrance into my mind. He whispers as though he wants no one to hear, so it can just be us in our own little world.

“I’m always scared.” I pull the blanket down and away from my face as I whisper it back to him. Any insecurity leaving me with the presence of his question.

“Me too.” I pause for a moment, debating whether or not to share the next words. Maybe it’s my lack of sleep or my craving for connection and intimacy that pulls the words free.

“You make it easier though.” There is a moment of silence as he thinks. I can see the wheels turn in his mind as he processes what I’ve just said.

“I wish things were easier.” A sigh follows the words that tumble past his lips as he pushes his fingers through his messy black hair.

“Me too.”

There is silence for a moment as we look at each other. My heart is heavy with so many feelings. I haven’t had a second to breathe and feel everything I’ve been feeling, and I wonder how he must be feeling. What is he thinking about right now? Is his heart as heavy as mine?

“Thank you for saving me.” He whispers the words slow and deliberate, enunciating every word so I can hear him properly. The words don’t leave him accidentally. He didn’t misspeak. They aren’t said on a whim. He means every word he says. I know because of how he said it, and the way he looks at me with such conviction in his eyes, there is no way of wondering. He means it.

“I-” I’m cut off before I can get my thoughts out coherently.

“Before you try to deny that you saved me, think for a second why I may have been on that bridge too.” Then it hits me like a truck. He didn’t just stumble upon me. I can’t believe I never bothered to ask him why he was there. My heavy heart wins over me and my eyes start to water. Before I know it tears are falling, gravity pulling them down my face as I attempt to hide my face from him. Gently, his long fingers wrapping around my hand to stop me from covering my face. As if it were a habit, I flip my hand in his hold, palm up, and glide my fingers through his, interlocking our fingers. His grip is tight but not crushing, grounding. His thumb glides across my skin in a gentle caress, as I drag my wet eyes up to meet his gaze. His eyebrows are knitted as though my pain were his, as if every tear that falls from my eyes is cutting his own heart to shreds. For a long moment we just look at each other, eyes searching one anothers, as though all the answers are right here in each other's gaze.

With every second that passes, my heartbeat picks up, my heart feeling like it’ll beat right out of my chest. My breathing is quick and uneven as I notice his face is closer than it was a moment ago. Our bodies gravitate closer, like opposite ends of magnets. Before I know it his forehead is resting on mine, our breath mingles, heavy and laboured. My eyelids feel heavy and for a moment I panic. Should I back away? Does he want this as much as I do? Does he feel obligated to share affections with me? But I lose all thoughts as his soft plush lips gently brush against mine.

The kiss is tender, filled with longing, sorrow and care. His lips are warm against mine and I let out a sigh, my body relaxing into the warmth of his as we softly kiss one another. He brings his hand up and places it on my cheek cupping my face as he runs his thumb over my skin, swiping away tears that had fallen earlier. He detaches from my lips and rests his forehead against mine, both of our breathing frantic as if we ran a marathon. I place my hand on the back of his neck, his soft long wavy hair tangling in my fingers.

God I’ve been dying to run my hands through his hair.

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?” His voice is breathy. Even though the words are romantic, there is a sadness that permeates his tone. Concerned, I attempt to pull away but he brings our foreheads together again, his eyes tightly shut as though he can’t bring himself to look at me. My thumbs rub at the base of his neck. I’m overwhelmed, there are so many reasons why we shouldn't continue, and yet I couldn’t name a single reason why I would care to spend a single moment away from this man any longer.

“Hyunjin.” My voice is light but sure, his eyes opening slowly. I’m met with his gorgeous chocolate brown eyes, glassy with tears threatening to spill over. My heart aches with the tension in his shoulders, the pain and adoration that lives in his gaze when he looks at me. I bring my lips up to place my lips gentle and soothing against his forehead, when I pull back the pools in his eyes have overflowed, tears softly streaking down his cheeks. I wipe them with my thumb, as he did to my own. If I could destroy anything that could possibly bring him sorrow, I would.

“There is nowhere I would rather be, than right here.” As the words leave my lips for the moment, all concern, potential worries, weighing pros and cons and all the existential feelings leave us both and we are left laying in this bed, emotions on display and I’ve never felt more naked while completely clothed. I am completely seen, on display and I’m not afraid at all. The hesitation that lingered a moment ago is now gone, as he pulls me in and our lips lock once more. Our bodies chest to chest, his hand that was once interlocked with mine, now rests on my waist pulling my body closer to his. The kiss escalates, our breathing heavy, my hands tangled in hair as his hands knead at the skin of my exposed waist, my shirt having risen in our efforts to bring our bodies as close to one another as possible. Hyunjin’s chest is strong as it rises and falls unsteadily, his breath hitching when I get greedy in our kiss and pull his bottom lip between my teeth, sucking and nibbling lightly on it. It’s as if his restraint snaps for a moment, a soft moan escapes him and his hips roll forward. The movement would have gone unnoticed had we not been pressed against one another, but I feel it, the grind of his hips, the bulge in his pants rubbing against my thigh briefly. I startle, my body stiffening unintentionally. I want this, but it’s been so long since I’ve touched anyone, or been touched myself, the feeling is almost foreign. Sensing my hesitation we pull apart, still close enough to share breath as we heave, my heart pounding so loud in my ears as I struggle to catch my breath. Hyunjin is beautiful like this, lips pouty and swollen, hair messy, bangs falling on his forehead. His face flushed. His eyes search mine, pupils blown, eyes wide like the sleepiness I know he felt minutes before has been shocked out of his system.

It’s my turn to lead as I pull him back in, our lips colliding once more, and I’ve decided. Unless we have to part, I don’t want to. He must feel the change I bring because he props himself up, lifting his body to hover over mine. I can feel his eagerness, mixed with hesitation. He feels it too. This is a new person, a new experience, to share your body with a person, the intimacy that comes with it. I’m tired of questioning, hesitating. Caution to the wind it is. I slide my hands from around his neck, down the front of his body, his chest and abs tense with the contact before I grab his waist and pull his body down to put his body weight down on me. His thigh falls between mine and mine between his. The contact after depriving ourselves is delicious, soft breathy moans slip past our lips, dying on each other's lips. His tongue licks my bottom lip and part my lips slightly for him, as we softly rock our hips forward, the friction of his strong clothed thigh against me is already almost too much with the combination of his warm thick bulge straining against his pants grinding into my thigh. It takes everything in me to hold back bigger, louder moans. I want this, but I don’t want it to get us killed. I can tell he is losing focus too, our kiss is now a mess, he’s disconnected from me to kiss down my jaw and neck softly nipping at the skin and sending lightning down my body. My hands fist the fabric of his shirt as I start to lose myself in the many sensations.

We part so I can bring his shirt up and over his head. Our movements are clumsy. Shy and gentle. We undress each other with the utmost care, hands softly grazing newly exposed skin, lips pressing against every beauty mark and freckle. The air between us is thick and hot, craving and longing makes my skin sensitive and with every light pass of his fingertips as he maps out and memorizes every curve of my body has me pulling him impossibly close, wanting more. He doesn’t keep me waiting much longer. Condoms are a luxury when the world doesn’t run, does that make this a thousand times riskier than I’d like? Sure. But at this moment, nothing can change my mind. I want him to leave his mark on my soul. I want to be as close to him as humanly possible.

We lock eyes as he begins to slide into me. My eyes go wide at the stretch, his movements are slow, giving me time to adjust to his size as he continues to fill me completely. It’s impossible to catch my breath, panting, our breaths mingle hot between us as our bodies lay flush. For a moment there is no movement, no sound beside the heavy breaths we share. His hand comes up to rest against my cheek, his touch is grounding and loving, his eyes never leaving mine as he plants a chaste kiss against my sweaty forehead, his sweat mingling with my own, as he pulls his hips back slowly before driving forward to bottom out once again. Hyunjin’s movements are fluid and slow, there is no rush, a craving for this to last forever. Soft moans and breathy groans echo around the desolate room and for a moment in the back of my brain I panic. Are we making too much noise? Then the pull of his hips rolling forward to seat so deeply inside me has my eyes rolling back and I don’t even care anymore. There is nothing else that matters in this moment than the way our bodies interlace, my legs wrapped around his hips to keep him close, my hands grasping at his broad back, his toned muscles rippling beneath my fingers with every movement he makes. His head rests in the crook of my neck, breath labored, a soft wet kiss and whiny moan with every shift of his hips. Our chests are flush, his body heavy and sweaty as he lays his weight against mine but I don’t fucking care. Every nerve of my body is on fire when he moves his hips just right, that I’m seeing stars, lighting shoots down my spine and down to my toes as I curl them, instinctively clenching my thighs tighter around his ass as though I could possibly pull him in deeper. My walls spasm around him as I bite down on his shoulder not trusting myself to hold back the noise that I muffle into his skin. I hear the deep groan he muffles into my neck as he still his movements and I feel his cock twitch and the warmth as he spills inside of me. His body goes limp above me as I hold most of his weight, I wrap one arm around his waist as the other reaches up to run through his long damp hair. We lay there in the afterglow for a moment, he peppers soft kisses against my neck, chest, cheeks and lips and I giggle at the way he cherishes me. Right now, if you told me the world around us was the horror show I know it to be, I would think you were lying to me. Nothing has ever felt more perfect than it does right now. I found eternity in his beautiful chocolate colored eyes and I never want to let go of this.

The morning greets us, the sun making its presence known with its strong rays coming through the window, lighting up the large room. We lay in this bed, in this room that belongs to neither of us, and I feel so at home. My head rests heavy on his chest as I listen to his heartbeat and my head rises and falls with every breath he takes. Our hands lay interlocked resting on his stomach as we lay completely intertwined with one another. With a sigh he plants a kiss against the top of my head, his lips linger and I know what he is about to say.

“We have to find a way out of here.”

I promise I will be uploading more often! I mean it this time lol I already have things written and ready to upload. Thank you for reading ♡

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banditthewriter · 2 years ago

Text

Run, Run, Run - Billy Russo

Here we have 2023's Halloween fic! I haven't written much fic this year and I can't promise that I'll write much/any next year, but I wanted to make sure I got this done. It's not edited or proof read beyond brief skims so sorry about that. It's also 17.2k so.

Warnings: Murder. Blood. Depiction of serial killer attacks. Discussion of scars and grief and fear.

Summary: The reader survives an attack by a known serial killer when they are in high school. Only the attacks start up again when they are older and in another state. Is it related to the first attacks? Is it a copy cat? And more importantly...is it someone the reader knows?

As always, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy!

[gif is mine]

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You hadn’t been to many parties since you started high school, but the ones you had gone to had always gotten rowdy. Spilled out all over a house except for any rooms marked Occupied or Out of Bounds. The front and back yards would be covered in cans and bottles and cups. And quite a few people passed out.

This party might be in full swing, but it was nothing like the last parties you’d gone to. There were a lot of people, but everyone was squished into the basement den. A few went up into the kitchen in sets of two or three or more, but they all came right back after they got a refill or more snacks.

As it was, there were only about twenty people at this party. Once upon a time that’d be laughed at, considered a failure of a party, but this time? You were honestly surprised to see this many people at the graduation party most people had been looking forward to.

Why were things different this time? Simple.

Over the last three weeks, seven people had been brutally murdered in your small, sleepy coastal town. Four teenagers, one parent, one police officer, and one unlucky Good Samaritan. Everyone said that nothing like this had ever happened here before and you believed it. It wasn’t a place where people left their doors unlocked, but murders? Multiple murders in just a few weeks? It was unheard of.

The media named the murderer the Seaside Slasher, but tonight everyone had his real name. He had been caught when he fled the scene of his last murder. No one recognized the name as being a local. As terrifying as it was that a random man had come to your town to brutally murder complete strangers, it didn’t matter. It was over. He was in jail.

Parents had reluctantly granted permission for the seniors to go to parties as a way to celebrate the upcoming graduation and a way to mourn the loss of their classmates. Your parents had been very hesitant to grant permission, but your older brother who had come to town made them agree that you deserved to let loose.

Not that this party was much of a way to do that. Music played so softly that you could barely hear it, teenagers sat around and talked quietly. You hadn’t expected a blowout or anything, but this felt more like study hall.

You could either stay here and be reminded of the horrors of the last few weeks or you could go home and actually relax. It wasn’t a hard decision.

A quiet goodbye to your group of friends later, you went up the stairs and slipped your shoes on. You checked your purse for your things and then headed to the front door.

“Where you headed sweetie?”

You turned around and saw the mom of the student whose house you were in. You smiled as you hoisted your purse over your shoulder.

“I’m going to head home. My parents didn’t want me out for long with everything.”

The mom smiled, but you could tell it was with a heavy heart. She looked out the glass of the front door and frowned a bit.

“It’s late. Do you want me or my husband to drive you?”

That wasn’t a rare occurrence even without the murders still hanging over the heads of everyone, but you still shook your head.

“No, I live one street over, on Granite Avenue. It won’t take long.”

She laughed a bit as she reached out and touched my shoulder.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be so cautious. He was caught, wasn’t he? We’re safe now.”

“But it’s hard to switch gears that fast,” you added, since that’s exactly how your parents had worded it. She laughed as if you had read her mind, but you could see she was still a bit hesitant to let you walk. “I’ll call once I’m home. How’s that?”

With your friend’s mom placated, you headed out into the night air. It wasn’t overbearingly hot, even though summer was right at the cusp. Living this close to the coast meant there was also a little bit of a breeze though.

You walked down the street a few blocks before you cut across to your own street. There weren’t many sounds in the distance, just the sound of your feet on the asphalt, but you still felt the hair rise on the back of your neck the longer you were out. You sped up your pace until you could see your house clearly, the front porch light on to welcome you home.

Maybe your parents had the right idea to not want you to go out. It didn’t matter that you were safe, right then you felt like you were being hunted.

On the front porch you pulled out your key and let yourself in. There were no lights on upstairs or in the living room as you put your purse down and tugged off your shoes. You bypassed the stairs and went to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. With it in your hand, you took a few sips before you headed to the stairs that led down to the den where your brother was staying. There wasn’t an overhead light on but flickers from the television. He was probably awake though and you wanted to let someone know that you were home.

Down the stairs, you looked over to the couch and saw the back of your brother’s head as he was facing the television which was on the local news on mute. Right as you opened your mouth to say something to alert him to your presence, you saw what was on the television screen.

Captions ran across the bottom of the screen in a delay to the way the anchor’s mouth was moving, but you saw the picture in the corner of the screen and the tag under it.

SEASIDE SLASHER ESCAPED POLICE CUSTODY

“Oh god,” you whispered as you stared at the news footage. Somehow the murderer had gotten free and whereabouts were unknown.

You needed to call your friend and let them know that you were home and also what had happened, in case they didn’t already know. You needed to wake your parents. You needed to…

“Jere?”

You whispered your brother’s name, not wanting to scare him, but he didn’t budge from watching the news. You flicked the light on which would have ordinarily caused him to at least jerk but he didn’t move still.

Unease filled you as you tiptoed across the carpet to the edge of the couch. As you peered around, multiple things happened at once.

The first was that you saw your brother, his eyes dull and face slack as blood oozed from his neck. He was propped up on the couch to look like he was still alive, but he very much wasn’t.

The second was that crumpled on the floor in front of the couch, hidden from view at first, was your mom. Her face was upturned a bit, but had the same dull eyed look as your brother as she laid in a pool of blood that soaked into the thick carpet underfoot.

The third was that, from the corner of your eye, you saw something move in the reflection of the framed picture of your family that hung over the television. That split second heads up is what made you spin around only to be face to face with a masked murderer who held a bloodied knife in his hand.

The scream came out of you all at once, from the horror of seeing your murdered brother and sister to the terror of being face to face with their murderer. It all happened so quickly that you just screamed for it all as you immediately started to run. You tossed the glass of water you held at his face as you took off across the room.

It meant you had to run through the pool of blood and you felt your socks soak in some of it as you did, but you couldn’t focus on that. You couldn’t focus on the fact that you’d just run past the dead bodies of your loved ones. You could only focus on survival.

Another scream came out of your throat and you felt something slash against your shoulder. He had caught up to you. You bounced off the wall and then darted behind the couch, desperate to get to the stairs, but he was right on you. Your hand grasped a picture frame from the shelf nearest you and you spun around to slam it against his face as you scrambled, screaming as his knife cut into your stomach. You needed to put distance between you and him, needed to get up the stairs. Needed to…

Was your dad even alive? Maybe he had been killed too. Maybe there was no one in the house to hear you scream.

Your face was slammed against the corner of the wall near the stairs, another slash of the knife as it went across your shoulder blades. The den wasn’t large enough to run from him, nowhere to hide. You were going to be killed, you were going to be—

A thunderous noise came to your attention right before someone came down the stairs and barreled into the body that was holding you against the wall, the knife carving against your back and the back of your arm as he was ripped away. You screamed as you spun around, but you watched as your dad wrestled the masked man to the floor and ripped the knife from his hands. Even though the other man fought back, your dad had something to help him.

Cuffs. He was in his police uniform so he must have just gotten home and heard your screams.

As your heart stopped pounding in your ears you heard your dad’s voice break through the fog.

“–911, okay? You need to call 911!”

You stumbled over to the landline that was kept in the den, your feet screaming as you did, but you didn’t focus on that. Just on getting to the phone. Hitting the 9 then the 1 then the 1 again. Then you slumped against the ground as a voice came across to ask what was your emergency.

“Please,” you begged softly as your eyes went to the dead bodies that you could clearly see, your eyes welling up with tears as you felt nausea roll through you. “Oh god, please just…please.”

A bloodied hand entered your vision and you screamed, but your dad bent down so that you could see his face.

“Give me the phone sweetheart, let me,” he said, tears in his eyes.

You must have given it to him. Or maybe he just took it from you. Either way, you watched as he walked back to where he had tackled the masked man as he spoke quickly into the phone. He stumbled over to the body of your mom and knelt down, those tears now pouring over his cheeks. You couldn’t hear his words, but you closed your eyes so you couldn’t see it anymore.

Everything hurt. Your feet from walking through broken glass, either from your water that you’d thrown or the picture you’d smashed against his face. Your back from the multiple knife slashes. Your stomach from the knife. Both of your arms from the knife. Your head from being bashed into the wall.

Your heart. That’s what hurt worse.

—

“You sure this is what you want?”

You looked over at your dad and then back down to the papers in your hands. It listed the information about your dorm room assignment and orientation. You were about 30 miles away from the city but your dad was finally asking the question you knew had been on the tip of his tongue since you had told him that you had gotten into NYU.

“Little late to change my mind, isn’t it?”

“Not at all. I’ll turn this car around right now if you ask me to.”

You knew he would, but you didn’t want him to.

At one point you had contemplated going to a college closer to home, maybe driving in to see your parents every now and then. Maybe you’d go to your brother’s college. Then…

“This is what I want,” you said softly as you looked out of the window to the cars that were all heading the same direction.

“Okay sweetheart,” your dad replied equally softly. “You know I’ll worry about you in a city like New York, but I can’t fault you for wanting to get as far away as you can.”

Your arms subconsciously came around your stomach, fingers searching out the rigid raised scar that stretched beside your naval almost to your side.

“Bad things happen in the city, but bad things happen in small towns too,” you reminded your dad, as if he ever needed a reminder.

As if he hadn’t nailed the door to the den shut the day of the funeral.

“Maybe I’ll move out this way too,” he said instead of addressing your comment. “Less travel so we can see each other.”

Normally the thought of a parent moving to be closer to where you were going to college would seem embarrassing or ridiculous. This time it sounded like a good idea.

“Maybe you should,” you replied as you looked over at your dad, the bags under his eyes and the gray that seemed to sprout up in the last six months. “I think that would be a good idea.”

—

Your roommate was out at another party, but you didn’t mind. You’d gotten used to the solitude, even surrounded by people as you were in New York.

Instead you stared at the computer screen where you had been doing homework. An email had come into your personal box and desperate for a change in pace, you’d opened it. Now you were unable to look away.

A news alert. You’d set it up before you left for college, although this was the first alert you’d gotten. The article was short and to the point, but you kept staring at the headline.

SEASIDE SLASHER SENTENCED TO DEATH

Your phone rang as you read the words again and you answered without looking at the caller ID. You already knew who it was.

“Did you see–”

“Yes,” you said quickly, cutting your dad off. “Yeah, I’m looking at it now.”

Both of you sat in silence on the phone for a few more minutes, neither of you sure what to say at first.

“It’ll be years before it’s actually carried out,” your dad said finally. “These things go through certain stages and he can appeal but, it’s not like there’s much chance of him winning. Justice will be served.”

You closed your eyes and flipped through memories of that night like a flipbook. You felt the horror and terror and pain flow through you all over again.

“Good.”

—

“You’ll never guess who I saw earlier,” your friend Karen said as she flopped down onto your couch. “Never in a million years guess.”

“Frank Castle,” you teased back, not needing to guess.

Her laughter was a good enough answer to tell you that you were right. You laughed as you spun around in your desk chair to look at her.

“And? Did he ask you out or are you continuing to pretend not to like him?”

This was a pretty common sight in your tiny little apartment. You and Karen had met in college and stayed friends even with both of you having hectic lives. Now, out in the real world as it was, you two still hung out a few times a week. To the point where you each had keys to the other’s places.

“He asked me out.”

You let out a whoop and pumped your fist in the air.

“Knew he had it in him!”

“Oh shut up,” she laughed even as she got a starry look in her eyes. “I think I’ve led him on quite a chase already.”

Those two had circled each other for a while, neither one relenting at first even though it was obvious they both liked each other. You were almost annoyed at how perfect they were for each other.

“He said he has this friend named Kevin. He wanted to know if…”

You weren’t sure why Karen had trailed off until you realized you were frowning.

“No blind dates,” you said as you spun back around to your computer. “I appreciate it and all, but I’m fine.”

Your hand went down to your stomach and traced the ridge of the scar in a familiar fashion. You knew without looking that Karen had caught the gesture.

“I know that your first time ended badly, but not every guy is going to…”

She trailed off but you turned to look at her.

“To what, freak out when he sees me naked because I look like someone tried to unsuccessfully gut me like a fish?”

Your college boyfriend had been surprised when he’d seen you without a shirt on, but that wasn’t what had ruined the mood. Even when he’d seen the scars on your back or your arms, he would still have been willing to go further, but it was you that stopped it.

Simply because he had asked “what happened?” As if that wasn’t a reasonable question at that moment.

“I know that you don’t like talking about what happened,” Karen started softly, and then a little more forceful when you scoffed, “but you can’t keep going like this. You rarely leave your apartment unless it’s to come to mine, you never date because you don’t want to talk to anyone about what happened, you only ever talk to me or your dad. It’s not healthy.”

The hand that had pressed against the scar reached up to work the mouse on your computer, although your eyes were unfocused as your mind replayed Karen’s words over and over again.

“Have you thought about going back to a counselor?”

You shook the mouse to make the screensaver go away.

“The last one looked freaked out when I tried to explain what happened. Hard to go back to one after that.”

Karen was one of the only people in the city that knew what had happened to you. It had happened one night about two years into being friends when the two of you had gone out drinking. You’d gotten spooked by someone wearing a ski mask, even though it was winter and obviously cold outside. Karen had found you having a panic attack in the bathroom and everything had just flowed out of you.

She was a great friend, your best friend. That was the only reason you didn’t kick her out of your apartment as she pushed for you to better yourself.

Except you didn’t want to keep having this conversation, so you opened your mouth to change topic but your cell ringing stopped you. Your dad’s picture showed up so you answered it with a smile.

“Hey dad.”

“Hey sweetheart,” he started, his voice slow and careful. “What are you up to?”

“Just sitting at my apartment with Karen,” you said as you turned back to Karen who called out a hello to your dad as she picked up a magazine off your coffee table. “What’s up?”

It took a moment before he answered.

“Have you been watching the news?”

Both you and your dad lived in New York, although he was a ways away from the city, but you knew he didn’t mean the local news. Not even state news. There was something in his voice that told you he meant the news back home.

“No,” you said as you turned to your computer and typed in a search. “I turned off my alerts a while back. Why, what…oh.”

The headline was the first one that popped up, sixteen hours old.

SEASIDE SLASHER EXECUTED

The article wasn’t very long, but you read through it twice just in case. Pretty to the point. No stay of execution was ordered, so the execution had been scheduled. Some of the family members of the victims were present, noticeably absent was the family of the last victims but you and your dad’s names weren’t listed at least. His last words were quoted near the bottom of the article.

“You have no idea. I’ll be back.”

You closed your eyes and took a few breaths until you were regulated once more. When you opened your eyes, Karen was standing beside you and obviously reading the screen because her hand went to your shoulder to give you an encouraging squeeze.

“I guess it’s over,” you said as you covered her hand with yours.

“I guess so,” your dad said back.

For some reason, neither of you sounded convinced.

—

It had been Frank’s idea to leave the city for a few days. While his reasoning was different from yours, you had to admit that you weren’t against the idea. It was around Halloween and while that holiday had not always been an issue for you, sometime over the last few years you just started to react differently.

Even though the man that had killed multiple people in your town, including your mom and brother, had been executed a few years ago, you still felt like you couldn’t fully breathe and be at ease. You didn’t know how to explain it, but that’s just how you felt. Halloween in the city meant seeing people dressed in costumes and a majority of that wasn’t a problem. It just put you more on edge.

Not that your apartment ever got trick or treaters.Still.

“My friend is gonna come out to join us,” Frank said as he carried your bags into the little cabin. “Before you say anything, it’s not a setup kind of thing. Billy is just like a brother to me, I want him to meet the girl that’s like a sister to Karen.”

“Karen already told me. Plus I’ve heard a lot about this Billy guy over the years, it’d be nice to actually meet him.”

Frank was a great guy and had been great to Karen since the two of them had gotten their shit together to start dating. You hadn’t known that Frank was military when the two of them first met, but they made it work. In fact you couldn’t think of any couple that was as in love as the two of them.

So no, you knew that Frank wasn’t the type to try to push a blind date on you. You’d heard a hundred stories about Billy Russo but whenever they were back in the city, you weren’t able to meet up. Sometimes it was for legitimate reasons, deadlines for work or that one memorable Thanksgiving you had the stomach flu. Sometimes it was just because your anxiety and fear had gotten triggered by other situations and you couldn’t leave your house.

This was good though. You were out in the world which always made Karen happy, you were going to meet Frank’s best friend which would make him happy, and you were secluded from any potential jumpscares that Halloween might provide which made you happy. It was a win-win-win.

Two frozen pizzas were popped into the oven and the three of you settled into the living room to watch a movie. Frank got updates from Billy on his own travel out from the city to a remote cabin that you all had rented for the long weekend. When you’d asked why he hadn’t met up with you all to head out together, Frank revealed that Billy liked to do things on his own.

You understood that.

The movie was some actiony Blockbuster that you only vaguely recognized the name of, but it wasn’t really meant to keep everyone’s attention. It was more background noise while the three of you talked. Karen was in the middle of a story from her work at the law office when what sounded like a car pulling up had all of you looking over to the door.

“Bill said he still had an hour left,” Frank said as he checked his phone again. Then he stood up and approached the door and looked through the glass. “Huh. I don’t see a car besides ours.”

Karen frowned and got up to move over to the large glass windows that you had pulled the curtains closed on. She opened them just a bit and looked around.

“Think they drove around to the back? The driveway wraps around the house.”

Frank walked out of the living room and into the kitchen to check back there, but called that there wasn’t a car there either.

“Maybe someone just turned around in the driveway and was gone before you got up?” you offered as you tried not to let yourself get swept away in worry and fear.

“That…is a good possibility,” Karen agreed as she let go of the curtains and moved to sit next to you once more. “Out here away from the city you can hear everything like that. It didn’t sound too close, now that I’m thinking about it.”

Frank came back into the living room with another piece of pizza halfway eaten already as he nodded in agreement. He sat down on the chair closest to the television and put his feet back up on the coffee table.

“I always forget you both are from small towns,” he said as he wiped his hands on a napkin before he crumpled it and tossed it with the rest of the dinner’s debris on the coffee table. “I’m used to cities.”

You stretched your legs out and then moved so that you were sitting criss cross on the couch cushion.

“My town was tiny. The kind of place where everyone knew everyone, secrets were nearly impossible to have, people felt comfortable going to anyone’s house and asking for something if they needed it. It was…it was a great place to grow up.”

You waved off Frank’s look of concern with a small laugh.

“It’s okay, I’m okay. The last therapist said that I needed to get better about talking about the good things from my past. It wasn’t all…bad.”

Karen reached over and squeezed your hand in support which just made your chest swell with a bitter happiness. How bad off were you that you could be praised for doing something as simple as talking about the good days of your past?

Knock knock.

All three of you looked over at the door. Frank glanced over at his phone once more and then stood up. He went to the door and looked out of the small window, but didn’t seem to see anyone. When his hand went to the bolt, you opened your mouth but immediately closed it.

This was just a normal situation. It wasn’t anything to get worked up about. If you gave into your fear every time something happened that was out of your hands, you’d never get to have a normal life.

He opened the door just a few inches and looked out, the light from the house flooding out onto the porch. He flicked on the overhead light but didn’t open the glass door to step out and check.

Tap tap tap.

All of you looked over to the window that was in front of you, angled so that someone standing in front of it wouldn’t be visible from the front door. You opened your mouth and looked over at Karen who was frowning. Frank held a hand out, but Karen stood up and marched over to the window. She didn’t pull the curtains wide, but she didn’t have to. The moment she pulled them even partially open, the sight made her scream and jump backwards.

There was someone just outside of the window dressed in a black hoodie with a Halloween mask on their face. You recognized the mask from some horror film or other that had come out years and years ago, but that didn’t really click. Instead you found yourself staring at the mask, mouth open as if to scream, but nothing coming out.

Things happened very quickly after that. Karen had turned to Frank who was already out of the house in the blink of an eye. You were up and launching yourself to the kitchen, hands fumbling as you pulled open drawer after drawer before you found the knives. You grabbed the largest one and swung around, but then you jumped back as you saw the person with the mask was in the living room.

Except the mask was in his hand and you recognized him. It was Frank’s friend Billy. Frank’s friend Billy who was being yelled at by Karen as she yanked the mask out of his hand.

Your body was still in fight or flight, the knife held aloft as if to ward off anyone from coming closer. When someone did move closer to you, you recognized that it was Frank but still couldn’t lower your arm. You heard your name being called, heard Karen say your name as well, but you still couldn’t move.

You were safe as long as you stayed right where you were. Your back was to a solid wall, the knife was in front of you. You would be safe, you would be…

“It’s alright, you’re alright,” a voice softly called to you from your left. You turned your head and saw Karen, a few feet away with her hands up, her face paler than you’d ever seen it. “It was just a mistake, a stupid prank. Everything is okay.”

Your eyes looked past Karen and Frank to where Billy stood, his eyes wide as he stared back at you. He raised his hands slowly and showed his palms. Then he spoke, or maybe just mouthed the words.

You are safe.

Safe. You shut your eyes for a moment and then when you opened them back up, the haze you had gone under when everything had happened was lifted. You dropped the knife and shrank back into the wall so that you wouldn’t crumple.

“Oh god,” you whimpered as you looked over at Karen, “I’m sorry. I didn’t hurt anyone, did I?”

“No, of course not,” Frank answered as he grabbed the knife and put it on the counter.

Karen swooshed in and wrapped you in a hug. You held on as tight as you could and buried your face in her shoulder. You weren’t crying, no tears and no body wracking sobs. Just shook as adrenaline fled your body.

“I am so sorry,” a new voice said a few feet away. When you glanced up, you met Billy’s dark eyes as he stared at you and Karen. “I didn’t…I didn’t know. I thought it would be a funny prank, I didn’t know.”

Didn’t know what? You remembered seeing Karen yell at him as she pulled the mask from his hand and you assumed that maybe she had said something. Something to let him know that he just traumatized you a bit.

You sniffled and pulled away from Karen. Then you stepped a little closer to Billy.

“We haven’t been formally introduced. Hi, I’m…a survivor of a masked serial killer.”

Billy let out a shocked laugh and held his hand out to you.

“Nice to meet you.”

—

Karen and Frank had gone to bed around midnight and although you should have done the same, you found yourself still sitting in the living room with Billy at almost two in the morning. Once everything had settled down and Billy had apologized again for scaring you, you all had gone into the living room to talk and try to recoup from the events that had happened.

Once the couple had gone to bed, the comfortable silence had made you say something you hadn’t expected.

“It was my senior year. In total, nine people were killed. Including my mom and my brother. I think I was going to be number ten if my dad hadn’t arrived.”

With that, you spilled the whole story in a way you’d only done with Karen and with a few therapists. You told Billy everything that had happened and how it made you feel.

“I don’t leave my apartment much,” you admitted as you stared down at where your fingers were picking at the thread on the blanket over your lap. “Karen has helped a lot with that, and Frank too now. They help me get out and feel…safe. Halloween is a hard time because of the masks. It’s like I go right back to the den that night, feel like I’m going to die.”

“I’m really sorry about everything. I had no idea.”

“I know,” you whispered softly as you looked over to where Billy was watching you. “To be honest, that’s the scariest thing that’s happened to me since…since the attack. As messed up as it is, I think…I think it helped me.”

Billy tilted his head to show that he was listening, but he didn’t say anything. As if he knew him speaking would make you not say what was on your mind.

“I’ve been in a holding pattern since it all happened. I moved to the city for college and then I got an apartment and a job and somewhat of a life, but there’s a part of me that never left my hometown. A part of me that is still running around that room, thinking I was going to die. Tonight, when I was scared for my life again, I didn’t run. Or well, I did, but I was going to fight. I was going to…I wasn’t going to be caught unprepared again. I was going to fight.”

You bit your bottom lip as you looked down at your hands. Then slowly you grabbed your shirt and pulled up the hem to show your scar. It was the first time you’d voluntarily shown anyone besides doctors or Karen.

“This is just one of them, but...I was always ashamed. That I came out of that terrible night with just some scars. It never felt right that I was alive with just scars, when everyone else was gone.”

Billy’s eyes had moved down to the scar along your stomach, but the way they lingered didn’t make you feel hideous or like he thought you were a freak. In fact, the way his eyes moved along the skin made butterflies appear in your stomach.

“Survivor’s guilt is a difficult thing,” he said as he finally raised his eyes to meet yours. “You have that fear, but you also feel guilty. Like you shouldn’t get to be carefree because you don’t think you should have survived.”

You lowered your shirt and thought about that, let it sit for a while. Then you closed your eyes and laughed.

“Six therapists. I’ve seen six therapists and no one has put it so perfectly.”

Billy leaned his head back against the couch for a moment and then looked over at you.

“Every tour that Frankie and I do, I always tell myself that I probably won’t make it back. I make smart decisions and I do what I can to survive, but I accepted a long time ago that no one would notice if I was gone.”

“Frank would,” you said softly, your eyes darting over to the hallway where Karen and Frank’s room was. “He said that you’re like a brother to him.”

When you looked back at Billy, he was staring at you with an emotion you couldn’t name.

“The guy. What happened to him?”

The jump from topics made you confused for a moment before you shook your head to clear it a bit.

“He was sentenced to death and a few years ago, he was executed.”

Billy nodded as he stood up, stretching a bit until his back popped.

“Good. That’s…good.”

He moved into the kitchen and you didn’t follow or try to speak to him while he was in there. You had a feeling that Billy was going through his own journey with the things that weighed on him, but you weren’t going to push.

When he came back into the living room, he gestured to the hall.

“Should probably head to bed. It’s late.”

You nodded and stood up. To extend the time with Billy, you grabbed the trash from the coffee table and moved into the kitchen to throw it away. When you opened the trash can, you stared down at the mask that had started it all.

“Here,” Billy said as he took the trash from you and pushed it into the can, burying the mask completely. “Like it never happened.”

You glanced up at Billy’s face and then nodded, even though you knew that wasn’t what you felt like at all. Just like you had said to Billy, you felt like the whole ordeal pushed you into the healing part of your journey. Now you honestly felt like you could breathe again.

It had been a long time coming, but you were starting to feel whole once more.

—

“I have a box of picture frames. Where do you want it?”

Karen looked over at you and then glanced at the messy living room.

“Put them on the coffee table for now? Honestly I have no idea what I want to do with this place.”

You laughed when you placed the heavy box on the coffee table. Honestly you didn’t blame Karen for being a bit overwhelmed. Frank and Billy and Curtis had moved the furniture into the house over the weekend so you and Karen took it on yourself to unpack as much as you could.

Karen and Frank’s new house was very nice and as everything was unloaded, it slowly became more and more like a home. You were happy for the two of them, even if you were a little envious.

Since that Halloween cabin trip, you had made a lot of strides with getting over your past. Even so, you were just starting to get your life back together.

Including going on a few dates over the last few weeks. Still nothing serious, but casual dating isn’t bad every now and then.

As you unpacked books for the bookshelf, you let your mind wander to Billy. Since that trip, all of you had gotten together a few times for other trips or just for a meal and a laugh. When Frank and Billy were deployed again, you and Karen sent care packages and kept in touch with them. It felt natural.

Karen got your attention as she came through with a box.

“I’m taking these clothes upstairs. Wanna stop for lunch soon?”

You agreed as you broke down the box you had been pulling stuff out of for the bookshelf. As you opened the next box, your phone started to ring in your pocket. When you looked at the screen, you saw Billy’s contact on there and answered immediately.

“Hey Billy,” you greeted as you started to pull the books out for the bookshelf.

When his voice came through, it was obvious he was calling from his car.

“Hey, uh, you and Karen unpacking?”

“Yeah, about to stop for lunch though. What’s up?”

He didn’t say anything at first which made you stop unloading the box. You stood up and turned as if you expected to see him behind you, even though you could still hear the car in the background.

“Have you seen the news? From your old town.”

Your chest felt like it became a bit too tight at those words. The last time you’d heard a version of that, it was your dad calling to tell you about the execution.

“No.”

He sighed a bit which made you tense to the point where you had to turn to sit down on the chair nearest you.

“There was an attack in your town two nights ago. From what I know, it was…your childhood home.”

There was a moment where you were really glad you sat down because otherwise you think your legs would have given out. As your mind swirled, you tried to think of what to ask first.

You knew that Billy had looked into your story after you told him about it. Hearing your version of events made him want to see it from start to finish so he’d looked it up. There was still a lot of information on it, including the lack of any real motive.

“An attack?”

“The police were called to the house when they heard screams. The mom and a son were on an overnight field trip so it was just the dad and daughter in the house. By the time they got there, the dad and daughter had both been brutally murdered.”

You closed your eyes and remembered what it felt like to have someone break into your house with the intention of killing you.

“They were found in the finished basement on the floor.”

Suddenly it felt like you couldn’t catch your breath. Your mouth went dry as you thought about stepping into the basement den and finding your mom and brother. The healed scars felt like they were bleeding and even though it was impossible, you still reached into your shirt to see if there was any blood from the scar.

Nothing.

“Did they find who did it?”

“They were gone, but there was a note stabbed to the door. It just had a date on it.”

“What date?”

When Billy said the date that was on the note, you half expected it to be the date you had been attacked, but it wasn’t. It was only from a few years ago, so you didn’t think it had anything to do with what had happened, just a coincidence.

Until…

“Wasn’t that the date he was executed?”

You closed your eyes as you realized that Billy was right. It had been a while since you’d thought about the date, but thinking about it you were pretty sure that Billy was right.

“His uh, his last words were that he’d be back.”

“That’s impossible. He’s dead, there’s no way he can be back.”

You almost laughed because yes, you knew that. You knew that it was impossible, but that’s what he said either way. Instead you felt tears start to gather in your eyes as you settled more into the chair.

“I’d come by but I’m out of town. Maybe stay with Karen and Frankie tonight, okay? Just…I don’t think you’re in danger, but I still don’t think you should be alone.”

You nodded and wiped at your eyes.

“Thanks Billy. I’ll talk to Karen when she comes downstairs. I’ll uh, I’ll talk to you later? Drive safely.”

“It’s all going to be okay. I promise.”

You hoped he was right but you didn’t know. Nothing felt right at the moment.

All you knew was as the call with Billy ended, you needed to call your dad to let him know about it. Once upon a time you thought that things were over, but not anymore. Now you were thinking things were just about to begin.

—

It was dark out as you made your way through the parking lot to where your car was parked. In the background you could hear your coworkers laughing as they headed to their own cars. A shouted invitation to join them at the bar came over, but you waved them off and promised next time.

Which you’d actually follow through with. It wasn’t like it had been before, where you kept to yourself at all times. You’d branched out, made friends, started working from the office just as much as you worked from home. You still kept certain things to yourself of course, a habit you were unable to break anytime soon, but you opened yourself up to people.

The car chirped as you unlocked it and slid into the front seat, immediately locking the doors again. As you started the car, you noticed something on your windshield. A folded piece of paper tucked under your windshield wiper.

Carefully you leaned forward and leaned out of the window to pull the paper out of the wiper. It came free after a tug. Once settled back in the seat, you rolled the window back up and looked at the paper. You unfolded it and stared at it.

Did you miss me?

Your hands shook as you dropped the paper into your passenger seat. Then, without hesitation, you started towards the entrance to the parking lot. Your headlights went across someone in the distance but you didn’t even focus on them, just stepped on the gas to get out of the parking lot.

The person didn’t move at least, seen from the corner of your eye as you sped out. It was possible it wasn’t anyone to worry about, someone from the office or just someone passing by.

As you headed to the freeway, you connected your bluetooth and dialed Karen’s number. It went to voicemail and you swore as you hung up. You were about to call her again when you hesitated.

For some reason, you wanted to call Billy. So that’s what you did.

He answered after a few rings.

“Hey, what’s up? Leaving work?”

Your hands shook a bit as you navigated through the traffic on the street.

“I came out of work and there was a note on my windshield.”

“Okay. Did you…”

“I grabbed it,” you admitted as you drove around a slow driver in the fast lane. “I realize now that I shouldn’t have, that it could have been…but I grabbed it.”

“It sounds like you’re driving so at least nothing happened. What did it say?”

You glanced down at the paper in your passenger seat and then immediately back up to the road.

“Did you miss me?”

“Fuck,” Billy breathed out, the connection distorting a bit from the force. “This isn’t good. I thought that whoever it was wouldn’t come all this way, but it sounds like maybe he did. Maybe you’re a target.”

Your chest felt tight as you pulled onto the street where you lived.

“I need to call to check on my dad. I’m almost home so I’ll call him when I get inside.”

“You don’t need to go to your place, not alone. Do you think Karen is home yet?”

“I tried to call Karen first,” you said as you drove past your house, your eyes on your rearview mirror just to check. “She didn’t answer so I called you.”

“That’s okay, never hesitate to call me if you need me. But for now, come to Anvil. Frank is there, I’ll let him know what’s going on. We’re gonna make sure you’re never alone until this guy is caught, okay?”

You nodded even though he couldn’t see you. You knew the way to Anvil easily enough, but that didn’t stop your heart from thudding in your chest. Whether this guy was connected to the man who had done the original attacks or it was a copycat, it didn’t matter. Right now all that mattered was that you could be in danger.

“I need to call my dad,” you said again.

“I know, but stay on the phone with me for right now, okay? I don’t want something to happen to you while you’re out.”

You wished that you could close your eyes or burrow into yourself, but you had to focus on the road. Instead you lowered your voice a bit.

“I’m scared Billy.”

His sigh came through the phone so clear that it felt like he was in the car with you.

“I know. It’s going to be okay, I promise.”

He couldn’t promise that, not really, but you didn’t say that. Instead you simply listened to the ambient noise of the connection all the way to Anvil.

—

Your dad’s cell phone rang to the voicemail twice, but you didn’t stop. As you clicked it again, you looked over to where Frank and Billy were talking. Billy had gotten to Anvil a little bit before you did and had filled Frank in by time you got there. The two of them were discussing a plan, although you weren’t sure what for just yet.

All you cared about was getting in touch with your dad. He didn’t normally miss a call, not like this.

On the third time you called, the line was finally answered but it wasn’t your dad’s voice that greeted you.

“Hello?”

“Uh, hello...you have my dad’s phone. Who is this?”

The men turned to you when they heard what you had asked, both with concern on their faces.

“Hello miss. My name is Dr Roberts. Your father was brought in earlier this evening. He had been in a car accident.”

As he explained what had happened, you felt yourself sway. If you hadn’t already been sitting, you would have fallen over. Instead, as you were obviously struggling to focus on the words the doctor was saying, Frank came over and took the phone from you. He didn’t go far as he spoke, asking the questions you should have been asking.

“Hey. I’m right here.”

You blinked a few times and looked over to where Billy had knelt down in front of you, his hand in yours. You didn’t even notice him coming to your side or touching you. With a shake of your head, you looked over to where Frank was giving you a comforting head nod as he asked about hospital security.

“Oh god,” you breathed as you finally let yourself shake a bit. “My dad, he was in a car accident.”

“I know, but he’s okay. He’s in recovery and he’s going to be okay.”

Your eyes slammed shut as you tried to remember what the doctor had said before Frank had taken over.

“Earlier this evening. He had been in a car accident earlier this evening.”

Billy stared up at you. Then, with a glance over to Frank, he moved to sit next to you on the couch.

“He lives about thirty minutes away, right? Be enough time for the copycat to leave the note on your car and then go after your dad.”

Your hand contracted around Billy’s as you looked at the note that was on the table where you’d left it.

“There was someone in the parking lot when I got in the car. I didn’t see them very well, too far away and too desperate to leave. What if that was him? It’s not like he can be in two places at once.”

Saying that made your heart stutter in your chest as you remembered something. Something from so long ago that it had been buried.

“What is it?”

You looked over at Billy and then back to the note.

“The murders. The original murders. The only other night where two people died on the same night besides…” You let your words trail off, unable to mention your mom and brother right then. “It was never investigated and as much as I can remember, it was never talked about in the trial, but there had been speculation back then. The first murder that night was on the mainland and the second murder was on a little island. The newspapers said it should have been impossible for one person to cross that distance on the ferry in the time between murders, so they were looking for a boat that might have been used. But what if there wasn’t a boat? What if there were two murderers this whole time?”

Billy looked at the note and then over to Frank who was nodding as if he had heard. You caught a quick snippet of him telling the doctor that one of Anvil’s men would be there as soon as possible to provide extra security.

“If there were two murderers back then, then it isn’t a copycat. It’s a continuation.”

Your hands went around your stomach as if to hold you together, fingers seeking out those rigid scars under your top.

“Why me? Why my family? We never did anything to anyone.”

“It can be a fixation of finishing what was started. It can be the chase because you got away. Revenge because you got his partner killed. There’s a lot of reasons someone might keep going after you.”

You wanted to laugh, but the logic was important. You needed the reality of this before you lost yourself.

“I don’t know what to do,” you whispered as you stared down at your hands with tears in your eyes. “I want to see my dad.”

“We’ll take you,” Frank said as he passed you the phone, the screen showing the call had ended. “I’m going to pick up Karen and tell her what’s going on. Then we’ll take you to your dad.”

“Maybe we should wait,” Billy said as he stood up to face Frank. “Get Karen, get someone from Anvil to sit on her dad, but if we drag her out of the city, we can’t be sure that he won’t follow us and more people will get hurt. Here, we’re on our turf.”

As the men discussed the pros and cons of both plans, you let your hand go back to the scar. The fear that had gone through you that night in the basement den of your childhood home had started to come back, but as it rose, so did something else. A strength you never knew you had.

The strength to survive.

“I’m staying,” you said finally, cutting off their conversation. “If he wants to finish what he started, he can start with me. I’m not running again.”

Both men looked at you and you saw the pride in their eyes. Frank pulled out his phone.

“I’m going to get Karen. We’ll stick together. You and Bill should stick together too. We’ll come up with a plan to draw him out and we’ll end this.”

Your eyes went to Billy’s and found those dark eyes were already on yours.

“I’ll take you to my place. We’ll be safe there.”

This was it. The final standoff.

For years you’d thought you were safe, that the danger had been left behind you. Now, whatever happened, you knew it would really be over.

—

“Here, this will be more comfortable,” Billy explained as he handed you some of his clothes.

You hadn’t gone back to your place, unwilling to take the chance. Instead Billy had brought you straight to his over the top apartment and told you to make yourself at home.

You went into the bathroom to change, placing your clothes on the side of the sink where you could change back into them in the morning. As you stared at yourself in the mirror in Billy’s clothes, you felt your throat catch a bit.

Inch by inch you raised the shirt and looked at the scar on your stomach. Then, even though you had just put the shirt on, you pulled it off and held it to your chest as you turned. With your back facing the mirror, you looked over your shoulder and looked at the scars there.

You had felt the knife tear through your skin. The stitches hadn’t been nearly enough to keep the scars from being ugly, but you didn’t care anymore. Once upon a time they made you ashamed, but why should they? They meant you were a survivor.

A survivor.

“Hey, are you…”

Billy had knocked on the door and it came open fully since you hadn’t shut it all the way in your daze. He looked at your back in the mirror for a long moment before he met your eyes.

“Are you hungry? I was going to make dinner.”

You swallowed thickly as you looked down from his gaze in the mirror to the scars.

“They don’t bother you.”

It wasn’t asked, it was stated. When his gaze flickered away from the mirror, you turned to face him in the doorway. His eyes went down the scars on your stomach. The ones you had showed him that first night in the cabin after he had scared you. He walked towards you and reached out, slowly as if to let you move away if you wanted to.

You didn’t want to.

When those fingers touched your scar, you shivered but didn’t pull away. His eyes moved from the scar and landed on your face.

“We all have scars,” he said softly as his eyes dropped to your mouth. “Shows that you’re a survivor.”

A survivor. He had echoed the words you had thought right before he’d walked in.

“Billy,” you began but he shook his head.

“Later,” he promised as he leaned in and captured your lips with his.

Since you were going to ask if you could kiss him, you found yourself happy with this change of pace. The shirt was dropped to the floor. Chest bared, you leaned in and wrapped your arms around his neck to hold him closer. Even as his hand skimmed up your back and slowly touched the scars there, you didn’t pull away.

You were done pulling away.

Billy led you to the bedroom. As you pulled your pants and underwear off, Billy beat the record to pull his clothes off as well. His shirt was already on the floor and while he worked on his pants, you caught the scars on his shoulder and side.

Your fingers went to the ones on his shoulder first, tracing over them. Then you touched the one low on his side.

“What are these from?”

Billy placed his hand over yours as you touched the one on his side.

“I’ll tell you all about them. After,” he added as he leaned in to kiss you again.

You smiled against his lips, unable to help yourself. It wasn’t like you’d never thought about kissing Billy. In fact you’d thought about it a lot, even that first night when he’d scared you nearly to death. There had always been some sort of attraction between the two of you, something you never dwelled on because you hadn’t been interested in making things awkward between the two of you.

Although now you didn’t think that it would be very awkward. Something told you that Billy was just as interested as you were.

Instead of focusing on the scars on either of you, you decided to focus on Billy and the way he was making you feel.

There’d be time to talk later.

—

Billy wasn’t in the apartment when you woke up, but a note on the table said that he had to run to Anvil and would pick up breakfast on his way back. You had smiled at the note and folded it to put into your pocket. You were stupidly enamored by that man.

As you went over to the coffee pot that looked like it belonged in a spaceship, you heard your phone ring from your purse on the coffee table. With the reminder that your dad was in the hospital, you rushed over and grabbed it.

It was him. You immediately answered.

“Dad? Are you okay?”

“Hey kiddo,” your dad answered, his voice drowsy and laced with pain. “Finally awake enough to call. Wanted to hear your voice. The goon at the door said you’d called and talked to the doctor.”

“Dad.” Your voice broke as you slumped onto the couch. “Dad, you…do you remember what happened? Who did it?”

There was silence for a long moment before your dad sighed, the noise a bit strangled as he wheezed.

“I only saw him for a split second, but I’d recognize it anywhere. I thought I was seeing things.” You listened as he shifted, the bed crinkling him under him loud enough for you to hear over the phone. “He came by when I was in the car. I think he thought I was dead or maybe unconscious, but I heard his voice. I heard him tell me it was about time.”

You closed your eyes and wrapped your arms around you as tight as you could.

“I had a letter on my windshield last night. It asked me if I missed him. I don’t think it’s a copycat dad. I think that he was involved in the original murders.”

The slow beeps from the phone was the only way you knew the call hadn’t failed. Then your dad finally spoke.

“I think you’re right. I don’t know why, but I agree.”

At least you were all on the same page with that.

Your phone buzzed with an incoming call and you checked it to see that it was Billy. After you told your dad you’d call him back in a bit, you switched over to talk to him.

“Hey, is everything okay at Anvil?”

“You’re still at the apartment, right? You didn’t leave.”

You looked around for some reason and then sat up a bit straighter.

“Yeah, I’m still here. What happened?”

There was a lot going on in the background in the call and you strained your ears enough to pick up a few words. By things you could hear, Billy was near a bunch of cops.

“There was another murder. Your next door neighbor, Melinda Geillis.”

You knew Melinda well enough, the two of you often talked in the elevators or hallway. You closed your eyes tightly and shook your head.

“Are we sure it was him?”

Billy said something quietly to someone nearby and then it was quiet on the other side of the phone.

“Her throat was slit and then she was dragged into your apartment and propped up on your couch like she was watching television.”

The memory of your brother’s body flashed before your eyes. Yeah, that was him.

“There’s a note here too. It says ‘sorry I missed you’.”

You flinched at that. Then your hand went to your pocket where Billy’s note was. The feel of the paper comforted you a bit.

“Dad said he saw him, recognized the outfit from the night of the attack. He also said he heard his voice. The guy came by after the accident and was taunting my dad, either because he thought he was dead or thought he wouldn’t hear. He said it was about time.”

Billy swore through his teeth. You could almost picture his face as he absorbed that information.

“We’re gonna catch this guy, okay? Nothing is going to happen to you or to your dad. Not again.”

You let out a breath and then slumped against the couch a bit.

“How’d you find out anyway? I mean, if it was in my apartment, you’d think I would have heard about it first.”

“I was driving by and saw the police presence,” Billy explained softly as someone came through the room he was in, talking about taking pictures. “I asked what happened and they let me know. I’ve worked with enough local law enforcement so they let me up. The detective in charge is going to call you, but…I wanted to be the one to tell you.”

You laughed a bit as you reached up to rub at your eyes.

“Thank you Billy. Really.”

“I’ll come pick you up and bring you to the station so we can coordinate with the locals. Just stay inside and keep the door locked, okay? There’s a spare gun in the safe; the combination is 7895.”

You looked over at the safe, but didn’t make moves to go get it. You weren’t big on guns.

“I’ll see you shortly Billy. Thanks again.”

When the call was over, you leaned back and wrapped your arms around your legs. It had been such a long morning already and you’d only been awake for an hour.

At some point this would be over, wouldn’t it? One way or another.

—

The police station wasn’t a place you’d spent a lot of time since you’d come to the city. Once upon a time, in the little seaside town you’d grown up in, you’d been in the police station a lot. Not for any nefarious reasons of course, simply because your dad had worked for the force. You’d gotten comfortable in police stations.

Now though? You had to admit that you were very uneasy. It wasn’t the people themselves of course, they were just your run of the mill law enforcement officers. No, you were uneasy because of the reason you were there.

Billy had suggested that you not see the pictures from the crime scene, but you reminded him that you had lived through it once.

It was like seeing a ghost. Your neighbor’s body was propped up in a mirror of your brother’s, down to the television being on in front of her and playing the news. You tried not to stare into her lifeless eyes, but in the close up picture your only other option was to look at the gash across her neck.

There had been a struggle. She had fought hard.

After some questions and rehashing the details with the police, you were led to the front lobby to leave, but Billy doubled back to coordinate coverage at your dad’s hospital room. While he did that, you called your dad to let him know what was going on.

“You gotta leave the city,” your dad said sternly. “I don’t want to lose you. You need to leave, you need to get somewhere this maniac will never find you.”

“Dad, I can’t leave. Look what happened when I stayed somewhere else for one night? Who knows what will happen if–”

“Hey, they said we can head out whenever,” Billy called as he approached. He nodded to where your phone was against your ear, “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just my dad. Hey dad, I’ve got to–”

Your name from your dad made you pause what you were saying, only slightly annoyed by being interrupted again. Something in your dad’s voice made you stop speaking, stop breathing. There was terror in his voice.

“Who is that? With you right now. Who is with you?”

You looked over at Billy who was frowning in concern.

“It’s my friend Billy, the one I’ve told you about? He’s the one that brought me to the police station after what happened at my apartment.”

There was a long pause that made you a little antsy.

“You need to get away from him right now. You need to get out of there. Immediately.”

“Dad–”

“Stop. Don’t let him know, but leave. Go back into the station, stay with them. Get away from him. That’s the voice I heard after my accident.”

You swallowed thickly as you heard those words, your eyes going from Billy to the door he had just come through. You could see police officers moving around through the glass door. From the peripheral you could see Billy watching you, barely making out the concern still on his face as you stood a little straighter.

“Are you sure?”

“I can’t be one hundred percent sure, not over a phone, but it sounds just like him. Please, get away from him.”

With your eyes closed, you listened to your dad plead with you while you remembered the way that Billy had touched you the night before. Was it possible? Was it possible that Billy was this person that was tormenting you? Killing people?

The things you knew about Billy told you that anything was possible.

You nodded and then made a noise like you were listening to your dad as you reached and patted yourself, as if looking for something.

“Billy, can you check and see if I left my wallet in the interview room,” you said with a glance over at him. “I don’t want to see the pictures again but I think I left my wallet in there.”

“Sure,” he said with a nod and a brief touch to your arm.

When he disappeared behind the door to head back to the interview room, you grabbed your wallet out of your pocket and nearly ran from the police station. On the road you found a cab that was thankfully letting someone out of the door at the same time that you’d gotten there, so you simply slid right in. Then you thought about where to go.

After you gave the address to the hospital your dad was at, you glanced over your shoulder to the door of the police station. Right as the cab started to pull away from the curb, you saw Billy step out and look around. You didn’t know if he saw you or not, but you settled back into your seat and let out a sigh.

“I’m headed to you dad,” you said softly. “I don’t know if you’re right, I don’t see how Billy could…but I’m on my way.”

You had no idea how to explain what your dad may or may not have heard. You couldn’t imagine that Billy was the one that had done those things. How would he have even been involved?

But you remembered that every time something had happened, Billy had been gone. He’d been on the road after the attacks back home, he’d been out when the note had been left on your car and your dad had been hit, he’d been out when your neighbor was attacked.

Was it possible that billy wasn’t who you thought he was? Was it possible that you’d slept with someone you shouldn’t have trusted?

The mere thought made your stomach turn.

—

The officer at the door was a bit confused when you told him not to let an Anvil employee watch the door alone, but he reluctantly agreed without you explaining why. He was agreeable otherwise.

Your dad looked rough, but he smiled tightly when you came into the room. His eyes cut to the door and then back to you as you shut it behind you.

“His men were out there, weren’t they? Are they still?”

“Not right now,” you said as you went over to his side to grab his hand. “I still don’t know for sure, but if that’s what you heard, then I have to trust you.”

Your dad winced as he leaned closer to you, his hand tight on yours.

“We can’t stay here. From what I’ve been able to tell, he has a lot of pull with the locals.”

“Dad, you can’t go anywhere. Look at you, you’re barely able to sit up right now. I can’t lug you around, I’m not strong enough for that.”

Your dad closed his eyes and nodded slowly.

“So you need to go somewhere else. Somewhere without telling anyone. Once you’re gone, I’ll talk to a detective about my theory and we’ll have him looked into.”

You shook your head as he spoke.

“No, I can’t leave without you,” you cried as you hugged him, gently to keep from hurting him. “If something happened to you while I was gone, it would kill me. I can’t lose you.”

“I’ll be safe here until I’m able to get out myself. I’ll call a friend to come sit with me for a while. You’re my only concern, you’re my priority.”

You wiped your tears off your cheeks as you pulled back a bit. With a sniffle you glanced over at the door to see the back of the cop’s head as he pulled his phone to his ear. As he nodded and looked over his shoulder at you, you felt something cold wash over you.

“I have to go now. I think Billy’s trying to find out if I’m here.”

“Then go sweetheart. Do you remember the plan for Tallahassee?”

The codeword made you shake a bit. It was picked after your mom and brother had been killed as it’s where your mom had originally been from. If something ever happened and you and your dad had to run off, you’d go to a location that was a secret between the two of you. Far away from Tallahassee, but it was a word that could be used even in front of others without being discovered.

You really hoped you never had to use it.

“One week and then I’ll head to Tallahassee,” you said as you stood up and wiped tears from your eyes again. “Then when you’re better, you can join me.”

“One week for us both, whether or not I’m feeling better.”

The old man was stubborn. You laughed a bit as you leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek. Then the forehead.

“I love you dad,” you said as you placed another kiss on his forehead.

“I love you too kiddo,” he repeated as he squeezed your hand. “Go. Get out of here and be safe.”

That’s all that there was to it. And now you needed to figure out where to go to wait out the week.

You’d need to stop at some ATMs to get money out so that you wouldn’t leave a trail. Something told you that Billy would use whatever resources he had to find you and you weren’t going to give him that chance.

—

The man at the front desk of the motel didn’t even look at your ID or anything else as you pushed the cash over for the week. He simply counted the bills and then handed you the key.

“Ice machine doesn’t work, vending machines are on the first floor, pool is closed for now.”

You tucked the rest of your money into your waller and palmed the key, mumbling a thanks to him as you turned and walked out of the office. Your room was on the second floor so you made it up the stairs with the crinkle of the grocery bags you carried your freshly bought clothes in. At room 17, you put the key into the lock and turned it. It stuck a bit but came open after that.

“Home sweet home,” you muttered as you dropped the grocery bags onto the bed.

You’d bought some clothes and some other necessities on your way out of the city. Here you were, about six hours from the city, settling into a motel that didn’t even have a sign to tell you the name.

At some point you’d need to go to the vending machines and get a few snacks. Maybe try to find a local grocery store where you could get some nonperishable items. There was a microwave in the room and a mini-fridge. More like a mini-mini-fridge, but whatever.

You felt naked without your cell phone, but you definitely knew that you could be tracked with that, so you’d left it at the hospital.

With a sigh you sat on the bed and grimaced a bit at the hardness of the mattress. Not exactly comfortable, but you’d make do. If it meant not losing your life, you’d lose some comfort. The remote was next to the bed so you grabbed it and turned the television on, turning the volume down a good deal just in case. You never trusted these places.

One channel surf later you landed on the news. It touched on a bunch of national stuff before it narrowed in to local and you waited to see if anything would come up about the killer. It never came.

After the news cycled over to some infomercials, you grabbed some money and left your room, locking it behind you. You checked your surroundings carefully before you headed down the stairs to the vending machine.

There were only about five cars in the parking lot besides yours. You looked over each and tried to commit them to memory before you stepped into the alcove where the vending machines were. You grabbed a bottle of water and an energy drink from one and then some chips and some chocolate from the other. Hands full, you stepped out of the alcove and looked around on your way to the stairs.

Six cars.

You stopped where you were and stared at the new car, a nondescript dark colored sedan. Between the distance and the darkness, you couldn’t tell if there was anyone in the car. They were parked in front of the office though, so it was possible that it was another person here just to get a room. It wasn’t far off the beaten track from the interstate so maybe they found it the same way you did.

With a deep inhale, you held your breath and ran up the stairs. You had to juggle the items in your hands to get your key back out and back into the room. It didn’t stick this time so you were able to get in and shut it behind you in mere seconds, locking it and the chain behind you.

Then you pulled the chair from the corner and pushed it in front of the door.

Once that was done you put your items down on the dresser and moved further into the room. The bathroom was open so you could see into it clearly, but you turned on the light and looked around just in case. Even checked behind the shower curtain. Then you checked the half closet which wasn’t really big enough to hold a grown man.

You looked under the bed but there was a trundle bed so not enough room for someone to fit.

Satisfied that the room was empty besides yourself, you went over to the window and peered out. The angle you had didn’t allow you to see much, but you could see your car at least.

Tomorrow you’d head out to a nearby grocery or convenience store to get what you needed for the rest of the week. Once you were through the week and could head to the meeting place with your dad, things would be fine. You’d be safe again.

You still couldn’t believe that Billy was the one doing this to you. Part of you refused to believe it, the part that had had sex with him and laid in his arms the whole night. The rest of you had more questions than you had answers and when faced with the unknown, you had to rely on what you could put together. Your dad had said he couldn’t be certain but felt it was a close enough similarity to demand you leave and save yourself.

That night when you curled up on the hard as hell mattress, the thin blanket pulled over your body and the television providing light into the room, you weren’t sure you’d ever fall asleep. Not with how your brain was on turbo mode.

But you were able to finally fall asleep somewhere after two in the morning.

—

The third night at the motel had been as uneventful as the other two. You had gotten some food at a nearby convenience store so you didn’t have to rely on vending machine snacks. You also got a deck of cards so you could play solitaire with yourself to waste time.

The news still didn’t say anything about what was happening, but you had to imagine there were constant murders in the city so maybe it didn’t make the radar yet. You didn’t know how many more deaths it would take for it to hit the news cycle but you hoped it didn’t get to that.

As you crossed the room to do your hourly check of the window, you wondered what everyone else was doing. Your dad, Karen, Frank…even Billy.

Since you’d been in the motel, you’d spent a lot of time thinking about Billy. Thinking about him being the killer, thinking about it all being a miscommunication. The more you thought about him, the less you felt certain one way or another.

As you stared out the window, you checked the parts of the parking lot that you could see and then looked over to where your car was parked. As you looked at it, you noticed someone walking past your car and towards the office. It was dark so you couldn’t make out who the person was, but you traced their steps back to see if there was another car nearby that they had come out of.

There was a truck not far from your car that was in line with the path they were taking, but it had been there since yesterday.

You looked at the chair in front of your door and made sure it was still pressed against the door. This way at least you knew you would have a warning if someone tried to get into the room while you were there.

Back on the bed you grabbed the cards and shuffled them a bit. It was time for more solitaire. You really wished you’d grabbed something else, anything else at this point. It was hard to go without a phone to spend your time, but you were making do.

A noise outside made you look over to the window with the blinds down. A streetlight let a little light in and you stared at it for a long time until you watched a little darkness move over the window. Someone was walking past your window towards your door.

You held your breath and waited. When you heard the door beside yours open, you let it out with a sigh. It was another person staying in the hotel.

Without winning the current game of solitaire, you turned off the light and stacked the cards on the bedside table. You had a flashlight that you’d gotten at the convenience store that you kept nearby as you curled up on the bed, your eyes on the window and door. When no sounds came to you, no change in the minimal light that trickled through, you felt yourself drift off to sleep.

A dream came to you then, while you dozed in and out. A darkness seemed to pour into the room from the ceiling, like a shadow but more solid. The darkness seemed to melt and shift along the lines of the ceiling, never fully there as you stared up at it.When you woke up, it was with your back to the window and door, a blank wall in front of you. The first thing you did was look up to the ceiling but there were no shadows moving around.

You rolled over to your other side and immediately checked the window, but nothing had changed. It was still dark out there, still a slight amount of light pouring through the window. You blinked lazily and rubbed your eyes before you looked at the door to check that the chair was still there.

It wasn’t. It was in the corner now and someone was in it.

You sat up and opened your mouth to scream, but it didn’t come out as the occupant leaned forward and was lit up by the incoming light stream.

Billy.

“How’d you find me?”

There was a beat of silence as he nodded then sat back so that he disappeared a bit from your sight.

“It wasn’t easy. You really tried to drop off the grid. It’s my job to be able to find people though.”

“Yeah,” you said uneasily as you shrank back in the bed a bit, your legs pulling to your chest and bracing just in case you needed to jump up. “How’d you get in here without making a noise? The chair…”

“Took some maneuvering. I figured you’d do something like that.”

You blinked and tried to nod a bit. Of course he’d know how to get through your defenses. You should have known.

“What are you going to do to me?”

It was quiet for a long moment before Billy leaned forward again to look at you. You wished you could see whatever emotions were in those dark eyes, but from this distance the dark brown was pitch black and it made you feel hunted.

“Why would I do anything to you? I just wanted to make sure you were safe.”

Safe. You’d heard the word a lot, but it had been a long time since you felt it. And right then, with Billy sitting in a chair across the room, you didn’t know if safe is what you felt at all.

What was the next step? Did you confront him for who you suspected he was? Did you wait for him to prove you right or wrong?

“Why didn’t you let me protect you? I could have gotten you and your dad somewhere safe. Then maybe…”

You watched as he looked away from you, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Maybe what?”

He looked over at you and shook his head.

“You left your phone at the hospital so you hadn’t heard. The killer broke into the hospital, somehow got through the security we had on your dad. He survived, got a few stab wounds, but the killer took down two of my men and a police officer.”

You felt sick. Your body bowed in and you pressed your face into your knees as you thought about it. At least your dad was alive, but being stabbed on top of already suffering from the car accident couldn’t be good.

“He’s alive. He’ll stay alive,” Billy said as a hand came down to rest on your shoulder.

You jerked backwards as he touched you, body nearly falling off the bed as you tried to get away from the touch. When you looked up and met his concerned gaze, you couldn’t help the pitiful laugh that came from you.

“What will it take? What do I have to do?”

Your stomach rolled as you thought about what he might say.

“What are you talking about?”

At some point tears had started to flow down your cheeks as you stared up at Billy. His hand on your shoulder, the scent of the cologne that he always wore, it made you feel lost in memories you couldn’t afford to be lost in.

“He heard your voice. The day of his accident, he heard the killer and when he heard your voice at the police station, he said it was you.”

Billy’s hand fell to his side as he stared down at your crumpled form.

“My voice? So you…what, think I’m the other murderer? This whole time. Even from when you were in high school?”

You closed your eyes for a long moment and then shook your head.

“I don’t…I don’t know Billy. He said he heard you. And every time there was a murder, you weren’t with someone who could account for your whereabouts. What am I supposed to think?”

He crossed his arms and took a few steps back to lean against the wall across from you.

“I’ve killed before. More than a few times and not all of them deserved it. But I never killed anyone stateside that I didn’t have to.”

You wrapped your arms around yourself as you stared at Billy.

“He heard you Billy. He recognized your voice.”

“He had a concussion. Maybe he heard something, someone, but how could he be sure it was me? Especially since the second time was just over the phone.”

You wiped the tears out of your eyes as you stared up at him.

“I can’t take the chance Billy. I can’t take the chance that you’re someone who wants to hurt me.”

“I could never hurt you,” Billy swore as he walked closer to you. Then he shook his head as he turned away. “But you’re right. You can’t take the chance. If I’d known this was your worry, I never would have come here.”

He got to the door and right as you thought about telling him not to leave, to ask him to talk the rest of this through with you, he opened the door and things happened so quickly after that.

A masked man stood on the other side of the door. The moment it came open, he raised his knife and brought it down hard into Billy’s shoulder. You screamed and shoved yourself up and off the bed, body stuck between going to the door and further away.

You grabbed Billy and pulled him back, body slamming against the door to try to close it. Billy threw his body weight into it too, wincing as the shoulder with the blood pouring through it slammed against the wood. The two of you got the door slammed shut but you still didn’t move.

“Believe me now?” Billy asked through gritted teeth as he moved around you to peer through the peephole. “He’s not there. He’ll come back though.”

You nodded as you tried to get your brain to get back on path. While Billy kept his body against the door, you grabbed a washcloth from the dresser and pressed it hard against his shoulder to stem the blood flow.

“What are we going to do?”

Billy accepted the cloth and held it against his shoulder. With his free hand he reached into his jacket and pulled out a knife which he pressed into your hands. As you were about to ask what he was going to use, he pulled a gun out of the waistband of his jeans and checked that it was ready..

“We need to make a run for the car. We can call the cops once we’re on the road.”

You nodded and grabbed your wallet from the dresser and shoved it into the pocket of your sweats. There was nothing else here that you needed to make sure you had. Prepared, you grabbed Billy’s uninjured shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

“I should go first.”

“I don’t care if I was missing an arm. You’re not going first,” Billy said through gritted teeth as he shoved the cloth under his jacket. Then he moved to tuck you behind him. “You stay at my back, okay? Keep the knife up and let me know if I need to turn and shoot. Are you ready?”

No.

“Yeah,” you breathed as you stood at his side.

He went out first and looked both directions a few times before he motioned for you to follow him. He gestured to keep you close to him. You stepped out and didn’t bother shutting the door as the two of you headed to the stairs. As you made your way past the front office, you noticed blood sprayed on the wall behind where the man had sat at the computer.

“Oh god,” you whimpered as you kept as close to Billy as you could.

“Eyes forward baby, we can’t wait. We’re almost there.”

He was leading you to his car, not yours. You looked behind the two of you to see if someone was out there, aware of what was going on, but you saw nothing. Heard nothing but the pounding of your heart between your ears.

At the car, Billy unlocked it and tugged you to go to the passenger door. As you reached out, you saw something from the corner of your eye.

“BILLY!”

He spun you around and thrust himself between the two of you, his gun raised at the man that had been running at you. He stopped, his knife still raised. The eerie black mask tilted this way and that as he stared at the two of you.

“You can’t win. Gun beats knife.”

“I don’t have to win. I just have to take one of you down with me.”

That voice. It sounded similar to Billy’s, enough that if you’d heard it you might think the same thing. But you didn’t dwell on that as you watched the man launch himself forward at the two of you. The gun went off and the attacker faltered, but he kept on running. When his body ran into Billy’s and shoved you against the car, you heard the gun skitter to the asphalt.

As the attacker stabbed the knife into Billy’s side again, the moan of pain coming from the man you were trying to hold up, you realized that you didn’t have a choice. You had to lean around Billy to do what you needed to.

The knife went straight into the attacker’s bicep first. Then you pulled it out and swung out, harder this time. As it went into the attacker’s neck, Billy reached up and took hold of your wrist and thrusted it in harder. The attacker’s scream echoed through the emptyish parking lot, you stepped around Billy and pulled the knife out before you plunged it in again.

Billy’s hand didn’t leave your wrist as you thrusted the knife into the man’s neck and chest, over and over. When the attacker fell, you almost went with him just to keep going, but Billy wrapped an arm around your waist to keep you up.

“He’s gone,” Billy said into your ear as he held you tight. “He’s gone. You can stop.”

You closed your eyes for a long moment before you looked at the body slumped at your feet. He was gone. He was gone and this was over.

The knife fell to the ground next, clattering loudly as it bounced a bit. Your eyes burned as you stared at the man who had tried once more to end your life.

“Who…”

Billy squeezed your hip and then bent down. You shook your head because you didn’t know where Billy’s wounds were but you were worried he would hurt himself worse than he already was. You followed him down, hands immediately on his sides to check his injuries.

“No, no, stop,” he said as he pushed your hands away for a second. “We need to…”

He reached out for the man’s mask but you grabbed his wrist and stopped him. When he pulled his hand away, you reached out for the mask yourself.

The man under it was completely nondescript. You weren’t sure that you’d ever seen him before in your life, not here or back home. He looked like any man you may have passed on the street a thousand times.

“I don’t know who that is,” you said as you stared at him.

“He’s dead. That’s who he is.”

You slumped on the ground next to the car. When Billy passed his cell phone to you, you immediately dialed 911. Billy needed an ambulance. And this needed to be put to an end immediately.

As the dispatcher answered, you remembered the first time you’d made this call. Instead of staring at the death of your mom and brother, you were staring at Billy’s bleeding body and his tired eyes.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“I need an ambulance and a lot of cops. We were just attacked by a known serial killer and we had to kill him to defend ourselves.”

Billy smiled with pride at you as he reached out to grab your hand in his.

—

The room your dad was in was a different one this time, but you found it easily enough. When you walked in, your dad was talking to the nurse quietly. She smiled and waved at you as she turned to leave, giving you the space to nearly climb into your dad’s bed to hug him.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” you mumbled softly as you tucked your face into his neck.

His arms went around you and you noticed one arm didn’t have the same strength as the other. Still, he didn’t let you go for a long time.

“I’m sorry sweetheart,” your dad finally said as you pulled away. “If I hadn’t accused Billy, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“We can’t think about what might have happened,” you said as you grabbed his hand to hold it tight in yours.

The injuries from the accident were mostly healed but now your dad had the knife wounds to heal from. The doctors promised that he would make a full recovery and that it wouldn’t hold him back any.

“I’m just glad it’s over. That you’re safe.”

You sat with that for a long moment. As terrified as you had been for so long, even before you knew there was someone out to get you, it had been so hard to feel safe. Your memories and nightmares kept you on the edge, even when you were supposed to be safe.

The only times those memories and nightmares stopped were when you were with Billy.

“When he’s better, I want to meet Billy. I want to apologize in person. He deserves that much.”

You glanced at your dad and then back down to your clasped hands.

“If I hadn’t left, he wouldn’t have been hurt. I should have talked to him, heard him out instead of just running.”

Your dad squeezed your hand until you looked up at him.

“It’s not your fault. I told you to leave. You listened to me.”

“I’m an adult dad, I could have stood up for myself at any point. I believed you because I think part of me didn’t trust Billy but I should have.”

You knew things about Billy and Frank, things that made it a little easier to believe that he would. Although knowing those things, you shouldn’t have assumed anything. You knew Billy better than that. At least you should have.

“It wouldn’t surprise me if he told me he never wanted to see me again.”

You tugged on the fabric of your scrub pants, provided by a nurse at some point. The police had gathered your clothes for evidence since they had been drenched in blood. Mostly Billy’s.

“Kiddo, from what I’ve seen and heard since all of this happened, that man isn’t going to turn away just because of some stabs. He moved heaven and earth to find you when you ran off. The only other reason for him to do that besides being the killer is because he cares.”

You laughed and shook your head, but didn’t say anything. Instead you moved to lean into your dad’s arms once more.

“It’s all going to be okay sweetheart. It’s over.”

He was right, it was all over. It was going to be okay.

Somehow.

—

The room Billy was in was on a different floor. When you knocked on the door, his voice called out that you could enter. He was sitting up on the bed, a tablet in his hands as he looked through it. When he looked up, he seemed surprised to see you.

“Hey,” you said slowly, drawing the word out a lot longer than it needed to. “I don’t have to stay or anything, I just wanted to check on you.”

His eyebrows furrowed as he put the tablet down to the side.

“Why wouldn’t you stay?”

You shifted a bit before you took two steps into the room.

“You wouldn’t be in that bed if it wasn’t for me. Plus the whole, you know, thinking you were a serial killer thing.”

Billy laughed which surprised you. He gestured you over to him and after you glanced over at the chair a few feet away, he made a soft ‘tsk’ sound before he patted the bed beside him.

As you sat down on the very edge of the bed, Billy made that noise again and tugged you to him. You immediately froze and checked to make sure you hadn’t landed on any of the bandages on his chest, but he shook his head when he could tell what you were looking for.

“I’ve had worse,” he said as he put his hand over the bandage on his side.

“Billy, I–”

“Unless the next words out of your mouth are ‘understand that this wasn’t my fault’ then I’m not sure I want to hear them.”

“It was my fault though. If I hadn’t left without even talking to you, hadn’t thought you were the killer, you wouldn’t have had to come find me. You wouldn’t have gotten hurt.”

Fingers under your chin made you move your head until you met Billy’s dark eyes.

“Given the chance, I would always put my body between you and danger. Whether or not you thought I was the danger. And in the end, you know I wasn’t involved.” After a beat of silence, he narrowed his eyes and gave you a small smirk. “You do know that I wasn’t involved, don’t you?”

You laughed and leaned into the hand on your face a little.

“If this was a movie or something, it might not mean that you were uninvolved. But this isn’t a movie, it’s real life. So no, I don’t still think you were involved.”

Billy laughed and released your chin but only so that he could reach down and run his fingers over your wrist a bit.

“I’m just glad that nothing happened to you. It would have…I don’t think I could have handled it if something would have happened to you while you were running from me.”

You didn’t want to think about that either. Billy being there had been a fluke, it should have just been you against him. That made you look at his bandages once more.

“It feels wrong somehow that you and dad got hurt this time but I didn’t. I’m glad that Frank and Karen had gotten out of town and were safe, but I came out of this without a scratch on me and both of you had been attacked.”

“I like to think of it as cosmic karma.” At your confused look, Billy explained. “The last time, you were the one that went through it all. You saw the dead bodies of your mom and brother, you got chased around the basement, you’re the one that had to fight for your life, you’re the one that still wears the scars. In more ways than one. So this time, we were able to take that for you. We can bear those for you.”

You didn’t even realize you were crying until he wiped the tears away. You sniffled and wiped at your face as you looked away from a long moment, gathering your thoughts.

“Do you think…”

You didn’t know how to continue the thought. When you didn’t, Billy called your name. As you looked up, he leaned forward until he could press his mouth against yours.

“Karen and Frank will be happy about this development at least,” he said as he pressed his forehead against yours. “They’ve been telling me to get over my hesitation and ask you out for a while. I just wanted to give you space until you were ready.”

With a laugh you raised your hand and pulled Billy back in for another kiss.

It had been a tough few years since the original murders. Safety had been hard to come by. Since then you had kept yourself caged and terrified the whole time. It had been hard to make connections with people over the last few years. But now? Even before the encounter in the parking lot with you killing the man who had tormented you.

Now you were thinking it was time for you to live your life once more. You smiled and leaned back between kisses to mutter two words to Billy.

“I’m ready.”

Thank you for reading this year's Halloween fic! I hope you enjoyed!

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo imagine #billy russo fanfic #my writing #run run run

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randomprose · 2 years ago

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“Tian, come on. You’ve been in your office the whole day.” Guan Shan appears by the doorway with a frown on his face. “I’m leaving for work and you’re still cooped up in here.”

“Cheng wants these documents tonight. I need to finish this.” He Tian runs his fingers through his temple, massaging the pain that’s been pulsating in his head for the past couple of hours. “Don’t worry about me, alright? Take care and drive safe. I’ll probably still be here when you get back,” he mumbles the last part.

“At least turn on the lights here. You’re gonna wreck your eyes working in the dark.”

“Don’t. It’s fine. I work better in the dark.”

“You’re having a headache because you’ve been staring in the screen the whole day in the dark. Why are you—”

“I said I’m fine!” He Tian shouts, head whirling to glare at Guan Shan poised to switch on the lights. The pain has now traveled to the back of his eyes. “Jesus, Guan Shan. I’ll finish sooner if you stop bugging me. Go to work already and leave me to finish mine peace.”

Guan Shan doesn’t say anything but He Tian does catch him working his jaw and the tick of his eyebrow. Telltale signs that he’s pissed. He hears more than sees him leave and on any other time, He Tian would follow him with apologies already falling out of his lips. But this is an important assignment and the sooner he finish it, the sooner he can make up to Guan Shan for being an asshole. He knows he’s only looking out for him and He Tian already feels like a massive cunt for throwing that on his face considering how rare he shows worry.

He Tian waits for the sound of the front door slamming but it never comes. Instead, Guan Shan comes back to He Tian’s office and enters it instead of just lingering in the doorway like earlier.

“Get up,” Guan Shan says, tone harsh. “Get the fuck up.”

He Tian turns to look at him, half sorry but still pissed at being interrupted. He glares, dark eyes hard like granite as he growls, “Mo Guan Shan, I swear to god—

“I said get the fuck up.”

Tonight, Guan Shan has decided he will be the one doing the coaxing.

Guan Shan hauls He Tian up by the arms and he only has time to suck in a sudden breath before next thing he knows he’s being dragged across the hallway and into the living room.

“Momo, I—”

“Shut up,” he snaps and something in his eyes flashes that makes He Tian do just that. He Tian watches as he sits on the corner of the couch, legs crossed, and fluffs one of the throw cushions. Guan Shan places it on his lap and pats it. “Sit.”

He Tian sighs. “Momo, I really don’t think—”

“Will you just do as I say?”

He Tian does and obediently obeys when Guan Shan motions for him to lie his head on his lap.

Guan Shan successfully drags He Tian on their couch, comfortable now after years of use, easily giving and molding into their weight, no longer stiff and hard as when they first bought it.

The moment his head hits the pillow, He Tian lets out a long exhausted groan. A hand automatically comes up to clutch at his head but Guan Shan gently pushes it away and replaces it with his hands instead.

“Headache turning you into a bitch and killing you?”

“Slaughtering me more like,” He Tian sighs as he feels Mo Guan Shang’s fingers carding gently through his hair, massaging his scalp. “I think it’s fully morphed into a migraine now.”

“You want some meds?”

“No, no. I—Tch. The pain is still manageable. I don’t wanna be immune to them when it gets really bad.”

Guan Shan hums and in the next second, He Tian’s nose is assaulted by the smell of mint and camphor as Vicks is rubbed on his aching head. The smell of it relaxes him enough that he doesn’t mind the sticky substance getting in his hair. Not to mention the magic Guan Shan’s fingers are currently performing that’s chasing away his migraine.

“How come you always know what to do?” He Tian rasps, eyes closing amidst Guan Shan’s ministrations.

“I don’t,” Guan Shan scoffs. “This is just simple home remedy shit.”

“You know the important things,” He Tian’s voice has quiet to a mumble, the smell of camphor and the feel of Guan Shan’s fingers slowly but surely lulling him to sleep. “You know how to handle me. You know when not to back down.”

“I’ve had years of practice with your shittiness.”

“I’m sorry for yelling at you by the way. I didn’t mean to. It’s just…this assignment Cheng sent me it’s…it’s driving me insane.”

“It’s fine. I know. The migraine is already punishment enough for you.”

“You—” He Tian groans and it peters out to a moan when Guan Shan’s hand travels down, thumbs digging at the base of his skull, down his neck, and spreading out to the top of his shoulders. “You could say that again.”

“You want me to do your back too?”

“No, no. This is fine. I really don’t wanna get up right now. I’m really comfortable.” Another sigh as Guan Shan continues to work out the knots on his shoulders before going back to his temples. “But rain check on that back massage.”

They fall into silence as Guan Shan continues his ministrations, sticking to He Tian’s temples, his neck, and whatever of his shoulders he can reach with him lying down. He Tian slips in and out of consciousness and Guan Shan just lets him. He’s effectively turned He Tian into goo at this point.

“Thanks.” He Tian groggily reaches up and holds one of Guan Shan’s wrists. “You always know how to make me feel better.”

“Like I said,“ Mo Guan Shan leans down to plant a kiss on the top of He Tian’s nose, mindful of the Vicks on his forehead. “I’ve had a lot of practice.”

He Tian wakes up to the low hum of the TV and Guan Shan’s fingers still gently carding through his hair. The apartment is dark save for the TV and the city lights reflecting from outside. The annoying pulsing pain between his eyes have dispersed. His headache is completely gone.

He smiles to himself as he indulges in Guan Shan’s nimble fingers still scratching at his scalp. Fucking miracle worker.

“I see you’re awake,” Guan Shan says, voice low matching the quietness of the living room. “How’s your head?”

“Fine now.”

Guan Shan is eating chocolate chip cookies straight out of the jar. He Tian opens his mouth for one.

“What time is it?”

“A little past 11 PM.”

“Shit!” He Tian hisses as he sits up. “Cheng’s documents. I—”

“It’s fine, doofus,” Guan Shan says shoving another cookie at He Tian’s mouth “I answered Cheng-ge’s call earlier. Told him you were knocked out. He wants the papers tomorrow by noon.”

“Fuck. How did you manage that?” The initial deadline was tonight.

Guan Shan just shrugs. “Sent him a picture of your sleeping face.”

“You—What?”

Guan Shan pulls his phone and shows He Tian the picture he took of him sleeping on his lap. His mouth is hanging open and it looks like he’s even—

“Fucking hell.” Cheng is gonna use that as ammo against him for at least months. “I’m gonna get you for that.”

“Bring it on, drooly,” Guan Shan smirks muching on another cookie.

“Wait. Aren’t you supposed to go to work? What about that VIP that’s coming tonight? Shit. I’m so sorry, babe. I completely forgot. I was too—”

“Ah, come off it. It’s fine. The restaurant is used to receiving VIPs. They can handle tonight without me.” He rubs his hands and wipes the cookie crumbs off on his sweatpants. “Besides, I don’t even like that guest.”

Guan Shan fixes the pillow on his lap and He Tian takes that as an invitation to unceremoniously slump back into it.

#19 days #tianshan #he tian #mo guan shan #writing #idk i like domestic tianshan #i think they deserve it #y'all know he cheng is sitting at his desk silently laughing at he tian's drooling sleeping face #he sends it to qiu and they have a laugh about it together #guan shan sends the pic of sleepy drooly tian on their gc and jian yi makes it their pfp #zheng xi calls he tian drooly for a week #old xian

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sparklypinkflightsuit · 5 months ago

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Mine For The Taking: Part 6 - Final

MobAU - Colter Stevens x Reader

Warning: Smut, Angst, Fluff, Violence, Injury, Kidnapping, Gang and Mobster themes, Mentions of Drugs, Guns, Shooting, Death

- Part 5 Here -

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18+ Only

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- 4 Years Earlier -

You stood on the cold kitchen tile, your bare feet covered in shards of glass and tiny cuts from where you had dropped the bottle of water.

In front of you stood the man you had seen in the office earlier that evening, with his black eye shining under the bright lights of the kitchen.

He held out a hand cautiously, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He was sweating, and you could tell from where you stood that he was shaking.

You forced your voice to come out, “Colter isn’t here right now. Do… do you want me to give him a message?”

The man edge forward, still very jittery. “No, I don’t… I don’t want to talk to Colter. I just…” he seemed frustrated, almost unhinged, “I just want him to UNDERSTAND.”

It was then you saw it, the gun in his other hand, as he lifted it to hit himself on the side of the head several times, like trying to knock something into place.

You jumped backwards as far as you could go, but your back hit the sink and you suddenly felt your throat close up, and tears sprung to the corners of your eyes.

“Don’t… don’t look at me like that. I’m not going to hurt you!” The man lunged forward, gun flailing above his head, as if he’d forgotten he was holding it at all. “I just want you to make him understand, okay?”

You were trembling now, but you were trying to act as if you weren’t phased, “Ok, make him understand what?”

The man gripped the sides of his head in frustration, his face sweaty and red, “That he needs to die.”

Your knees began to wobble and your feet dug into the glass on the cold tile, but you couldn’t feel it as panic washed over you. “Why… why does he need to die?” You managed to squeak out.

“Because of all the lives he’s ruined. Don’t you see? He’s the antichrist!” The man hissed at you as he slowly edged towards you.

Your hands braced behind your back against the sink counter top, gripping the smooth granite tightly to control your shaking.

“What do you mean?” You had to keep him busy, keep him talking until Colter got back.

“That man doesn’t care whose lives he fucks up. All he cares about…is his money, and you. He is the definition of EVIL!” The man gestured to you with the gun, and you flinched. He continued, “And… and that’s why I think if you could just get him to listen, maybe he will do us all a favour and end his miserable existence. Or at least you can distract him long enough for me to end it for him.”

As he spoke, your hands felt around the counter behind your back carefully, and your fingers found the cool exterior of a mug. You gripped it as best as you could without moving your arm too obviously.

“You can’t seriously think I’m going to let you kill him. You’re deranged.” You spat.

The man lunged towards you, but you flung your arm out and smashed the mug into the side of his face, shards of ceramic cutting into your palm. The man stumbled backwards and you took the opportunity to run for the back door, glass cutting your bare feet.

You were so close to the front door, you could almost reach out and grab the handle, when you felt the sharp tug of fingers in your hair, yanking you back.

You landed with a thud on your back, the man hovering over you, the wind knocked from your lungs.

“I knew I couldn’t rely on you.” He mumbled, before bringing the butt of the gun down on your temple, and everything went dark.

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- Present Day -

A couple of weeks passed and other than your wrist, the rest of you felt right as rain again. Your bruises had all but disappeared, and the nightmares had subsided.

One thing that had struck you, was that Colter had stopped coming around. He sent no more balloons or flowers or chocolates, he had stopped hounding you altogether, but instead of relief, you felt dread. This meant one of two things; either Colter was in trouble, or he had moved on, and surprisingly both of these made you want to cry.

You sat at a corner table in the little bakery, drinking your latte and trying to read, but the anxiety wouldn’t stop eating at you.

Your foot tapped impatiently as you checked your phone for the tenth time, still no texts or calls from Colter.

You decided to abandon your latte halfway through and you got into your car.

You wondered why you cared so much, after everything he had put you through, you wondered why you were so scared for him to move on. Did you really actually not want him to? Did some part of you long for the good times and to get back together?

You knew you still loved Colter with everything in you, but you weren’t sure love was enough, not when your health and safety were constantly at risk, and so was the man you loved.

You always worried about him, not a day went by where you didn’t think about what trouble his line of work could get him into.

As you pulled into his driveway, you noticed a bright red fiat parked in front of the path, a car you did not recognise. Your blood turned cold suddenly, and you cautiously climbed out of the car, quietly walking torwards the door.

To your surprise, the door was slightly ajar, and you could hear voices from inside.

You strained your ears and listened, trying to make out who Colter was speaking to, but you couldn’t actually hear words, just the sound of mumbling, and then a woman’s laugh, high pitched and over the top.

Your eyes widened in surprise, and you pushed the door open, walking inside.

To your surprise, a leggy blonde in a tight skirt and blouse sat crossed legged at what used to be your beloved breakfast bar, Colter sitting a couple of feet away, grinning and laughing with the mystery woman.

You let out a huff, “Well, that didn’t take you long, did it?”

Colters eyes shot up and he looked surprised to see you. Caught red handed.

The woman turned to face you, a dazzling white smile on her face.

You rolled your eyes, frustrated and angry and heartbroken that Colter had moved on that fast, and you turned on your heel, quickly leaving the house.

Colter was quick to chase you, “Y/N, wait, where are you going?”

You ignored him, storming towards your car, face red and trying hard not to scream.

“Babe, wait! What are you doing here?” He had closed the gap now, and a strong hand wrapped around your un-broken wrist to stop you.

You swung around, swatting his hand away.

“I cannot believe you’ve already moved on. I get that I was the one to end it, but fuck sake, Colt, already bringing women home and letting them stay the night?” Your voice was raised but still not quite loud enough to be considered shouting.

Colter smirked, “What?”

You gritted your teeth and clenched your jaw, you hated that he found this comical.

“She’s not even your type, are you just that desperate to sweep me under the rug that you’ll go for anyone?” You huffed, pushing anger out to mask your pain.

“Sweetheart, I’m not sleeping with her.” He chuckled, both hands rubbing your arms comfortingly before he pulled you into him and hugged you.

You pushed him off of you with your good hand and glared up at him. “Who is she then? Why is she in our… I mean why is she in your kitchen?”

“She’s my real estate agent, Y/N. I’m selling the house.” His grin was softer now, almost melancholic as he thought back to all the good times you had in it.

“Oh.” You suddenly softened. You were sad to know the house was being sold. Selfishly you’d hoped he’d keep it forever, it being where you had called home for years, you didn’t like the idea of it being gone.

Part of you also worried this meant Colter had moved on, and your heart ached.

“Why are you selling?” You asked softly, all anger dissipating, and quickly being replaced by regret and longing.

“It’s too big, with just me in it. It feels wrong, too quiet. I’m gonna get myself a condo, I think.”

You nodded, your eyes locked with his, you could see the sadness in them.

Colters hands slid into his pockets to keep from fidgeting as you stared at him, biting your cheek.

“I’ll be sad to see it go.” You admitted.

“Why did you get so upset when you thought I was seeing someone else?” He asked suddenly, causing you to take a surprised step back.

You shook your head and shrugged, “I dunno, the principle of it I guess. I haven’t moved on yet so I thought it was a bit quick, that’s all.” You felt defensive, your arms quickly but carefully crossing.

Colter grinned again, edging closer to you, “I think you forget how well I know you, I know you’re lying. If you still love me, just say it.”

You laughed sarcastically, turning and walking away, “No, Colt. I’m not having this conversation with you right now.”

Colter followed closely as you walked to your car, “Then what are you doing here, Y/N? Why did you even come?”

You fiddled with your keys as you tried to come up with something to say, your back turned to Colter and hoping he couldn’t hear how fast your heart raced. You were clearly quiet for too long, and your breathing hitched as you felt his hands snake around your waist.

“Babe, please just tell me you still love me. If you say it… I promise I’ll leave you be. I just have to know.” His voice was gruff in your ear, his hot breath sending goosebumps down your neck.

“I…” your eyes fluttered closed as his hands flattened against your stomach and pulled you into him, his chest flush against your back. Oh how you longed to see him shirtless again, his pecks felt so good even just pressed up against your shoulder blades.

You realised quickly that you just hadn’t been laid in a while and that you had to pulled yourself together. “No, Colt.” You murmured.

He moved in closer, his hips flush against you, “No, you don’t love me? Or no you won’t say it?” He murmured back, his nose brushing against your ear.

You shivered, pushing away from him. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.” You quickly unlocked your car and climbed in.

Colter sighed in frustration, and his hands came to rest on the top of his head as he stepped back and watched you pull out of his drive.

“Why’d you even come?” He mumbled to himself as you drove away. He watched you disappear before going back into the house, more confused than he had been in a long while.

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- 4 Years Earlier -

The darkness gradually began to fade and the lamplight filtered through your blurry vision as you slowly came to. You groaned as the pain in your temple throbbed, pulsing violently as you lifted your head.

You suddenly realised your moan had come out muffled, and you couldn’t move your mouth. Duct tape.

You groaned again as loud as you could, but this only made your head hurt more and you eventually lulled backwards and closed your eyes again.

You must have been in the couch, as the back of your head was cushioned, but despite this you were uncomfortably bound with your cut hands tightly tied wrist to wrist in front of you, and your feet, covered in tiny glass shards were bound and tucked up underneath you.

You hadn’t felt the glass until now, as the pins and needles slowly began to wear off, but the sharp stabbing feeling was beginning to make you wince, and you weren’t sure if your face was bleeding but your temple felt red hot.

You tried to lift your hands to your face to remove the tape, but as you did you noticed they were also tied to your leg restraints.

You groaned again, frustrated and uncomfortable this time, and wondered where the hell Colter was, and where the man who’d bound you was hiding.

Your eyes scanned the lounge, and for a second you thought you may be able to crawl or shuffle to the door if you could just get off the couch, but the man returned and seemed surprised to see you awake.

“Shit.” He hissed, “Where the hell is Colter? It’s been nearly an hour.”

You mumbled behind the duct tape, and the man huffed, walking over to you and ripping the tape off of your mouth.

You gasped as the tape tore off a small piece of your lip skin, the sting immediately bringing tears to your eyes as the bottom corner of your lip began to bleed.

“Where is he?” The man demanded.

“I… I don’t know. He went to get our takeout, he should be back soon. Maybe if I had my phone I-“

The man chuckled menacingly, “Nice try, do you think I’m stupid!?” He was brandishing the gun again, flinging it this way and that, waving it throughout the air as he went off on a tangent.

“-and just like your son of a bitch boyfriend or fiancé or whatever, you’re ignorant and stupid and all you care about is you and your little life, you don’t care about the men he’s sent to my home at night, or about the threats or punishments or any of it! Stupid, stupid, stupid bitch! I ought to kill you now so feels guilt for what he’s done for the rest of his life!”

You watched in horror as he paced up and down the lounge, seemingly talking and arguing to himself. You didn’t know how you were going to get out of this, but suddenly you saw Colter’s car’s headlights coming up the drive, and it seemed the man hadn’t noticed.

You just hoped that Colter could get inside and see what was happening before the man did, but even then you knew he wouldn’t be able to get to his gun safe upstairs unseen. You closed your eyes tight in anticipation, just waiting for what was going to happen next.

Minutes seemed to pass, with the man still muttering to himself and Colter not walking through the front door, so you carefully opened your eyes.

Behind the man stood Colter, his finger up to his lips as you made eye contact with him, and he slowly crept forward, his pistol from the cars glove compartment clutched tightly in his fingers. He must have seen you through the window before he walked in.

You guessed you must have reacted to seeing Colter, because the man suddenly span round to face Colter, tackling him to the ground.

They brawled for what seemed like forever, each trying to get the others gun, until Colter decided to headbutt the man, and took the opportunity to shuffle back on the ground. Almost too quickly the man stood, now hovering over Colter, ready to shoot.

Colter was too fast. With his gun, Colter fired a single shot into the man’s kneecap, and he fell to the ground.

As the man clutched his shattered knee in agony, Colter kicked his gun away to the other corner of the room out of reach, and he ran over to you.

“Baby, are you okay? I’m so sorry.” He said, quickly working to untie you.

Once your hands were released, he cupped your bruised face with shaking hands, examining the damage. “Oh sweetheart.” He whispered, tears flooding his eyes. Suddenly his face changed, he stood up straight, turned to the man and fired 3 shots into him.

You watched in horror as your fiancé stood over the body, adrenaline pumping through your veins.

“Colt.” You wept. He turned back around and untied your legs, carrying you upstairs.

You never did find out what Colter did with the body, and you never wanted to know. You learned early on not to ask questions you didn’t want to know the answers to, and that worked for you.

You didn’t want to think Colter was a bad person, you’d made excuses for him over the years, but as this began to happen more frequently, with strange men letting themselves into your home when Colter wasn’t there, it eventually got to you, and the secrets became too much to handle.

You thought you were doing the right thing in leaving him, you really did. But this was a decision you’d soon come to regret.

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- Present Day -

You passed the next few weeks with house work in between actual work, you played as best as you could with Tank while your cast was still on, but luckily your mom had been kind enough to walk him.

You were looking forward to the day your cast would be taken off, and when that day finally rolled around, you excitedly made your way to the hospital.

“Ok great, it’s all looking good Miss Y/L/N. Take it easy for a while, you’re gonna be a little fragile, but you can start to resume regular light activities again. If it gives you any issues, just give me a call.” The doctor said with a smile.

She had gotten you to move your wrist, and was happy with your progress, and you could have screamed with elation when the cast came off. It felt a bit weird, but you were relieved to be able to have a proper shower again.

Your mom had gone into her office that day, so you took the opportunity to pour a large glass of red wine and you decided to blast some of The Cranberries as you danced around the house.

3 glasses later, you decided you were tipsy enough for a nice, long shower. You turned the temperature to scalding and climbed in, groaning as the hot water scorched your skin just right.

You knew you’d have to be extra good with your skincare routine that night thanks to the overly hot water, but you couldn’t help but spend forever in there, the water washing all of your stress away… that and the wine.

You were just beginning to feel relaxed, when Colters face popped into your mind. Your eyes shot open and you groaned.

“Fuck sake, Colt.” You sighed, trying to push him out of your mind.

You tried as hard as you could, but memories of him kissing your bare skin, his strong, calloused hands groping you in all the right places, his teeth grazing your neck… you began to regret all that wine suddenly.

Turning off the shower, you got out and wrapped a towel around you, quickly brushing your teeth and slathering on your moisturiser before crashing down onto your bed.

You squeezed your eyes shut again as the room spun slightly, you were definitely a bit tipsy, but nowhere near drunk enough to make a stupid decision.

So you thought.

You couldn’t stop thinking about Colter now, you desperately longed for his lips on yours, and everywhere else on your body. He always had an incredible way of making you beg for him, teasing you without being obnoxious, and it suddenly felt like he was doing just that right now, without even knowing it.

Your fingers trailed down your neck to your chest, and for a second you considered ripping your towel off and quickly indulging in your feelings, hoping that would make you feel better and you would stop thinking about him, but instead you huffed, and sat up in your bed, eyeing up your phone.

You chewed on your bottom lip as you fought the urge, but eventually the urge won, and you dialled the number.

“Y/N?” His gruff voice rang out.

“Hey… can you come over?”

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- Still Present Day -

Colter’s car sped into the driveway, and he hastily made his way up to the front door, without even stopping to lock his car.

He didn’t need to knock, as you threw the door open before he had the chance, standing in front of him in your satin robe and nothing else underneath.

You stared at each other for a while, neither daring to cross the threshold first.

“You came.” You stated.

“You asked me to. I’ll always come if you call.”

You were breathing heavily at the point, watching Colter as he held onto the door frame, as if trying to hold himself back.

“Are you gonna come in?” You asked softly.

“Not until you say it.” Colter purred.

“Say what?” Your heart was racing.

“You know exactly what I wanna hear, sweetheart. Say it and I’ll be putty in your hands.”

You hesitated for a moment. You knew if you said it, even though it was true, there would be no going back. You had to be sure when you said it, because you knew if you didn’t shut Colter out completely now, you’d be locked to him forever.

You took a deep breath, stepping forward. Your hands planted themselves on Colter’s hard pecks, looking up at him with your big eyes, biting your lip.

Colter shivered visibly, the front of his jeans straining as he clenched his jaw.

Your fingers scratched lightly down his chest to his torso, but Colter stopped your hands with his midway down.

“Say it.” He growled.

You grinned, “I love you, Colter Stevens. I always have and you know I always will.”

Without further hesitation, his lips collided with yours, knocking the breath from your lungs. Your arms wrapped around his neck, holding on for dear life as Colter pushed you into the house, his hands moving down your back to grip your thighs, lifting you up.

You wrapped your legs around him just as you went crashing into a wall, Colter’s lips now having migrated to your neck.

You tore at his t-shirt desperately, and you squealed as he obliged, pulling it off over his head.

Colter chuckled as he kissed your neck and collar bone again, pulling at your dressing gown strings, revealing your naked form underneath.

He growled loudly at what he saw, his big hands pawing at your breasts and his clothed hips grinding into you against the wall.

You captured his lips again, your fingers tangling in his hair. “Take me to bed.” You mumbled in between kisses, suddenly conscious of where you were.

Colter carried you up the stairs while kissing you, his hands taking turns holding you up and exploring your body for the first time in months.

In your room, Colter laid you on your back on the bed, and he turned to lock the bedroom door. When he turned back around, you had discarded your gown completely.

Colter took a moment to just admire your body, “I fucking love you, baby. I’ve missed you so much.” He crawled onto the bed, grabbing your ankles and pulling you down.

You gasped in delight as he began to kiss your ankles, up your smooth legs and lingered on your inner thighs, tantalisingly licking patterns dangerously close to your core.

You squirmed and arched under him, urging him to do more. “Please.” You whined.

“Tell me what you want.” He grunted, before biting your thigh.

You grunted, impatient with his teasing. “I want you to devour me, like you do so well.”

“With pleasure.” He growled, his hands spreading your thighs as he hungrily lapped at your hot core.

You cried out and gripped the sheets, your back arching as his tongue expertly drew shapes into you, sucking gently. Colter slowly slid two fingers up through your lips, coating them before sliding them into you. You moaned loudly, your hips bucking as his fingers curled inside you and his tongue flicked your sensitive nub.

You began to shake, your coil tightening and releasing, and Colter worked you through your come down.

Kissing up your body to your lips, Colter pressed his partially clothed body against yours, and you could feel how hard he was under his jeans. You snuck your hands down and began unbuckling his belt. Colter stood up and took his jeans off, and then his underwear, his hard cock springing up and slapping against his rock hard torso.

“God I’ve missed you.” You whined, “Come here.”

Colter did as instructed, and you pushed him into his back. You could see his heart beat thudding painfully hard against his chest, as he looked up at you.

You straddled him, swooping down to capture his lips again, slowly lowering yourself onto him.

Colter let out an animalistic grunt as he slid into you, his big hands gripping your hips, his nails digging into your skin as he pushed you further down. You rocked slowly at first, your hands holding you up on the headboard.

Colter’s hands moved to your ass, squeezing your flesh as he rocked his hips into you.

“Fuck, you’re so incredible.” He panted, his head lulling back in the pillow, and you bit your lip at the sight of his neck veins as they protruded under the strained skin.

Colter began to pick up speed, and you bounced on top of him. Suddenly he pushed himself up into a sitting position to kiss you, one hand propping himself up, the other across your lower back as he rocked into you, his movements slower now, more deliberate.

With your hands on his shoulders, you swirled your hips and Colter began to shudder, he grunted and nodded his head, so you kept going.

“Shit. Fuck that feels… oh my god.” He murmured, his head now in the crook of your shoulder.

You continued to swirl, your walls tightening around him as you reached your second climax. You called out his name as you came.

“Fuck. I’m gonna…” Colter shivered, and with a lewd moan, he thrust into you with sloppy, uneven movements, before slowing to a stop.

You laid your head against his bare shoulder, panting into one another, his arms wrapped tightly around you.

After a long while, Colter kissed your forehead.

“Does this mean we’re back together?” He asked.

“Do you want it to mean that?” You looked up at him.

“I’ve never stopped wanting you, Y/N. Is that what you want?”

“I think so, Colt. I was stupid to think I’d ever get over you.”

Colter kissed you softly with a huge grin across his handsome face. “You won’t regret it, I promise.”

4 months later, you finally married Colter, on the same beautiful beach where he asked you to marry him.

Colter promised to keep work and your personal lives separate from then on, and that he would never let you get hurt again, and you believed him. He ended up keeping your house, much to your relief.

You smiled at your husband as the sun set at your reception by the water, excited for the rest of your life with Colter, and you were so happy that you didn’t even notice the figure that stood and watched you from the shadows.

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The end.

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