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sandsorghum · 6 months ago

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IT'S FINALLY HERE

Thrilled to be putting up this behemoth of a fic I've been working on for two entire months at last! as part of @tsukimefuku's Spookinky event. Yes, I'm aware Halloween was also 2 months ago (sorry Fuku, and thanks so much again for helping beta read it!) Anyway, do check out the other works, they're incredible.

+18, DARK CONTENT AHEAD. You've been warned. See end of story for further author's notes.

abstract. It was a fairy tale, wasn’t it? Or a cautionary one, as most of them turned out to be. wc. 9.4k (strap in with a beverage folks)

Jim knew that he was awake and asleep at the same time, dreaming of the war and yet dreamed of by the war…

Your eyelids droop, heavier and heavier with every pass you make at the sentences. You’re fighting against the font even, dripping off the page into the pitch black pit of your mind, those once thick and bold serifs ooze into obfuscation, molten as the afternoon congealing into dusk. Your focus has been wavering for hours in this stifling summer air, the dense miasma of words shimmering into a mirage of meaning.

You sigh, scrubbing a hand over your face as you let Empire of the Sun flop into your lap. You should have known; J.G. Bellard didn’t exactly stake his reputation on breezy prose. You have a suspicion the book’s about a week or two overdue, though Nanami hadn’t said anything. Well, it was his library card getting charged. You hadn’t renewed yours in years.

You rifle through your current slog; 300 pages give or take. Perhaps you should have been less ambitious, started with the short stories. Long ago, you’d read The Garden of Time. You had enjoyed it, you think. Your eyes slip shut, trying to remember how that story ended, but the details are fuzzy.

It was a fairy tale, wasn’t it? Or a cautionary one, as most of them turned out to be.

These days, you were living with your own Count Axel too.

You open your eyes, gaze instinctively flitting towards the clock whirring with its tick-tock mick-mockery, matching the taunting your ears had already gotten accustomed to. The second hand quivers a sliver past the hour, as exacting as an anorexic’s indulgence of a fractional slice of cake; and promising as much sustenance.

Where was Nanami? When would he come back?

Your stomach growls. The shadows have grown, black slats cast by the window grilles lengthening and slithering stark against the bleached gold of the walls. You hate this time of day the most, this inevitable boredom numbing your mind into mulch, too sluggish to tolerate even the most insipid of dating reality show reruns, which was all that was on TV. As for your once carefully curated stash of true crime podcasts, the thought of listening to them now was unbearable.

Something burbles in your belly, a strange gastric shriek acidifying into a yowl. You shut it out, closing your eyes.

Your present circumstances might make for a pretty good biopic, a thriller perhaps. Or a psychodrama. Grim amusement filters through your mind as you imagine actors you’d cast in the lead roles…who was that Danish fellow, who had played a Bond villain? He’d had a similar sort of malevolent charisma as the titular protagonist in that show about eating people…

A little too fixated on trying to recall the actor’s name, you don’t hear the key turn in the first lock. But the second schlick sends a jolt straight to your spine, muscle memory triggering you to leap to your feet. By the time the third and fourth bolts have slotted out of the way, you’ve sprinted to the front step, your exuberant chirrup eclipsing the hinges’ creak.

“Welcome home, Kento!”

He grabs you mid-lunge, as usual, chuckling as you fling your arms around his neck. He’s a little off balance today, with the bags dangling off his thick forearms but they still manage to curl, boa constrictor snug around your waist, the weight of their contents pressing you further against him.

“Hello darling,” he murmurs.

You let him bury his nose against your nape, feeling the burdens of the world slough off him as he inhales your scent, ever familiar, ever constant. Never changing.

Staring past the summit of his shoulders, you see dust motes drifting unencumbered in the scorched-tangerine shaft of the setting sun, the pavement glowing white, the bright brilliance of its incandescence and resistance petering into the imminence of night; all this, a few tantalising inches beyond the door.

You blink, the dark spots perform their pirouette, and the temptation passes. You put on a smile as you feel Nanami’s question rumble low along your throat, peeling you away from his chest as he carefully shuts the door behind him, zipping chains one through four back into place.

“I said, how was your day?”

“Oh, good. Pretty good. You’ll be proud of me.”

“Yes?”

“I got through a whole 4 pages in your absence,” you grin at Nanami, waggling the book at him.

“Am I proving such a distraction?” His tone is bone-dry, but you catch the glimmer in his eye, polished as fragments beneath flesh desiccated by a desert.

“You mean providing?” you hum, smoothing a palm across his pectorals as Nanami shrugs out of his coat.

Nanami tuts, catching your fingers and greeting them with a kiss,“You ought to know by now, your flattery has its consequences.”

“Seems like an acceptable risk.”

Nanami tuts and you feel his lips twitch over your knuckles at the belligerence lilting your tone.

“Well, I’m sorry sweetheart but I was picking up a few extra things for dinner.”

Nanami finally relinquishes your hand to set the bags down on the dining table. You gape as he proceeds to carefully uncover the biggest bundle of blue hydrangeas and pale yellow daffodils you’ve ever laid eyes upon, all exquisitely wrapped with an embroidered silk ribbon. Nanami holds the flowers out to you, savouring your little gasp as the full size of his generosity blossoms into view.

“It was a bit of an impulse buy,” he confesses, to fill your stunned silence.

“You expect me to believe this was a snap decision?”

“Well, no, I was intending to get a bouquet from the start but they’d run out of roses. The florist suggested these instead, plus they seemed particularly fresh.”

“They’re gorgeous, Ken. Thank you, and I think I like their scent much better.” You press your nose to the delicate petals for a moment before you go to fetch a vase, submerging the stems in a few inches of water.

“These make me wish I’d paid more attention to my ikebana classes in elementary school,” you comment, caressing one of the butter bright coronas. “Or maybe I could enrol in one of those community courses now.”

“Leave it to the shops’ experts, they know the optimal aesthetic arrangement.”

“Oh, of course. It’s just, it’d be fun to learn something trivial and new.”

Nanami’s smile at you is soft and relaxed. “I’ll buy you more flowers, you can learn through trial and error, Miss Independent.”

“That seems a little lavish. What if I just consult our neighbours across the road, I’ve seen them growing-“

“You can figure it out on your own I’m sure,” Nanami interjects, patting your cheek and you have to remind yourself not to flinch, letting your face go taut with a perfected smile instead. “Or with a book. It could even be a nice hobby for us both, right?”

“Sure, Kento. Sounds fun.” You sigh, separating out some of the stalks. “So this is why you were delayed by half an hour today?”

“Yes, I’m sorry dear.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

It’s quiet for a few moments as Nanami observes you carefully thumbing through the floral clusters.

“I was...just a little worried. I wish you could tell me in advance. Maybe a text?”

Nanami lifts a brow, barely perceptibly. “And you’d receive it with what phone?”

Swiftly, you recalibrate, your tone shifting into a playful inflection. “Or we can resort to pagers. Like it’s the 1980s.”

It was one of the ironies of this living situation; a tradeoff, Nanami would have termed it. Although you dwelled under the same roof, you communicated less than ever before with him.

Nanami shakes his head ruefully, plaintively remarking, “I didn’t think you missed doomscrolling more than me.”

“Oh, don’t be so melodramatic,” you huff, setting aside the vase to place a peck on Nanami’s nose. Apparently random acts of affection usually worked to disrupt his morose musings.

You start to bustle with the groceries. “Don’t get me wrong, Bruckner’s 7th symphony on vinyl is exquisite,” you continue, “And I’ll be eternally grateful to you for making a cultured woman out of me…”

Nanami practically pouts at your exaggeration, indignation pulling the corners of his mouth down. You give a lopsided smile, pushing your luck.

“But…I’m just a little bit curious about the Top 40 stuff. Like what’s Ed Sheeran been up to?”

“That’s what the radio is for, dear. I’m not depriving you of pop hits.”

No, just music videos. And remixes. Plus you’ll never set foot inside another club or karaoke bar. Or attend a live gig. Hell, you’d pay dearly to hear an off-key sidewalk busker. Even a drunkard caterwauling in a subway.

Sounds from a lifetime ago. Better not to dwell on them.

You pull out carrots, a few stalks of celery, some onions. “You’re right. I doubt Square Roots or whatever mathematical function his latest album is titled after is a seminal turning point in his discography. I’m not missing anything.”

You survey the ingredients, feeling Nanami’s mild concern descend upon you as you ramble through your unexpectedly eloquent tirade.

You glance back up at him. “Anyway, dinner tonight involves a mirepoix?”

Nanami nods. You pass a hand hesitantly over the vegetables.

“It’s a lot of prepwork for a…a weekday, right?”

“It’s a Thursday,” Nanami offers to your unarticulated question. “And trust me, it’s worth it.”

This time the kiss he presses to your temple is a shade too tender.

“You’re always worth it.”

Your eyes flutter shut for a moment, letting Nanami’s words lodge deep between your ribs. Then, you carve a smile against his cheek.

“Who’s the one hoping for consequences now, mister?”

Nanami gives a light squeeze around your hips. “The meal will be ready in about 40 minutes.”

“Can I help?”

Nanami considers you for a moment, looking at your open face.

You skate your thumb across his knuckles, your voice becoming demure, saccharine in its wheedling. “I’ll just wash the vegetables? You’re welcome to do all the dicing and slicing.”

Nanami chuckles and you feel the tension ebb from his hands at your suggestion. He fishes out his phone and taps on Spotify. “What are you in the mood to listen to, darling?”

Walking on a dream How can I explain? Talking to myself Will I see again?

The upbeat 80s inspired synths pulse through the kitchen, a backdrop to Nanami’s knife working its hypnotic rhythm against the chopping board. You run the cucumbers under the tap while he slides the last of the cubed carrots into a bowl alongside the onions and celery, also cut into similar sized pieces.

“What are you thinking for the salad?”

“Yuzu-wafu for the dressing?” Nanami checks his blade, noting its dulled edge.

“Maybe some kind of vinaigrette? Would pair well since this variety is a little more tart.”

Nanami hums thoughtfully, setting down the knife. He strolls over to a drawer where the cleaver, scissors and matches are stored and after making discrete adjustments to its built-in number padlock, retrieves a whetstone.

“Good call, there’s some EVOO we need to finish up-” Nanami turns around and goes rigid, seeing the knife clasped in both your hands, poised just under your chin.

Thought I'd never see The love you found in me Now it's changing all the time Living in a rhythm where the minute's working overtime

You’re swaying back and forth to the melody, a distant look in your eyes.

“Dear?”

His voice is gentle, even gentler than usual. Which is plenty gentle already.

Your gaze slides towards Nanami, how he’s tracking the most minute shifts of the gleaming point hovering inches away from your skin. He’s perfectly still, not a tendon twitching, not a nostril flared; the air doesn’t leave his body, you see how it’s gripped between his lungs, as if the oxygen has become cement pooling in his valves. Nanami locks eyes with you, ochre irises shimmering tourmaline, exuding perfect calm. Waiting on you for his next heartbeat.

We are always running for the thrill of it, thrill of it Always pushing up the hill, searching for the thrill of it On and on and on we are calling out, out again Never looking down, I'm just in awe of what's in front of me

You grin at Nanami on the other side of the kitchen island, your captive audience as you belt out the chorus.

Is it real now? Two people become one I can feel it Two people become one

Nanami purses his lips, taking a step towards you. “Dear…why don’t you get the olive oil?”

Your grip tightens on the knife’s handle. You shut your eyes.

Is it real now? Two people become one I can feel it Two people become-

You don’t immediately feel his iron grip manacled around your pulse; instead what first alerts you to his presence back by your side are his lips brushing against your temple. And that’s worse somehow, than his touch molding over your whitened knuckles, and the sinews of your wrist gilded with their jagged deltas of silver.

“I love you,” Nanami states, one hand heavily dwarfing your fists. You release the knife into his grip without another word. He swipes a brisk kiss across your jugular and you feel the maniacal desperation bleed from you, receding into the whirlpool of your subconscious. What had come over you?

“You’re kinda pitchy, but I love you anyway.”

With that cavalier comment, Nanami starts on the cucumbers.

A joke. He's making a joke. Had he seen right through you?

Hasn’t he always? Another voice, almost perfectly resembling your own, whispers within your mind. And he always will. You’re a glass wall to him, utterly transparent, easily shattered.

And Nanami’s the only one who’s been patient enough to put you back together, the only one who can make you whole.

He knows all your fractures, enough to refract and reframe the truth. This was your choice to live as a one-way mirror, to reflect his desires; to orient to the prism without realising it was a prison.

You watch Nanami quickly and quietly julienne the verdant oblongs, the knife’s swift staccato the only sound for a while. You pinch a slender, perfect matchstick from the mound of green, holding it between your fingers.

“Is there a point to such precision?”

“It’s so everything cooks evenly. It’s the standard for mise en place cooking.”

“Miso what?”

“It’s another French technique.” Nanami puts down the knife on the far side of the chopping board before plucking the sliver of cucumber from you and returning it to the pile.

“Literally translated, it means ‘putting in place’.”

“I see, I didn’t know that before.”

You fold your empty palms in your lap, eyes downcast.

One hand still on the blade, Nanami settles the other over your fingers, his heated grip squeezing just tightly enough for you to feel your metacarpals briefly grate against each other.

“Now you do.”

As Nanami turns back to prepping the ingredients, he tells you, “Go set the table, dear. And open up the bottle, so the wine breathes.” At least one thing in this house can, you think, walking away from him.

“Taste familiar?”

The burgundy swirls in your glass, glinting like fluid rubies as you dip your nose over the rim.

“You know I don't have your refined palette, Ken. Just tell me already.”

Nanami shakes his head, nudging the ceramic dish towards you.

“Pair it with the cassoulet, then try again.”

You follow your spoonful of the hearty stew with a sip of the red, and this time notes of Pinot noir and brambleberries are more pronounced, as the tannins press their lingering tingle on your tongue, coaxing forth a vaguely familiar association from the recesses of your mind.

“I’ve had this before?”

“It was a fusion restaurant, Japanese-French. We had our first date there,” Nanami prompts.

“Oh! Jonquilla’s?”

Nanami smiles as his clues finally click together for you.

“I visited them before their evening service started, on one of my days off. Had a chat with their chef to recreate the recipe for the cassoulet, though I don’t know if the proportion of spice blends is identical-“

“Never mind accuracy, it was absolutely delicious, Ken. You’ve really outdone yourself.” You hum in satisfaction and satiation around the last mouthful of his culinary achievement.

“But what’s the occasion?”

Nanami’s brow arches, almost imperceptibly. “Today’s March 7th.”

You blink owlishly at him for an extended second, then abruptly recoil, stiffening with your realisation.

“Oh crap- I mean, sorry! I-I didn’t know.”

Nanami gestures placatingly, sliding his hand over yours. You stare sheepishly as he laces his fingers through yours. “It’s all right, love. I should have left a note in the morning.”

Timidly, you glance up at him. The mortification only churns with more turbulence seeing Nanami’s gaze brimming with affection and mild amusement.

“Umm...well, happy fourth anniversary Kento.”

For the first time this evening his smile falters.

“Fifth,” he corrects you, with the slightest suggestion of a sigh ghosting over the single syllable.

Your gaze plummets back to your hand underneath his. “Right, fifth. Five years.”

Five entire years...everything had changed; now none of your days did. All of them spent waiting, then waiting for him. The past three years had been an eternity, dwelling with a man you’d once been keen to spend forever with. The prospect had been a privilege, a certainty back then. When you’d been free to choose it.

Now, like death, it was nothing more than an inevitability.

The redundancy of your statement lurches heavily into the air; you and Nanami sit in silence for several epochs, its weight creeping into the room like a mastodon carcass emerging from permafrost. He splinters it first.

“You didn’t check the calendar?”

What would have been the point, etching out eternity by the day as if that would stall the lobotomy of this monotony? Every flick of a page would have been another papercut embedded in your epidermis, your spine chipped away ever quicker, just one more reminder of your sinews and synapses and wits atrophying, triggering an avalanche of spiraling, depressive thoughts and an even swifter, simultaneous erosion of your sense of self, your will to survive.

You can no more resist the scalpel than the cudgel, it’s an insidious chiselling of your core, to be remade in someone else’s image. Beatific as Helen of Troy, argumentative as an effigy.

“I forgot today and well, you know the saying, time flies.”

You pull your hand away from Nanami’s to examine the wine bottle, brushing a thumb over the label.

“It really is the exact same isn’t it?” you murmur, looking up at him with a wider smile. The Ice Age passes, and both Nanami’s tone and gaze thaws.

“I figured I’d speak to their sommelier at the same time, since I was there. Not many places import this so it took some convincing for them to part with one from their cellar.”

You raise a brow. “Please don’t tell me you spent more than-“

“It was complimentary in fact. Turns out the sommelier was a rather romantic fellow.”

“Sounds like he was giving someone a run for their money.” You lean forward, topping off Nanami’s glass.

With an appreciative chuckle, he responds, “He said it was the least he could do, bringing Provence to you if you couldn’t go.”

Provence, hah. If he only knew, the furthest place you’d been dreaming of was the konbini that had been a five minutes stroll from your old apartment. It was cramped, and the rent had been exorbitant despite being in a dodgy part of town - sort of a shithole if you were honest, but it’d been your shithole.

What colour had you painted the walls? Turquoise? Cerulean? No, aquamarine maybe,to match the canal you could just about glimpse from your balcony in summer-

“They really do a good job, highlighting the seasonal and regional specialties.”

You snap your attention back to the conversation, before the man opposite you can notice anything amiss. Perfunctory participation and trite observations were necessary to shield your most private thoughts from Nanami.

“Yeah, incredible menu. I loved the ambience of the place too.”

“The ambience?”

“Well, everything. The art, the lighting, that live violinist. It all adds to the dining experience, you know.” You let your gaze drift into the scarlet liquid swishing around in your glass, the garnet sparkles enticing in their reminiscence of sweeter, simpler times, when you and Nanami were just getting to know each other.

“Perhaps. I’ve never really noticed those things. That’s just decor.”

Now of course you know him all too well.

“Oh obviously the food should be the focus. And it definitely stood out. Your tarte tatin really took me back there.”

“Hmm, you know I suspect they used caster not muscovado after all,” Nanami remarks, scrutinizing the remnant fleck of pastry balanced delicately on a single tine.

“Sweetheart, tonight was a success,” you coo, patting his hand. “Trust me.”

Nanami relents, putting the fork down. “Even in the absence of a live violinist?”

You roll your eyes. “Yes, even without that.”

Nanami raises the stem of his glass, trying to hide how pleased he is. You copy him, gaze catching his as the both of you drain your drinking vessels. It is good wine, after all.

You hum, idly letting your fingers skate up Nanami’s forearms.

“Still, there’s lots of French fusion places around Tokyo. Why’d you pick that particular one?”

Nanami shrugs. “I went there with a client once, back when I was a salary man, so I knew it was good. I’d checked the more recent reviews too. Based off those I was convinced the 4.8 average rating it retained was warranted.”

You incline your head to the side, expectant. There were sure to be other factors, with this pinnacle of logic. Nanami pushes his spectacles up the strong bridge of his nose and sighs.

“And it was, well...equidistant from both our houses.”

You let out a mock gasp, voice fruity with an affectation of being scandalised. “Mr Nanami, I did not take you for such a schemer.”

Perhaps it’s the burgundy, but you can’t help but think the pink tinting Nanami’s cheeks is rather endearing.

He clears his throat, sitting up straight. “That’s not what I meant. Quite the opposite in fact. We both had assignments early the next day. I wasn’t...making any assumptions.”

You purse your lips together, withholding a smirk as Nanami stumbles through more of his rationalisations.

“I mean, it could have gone poorly too, you could have wanted to cut the date short. So I considered your cab fare wouldn’t amount to more than-“

“Well, our first date didn’t end early, did it, Kento?” you interject. You don’t know why, but it delights you to see a rush of poppies blossom downwards, beneath his collar.

“I suppose not.”

You relax back into your chair with a chuckle, feeling Nanami’s significantly warmer gaze on you.

“Actually, I do have a gift for you.”

Nanami reaches into his satchel and for a moment you’re worried a velvet box will materialise from it. To your relief, he instead withdraws a simple paper envelope, too slim and understated for any expensive jewellery.

“Here you go,” he says, sliding the envelope over to you.

“Takashimaya vouchers? Oh Kento, how romantic-“ You stop short of delivering the jibe when you see what his gift actually is - a library card.

Your library card, to be exact.

It’s your turn to be baffled now.

“You were racking up too many fines on mine,” Nanami’s expression is strait-laced, but his gaze is affectionate .“So I renewed yours.”

“Is there, um, some kind of new demerit system?”

“No, the length of the penalty period is the same as the overdue one. Basically I was barred from loaning out more books till you were done, Miss four pages per day.”

“It’s not my fault if the plot drags on,” you protest.

“Pick a more compelling read then,” Nanami smirks, “Or know when to give up.”

You examine the laminated rectangle, and the photo of yourself from five years ago stares back at you, her expression bright and clear-eyed, the set of her jaw resolute. Virtually unrecognisable.

“I can...pick up my own books?” you mumble, eyes still locked on your picture.

Nanami’s sigh is heavy and you hear him remove his lenses, setting them down on the table. You look up when he addresses you, and his gaze is tinged with the same slight weariness wrung from your name.

“Your residence needed to be updated, that’s all.” Nanami speaks patiently - no, patronisingly. “You can continue to give me the list of titles you want to check out.”

So, you wouldn’t be able to borrow the books in person, let alone browse the shelves in a public space, without him.

“I should...probably pay my late fees myself though, right?”

Nanami shrugs, “They don’t add up to that much. I usually take care of it with the petty cash.”

Money he wouldn’t miss. Transactions without a bank statement. Untraceable.

You’d never have to pay for anything ever again. And it had only cost you your freedom.

You slip the card carefully back into the envelope, face down.

Some unthinking machine would scan its barcode, would log your details, your preferences in novels and fiction, the imaginations you escaped into. On some arbitrary database, you’d exist.

Somewhere outside these four walls, you’d live.

“Thank you, Ken. It’s a lovely...gesture.”

You don’t think Nanami registers the pause, neutrally watching you empty the wine bottle equally into his glass and yours.

“Shame that’s the last of it,” you sigh, setting the bottle down. Nanami hums contemplatively as you drink up.

“It was... a nice restaurant. Would you want to visit it again?”

You stare at Nanami, not quite believing your ears at the sentimentality that has seeped into his tone, let alone his offer.

“Visit it?”

That would involve going back into the world. Strangers would see you. Might even interact with you. That would be too much, surely?

Nanami takes a long sip of wine before continuing.

“I could get candles and cushions and white linen tablecloths, or put a Poulenc record on...but I know it’s not the same.The environment does make a difference.”

You nod slowly, twisting the stem of your glass between your fingers. He reaches for your hand and you let him hold it.

“You could do your hair, nails, get dolled up and all, just like old times. There’s this dress in a corner boutique I go past every day, that I think you’ll like-“

“That I’ll like or you’ll like?”

He chuckles, “My dear, if you want to wear a burlap sack there you’re welcome to. I’ll insist to the maître d’ I have the most beautiful woman in the world on my arm, regardless.”

A blush unfurls across your face, looking into Nanami’s eyes and seeing the absolute sincerity and conviction there.

“I just want you to feel as special as you are to me, when we go.”

Nanami brings your hand to his mouth, eyes closed, taking his time to plant a kiss on each of your knuckles. Something constricts in your chest, watching the reverence and regret of his lips each time they have to lift a tiny fraction away from your rapidly warming skin.

“It’s where we started to make so many memories.” Nanami says softly, opening his eyes to stare deeply into yours. You sink into the rich russet warmth of those irises, mesmerised by the familiar tawny flecks shining bronze with pure adoration for you.

“If we were going to celebrate, it would be worth commemorating it there, yes?”

He almost whispers the question, with both his hands now clasping yours. Nanami brushes a thumb across your hand and you barely notice how it strokes slow, tender circles on your fourth finger.

Barely.

You know what he is truly asking. What he’s really after.

Would it be a celebration or a sentencing?

Even after all this time, it isn’t clear if there’s just the one answer.

You shut your eyes, taking a breath. You lean forward in the darkness, finding and anchoring your lips to Nanami’s, parting them to reel his soft exhalation into your mouth, feeling the tidal surge of his ache in his tongue tracing the very edges of your mouth, desperation lapping at your own control.

You haven’t permitted him this little in so long. You haven’t permitted yourself this much for even longer.

You break away just as his canines start to graze your trembling lower lip, whispering the truth through your teeth. “I’ve been utterly smitten by you, Nanami Kento. Too often, you know me better than I do myself. But I know you too.”

“And?”

You let the panted word hang in the air, savouring the way his anticipation swells through his button-up shirt, his chest rising and falling with each second that passes, that you hold out on.

You imbibe a heavy gulp of composure, some of the burgundy spilling past your lips.

Your glass chimes against the table with a definitive clink as you reply, “And I know how much of a hassle you find washing cast iron skillets to be. Restaurants would take care of that, right?”

Nanami’s face crumples into confusion, his consternation finding physical manifestations in the crease of his brows and down turned lips.

Maybe you’d gone too far, even if it wasn’t an outright rejection. He might interpret it as a stalling tactic.

“That was a joke, Kento. Of course I’d love to revisit Jonquilla’s with you. Or even a Mcdonalds drive-thru.”

“My dear, you deserve so much better than that sodium saturated crap.”

Your laugh quivers, rippling with the pronounced vehemence with which Nanami had spat the expletive. He pins you with a stern glare, but you will mischief to glaze over your face, like a visor.

“Y’know, I’ve kinda been craving their fries.”

Nanami wrinkles his nose, and you breathe a little easier. “How your standards haven’t improved, after years of living together with home cooked meals, is beyond me.”

“You’re such a snob sometimes,” you dismiss his disdain with a giggle, “You gotta realise there are just some things you can’t exert influence over.”

Nanami’s eyes narrow. “I’m not going to give up.”

“Suit yourself,” you lick the last traces of a sauce off the back of a spoon with deliberation, feeling his gaze track your movements. “I see no downsides for me, if that means more yummy replications.”

Nanami’s exhale through his nose is short and sharp; what passes for a laugh these days. He regards you silently for a minute, exasperation mingling and melting into fondness, ever so gradually.

It seems you’re out of the woods. Still, it doesn't hurt to keep him in a good mood.

You reach out to caress Nanami’s cheek lightly, and his eyes drift close against your touch. “You can take me anywhere you want.”

Everywhere and nowhere.

“How about we start with the shower?”

Nanami stands a few feet away from you as vines of steam coil around his granite cheekbones, wilting his collar, leaching translucence into the whites of his Oxford top. You see the fibres strain with every rise and fall of his chest, the vapours of his mouth melding with the swelling humidity of the bath, amidst fluctuations of hunger and hesitation.

“Are you sure about this?” Nanami murmurs, he braces his arms behind him, pressing his back against the tiles, breath expanding underneath his shirt. You gaze upon Nanami, a centurion sculpted by Rodin, a cornered animal.

You take a step towards him, feeling his heart hammer as you enclose your palm over it.

“It’s nothing we haven’t done before,” you whisper, reaching for his first button.

It wasn’t quite the same of course, as on the other nights. Usually your positions were reversed; Nanami, fully clothed, would strip you and usher you into the shower, only a sponge between you and him as he cleansed every inch of your skin. His own bath would be brisk, but he’d thank you for your patience every evening as you shuddered in the corner, eyes tightly shut. He didn’t seem to care if you stared at him with revulsion or resignation, the way a leopard would disregard a sparrow.

That was all your bodies had been to each other for the longest time, mere objects co-existing in space, empty vessels requiring maintenance.

It’s hard to remember that now, as a more carnal need pumps through your veins, as the fabric peels away from his skin, sleeves rippling slow in their remorse of being parted from his swollen biceps. You replace them with your palms, gliding over arms corded with sinews like steel cables. All this strength he’s never used on you, keeping you in his grasp by some other power.

No, it was exactly this restraint that restrained you; shackled to the myth that it couldn’t get worse, torture earning your tolerance, tolerance reaping your torture.

You thread your fingers through Nanami’s locks, barley sheaves darkening into rye beneath the spray and the circular motion of your hands, massaging shampoo into his silken roots. The cascade of water catches his lashes just right, fronds fluttering like the gold-gilded ruffled edges of ginkgo leaves at the terminus of autumn; yet, as you sink your fingers into the joints where Nanami’s nape connects to the base of his cranium, you doubt it’s the scattered droplets which are responsible for his eyes closing, or the guttural groan dragged from his throat, the octaves dripping much lower than you’ve heard in months, sending simultaneous sensations of heat dribbling down your spine and a lush insistence of warmth tugging through your gut.

Suds slip their foamy trail over the corded tendons in his neck, iridescence slathering over his chest and arms. Your fingers follow them, naturally. Nanami holds himself very still as you scratch your nails lightly over his pectorals and abdominals, tracing a path of your own design and desires, forgotten yet familiar. The terrain prickles beneath your wandering palms, goosebumps sprouting at your touch. But then, you reach a swathe of blue mottling into violet, and your hand hovers over it, a sickle sized smudge wrapped around his upper ribs. You can’t control the flood that suddenly surges to your waterline, blurring your vision.

All the violence, and all the silence. The endless chaos. This was the truth out there, and here was the evidence he kept from you.

The bruise spreads beneath your fingers, wider than your hand.

And what was the truth in here? Where was the danger? Long ago you’d confronted that same savagery, the senseless cruelty, those injustices he used to justify keeping you safe now.

You sink your thumb against the wound, dragging your anguish through it. You feel the breath juddering through Nanami, as he winces. But he doesn’t stop you.

You can hurt him too.

“It’s all right,” he whispers, leaning into your touch.

Monsters creating monsters, curses birthing more curses. Perhaps misery didn’t love company, as much as it feared and loathed enduring its own misanthropy alone.

There were worse things to lose than freedom.

You lift your hand away, to cup Nanami’s face instead.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, pressing the apology over his closed eyes. You feel them flickering beneath your lips.

“I’m sorry for all of this.” His gaze, when it returns to you, wavers wearily between guilt and grief. It’s dimmed and misty, there are no calculations, no charting these choppy waters; he sways towards you, a man (as before, as ever) seeking safe harbour, adrift in your arms.

You coax his calloused hands around your hips, and you’re uncertain for a few moments if the trembling from his fingertips has summoned the same across your skin, or if it’s your own nerves rippling outwards to his touch, all too tentative.

“Do you…not want to-”

You feel the answer in his immediate indentations upon your waist, squeezing your doubts into silence. But his gaze remains obscured behind his fringe, plastered to his forehead. You brace against the silence by sliding your arms over his, thumb circling the taut knot at the crease of his elbow. Gently you lay your cheek against his chest, savouring the solidness that has been so absent, and its underlying thump-thump-thump, far less steady.

You feel the breath rising through his lungs as he tilts your chin up towards him, voice rasping with frayed restraint.

“I want to. Of course I want you.”

Nanami drags his thumb from the corner of your lips to its plush centre, feeling it furl and yield without very much pressure.

“What if I want too much?”

For him to ask this now is a kindness you can’t afford. You don’t owe him this, he has reassured you of that much, tonight and many other nights. Perhaps it’s time that has taken its toll instead, so that with your last shred of autonomy, you choose to give, or at least give in.

“Just let me be selfish, this once.”

You angle your face towards him, lips parted and watch the light in his eyes shrink to pinpricks; firelight flickering out as bipedal silhouettes slink and morph back into the shadows of beasts -

coherence, logic, caution all consumed by more primal instincts.

And so, you anticipate his devouring, his half-snarl, his clash of teeth when he claims your mouth again for the first time in ages but it’s worse, so much worse. And divine.

His kiss is slow but no less forceful, the pressure gradually mounting, lapping at your lips then teasingly receding so you have to push up into him, deepening the kiss so quickly without you realising, only vaguely aware of your shortness of breath, of the most mild discomfort; the same dissonance of someone witnessing a revealed shore and wading further and further onto it, clueless that the waves are pulling back because of the tsunami surging towards them.

It’s too late by then, caught in Nanami’s undertow when your head rolls to the side, hardly far enough before it’s cradled by one of his large hands. The warmth from his palms pools across your nape, dripping down down down your spinal column, an erosion of stalactites as your weight melts against Nanami when he pulls your waist flush to his. He drinks in your whimpered surprise as you feel a smear, thick and wet, between your legs and prodding at your gusset.

Nanami finally lets you part for air but you cling to him, limpet-limbed. Your gaze and hand drifts down to where he’s stiff, scarlet and sobbing from his slit, globs of fat white pearls that remind you of the dryness in your mouth.

“So much…you’ve been holding back this much?”

Nanami had never responded this way when conducting your evening rituals of hygiene, had swept his eyes over your breasts and buttocks as efficiently as he’d inspected your scalp, elbows, knees. His touch had been mechanical, clinical to the point of brusque. You came to the conclusion then, over the years, that he was inoculated against arousal, that the sight of your bare flesh no longer titillated him, that on some level even, he was completely apathetic to your nudity. It’s impossible to argue such a stance now with the copious amount of evidence painting your thighs, the head bobbing heavily as it brushes against your skin.

“Sometimes at work…” Nanami croaks and you finally tear your stare away from his glistening length, to be sucked into the brine-dark whirlpools of lust churning in his eyes. “I’d…I’d take the edge off.”

“How?” you whisper. The crimson rush crests high on his cheeks and you reach out to caress his face, residual heat sweeping from your fingers down your wrist.

“J-just in a cubicle,” he confesses, averting his eyes. “Not often.”

During lunch breaks. In between meetings. Just before commuting. You hadn’t been able to keep your hands off each other, in those early days. So many late nights, and later mornings. Beds were irrelevant. Desks, couches, corridors, stairwells - the two of you didn’t need much to improvise intimacy, the sparse surroundings testimony to the inspiration you found endlessly in each other.

It must have been difficult, to forget and forego all that. It was, for you.

“Made it worse…I tried to stop.”

Nanami Kento, with his crisp collars, perfectly ironed jackets, shiny brogues - in a sterile bathroom hunched over fisting his cock with frantic, feverish tugs, struggling to sputter to a paltry climax, the spit in his palms a poor substitute for what he refused himself every evening,

so close, so easily within reach that he couldn’t take it.

Temporarily vanquishing his visceral ache for you, while heightening his hankering, compounding his cravings, haunted by his half-measures for months and months.

Diminishing returns, returning with a vengeance.

“Why not here, at home?”

You see the anguish flash across his face, feel the tremor in his hands as he clutches at your waist.

“I…didn’t want you to ever - ever - remotely consider that risk, with m-”

You crush your mouth to Nanami’s, pillow-soft lips pummeling his doubts into nothing more than the air that escapes with his choked grunt of surprise, tongue spearing deep past his lips to wrestle with his, an excavation of the remnants of his uncertainty.

“Kento…” And he hears his name panted, twisted through with such longing he has no choice but to look at you.

“You don’t have to stop yourself anymore.”

Coals glow in Nanami’s irises, you witness in an instant the incineration of his final vestiges of control. But even if you hadn’t caught the change, you feel it as your body is engulfed in flames for the remainder of the night.

Nanami grabs you, pins you to the wall as he nips kisses all across your nape, sucks bruises down the column of your throat, carnality swelling carnelian across your clavicle, as you claw ruby rivulets down his spine. He buries his pleasured growls between your breasts, stuffing his mouth with your mounds and moans and the stiffened peaks of your nubs, while his hands waste no time, grasping at every inch of you, your curves, the plush of your thighs, the fat of your bum, years of denial striking the flint of desperation, skin singeing against each other, ragged sighs breathing life into him, coaxing the inferno higher and higher.

And then his knuckles graze the lake of slick between your legs and when did he get on his knees and Nanami hisses your name, whiskey-smoked gaze drilling into yours, demanding not your permission, but your focus when he finally sinks his tongue into you, and the sob rips from your throat at his impatience, his insistence, lapping ravenously at your folds, retracing every crease and crevasse of you, tip curving into spots you forgot you had to chase and catch every drop drooling from your niche, greed driving him deeper to get closer to the mouth of the river, your lust already streaming down his face. He grinds your weight further on his face, disregarding your garbled protests, you cry out as the high bridge of his nose brushes your clit and almost immediately you regret it as he switches his attentions and abuse there, to that tiny bundle of nerves, tongue now stroking ruthlessly fast, alternating between flicking and wrapping tight circles around it.

A particularly vicious suck has your climax shattering over you, your wails of his name bouncing off the tiles and to your fascinated horror, falling on deaf ears. It takes you a few moments, with every synapse scorched beyond function, to realise that your jerking and spasms aren’t from your first orgasm, but an impending second. Because Nanami hasn’t slowed down for a fraction of a moment, your cunt still sealed around the cavern of his mouth, the beast within writhing its way back into its reclaimed burrow; you squeal and whine and squirm, but it’s no use, Nanami slaps a hand against your thigh, angling it to hook high over his broad shoulders to keep you splayed, the iridescence you’re spraying across his cheeks no match for the gleam in his eyes as he feasts and slurps and sucks.

His moans reverberating through your pussy seem to crawl their way up through your own throat, writhing into your garbled pleas for amnesty, for release. You’re convinced your pleasure is mere collateral, not the priority, to Nanami now, that he’s punishing you in some sadistic, delightful way - until you feel the swipes of his tongue soften and his smirk stretching you, in time with the tips of his fingers spreading across your swollen lips.

“One more darling,” he promises, pressing a tender kiss to your inner thigh. You brace against the wall, whimpers tapering into relieved little mewls of his name as Nanami’s index glides inside you, pussy readily receiving every ridge and joint, liquid-smooth, as your resistance dribbles down his wrist.

“Gotta prep you, it’s been a while mmh?” he mumbles against your sodden core, starting to pump his digits in and out of you steadily, before he latches back onto your clit like an addict, picking up his pace and pressing into the soft spongy spots that have you erupting into your next climax.

But Nanami’s far from finished.

He withdraws his fingers, luminescent with your essence and sucks them…clean hardly seemed an appropriate word, but it had to suffice in your severely diminished mental state, as the aftershocks scoured every nerve ending south of your tummy, satiation severing any attempt by your neurons to connect.

Brain mushy and muscles gelatinous, you slump forward into Nanami’s solid embrace, his baritone rumbling sweet nothings to reinforce the trembling in your knees. In a single fluid motion, he sweeps you into his arms, bundling you up bridal style out of the bathroom, not bothering with a towel.

“Ken! I’ll get the bed soaked,” you complain, clutching at his biceps.

“That’s the plan, dearest,” he rasps, the menace in his voice somehow simultaneously melodious. Nanami tosses you down on the mattress, lips chasing the blush rushing down your bosom, mouth puckering around the pertness of your buds, alternating between his tongue’s gentle flicks and how he rolls them roughly between his fingers.

But Nanami’s only got one hand occupied by your tits. With the other you distantly hear him rummaging through the nightstand, sounding increasingly agitated. He cusses against your cleavage, and you hear a hollow cardboard box clatter off in the corner as he hurls it across the room.

Of course, neither of you had considered replenishing contraceptives in a long time.

Nanami sits back on his haunches, hands clenched on his knees. His erection juts tantalisingly between them, in a proud upwards sweep of roseate to vermillion, milky droplets already beading again from the heavy head.

Later, you’ll blame the flowers, the wine. Even that damned library card, for the next words that spill from your mouth.

But something possesses you, and you whisper in a voice you barely recognise as your own, “I don’t care, Nanami.” You feel his gaze snap from the offending emptiness of the bedside drawer to your hooded eyes, which are decidedly not directed at his face.

Your statement sinks into the silence taut between your bodies, and you feel the bed dip, as Nanami cautiously (but eagerly) shuffles forward on one knee, the hard silhouette of his length brushing against his belly. Errant pearls drip wastefully into the sheets, and you have to hold back a sob.

“Repeat it.”

“I…I don’t care, I j-just want…” your voice falters as Nanami looms over you, caging you in beneath his arms. His broad mushroom head glides along your slit, rivulets of your slick running from his tip down the rest of his cock. In all your years together, you’ve never felt him this way, with such intimacy, such bristling urgency.

“What do you want, love?”

“You, all of you.” The conviction crackles from your lungs at last and something snaps when Nanami suddenly sinks partially inside you, hips stuttering at your confession, gasps eclipsing each other’s at the sudden surge and squelch of wet and heat and clinging.

It’s too much and not enough all at once and it has your hips jerking up involuntarily, your body remembering there was more, that it was made for much more - but Nanami clamps down on them, shushing your indignant whines even as you try to draw more of him in.

“There’ll be time for you to regret your greed later, my girl,” Nanami chuckles his hoarse assurance, and there’s something about the specific blend of his tone; the sardonicism, the delirium, the absolute warmth under it all that is completely familiar to you. You slip into surrender, relaxing entirely into the kiss you drag him down for.

Nanami is slow to sleeve himself fully within you, savouring how your expressions flicker between frustration and pleasure, a reticence resonant with the way your pussy flutters around his girth, beguiling in its struggle as Nanami feeds you his meat, inch by throbbing inch. You feel him wrestle with the dilemma too in the aberrant twitches of his cockhead, leaking pre-cum, as if your passage weren’t satin-slick enough already and arduous with your ardour.

It’s a surreptitious, viscous cycle; you get more sodden and sensitive with every incremental shimmy Nanami presses into you, the teasingly measured secretion of his slimy trail inside you mingles with your own wet wantonness, the excesses of this elixir dribbling down the remainder of his length and coating your already considerably saturated walls, making it harder and harder for him to resist slamming the rest of his way inside you.

He knows you could take it, that you crave such treatment even, but he wants even more to commit this eternity to memory, not simply the glorious, torturous novel sensation of fucking you raw but the way your face shifts from arousal to adoration, back and forth, again and again, as he seeds a new addiction inside you, gradually stretching you past your former limits; physical, emotional, moral.

Nanami presses a stilted groan into your nape when he bottoms out inside you at last, laving his tongue over the film of perspiration clinging to your collarbones, as if there were some secret adhesive he could absorb to keep himself together, to prevent himself from falling apart with every rippling contraction of your cunt, as your being is molded once more around his pulsing length.

“Ke~nnnhg…” you moan, and he twitches hard inside your gluey, velvet-vice to hear his name so stretched out, like gum, like rubber, like the dearth thereof, of any barrier between your bodies when you squeeze around him, deliberately this time. There’s an abundance of obviousness that it’s your action, not a reaction, by how your voice tremors with the effort.

“Already told ya,” you huff, “You don’t have to stop yourself anymore.”

And perhaps it’s your petulance, how you’re pouting this reminder of your mutual needs to be devastated, that sets Nanami off, that has his hips snapping forward, callous and careless at last, his thrusts initially sharp and shallow building quickly into an erratic rhythm that you can barely keep up with, letting yourself be jostled and pounded and shaken like a ragdoll, like Nanami’s exclusive fucktoy for him to drain his desires into.

“Fuck, angel, so fucking perfect. Gonna fill you up, make you so swollen with me, mmh?”

Your keen peels from your ribs, pitching high into the air, as Nanami continues to whisper filth and praise and promises you can’t quite comprehend, the only sounds, barely intelligible, is his slurring of your name, the syllables stringing stickily together like the messy ropes of cum swaying with every plunge of his cock back into your cunt, relentlessly bruising those spots that make meteors flash across your screwed shut eyes.

“Ken, K-Kento! Ah, ah- missed this so much, m-missed you!”

It’s your last attempt at coherence before your climax crashes over you and you clench around Nanami’s spurting cock, his broken bellows echoing through your bones and veins as he cums shortly after, flooding you, tethering you. You arch into him, receiving each pump, pulses blending with tongues tangling, till there is no distinction between tributaries and alluvium, between river and ravine, only the abundance of silt from his slit, nestled snugly against your cervix.

Nanami shifts to settle you in his arms, some of his spend seeping from the apex of your thighs.Will there be a price to pay? The potential of a gynecologist’s scrutiny, doula appointments, consultations and consolations, complications and consequences, another presence at last in this house…you push these questions far from your mind.

Because the night doesn’t end there of course, you don’t recall if it ends at all. It’s a haze of hormonal hedonism, hours lost in the fog of damp breaths and senses swamped by desire. It is as if you dreamed it all, drifting off with Nanami inside you, waking to find his hunger unabated. Any concerns the morning might bring are cloudy, what is crystalline instead - what you choose to curate - are the sparse intermissions of his syrupy kisses over the words you exchange, that he demands to hear with your will languishing, effervescent as the vow he pulls from you, but will hold you to, lingering in the long shadows of your subconscious: I’m yours and you are mine, I need nothing else.

Seraphim, succubus, sorceress...all these accusations and adorations Kento lays at your feet, worshipping at the altar of your thighs, whether you were astride or under him. Calling you his cornerstone, a becoming like cinder blocks around your ankles.

Drunk off of him, kisses spilling kerosene and casks of Amontillado, your kindness your kindling, immolated by indulgence. You’d yearned for this too, his hunger feeding yours, an Ouroborous of obsession wrapping around your arms, chest, eyes so you couldn’t see how symbiosis ceded to the parasitic, the pleasure paralytic, ambrosia abused into anaesthetic until it cemented your ruin. Your comfort and his catharsis was a drug, yet you do not stop to wonder if this love had never been medicinal, if it had been narcotics lavished against necrosis.

It was too late for either of you to realise he’d never healed, amidst the eternity of nights spent with your lips sealed to Nanami’s like an oath. He never cared or dared to question destiny, yet never been so sure he’s meant to share his with anyone except you. But Fate has always been cruel to the best people he’s known and known too late just how much he needed in his life.

And he couldn’t possibly be crueler than Fate, could he, if it meant protecting you?

Sworn and bound to this, but it unleashed an ancient anguish that had festered for far too long in his heart, aches that should have stayed buried, instincts that should have gone extinct; His salvation now only in the mutation of satiation into starvation. Every love bite and bruise stacking upon each other’s skin like bricks in a citadel for two. You were his fortress, his hearth.

You didn’t know he was building you a pedestal, a pyre, a pyramid.

All to serve a goddess in name, in invention not intervention. Does it matter? Nanami strips you of your mortality, your humanity. You are a being of infinite benevolence and eternal beauty, a deity who deigned to age alongside him. He would grow old with you. Even if it meant dooming you to dwell within a sarcophagus.

Nanami looks upon you, you are enshrined, entombed. He engulfs you in amber; Your life preserved, your love petrified.

thanks for reading!

a/n:also wanted to say I owe a debt of inspiration to @saintshigaraki's fic which has one of the most realistic, seductive portrayals of a Yandere Nanami I've read. Mise En Place would not exist without it.

@houseofsolisoccasum

#nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami kento x y/n #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x reader #kento x reader #nanami kento smut #spookinky2024 #sandsorghum

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twilightsagasworld · 1 year ago

Text

Paul x Reader

Imagine

Requested by @littlemissvenom0

It disgusted you to a deep degree, and Leah had warned you long before you started dating that Paul was a loose guy, never being able to fully commit to something.

It wasn’t that your relationship even felt real. Paul was incredibly distant and avoided doing anything that put you two in the same space for too long. Like he was some royal who couldn’t even entertain the idea of mingling with poverty.

You were again reminded of this when you and Leah hung out today. The weather was cloudy and the remnants of earlier rain was still around, making everything wet. You and Leah were out in the forest near the river border of the tribal grounds.

“I don’t understand why you just don’t break up with him, (y/n). You guys haven’t even acted like a real couple for months”

You sighed while rolling up your vest sleeves, shifting your position on the damp clump of rocks you two were sat on. Distant laughter was in the background, coming from the Black residence.

Leah’s head turned to you, waiting patiently as you puffed your cheeks before letting the air go.

“Yeah, I know, I know… “ you took a pause, tossing a pebble down to the river below you, “I geuss I just hope he’ll come around before I do decide to break it off”

Leah rolls her eyes, “I can’t believe you’re holding on to some slim piece of hope that he’ll maybe turn into some prince charming or whatever, its not”

You frown slightly, “You obviously don't think I should''. Your cousin gives you an exasperated expression, “All I see is him flirting with every girl within a few feet of him, while you stay back all embarrassed all the time, it's getting frustrating and I keep having to listen to him think about it everyday. You have to do something about it”

You look away, biting the inside of your cheek as you listen to her talk. Truth be told you knew your relationship with Paul could only go one of two ways, either you break up with him, or he miraculously turns from his ways and realises how much he actually loves you, if he even does love you.

“You’re right Leah” you stand up, pulling your cousin up with you. “I think it’s time I have a serious talk with him”. You two make your way to the Black residence in a matter of minutes, just as the rain comes pouring down around you.

You and Leah made it just in time to see Paul getting it on with a brunette you absolutely didn’t think you’d see again. “Isnt that Jessica?!” You hear Leah from a few feet behind you. You couldn’t believe it, Paul knew you didn’t like Jessica at all, she was as pretentious and bratty as they come and seeing Paul make put with her under Billy’s porch roof just triggered something in you.

Your breathing got heavy, a heat like you’ve never felt before started spreading though your veins, Leah’s eyes got wide and she called for Sam who came rushing out of the cabin, Quil and Embry on his tail.

“Hey! (Y/n), calm down!”

Sam was standing a bit back. You couldn’t focus on him right now, steam was pouring off your skin and you winced and yelped as you felt your skin and bones move inside you. Leah rushed away from you just in time as you recklessly shifted into a medium sized salt and pepper toned wolf. You stumbled as you threw yourself off balance and landed disgracefully in the muddy grass. No one moved, Paul had already started making his way down when Embry held him back.

You didn’t wait to see or hear what was going on as you stumbled and ran into the forest, Leah’s hollering voice yelling for you to wait and come back.

•••

“ I thought she didn’t have the wolf gene in her?!”

“ I know, im pretty sure everyone here thought so”

The wolf pack, along with Billy Black all crowded Billy’s small living room. The rain was still going hard and you had left the grounds 10 minutes earlier. Sam and Billy were in a heated talk.

Paul threw his hands up,and pushed himself out of the chair, “I’m going after her-“ Leah grabs Paul’s arm, “No way! You think she wants to look at your ugly face right now? You’re the reason she turned !”

Paul got in Leah’s face, but she wasn’t intimidated, “What did you just say?!”

“Enough!”

Sam’s authoritarian voice broke them apart and a silence filled the room, albeit tense. Billy cleared his throat and spoke to Sam, “I think you should be the one to go look for (y/n), she trusts you, and you’re the only one who could handle another accident”

Paul huffed and stormed out, no one bothered to stop him.

•••

“(Y/n)!”

Sam had been searching the woods for hours, but it was futile, he didn’t think she’d have gone so far from the reservation.

Sam shifted into his wolf form as a last attempt to find her.

He stood still in the dark forest. Listening.

Help

His ears twitched to the front.

Paul

Help

Its so cold

Sam didn’t hesitate now as he ran forward towards the mountains. Wherever (y/n) was, she was in trouble.

It wasn’t long before he reached the base of a mountain, rain falling hard around him and mud splattered through his wet fur. He stuck his nose to the ground as he took a deep sniff, letting the aromas and smell of the forest drift through his senses until he latched onto a sweeter scent, perfume. He followed the scent, leading closer and closer to a rushing river where he finally found her.

(Y/n) was back human now, and unfortunately in the nude as far as Sam could tell. But he acted quickly, coming to his senses as he rushed to (y/n), laying half in the river and on the riverbank. As gently as he possibly could while in his wolf form, Sam pulled her completely put of the river. Her body had turned from a tanned olive to pale and sickly. He brushed past the fact that she was bare and pawed at her to wake her up. Moments later her eyes fluttered open slowly, she looked sluggishly up at him and struggled to push herself up as best she could. Sam laid flat to allow (y/n) to slide herself onto his back.

•••

Leah rushed out of Billy’s house as soon as she heard Sam’s thoughts. The rest of the pack behind her.

They all gathered outside as Sam came jogging through the treeline, still in wolf form. A pale body hung onto him and he came to a still infront of the group. Paul ran forward and scooped (y/n) from Sam’s back, pulling her protectively into his body as he and Leah entered Billy’s place.

Billy motioned for them to take (y/n) into Jacobs old bedroom as he rolled to a linin closet and took out heavy blankets to give to Leah. “Thanks Billy” Leah took the pile and pushed Paul out of the bedroom, he looked offended but didn’t push it and went back into Billy’s living room where only Sam was waiting, now human and dressed in jean shorts.

Billy sighed, “Leave her be for now, go home” Sam nodded and moved to leave, Paul stayed sat, Billy stared pointedly, “You too, Paul”. Paul stayed put, leg twitching, “No way, not until she wakes up, I have to see her open her eyes Billy”. Not wanting to make a scene Billy let Paul be.

•••

(Y/n) didn’t wake up that night, or the next day.

It took a week for her complexion to return.

And when she did wake up, Paul was by her side, tear uncharacteristically streaming down his face as he grabbed her hands and kissed them.

(Y/n) frowned, “Paul?… where am I?”

“You’re at Billy’s place, you were asleep for a week, I thought… “ Pauled rubbed his eyes, “Forget it, how do you feel?” He let go of her hands as she sat up, she popped her back, no longer bare as Leah had gone to fetch clothes for her.

Paul stepped back, guilt covering his face. “Whats that look for Paul?”. (Y/n) sat on the edge of the bed, sluggish and confused.

“Im so so so sorry (y/n)…”

Her eyes went wide. This was a Paul she had never seen before. She kept quiet.

“I screwed up by doing what I did, but it was because I was scared”

“Scared?” She gave him an umimpressed look.

He nodded, “Believe it or not, I thought I could push you away because I was scared of what I was feeling for you, I never expected it to happen with you”

She frowned, standing up slowly and steadily, “What? What didn’t you expect Paul?”

His words froze her in her place.

“I imprinted on you (y/n)”

And apparently that was all it took for her to collapse back on the bed, tears coming to the front.

She struggled to find the words, but Paul seemed to hear what she was thinking.

Paul spent the better half of the night explaining to (y/n) what happened, why it happened and why he did what he did. He got a scorching red hand print on his cheek by the end of it, along with a heavy scolding. But not forgiveness. (Y/n) explained that she couldn’t forgive him right off the bat, although his intentions were understandable, he did wrong by her and to her by what he did with all those women, especially Jessica.

She needed time.

And Paul gave her that, without a word against it.

•••

It took (y/n) 3 months to fully forgive Paul.

Another 4 months to agree on dating.

And all the while Paul was respectful of (y/n)’s wishes and compromises.

Leah gave him an earful telepathically and verbally almost every chance she got.

But by the end of the year, they were happier than they were before. Although their relationship was far from perfect, and they argued still, they were happy. Paul no longer went out of his way to apite her and make her jealous and (y/n) put her foot down alot more.

Leah held a grudge against Paul a bit longer but eventually gave in.

Sam and the pack helped (y/n) integrate into the wolf pack and train her.

For now, all was well.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••

Thank you dear reader.

And thank you to littlemissvenom0 for requesting this.

#twilight #twilight saga #twilight x reader #jasper hale #twilight carlisle #edward cullen #twilight-x-reader #alistair+twilight #carlisle-cullen-x-reader #alice cullen #paul lahote x reader #paul lahote #wolf pack #leah clearwater #Spotify

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have-you-seen-my-sanity · 8 months ago

Text

Eclipse

Yandere Moon Knight System x fem!reader

A/n: This is quite long, so I am sorry if there are some errors I may have missed myself. :/

CW/Triggers: Slow burn, lewdness, kidnapping, obsessive and possessive behavior, stalking, mature themes, strong language, nsfw, m! masturbation, unhinged, alot of swearing.

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

Ever since Steven talked to you at the Museum, he became infaturated by you. No matter how bitchy Donna was to him during his job, whenever he saw you it was as if all the tension and anger has left him.

It was Marc who discovered you were working at the coffee shop nearby of the museum while he was waiting for his coffee. When he told Steven about it, he couldn't believe his luck.

Today Steven was on his usual shift, selling made up Egyptian sweets and doing inventory here and there whenever Donna demanded it. The gift shop was pretty much empty, giving Steven some time to rest and let the other two front. Jake was currently fronting, casually messing up the sweets only to put them back into place because he was bored. For the next couple minutes no one came into the gift shop, Marc wanted to just go home, Jake was bored and Steven was tired. Jake finally heard some steps towards the shop, letting Steven front incase it was a customer. You came into their view, walking past the gift shop.

*Stevo! Your crush is here!*

Steven let out a huff at Jake's remark. "Jake please.."

*Hombre, come on, go get her.*

"I bet she already has a partner, Jake. Just look at her."

Marc felt the need to chime in. *Buddy, she's always alone. You have to take the chance before someone else does.*

Ever since Steven knew where you worked, he was actually thinking about it but he was scared you wouldn't accept or already have a partner. Steven didn't show it, but his mind was already imagining how it would be like to walk you home, especially at late or night shifts, to make sure you get home safe.

"But I can't, what if she doesn't want to?"

Steven sounded like he was about to give up but he knew Marc and Jake would help him as much as they can.

*Then let one of us ask her out and you go to the date.* Marc suggested.

Steven leaned against the counter. "Like the last date? At the Steakhouse?" he couldn't help but chuckle lowly at the thought.

Jake felt the need to interfere. *Steven, compadre, why don't we go to her and you ask her out, hm?*

Steven paused to think. On one hand, he was really tempted to just ask you out, on the other hand, he was a bit shy to do it, he was afraid you'd turn him down, or worse, think he's some kind of a weirdo. "Jake? Marc? But what if she already has a partner?"

*Buddy, like I said, she's always alone even when walking home. So the chance is not that high.* Marc replied.

Steven checked the clock, only 15 more minutes until his shift ends. "Fine, if she's still here when my shift ends, I'll try asking her."

Jake and Marc were satisfied with the answer and Steven remained fronting until his shift was over, he packed his bag and made his way out, keeping an eye out incase you'd still be in the museum. It was already getting dark outside, Steven hasn't seen you anywhere and assumed you're already gone. As he stepped out of the museum he looked at the coffee shop you were working close by the museum, and he had to look twice because he saw you leaving the place. His heartrate and breathing quickened just a tad bit at seeing you again.

Jake had an idea he just had to share with Steven. *Should we follow her just for a minute?*

"Whoa Jake, are you telling me to stalk her?"

Jake let out a wince. *Ehh, I wouldn't necessarily call it 'stalking'. Let's just say 'protection'.*

*But we better keep some distance, we wouldn't want to scare Steven's lovely crush.* Marc added with a slight teasing in his voice.

Steven sighed before he slowly started following you from a safe distance. "Both of you are crazy." he cursed under his breath. They noticed you were a bit distracted by your phone, so Steven found it easier to follow you without you noticing that fast.

*Gotta admit Steven, she's pretty.*

*Yes she is. See? It was a good idea to follow her, huh?*

Marc's and Jake's words somehow put Steven at ease. As Steven followed you, he couldn't help but appreciate the way you walked. He was feeling so confident right now that if someone decided to attack you, he'd beat the person up.

*You really got a big crush on her, do ya?* Marc said amused, teasingly even as if he noticed something Steven did not.

Steven bit his lower lip. "A bit. Yeah. A bit."

Jake's snort echoed through the headspace. *A bit? Hermano, your dick is about to burst out of your pants from that 'a bit'.*

Steven was confused for a second before looking down on himself, seeing the obvious bulge in his pants he somehow didn't notice before.

"Oh bollocks..." Steven cursed under his breath.

*Well, our dick wants attention if it catches something it likes, buddy.* came Marc's teasing remark.

*Come on, Stevo, let's head back before someone sees our uh, 'problem'...* Jake suggested but Steven didn't want to leave yet, he wanted to make sure you get home safe.

"No wait, she hasn't even made it home yet." he argued, continuing to follow you from a distance despite the raging hard-on between his legs. While walking, Steven bit his lip from time to time to suppress the urgent need growing stronger with every second he watches you walk. "Oh my god, I feel like a bloody pervert."

*Nah, it goes away.*

*Oohh, ladies man speaking up.*

"Guys you're not helpin'!" Steven whispered in harshly. He looked back at you, seeing you walking towards a house, assuming it was yours. "I think she's home now." but Steven couldn't wait until he made it back home, the need was too much for him so he decided to search for an alleyway to deal with his need. Steven quickly found one just across from your house, he got behind a dumpster but looked around to make sure he's safe to go with his handiwork.

*Don't tell me you're dealing with yourself here.* Marc questioned.

*He may even get a look on his crush from here.* Jake chimed in.

"Sorry guys, I jus' can't wait any longer..." he fumbled with his pants, pulling down just a bit to get his throbbing cock free. The tip was already leaking generously as he gave himself a few strokes with a shaky breath.

*Dios mios, Steven... she really did mess your head up, eh?*

"Yeah." Steven rasped, leaning back against the wall and stroking himself slowly as the pre-cum leaked down on the floor. He looked at your house, seeing the lights turned on inside a room at the second floor which he guessed was your room. He saw you walking past the window, causing him to pump his hand faster. "Fuckin' hell..." he closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall, imagining how he could just summon his suit to storm into your room and rail you senseless.

Of course Marc and Jake noticed the way Steven relaxed, they knew he must imagine something dirty right now.

*I bet he's thinking about fucking her right now.* Marc said, his voice was strained already.

*Can't blame him.* Jake added, his voice was equally strained as Marc's.

Steven opened his eyes, his breath was starting to quicken, his lips were parted as he listened to Marc and Jake. "Jesus, guys..." he groaned, but deep down, he knew they were right. He wanted to fuck you. He wanted to feel you pussy gripping his cock. He wanted to–

At one point you came to your window to close the curtains, Steven eyed the way you stretched your arms, imagining how they'd look out stretched in other ways...

He almost came at seeing you by the window, but he slowed down, edging himself because he didn't want it to end. Not while he's thinking about you.

*Imagine how good she'd look getting split open on our cock, Steven. Going to ruin her for every other guy.*

Marc's words made Steven's mind slowly but surely go into a more darker territory. He knew Marc can get possessive, Jake too, and Steven wasn't like this but something about you– it made him ignore it. He wanted you.

Steven couldn't help himself at the thought of finally having you, his breath was getting heavy as he rapidly pumped his fist and with a relieved moan, he spurted his cum on the dirty alley ground.

"Fuck." he breathed, relaxing back against the wall to catch his breath. After a moment of calming down, he tucked himself back in, checking if he was still alone before making his way out of the alley but not before glancing at your house one last time.

*And now? What if she does have a partner already?* Marc asked, genuinely curious what Steven will do since he just jacked off in that alley at the thought of you.

"I don't know mate, m-maybe just accept it?" Steven asked, he wasn't sure what he'll do. Overthinking the possibility of you having a potential partner made his mind snap further more into the darker area. He wasn't even sure if he could accept it. And now with the knowledge that Marc and Jake like you too, maybe even as much as Steven himself does, there is a chance they can make the situation get out of hand.

"But now you two like her too, yeah?" Steven asked, he started making his way back home.

*Now I do, Stevo. After what you just did, I like her.* Jake confirmed.

*She's so beautiful, Steven. How could I not like her?* Marc confirmed aswell.

Knowing Marc and Jake like you as equally as him, Steven feels bolder but his mind scratches the twisted path again because he, Marc and Jake can be difficult when they want to and if they set their mind on something, it's a serious challenge to tear them off their mindset.

While you were sleeping peacefully in your bed without a single concern of what happened just outside your house, Steven soon arrived home, his mind was pre occupied by you and so were Jake's and Marc's too. Even though Marc and Jake didn't really care about Steven's crush on you at first, they did snap now. Usually they would just mind their own business and let Steven deal with his partners but now? Now they want a piece of it.

Steven prepared for sleep, flopping down on his bed and pulling the covers up. When he closed his eyes all he could see was you, just you. It drove him nuts, but he managed to sleep for some hours. He woke up with a start in the middle of the night, he catched his breath, rolling over to check the time, it was 4 am.

"Can't even bloody sleep." He mumbled, grabbing his pillow and put it on his face.

*It's because of her, isn't it?* Marc asked.

"Bingo." Steven mumbled into the pillow, sounding defeated.

*Why don't we pay a visit tonight? Nothing much, just a little peek and then we leave?* Jake suggested.

"You mean breaking in? If Khonshu finds out about that..." Steven trailed off, raising the pillow from his face, throwing it to the side and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

*Come on, Khonshu isn't even playing by the rules either. Besides that fucking bird won't give a shit about what we do with our suits.* Jake countered, he especially knew Khonshu would let them do nearly anything if it doesn't involve hurting or killing innocent people.

Steven sat up, running a hand through his messed hair. "A'ight, but we will do it after work, yeah?" he popped his shoulders, getting up to start with his restless day.

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

"Dios, Steven, how can you get along with your bitchy boss Donna? This puta is a kick to the balls." Jake complained while walking out of the museum after a long day of Donna's non stop nagging, complaining and shooing them around.

*Well I dunno either, bruv. I hope one day she chokes on her bloody gum.*

Jake surrendered the body to Steven, wanting nothing more than taking a mental seat to calm down from all of Donna's bullshit. Steven had mentally mapped out the way to your house since last night's adventures outside of it. It was already late, Steven figured you must be asleep by now. His thoughts were right as they arrived at your house, seeing the complete darkness through its windows. Steven stopped infront of your front door, trying the handle to see if it's magically unlocked by some luck.

"Are we goin' to use our suit?"

Marc was quick to answer. *No, we break in the classic way. We don't want to destroy half her house with the suit.*

Steven nodded, letting Marc front who reached inside his pocket, pulling out a blank credit card and slid it between the door slit and the lock. The second the lock gave in and the door opened with a creak, Marc prayed you didn't have a security system or some aggressive guard dog who's just waiting to attack them. Luckily, no alarm, no foaming guard dog, only silence and the soft ticking of the clock on the wall in the hallway.

Marc stealthily creeped through the narrow hallway, stopping on the way to look around your living room before carefully moving on.

*Marc there's a staircase.* Steven pointed out making Marc look ahead and spotting the darkened staircase leading to the second floor. He took one step at a time, letting out silent breaths as some stairs creaked. After what felt like an eternity, Marc arrived at the second floor, spotting three rooms, figuring out which one is your main bedroom.

*Oi, the last door, mate.*

Marc saw the door being ajar, he sneaked towards the room, feeling the doubt rising up at this room being yours but he made his way over just incase. He pushed the door fully open, peeking inside, seeing the white tiles. It was the bathroom. A whiff of your shampoo entered his nose, the smell still lingering in the air. Marc had to stop himself from taking a deep breath to inhale the fresh smell. "It's just her bathroom." he stammered.

Marc was about to turn away but Steven stopped him.

*Wait.*

Marc stopped in his tracks. "What?"

*You think what I'm thinkin'?*

In confusion Marc's eyes roamed the bathroom, landing on the small amount of laundry in the corner. "You mean–?"

*Hell yeah bruv.*

Surrendering to Steven's silent demand, Marc entered the bathroom, closing the door and reached into the small pile. "For fuck's sake, Steven..." he murmured, pulling out one of your panties, feeling his dick growing hard in his pants.

*Come on man, just a little smell.* Jake encouraged, his tone sounding needy.

Marc pulled your panties close to his nose, already smelling your scent, savoring it as his hand snaked down on himself, rubbing his throbbing cock through his pants. "Ah fuck, she smells so sweet..." he ran his nose along the part of your panties that touched your core, inhaling deeply. Your sweet scent invading his nose, his hand quickly unzipping his pants, eagerly reaching inside to pull his needy cock out which was already starting to leak pre-cum from their lewd actions. "Shit, I can't wait to finally–" he didn't even finish his sentance, your smell mixed with the shampoo still in the air was driving him insane, he started fucking his fist, tightening it around his shaft, imagining it being your pussy gripping him, how much of a moaning mess they could turn you into if they wanted.

Just like Steven, Marc had lost his sense for right or wrong too. Marc had always been the more radical thinking one but his morale and semi-sane mind held him back to do something disastrous, but now he didn't care. All he could focus on rightnow is fucking his hand, getting all sorts of dirty scenarios in his now-fucked-up mind.

*Bloody hell Marc, you're making a fuckin' mess on the tiles.*

Steven's words snapped Marc out of his horny-trance, he looked down, seeing the drops of precum staining the floor. Marc couldn't care less about them rightnow but he reached for a nearby box of tissues to wipe the stains off the floor. "There, happy?" he rasped, resuming his handiwork on himself. "Fuck, Steven, what mess did you get us into..." he sighed in delight.

*Wasn't me, mate. It was all her. She's the reason we empty our balls inside her house while she bloody sleeps.*

*Ay Marc, keep the fuck going.* Jake slurred out from the neediness.

As Marc felt his orgasm build up, he could feel a wave of possessiveness wash over him. He knew it was wrong but you simply had your beautiful way messing with their already unstable minds, even if you just as much walked past them in public. In Marc's head, if you had a boyfriend, he'd be sure Jake and he himself couldn't stop themselves from making him disappear from your life.

Marc fucked his fist faster, wanting nothing more than to bury himself balls deep into you. "Guys, if she'd be here rightnow, I don't know if I could control myself..." his movements became erratic, his breathing heavy as he chased his release.

*You'd jump her? Like I would too, yeah?* Steven's voice had that mix of darkness and determination.

Marc couldn't hold himself back any longer. "Yeah, I would–" his breath came out in short gasps, he reached out to tear out a tissue from the nearby box, holding it infront of his cockhead. "I– a-ahh, f-fuck!" he spilled his cum into the tissue with a deep throaty groan, slumping back against the wall. After a minute of calming down, Marc cleaned up any evidence of their sins in there and placed your panties they smelled on back under the small pile of your laundry.

Marc let Steven front, who quickly left the bathroom, checking the middle room. He slowly and carefully opened the door, feeling a slight chill hit him as he looked inside, seeing just an empty bed with some furniture.

*Just a spare bedroom, her room must be the next one.* Marc stated.

Steven reached the third room, pressing his ear against the door to listen for any sounds. When he heard none, he carefully opened the door, the welcoming air with the smell of your shampoo invaded his senses, he couldn't help but take it in. "Look at this sleeping beauty." Steven murmured silently under his breath as his eyes finally landed on your sleeping form, securely tucked away in the safety of your bed. He approached slowly, kneeling down at your bedside, resisting the itch to reach out and touch your soft skin.

*She's such a beauty.* Jake murmured affectionately in their headspace.

*I bet her skin feels like silk.* Marc sounded so at peace.

"I want to lay next to her, take her into my arms..." Steven sighed dreamily, reaching out to ghost his fingers over your blanket-covered shoulder, stopping just at the edge of it, threatening to touch your soft skin.

*Oh you will Steven. You will.* Jake's tone had a dark edge to it. Steven wanted to question him but he just pushed it aside.

*We could try getting her phone number.* Marc suggested.

Your phone laid on the bedside table, Steven grabbed it, turned on the small light and unlocked it with your face ID, grinning internally at how easy you unknowingly made it for them. He quickly found out your number and wrote it down, not bothering to just put your phone back down without looking through it, he didn't wanted to be nosy, and although you managed to turn all their heads upside down they still respected your privacy. But it was tempting nontheless.

He tucked the piece of paper with your number on it into his pocket, his fingers almost moved on their own to touch your hair but Steven held himself together, instead lightly grazing your all too soft hair with the tip of his fingers, wanting nothing more than to run them through your hair and bury his face into them.

"Her hair is so soft. So goddamn soft..." he whispered silently. He realized they already stayed way longer than they intented, so Steven reluctantly straightened up, retreating out of your room and softly closing the door behind himself, leaving you asleep without even a hint of what happened inside your house that night.

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

Back at their home, Steven was still awake, laying in his bed, staring at the ceiling. He was still feeling so energized, like he could make a run around the blog without breaking a sweat. But instead, he just went for his rubix cube, trying to tire himself with it by solving it easily, messing it up, throwing and catching it but it only served to get sucked deeper into thought.

"Guys?" he asked silently, catching the cube.

*Something's on your mind, isn't it?* Marc questioned, he already knew Steven had something to think about because of how in thought he looked like while trying to tire himself out.

"We're fuckin' insane..." Steven breathed out.

*You've noticed?* Marc asked amused.

"No no no, not like that... I'm talking about her..."

*Let me guess, you keep thinking about her?*

"Yeah..."

*I think it calms you when I say Jake and I do too.* Marc admitted. He and Jake just kept it quiet, they didn't know Steven was like that too, and he also knew they could do something pretty fucked up when all three of them share the same opinion.

Steven put the cube aside. "But you know what that could mean, yeah?"

*Yeah.*

Steven sat up against the headboard and stretched his legs, grabbing the rubix cube again. "And now that we have her phone number..." he messed the cube up again, solving it quickly.

*You wanna call her?* Marc asked surprised.

"I can't help it, wanna hear her voice."

Before they could discuss any further a black fog suddenly appeared in the middle of the room and Khonshu materialized out of it.

"Jake Lockley." the god demanded.

"Steven here, mate..." Steven gave him a tired and annoyed look.

"Steven Grant." Khonshu corrected himself. "I need you tonight. Some scum needs to be cleaned up."

"Aye-aye, Khonshu..." Steven gave a weak mock salute, already being pissed they had to do some work for that pigeon again.

Satisfied with the answer, Khonshu disappeared as quick as he came with a grumble.

*Steven you should better get some sleep.* Marc said since it was still in the middle of the night.

Steven nodded, placing the cube back on the bedside table and got under the covers. He eventually fell asleep and woke up in the morning, feeling oddly refreshed and ready for the day. Steven got up and headed to work. On his way while sipping on his coffee, he saw you entering the coffee shop, it caused his breath to hitch a little at seeing you. He would do anything right now to just talk to you, hell even eye contact with your beautiful eyes would be enough for him.

Walking past you workplace, he got a good look inside through the glass and something caught his eyes. You talking to a guy, smiling and laughing. Steven's grip on his thermos instantly tightened and his blood began to boil.

You shouldn't be supposed laughing to this guy. You should be supposed laughing with them, smiling at them, looking at them.

Jake and Marc obviously were no fools, they quickly catched on how Steven was acting. *Wow, calm down buddy, that's possibly just her co worker.*

"You're right." Steven muttered under his breath, heading inside the museum. He spotted Donna chewing on her stupid gum, already making his way over to him.

"Stevey, lucky you doin the inventory for the rest of the week." She announced, chewing annoyingly noisy on her gum.

"Very lucky indeed..." Steven mumbled sarcastically. "A'ight." he gave her a small forced smile, he was just glad to walk away from her and do the inventory alone for some peace.

His shift passed surprisingly quick, he was alone the whole day so that was a huge plus for him and his nerves. At leaving the museum he let Jake front for the duty Khonshu gave them. Steven was too tired to do it, Marc just didn't want to do it but Jake was always there if he gets to kill some scum.

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

Jake finished the job efficiently and quick. He chose to use the white limousine for the job, there was some blood on the hood but Jake didn't care, he'd clean it up the next day or simply drive into a car wash. But right now he had other plans.

Meanwhile, you just got out of your routine shower, drying off your hair as suddenly your phone began ringing.

Unknown caller

You answered anyway just to be sure. "Hello?"

"Ah hello, doll."

Thinking it had just been someone who dialed the wrong number, you didn't think much of it. "Did you call the wrong number?"

"No. Not at all, princesa."

Jake was leaning against the house opposite from yours, wiping some blood off his cheek he didn't knew he had from one of those scumbags he killed.

You narrowed your eyes. "Uh, seems like it, why else would you call me?"

"I just wanted to hear your voice, sweetheart. Is it a crime?" Jake asked with a smile, tilting his head to the side, making it so that you could literally hear it through your phone.

"Look, if this is some kind of a prank-"

Jake chuckled. "Come on doll, don't be silly, I just wanted to hear your voice that's all."

You got sick of this. "Well you've heard my voice. Bye." just like that, you hung up, blocking the number in the process.

*Aww, she has such a cute voice.* Steven sighed contendly.

"Gotta say, she's really cute when acting all tough." Jake smirked, getting back inside the limo.

Meanwhile after you hung up, you made your way over to your window, peeking outside but seeing nothing except a white limousine with what looked like a dark substance on its hood driving away. While the call gave you some creeps you headed for sleep anyway, in which you fell asleep soundly without any further thoughts.

*We can't get her out of our head, it's like she cursed us or something.* Marc said as Steven took over the body.

"She did Marc, she did. With her angelic beauty." Steven replied, he made his way to Gus' tank, feeding him and watching him swim.

*Stevo, since we are all going crazy on her why don't we... take it a step further?* Jake asked slowly, with a hint of determination.

Steven looked back to the mirror, seeing Jake look back at him with a slow smirk forming on his face.

Steven's thoughts went into the dark area again, he knew all of them were already too far into the mess.

"What's your plan?" Steven asked.

*Simple. We bring her here.* Jake shrugged.

They knew it was wrong, but you unknowingly made their minds snap in the worst way possible.

*But we gotta prepare everything. We wouldn't want her escaping.* Marc said.

Steven thought for a second. "We could just lock the door from outside?"

Marc nodded. *Yes but maybe make sure she won't even reach the door, you know?*

Jake clapped his hands together. *Handcuffs. To the bed.*

Marc, Steven and Jake agreed on their plan and started preparing. Shortly after they went to sleep, and for some reason tonight they slept peacefully, no waking up, no nothing. When they woke up the next day, Steven had the body for the most, only letting Marc and Jake front after he was done with his shift. When they got back home, Marc took the body and arranged everything they needed, then when it finally got dark outside, Jake got the body.

Jake dressed in his usual business attire, he got into the white limousine and drove to your place, knowing you'd be asleep already. Marc was fronting to enter and sneak through your house again, stopping infront of your bedroom door to let Jake front. Jake slid his leather gloves on, whistling softly.

*Bruv, you're acting like a bloody maniac with that.* Steven chimed in.

"No amigo, I am kidnapping her." Jake grinned, adjusting his hat. He opened the door silently, slowly stalking towards your sleeping form. Jake reached into his pocket, pulling out the cloth with the sedatives. He kneeled down at your bedside, admiring your beautiful sleeping features. He softly stroked your cheek with the back of his hand, not worrying you could wake up from that.

"You'll be ours, princess." he whispered softly. Jake noticed you stirring, so he made quick actions, pressing one hand down on your eyes so you couldn't see and pressed the other with the cloth on your mouth and nose. Of course you started to get scared, you tried yanking his hands off, trying to wiggle free but Jake didn't had to use much of his strength to keep you down. It only served to make them snap even further if that was even possible because they knew how fragile you were and how weak you were compared to them. And they loved it. Jake leaned close to your ear as you were getting weaker with every second.

"Shhh, hora de la siesta, princesa."

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

It was absolutely no struggle to get you back to Steven's place, you were so delicate and pretty in their arms. Jake still had to clean off the blood on the hood of the limousine, so they laid you down on the bed in a spare bedroom, cuffing one of your wrists to the headboard.

You got brought back to consciousness some time later feeling lightheaded. You felt the handcuffs slightly scraping against your skin as you just realized you've been kidnapped.

"No... no no no..." you let out a whine, not even knowing what is going to happen to you but you suited yourself for the worst.

You tried tugging hard on the cuffs, but they were too strong to simply break. You started panicing, looking around for anything to get those cuffs off.

Sudden heavy steps echoed outside of the room, you stopped all movements. A whistle could be heard getting louder, along with the footsteps approaching the door. Your breath hitched and your heart went into your throat as the door finally opened. The person stepped inside, the shadows were hiding his face.

"Hola princesa, I assume your nap was good?"

*She looks so scared. So cute.* Marc spoke up in the headspace.

You pressed yourself up against the headboard. "Please, I-I have money..." your voice was trembling in fear. It was all you could come up with in your paniced state.

Jake snorted. "Tch, you seriously think we're after your money?" he couldn't help but grin.

"Then why am I here?"

"You haven't noticed a single thing, eh?" Jake chuckled. "How we were following you home," he started walking closer "how we broke into your house more than once..."

Your heart was beating like a drum in your chest. Jake kneeled down at the bedside.

"You're such an innocent angle, mi amor..." he reached out with his gloved hand to stroke your cheek, the cold leather did only a small fraction to cool down your skin.

"Please don't hurt me." you whispered.

"Oh no, we would never dream of hurting a flower like you. If you disobey however, there will be some consequenses." Jake had silently let Marc out, you noticed a chance in his accent.

You shook your head frantically, afraid of disobeying. "N-no, no. I promise I won't."

Marc was satisfied with your answer. "That's our good girl. See, you're starting to learn."

Just like Jake, Marc had surrendered the body to Steven, who just couldn't wait to get his hands on you. He removed the gloves and ran his fingers through your hair. The way his fingers scraped against your scalp made you almost forget you were kidnapped by them.

"Tell you what, dove. 'f you promise to stay put, I'll remove the cuffs, yeah?"

You nodded.

Steven got the key out and removed the cuffs, rubbing the sore skin gently. He sat down on the edge of the bed, putting the cuffs away and turning to you.

"C'mere, love." He reached out for you, you were about to scoot away but Steven ignored it and grabbed you anyway, pulling you into his arms.

He couldn't believe how soft you felt, as if you were made to fit straight into their arms. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you against his side.

"Don't be scared love, we will take care of you. You're ours now."

Steven, Marc and Jake were all so happy now that you're finally theirs. No one will take you away from them, you're staying with them. Forever.

#moon knight #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockley #yandere marc spector #yandere steven grant #yandere jake lockley #yandere moonknight #dark!steven grant #dark!marc spector #dark!jake lockley

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aribluedreams · 4 months ago

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Blood in the water

aribluedreams

Summary: Where Malachai’s Parker downfall wasn’t only for power, but for love.

Parts: 1 - 2 - 3

Warnings: magic user, mentions of death, blood, and other triggering things. Family issues. Bad fathers. Long one shot. Malachai in general (love him tho).

Masterlist!

“Oh, look at my pretty lady”

Kai had never lost a single feeling for her, even after everything that had happened to them. So it was no surprise that he said that with all the feelings in the world, smiling to his girl’s direction when she appeared in the big kitchen. She seemed calmer than the previous day, especially after taking a shower and changing out her clothes. Now she had a little more of her own style, probably because she took clothers from her old room in the house next door. Of course, to him it seemed to be quite a problem to set his eyes on anything that wasn’t her, leading her to smile with amusement while sitting against the table, ignoring Bonnie’s presence completely.

She was their new addition.

“Why am I doing here anyway?”

“Ugh” Kai rolled his eyes at the interrumption “Can’t I have a moment in peace with my girl?”

“No if you don’t tell me what’s going on”

“This is where we grow up” the other girl didn’t even look at Bennet “This is Malachai’s house, the one next to this is mine… I guess we’ve been always really close”

“You can bet on it, baby” he smiled because she never calls him by a nickname “It's not like we like to be here anyway, but it's our best option right now”

“Why?”

Bonnie didn’t know when to shut up.

“We have been counting eclipses since we were trapped on this empty planet” Kai spoke when he realice his girl no longer wanted to do it “And according to our records, we’ve been here 6771 repetitive supernatural days.”

Even for them it was too much. Because yes, both could be alone and do everything they wanted without having to be interrupted or looked at badly by anyone. But that didn’t take away the fact that the day were always the same and that things didn’t always work out for them. Besides, they wanted revenge. They wanted to get out of there just to get their revenge already.

“In the real world, to which we will not return because you hid your magic in the teddy bear, today is Malachai’s favourite day of the year" the girl spoke with a bit of sarcams while taking her plate of food “Thanks giving… you know what we used to do in thanksgiving? Hide in my basemant to make out while everyone was busy having fun”

“We did have fun too, baby” Kai winked at her playfully “Making out with you in peace made me feel like christmas”

“We had a lot of time to make out in peace after that” she shake her head amuse “And I guess we’ll have many more now after what this idiot pull”

“Don’t call me an idiot” Bonnie looked at her irritated “And why do you have me here if you don’t like me?”

“I’m not really sure” Kai shrugged like it was nothing “I think it’s because we can finally show all this to someone” to show her their own personal hell “We were from two different covens but we were allies. Do you know what that meant? That we shared everything. Houses on the same field, same protection spells, eveything.

And everything seemed to include a relationship.

“God, you made yourself the best chef I’ve ever met”

His girlfriend said, savoring the dish he made, and changing the topic for a bit, not wanting to go that way. Cooking was something they had to actually learned over the years after spending so much time alone and not being able to depend on anyone. Although, to be honest, he did much beter than her in that. Which is why he used to cook for the two of them every night, sometimes making things she though he got from a récipe books.

“Thank you my love” he winked at her again “Always happy to serve you”

She giggle, shaking her head in amusement as he wrapped his around the back of her chair in a relaxed manner. All under the watchfull eye of Bonnie Bennet, who certainly believed everything they said about their relationship. Maybe they were both compulsive liars who would do anything to save themselves. But even then, there were things that couldn’t be denied. And one of them was the way they treated each other with so much love.

“My magic is gone, so we’ll be stuck here forever” Bonnie tried to get away from them anyway “Why don’t we split the world in two? You guys in one side, and I take the other?"

"Fine, just eat your food and then you can go” Kai petended to think about it while sipping from his glass “But… don’t you want to hear the rest of our story?”

“I read the newspaper” the witch thought she knew everything “You killed your siblings and one of your brothers in law, and the coven sent you two to this prison”

“Our family sent us to this prison” the other girl said almost in a whisper “My father, who though I was too powerfull to live. My brother, who wanted my magic for himself”

Truth is, she never heard her talked in that way. But Kai did. Kai knew that was real, where a part of her was still hurting from what has been done to them. A pain that turned into a thirst for revenge at the end, when she realized that she couldn’t trust anyone but herself and him, because the rest just betrayed her as if nothing matter.

“My father treated me like garbage for 22 years and then locked me here” Malachai sighed as he watched her put her plate aside “My father in law, who wanted to kill her because he knew what she could do, hid her for days from me.

“It was as if their children didn’t matter to them” his girlfriend rest her face against his shoulder “He wanted to kill me… and he would have done it if he didn’t know that releasing my magic to the void would destroy everthing in it’s path”

The Coven always comes first.

That was the general rule for both.

“I don’t understand” Bonnie stopped them for a second “Weren’t you together when it happened?”

“No, Jo and I were trying to merge” Kai said after leaving a kiss on his girl forehead “And she was running through the woods, trying to get away from her family”

“But we both felt the other”

Malachai bit his tongue without her noticing, indicating it was true. But Bennet notice, leading her to think that perhaps he had it much worse than her. Because she had suffered the pain throughout her body, screaming like there was no tomorrow to try to free herself from that horrible sensation.

But Kai… Kai had to listen to her, feeling helpless that he couldn’trun to her like his mind was begging him to do. He just fall, with his girl’s screams in the background, and a suffering inside him that was imposible to reverse.

“My plan was to use the power that I took from my sister to take my place as leader and take what we deserve” Kai couldn’t help but explain his part idea to both of them “I needed the magic to find her and put her into safety…. Guess they found her before me”

His girlfriend sighed softly, feeling the pain as if it were hers too. Even Bonnie thought she could do it as she walked them to the front of the house. Where they were supposed to show her where that happened, only to realice that trusting them was the worst thing she could do. Because, looking innocent as they walked hand in hand next to her, they did exactly what their parents did to them.

Leave her there all alone.

#fanfic #kai #kai parker #kaiparkerimagine #kai parker x reader #malachai parker #malachaiparkerxreader #malachaiparkerimagine #tvd fanfiction #the vampire diaries #thevampirediariesimagine

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glade-constellation · 8 months ago

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Guys I don’t think I’m surviving this one /silly (but also /hj)

I know for an absolute fact there are people saying Ruin fully deserves what’s happening to him, and I have to say I wholeheartedly disagree.

No one deserves this.

As someone who deals with pretty severe PTSD and can be triggered by seemingly unconnected things, I just know Ruin is going through it right now. Every single part of his current predicament is parallel to some of the most traumatic memories of his life. Everywhere he turns he is more than likely being highly triggered. I cannot help but connect with him in the scenario. I am desperately hoping he gets help soon.

Much like Eclipse’s nightmare episode, I have to pause this episode several times. I don’t care how bad a of a person someone has been, it is heartbreaking to hear someone beg for their life.

I have so many thoughts and feelings over Ruin’s current arc but I am in shambles. I’ll probably make another post later today when I can get my thoughts together.

#🌟 Ten Talks #tsams #sams #the sun and moon show #sun and moon show #tsams ruin

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pepsiboyy · 1 year ago

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beyond the contract - part 4

P1 P2 P3 P4 P5 P6 P7 P8

pairing: matt sturniolo x reader summary: where the sturniolo triplets are part of an organization known as the eclipse alliance, matt has constantly failed to pull through with pulling the trigger on a target. fed up, their boss gives matt one last chance, where he is sent to northside high school to get some answers out of a girl. warnings: cursing, mentions of drugs and a lot of mafia shit??, some smooches rahh author's note: HI FRIENDS!!! lots of important context in this chapter, i hope it's a good one <3 back to reader pov next chapter!! some fun sibling banter too yayyy also yes i Did delete this chapter on accident after LITERALLY FINISHING IT. :D WC: 2024 (lol xd) lowercase intentional !!

i couldn't help but allow my gaze to linger across matt's features as he kept his eyes on the road, a hand on the wheel and the other on his own leg.

matt seemed to pick up on this as he turned to face me, his eyebrows furrowed. "what's your deal?" he smiled.

"where are you taking me?" i questioned.

matt and i were having our first date today. it had been about a week since he asked me that night at the pond.

"uhh, well.." matt trailed off. "i don't like crazy stuff, i could only think of more chill stuff, so…" he trailed off.

"soo..?" i continued for him and smiled as he shot me a joking death glare.

"we're going to an art museum?" he stated, but it was more of a question as he turned to me for half a second and back at the road.

i gasped and clasped my hands together. "i've never really been to one!" i chuckled as i looked out the window at the trees passing by.

matt just smiled softly to himself as he continued to drive. he really hadn't been to one either, but he knew that wherever you two went, it would be a fun time.

"where's matt?" chris called to nick from the kitchen.

nick was laying against their couch, his eyes glued to his phone. while they had a lot to do, he needed the break more than anything. he scrolled through his phone as he let out a deep sigh. "i don't know, chris, he's probably out getting tutored. or his dick sucked or something."

"ew, nick," chris muttered as he opened the fridge and grabbed a pepsi, moving to take a seat on the couch as well. "gross."

they sat in silence for a few moments before chris cleared his throat and turned to nick. "i talked with the coordinator the other day," he breathed, and nick immediately dropped his phone and gave chris his full attention. he nodded his head at him with wide eyes as if to say, 'go on.' chris let out a deep sigh as he messed with his hair. "it.. didn't really go well. we need to break the news to matt soon. or else.." he trailed off.

"or else what?" nick muttered, before he sat up from his previous laying down position to look at chris. "what, chris?" he repeated, shifting to be directly in front of the younger's face.

chris immediately shoved him out from in front of him. "no need to be so close, god," he muttered before he shrugged. "he said he'd complete the mission himself." he stated.

nick blinked a few times before he let out a deep sigh. he leaned back against the couch as they both stared at the ceiling.

"nick… how did we get into this situation?" he questioned, almost as a whisper as he turned to the oldest triplet. "to be completely honest, i don't really know why we're doing this all. i just want to be with my brothers. but it doesn't make sense to me. why are we killing people, why are we kicking up dirt on people and.. why are we getting each other involved so severely? we both know matt wants nothing to do with it, and i'm not entirely sure i want to be involved either." he trailed off, and nick simply listened to him.

"it's… a long story." he stated softly, but his eyes closed.

"i have time." chris stated firmly, sitting up to listen to nick.

"okay well, are you gonna interrupt me every five seconds? that'll make this five hours longer than it needs to be." nick spat, but chris only cracked a smile.

"no, just get to it kid," he responded as he took a sip of his pepsi.

nick took a deep breath before starting. "well, as you know, the eclipse alliance prioritizes discipline, order within ranks, and most of all, loyalty. the alliance was established decades ago amongst a few teenagers who seeked power, wealth and control. they got this tightly knit group and developed a hierarchy structure. with their goal to expand their influence, the alliance grew rapidly. this caused them to expand to various legal enterprises including smuggling, extortion, drug trafficking, and money laundering-"

"nick, stop with the big words, bro. i understood maybe half of what you just said." chris stated blankly, but he was clearly interested in the topic.

nick rolled his eyes and took a deep breath before continuing. "anyways. we got involved with eclipse alliance because.. well.. we had financial struggles growing up," nick stated bluntly, shrugging as he stared into space in front of him. considering they lived from ten onward without parents, nick took initiative at a young age to try and keep him and his brothers stable. "since around when i had joined eclipse alliance, black veil operations emerged as a challenger to us. their logo is a silhouette of a woman with a veil and a growing flame behind it." nick stopped to take a soft breath before continuing. "they were fueled by the desire to trial their dominance and establish themselves as a rival power." nick took a deep breath as he looked at chris, who was listening closely. "while eclipse alli-"

brrr.

nick cringed at chris, who let out probably the most disgusting burp known to man. "can you fucking listen?" he spat, and chris immediately threw his hands up and pointed at his pepsi. after a few moments, nick continued. "while eclipse alliance prioritizes hierarchy, order and loyalty, black veil operations takes a more decentralized approach to their operations. they're known for their cunning tactics, flexibility, and willingness to exploit weakness within their rivals, which is us." chris nodded along. "they're determined to undermine the eclipse alliance's power and expand their own influence by using any means necessary."

chris stared at nick and slowly nodded before blinking a few times. "i see. i guess." he thought for a few moments before he shrugged. "i don't know, i think people need to let go of grudges."

nick chuckled and stood up. "what i'm saying. but i did what i could to get us to where we are today. even if it means risking my life, or.. ours, now." he shrugged.

chris nodded and smiled. "thanks for explaining to me, nick."

no pov.

the sun had began to set, and matt was now driving home with y/n in his car. when he pulled up in front of your house and noticed the empty driveway, he cocked an eyebrow. "business trip?"

you smiled and nodded to him, shrugging as you began to get out of the car.

matt quickly followed and got out with you.

your first date was great. matt felt like he had an amazing time with you. he loved the way your hand felt in his, like they perfectly molded together. but now it was time for matt's plan to end the night. he smiled at you as he bit his lip, expression clearly nervous.

you seemed to quickly pick up on this and spoke up, "you okay? what's got you so nervous?" she questioned, and matt internally cursed at himself.

"i uhh. got you something? but don't be weird about it." he breathed as he watched you stare blankly at him. fuck, he felt so shy. this was the worst moment to start kicking himself in the ass. "can you uhh.. turn around?" he chuckled nervously when you looked at him confused before you obeyed and turned around, moving your hands over your eyes.

matt bit his lip as he pulled a few things out from his car.

"y- you can turn around now," he stammered.

you did just that, and upon turning around, your jaw dropped.

matt had a small posterboard with "PROM?" written on it, and a bouquet of flowers in one hand that held the sign while his other just held it tightly.

"you're such a dork," you whispered as you smiled and stepped towards him, carefully taking the bouquet of flowers to relieve him of awkwardly holding them with the poster.

"i know you really wanted to go to prom, and… i don't, but. if it'll make you happy," he trailed off, and tried to bite back a smile as he watched you smile in awe at him.

"i'd love to." you responded.

matt smiled warmly at you. his heart was racing. to get answers out of this girl, did he need to ask her to prom? no. but did he really, genuinely care about this girl and what she truly wanted? yes.

they stared at each other for a few moments as matt put his arms down, letting the sign sit at his feet. he hadn't even realized how close together you guys were now, standing between his car and the curb.

you both smiled at each other, you faces both a shade of pink.

how could this girl have any ties with black veil operations, matt thought to himself. she was an innocent girl, a beautiful innocent girl. a sweetheart. his internal dialogue rambled, but it immediately came to a halt when he felt your lips press against his.

his eyes widened for a moment before they fluttered shut and he felt his hands subconsciously move to your waist.

when you pulled away, matt stared at you for a few moments, his eyes wide, and yours were just as wide.

just as you were about to apologize for the action, matt gently squeezed your hand.

"wanna come inside for a bit?" you asked, and matt felt his stomach turn.

chris groaned as he turned to the clock beside him. matt was supposed to be home an hour ago. he sighed as he set his headset down and carefully picked up his phone, pulling up matt's contact and shooting him a text.

chris:

hey wya??

matt allowed a soft groan to leave him upon feeling a hand of yours run up his side and gently along his back.

'wanna come inside for a bit' led to you both against your living room couch with matt on top of you.

matt gently ran a hand down your side and tucked it under the hem of your shirt, his cheeks burning pink as he stopped.

the way you smiled against his lips and parted your own softly gave him enough permission to gently tuck his fingers under the hem.

matt couldn't help but glance down at the now exposed skin under your shirt before an inked spot on your skin caught his eye. he immediately halted and turned to the decorated skin, his entire expression falling.

"what's wrong..?" you questioned, sitting up slightly.

"what is this?" matt was pale. he looked up at you, his entire demeanor changing.

you smiled nervously as you looked away. "ahh, i don't know.. i've had it since i was like twelve." you chuckled, but your smile faltered when you looked up at matt.

matt let in a deep breath as he stood up and checked his phone. 12:37am.

"fuck, i promised chris i'd play fortnite with him." matt chuckled as he shoved his phone in his pocket.

"are you okay?" you questioned, scrambling to your feet and straightening out your disheveled clothes and hair.

matt smiled reassuringly at you and nodded, walking to the door. after walking outside, he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips that lasted for a few seconds before he pulled away and hugged you tightly. "thank you for today, i had an amazing time." he whispered against your ear.

you nodded softly and hugged him back.

as matt began to walk to his car, he smiled brightly at you and waved. he got in his car and started it, driving away once you re-entered your house. he drove down the street before he pulled over and buried his face in his hands. the only thing he could think of what the inked skin just above your pelvis.

a silhouette of a woman with a veil and a growing flame behind it.

taglist;; @star-saturn-xx @sturniolo-girl @p1xieswrld @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @sweetbabydoe @iloveneilperry

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #matt x reader #matt sturniolo x reader

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