Here is a current list of all of the work I've posted here. I write mostly for Chris Evans characters and all of my stories are intended for an 18+ audience. Minors please DNI.
Requests are closed but my asks are always open! Come riff with me or send asks/what ifs about any of my works! But no NSFW GIFs, please and thank you! 💜
🖤 Dark 🩶 Soft!Dark 😥 Angst 🥵 Smut 🥹Fluff ⭐️New/Updated
Trapped AU
Andy keeps telling you how lucky you are that he chose you to be his wife. 🖤 😥
You'd Be Like Heaven to Touch
You can't believe your luck when you find the perfect house for cheap. 🖤🥵
Head Over Heels
All Cole wants is someone to share eternity with. He won't stop looking until he finds them.
Never Let You Go
You rent a tiny cabin to have an isolated respite from your hectic life. You weren't expecting the rental's proprietor, Cole. 🖤
I Know I Should Know Better series
Curtis has been working as your body guard for almost two years now. Standing by and watching you work and party your life away is becoming more and more difficult, but is there anything he can do about it? 😥🥵
Heads Will Roll series
Training to be a slayer becomes even more difficult when you must hit the road with two hunters for your own safety.
Luck Be a Lady
Desperate for money, you accept a job as a cocktail waitress at an underground casino. You think you know what you're doing, but when you meet Curtis, will you realize you're in over your head? 🩶🥵
Still Life series
Curtis has been volunteering as a foster alpha for three years now. He's never seen a case this bad... 😥
Drabbles & Headcanons
Curtis + soft!dark + soothe 🖤
Curtis Takes the Snowpiercer 🖤🥵
Curtis + Possessive 🥵
Just Part of the Process - I Know I Should Know Better AU - Actor!Curtis Everett x PA!Reader 😥
These Days - estranged brothers Curtis and Andy 😥
Family Affair - angsty brothers Curtis and Colin 😥
One + One is Two - A collection of Single Dad Curtis snippets and drabbles 🥹⭐️
Heads Will Roll series
Training to be a slayer becomes even more difficult when you must hit the road with two hunters for your own safety.
Drabbles & Headcanons
Relax
A Merry Little Christmas
Killing Moon
When you and your boyfriend steal something without fully realizing who you are stealing from, you're sent on a cross-country adventure by an ally you're pretty sure you shouldn't trust.
Giving Me a Thrill
A few years after your divorce, a friend gives you a nudge to try something new.
Psycho Killer AU
A drunken dare and chance encounter jump-starts a whole new life. 🖤🥵
Dance Hall Days - Steve Rogers x Ransom Drysdale
Ransom meets a man in a bar who seems like he'll be fun for a night or two 🖤🥵😥
More Than This series
Arranged marriages have always been used to solidify business deals among the ultra-wealthy. Your stepfather wants to be in business with Harlan Thrombey, so now it's your turn. 😥⭐️
I'm Feeling Like I Never Should
It's bad enough you've been forced to be at this charity gala, but now you have to deal with your ex, Ransom.
Lips Like Sugar
Finally cut off by his mother and grandfather, Ransom has to find a new way to access the lifestyle he's accustomed to. He figures it won't be too hard to find some rich old lady willing to bankroll him in exchange for sex. You aren't exactly what he expected.
Drabbles & Headcanons
Jealous Ex Ransom
Sequel 🥵
End
No Way of Knowing - More Than This What If 😥
Voices Carry - Estranged brothers Ransom and Lloyd 😥
What You Can Do For Your Country
Being Captain America is a lot harder than anyone realizes. Steve thinks you might be able to help. 🖤
Everybody Wants to Rule the World series
Your vacation comes to an end when a powerful and mysterious man gets his first taste. 🖤🥵
Dance Hall Days - Steve Rogers x Ransom Drysdale
Ransom meets a man in a bar who seems like he'll be fun for a night or two
All Things Go series
It's been a few months since Steve was pulled out of the ice and immediately had to fight aliens with the newly formed Avengers. He is doing fine with all that, all things considered. Which is why he's so upset when he's suddenly benched from missions and forced to welcome a support omega into his home. He's fine! 😥
Close to Me miniseries
You're in desperate need of a fake boyfriend and this handsome stranger looks friendly enough to ask. But when it's done, he might need you to return the favor.
Drabbles & Headcanons
Arranged Marriage Steve Headcanon
Tell Me One Thing - More Than This What If 😥
What if Reader was into it? - What You Can Do For Your Country What If 🖤
We're All Monsters
Multi-character, multi-reader vampire AU 🖤😥🥵
The Rogers Academy for Exceptional Wives
Multi-character, multi-reader wife training AU 🖤😥🥵⭐️
Summary: You're in desperate need of a fake boyfriend and this handsome stranger looks friendly enough to ask.
Warnings: Explicit language, toxic ex, suggestive language, angst, anxiety All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI
Close to Me Masterlist
Masterlist
A/N: I've had this thing half-done for a year, and I finally finished it! It's definitely on the lighter side of the stuff we normally have here, but of course, I couldn't resist adding in some angst. 🤭
Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. And if you need to come scream at me, that's ok too!
As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜
Please be as nice as you look. Please be as nice as you look, you chanted to yourself as you sidled up to the bar next to one of the broadest men you’d ever seen, his tux (that he looked like he’d been born in, compared to the designer dress you’d spent three full commissions on just so you’d have one thing you could wear to these events that didn’t look like it’d come from the mall) stretched tightly across his back, his golden blonde hair catching the light. The thing about him that you were counting on, though, was his smile – genuine and so, so friendly. Or at least, it had been when he’d been chatting with the bartender. You were afraid you might be about to test it now.
You stood next to him, much closer than appropriate for complete strangers, but that was the point. You cast a wary eye behind you to see if anyone was looking in your direction, and then jumped right in. “Uh, hi, sir. I am so, so sorry to bother you, but I kind of need a gigantic favor.” He turned to you, his brow furrowed, and you plowed ahead, knowing if you paused at all, you’d just end up running away. “See, uh, my ex is here and he is just the biggest fucking asshole, like so awful, and he’s got some model on his arm, and I just– He hasn’t noticed me yet, but he will. He definitely will. And technically, I’m here for work reasons, so I can’t just leave. So, uh, I was wondering if maybe you could pretend to be my boyfriend? For just a minute! Like, five minutes. Maybe longer. An hour tops!” You finally paused for breath to find him staring at you, and the complete ridiculousness of the whole thing finally caught up to you. “Oh my god. Oh no. I’m so sorry! I should–”
“Sure.”
You stopped in your tracks, your turn to stare now. That smile was back on his face. “What?”
“Sure,” he said again, his smile getting even bigger. “Sounds like fun.”
“I–” You couldn’t stop staring at him, your mouth hanging open. Why on earth would he agree to this? Stop, you told yourself. Pull yourself together. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. You closed your mouth so forcefully that you heard your teeth click. “Uh, okay. Great. Thank you! Um, can I buy you a drink or something?” You gestured to the bar. “For your trouble.”
His eyes sparkled as he chuckled lightly and held up his fairly full drink. “It’s an open bar,” he said, clearly very amused, but not at all unkindly.
“Oh, uh, right,” you said, deciding to plow right through the embarrassment. “Should we go look at the art then?”
He nodded. “I’d love to. But there is one thing I need to know before we really get started.”
“Yes, of course,” you said seriously, ready to answer any question he might have about this very, very stupid idea.
He grinned. “What’s your name?”
“Huh?” you blinked at him. Then you realized. “Oh! Shit, oh!” You quickly gave him your name, and he grasped your hand where it rested at your side, giving it a subtle shake, that to anyone watching would’ve just been an affectionate squeeze. He was really good at this. You'd lucked out.
“I’m Steve,” he said, quietly. “It’s nice to meet you.” And then he looked you right in the eyes, and you almost gasped. Oh no, he was so beautiful. How had you not realized? This might have been a fatal miscalculation, but it was too late to back out now.
“Nice to meet you, too,” you breathed and then had to literally shake yourself out of it. “Art?” you asked, starting to walk towards a painting, any painting. His hand still grasped yours as you made your way across the room.
When you came to a stop in front of a large canvas awash with color, Steve settled right next to you, his large hand resting on the small of your back. You were sure that to an outside observer, it looked intimate but respectful. But all you could focus on, somewhat hysterically, was how little he would have to move it to touch your ass. His hand was so warm. Shit, you really should have paid more attention and picked someone who wasn’t so fucking attractive.
“So you said you’re here for work?” his low voice rumbled next to you.
“Uh, yeah,” you started. “I work for Smith and West, the art brokers.”
“Mmm,” he hummed as he gently guided you to the next piece. “So do you buy or sell?”
“Both and neither, I guess. I help people pick out pieces that will go in their homes. Like a personal shopper for art, basically.”
“That sounds interesting.”
“It’s really not, I promise you. Most people just want something that will match their furniture with a name that will impress their friends. They don’t really care about the art.” You stopped and really looked at the piece in front of you, mostly grayscale with pops of blue, swirling through it. It was terribly sad, this jumble of color, but there was something hopeful in it too.
You felt Steve watching you. “But you do,” he murmured. It wasn’t a question.
You turned to him and could only describe his gaze as searching. You shrugged. “Someone has to.”
The way he looked at you then had your mouth going dry. It was like he could actually see you. You weren't sure you'd ever been looked at like that before. It was too vulnerable. You cleared your throat and asked abruptly, “So, what about you?”
He blinked. “What about me?”
“Are you also here for work? Or because you just like art?”
“Somewhere in between,” he said with a soft smile. “There’s a lot of networking expected at events like this. But… I’m much happier to do it here than somewhere else.”
“So I’m not the only one who cares about the art.”
“No,” he said, his voice low. “Not tonight.”
“What–” you started, then stopped, caught up in how oddly intimate this all felt. With this stranger. “Will you show me something here that you like?” Oh my god. What was your mouth doing??
But he just looked at you sincerely, and then the hand that had not left the small of your back gently guided you to the other side of the gallery and stopped in front of a large canvas that took up most of the wall. Big, loud brush strokes in bright colors worked together and in contrast to give the impression of birds filling the sky, flying up up up. “Oh,” you said so quietly.
Steve awkwardly cleared his throat next to you. “Well,” he asked, with a shocking note of self-consciousness in his voice, “does my taste pass muster?”
Without realizing it, your hand had reached towards the painting, yearning to touch what you were sure would feel like feathers, even though the painting itself made no attempts towards realism. Your hand stilled in midair for a moment, and then you pulled it back. “It’s beautiful,” you said softly.
“Yeah? You already have a client in mind for it?”
“Oh no,” you said, so very seriously, turning back to face him. “I’d never doom something like this to be so unappreciated by one of my clients.”
His lips parted, the beginning of words starting to form when you caught sight of the biggest mistake you’d ever made, fucking Bryce, walking toward you with a woman who, yes, had to be an actual goddamn model on his arm. You’d somehow forgotten that he was looming. That the whole reason you had met Steve tonight was to protect you from this exact inevitability. You’d let your guard down, and now you felt wholly unprepared.
He was still on the other side of the room, and you didn’t think you’d been obvious about clocking him, so you still had a moment to do something. In a moment of sheer panic, you stepped completely into Steve’s space, with a murmured “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I just have to– Sorry!” that was only for him to hear and then you lunged forward and kissed him.
To his immense credit, it only took Steve half a beat to get over any surprise and begin to kiss you back. His lips were soft, plush. If you’d given yourself time to expect anything, you would have expected the kiss to be stiff, awkward. But it wasn’t. It was… nice. It was really nice. His hand on your back held you close, but you knew you’d be able to pull away whenever you needed to. He didn’t try to push anything, press his luck in any way. He let you keep control of what was happening. You didn’t think you’d ever had a kiss that made you feel so safe before. Cared for.
You pulled away, trying to cover up any regret you might feel at the loss of it. You placed a hand on his muscled chest. “Sorry,” you whispered again. Your lips tingled.
“Hey,” he said, softly, and if you hadn’t known any better, you would have thought there was some husk in his voice. “Don’t–”
He was interrupted by someone calling your name, and thankfully, he picked up on who it was right away. The hand that had been on your back now snaked around to rest on your hip, pulling you just a bit closer.
Bryce said your name again as he stopped in front of you. “Been a while.”
“Mhmm,” you hummed through a tight-lipped smile. “I’m surprised to see you here. Not your usual scene.”
“Yeah, well,” he smirked, “Alaina loves art.”
“Yeah,” the woman next to him, Alaina, apparently, said. You were pretty sure you’d seen her in Vogue. “I love art.”
You thought your jaw might crack from how tense it was. “I bet you do,” you said, trying and probably failing to keep your tone pleasant. Steve’s thumb brushed against your hip in a soothing manner, and you tried to surreptitiously take a deep breath.
“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised to see you here. Working hard as always, aren’t you?” Bryce said, with a suggestive glance toward Steve. You weren’t sure you’d ever hated anyone more in your life. He took a step forward with his hand extended for a shake. “Bryce Langley,” he introduced himself.
Steve took the proffered hand. “Steve Rogers,” he said, clear as day, and you were pretty fucking sure, despite all your best efforts, that you did a full double-take.
Steve Rogers. Steve. Rogers. Steve Rogers. The CEO of SHIELD Corp, the giant multi-conglomerate, was pretending to be your fake boyfriend. You had kissed Steve Rogers! What was happening?? This had to be a fever dream.
Luckily, Bryce’s own shock seemed to have masked your own. With a low whistle, he turned back to you. “Holy shit,” he said, “no one can ever say you lack ambition, huh?” And then to Steve, he added, “Word of advice, she’s got a type. Might want to hide the checkbook.”
You tried very hard not to visibly blanche at that or give any indication that part of you had just shriveled up. Of course, Bryce would say that, you tried to tell yourself. Someone who cared so damn much about money that he couldn’t imagine anyone else might feel differently, might value other things. You shouldn’t take anything he said personally. But you did. The part of you that could still feel the humiliation from when he dumped you probably always would.
Steve took a step forward, somehow making himself seem even taller and broader, and in an impossibly low voice said, “Excuse me?”
While you were very grateful that he seemed to be taking his role as your date so seriously, there was a sudden tension in the air that felt unpredictable. It made you nervous. You stilled Steve with a tentative hand on his wrist.
“Bryce and I met,” you interjected, for the sake of saying anything that might diffuse the situation, “when I was buying art for his grandfather.”
“Mhmm,” Bryce hummed, his eyes raking up and down your body shamelessly. You felt Steve’s grip on you tighten. “And you wasted no time getting your hooks in me, huh?”
You forced a laugh as heat rushed to your face. You would not let Bryce get to you. Not in front of him, at least. “Oh sure,” you said, a labored smile stretching your face so wide that it hurt, “I overpowered you with the one-two punch of not being able to shut up or string together a coherent thought. You always found both so charming.” You laughed again, trying so hard to keep up a ‘just joking around with friends’ tone. But you could feel it slipping. You were hanging on by your fingernails.
“Mm, yeah.” Bryce matched your jokey smile, but there was a mean glint in his eyes when he continued, “That was never my favorite part. Luckily, your mouth was so good at other things.”
You had hoped, for a moment, after Steve had revealed his identity, that maybe the presence of someone so important and powerful might force Bryce to restrain himself, just a little. But you should have known better. There’d never been a moment since he’d been born that Bryce had ever doubted his own importance, even (especially) compared to others. His life had, unfortunately, taught him that he was invincible. You were reminded, yet again, how awful it was to bear the brunt of his self-belief.
Just as you could feel yourself starting to wilt completely, Steve’s hand on your side was turning you away from the conversation. He cleared his throat, and you could feel how tightly coiled his entire body was. “Well,” he gritted out, “as lovely as this has been, there are some people here we need to talk to, if you’ll excuse us.” Then his hand returned to your back, and he practically pushed you away from Bryce, aiming for a more sparsely populated area of the gallery.
Once he had you somewhere quieter, somewhere out of sight, Steve’s hands were off of you. A stupid part of you immediately missed his touch. “Are you okay?” he asked softly.
You nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you said, trying to ignore the way your voice shook. You looked away, embarrassed. You couldn’t tell if you were upset because a stranger had witnessed that awful display, how weak Bryce always made you, or if you were upset that it was Steve.
But even with your head turned completely away, you could feel the way Steve stared at you. “I should have punched him,” he said, almost growled, and you tried not to revel in having someone’s protective instincts trained on you. But it wasn’t real. None of tonight had been real. You needed to remember that.
“I’m glad you didn’t,” you said, feeling small. “I can’t afford to cause a scene like that while I’m working.” You looked around at all the rich people milling about, drinking free champagne, eyes glossing over at the art. “I need this job. I need these relationships.”
Steve exhaled, and you finally let yourself look back at him. “You’re right,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
In response, you blurted out, “I can't wrap my head around you being so kind to me.” Oh god. Bryce was right.
Steve’s brows furrowed. “Why? Just because I'm rich, that means I can't be kind?”
“And powerful,” you added. “And yeah, in my experience, that's exactly what it means.”
He didn’t say anything to that, just stared at you with his lips pursed and his eyes filled with not the pity you expected, but sympathy. Empathy.
Finally, he was the one to look away first, focusing on an empty spot in the corner. “Bryce is a piece of shit,” he rumbled.
A small laugh escaped you, a little manic, very relieved. “Yeah, he is.” You sighed, some of the tension finally releasing from your body. You shook your head and answered the question Steve hadn’t asked, but you knew he was thinking. “It took me too long to realize that the mean streak that peaked out, just a little at first, but more and more as we continued dating, was so baked into who he was as a person. I don’t know,” you said with a shrug. He’d turned back to you, giving you his full attention. “He was the most care-free person I’d ever met. I was so envious of that, hoped maybe it would rub off on me. And he brought me into a world that I’d only ever caught glimpses of from the outside looking in. It was intoxicating. And I just couldn’t see, couldn’t understand, the cost of it all until it was too late.”
Steve nodded and took a step forward, his hands held in front of him, fingers fidgeting together. “I know those feelings,” he said, his voice low, soft. “I–”
But before he could continue, or you could ask how Steve Rogers, of all people, could have ever felt like an outsider, a sharply dressed, petite woman with fire-engine red hair and stilettos that could kill a man, materialized out of thin air right in front of the two of you. “I’m so sorry to interrupt,” she said to Steve, a small tablet in her hand, “but we promised the mayor’s chief of staff five minutes and he’s about to leave.”
Steve sighed. “Right,” he said to her, a look of resigned duty on his face. He turned back to you, lightly touching your hand. “I’ll be right back,” he said quietly. “I promise.” Then he straightened his jacket and followed the woman back towards the bar.
The moment he was gone, it was like whatever spell you’d been under lifted. What were you doing? You were suddenly extremely aware of who he was and, more importantly, who you were. You’d monopolized the attention of one of the most powerful men in the country—in the world—for the entire evening as part of a hare-brained scheme to– to what? Save a little face in front of your ex-boyfriend? You felt pathetic and embarrassed and so very out of place. He was kind enough not only not to tell you to get lost, but to go along with the whole stupid idea, to pretend, to let you kiss him.
In that moment, you hoped the floor might open up and swallow you whole. Well, you could still do him a favor to repay the one he’d done for you. You could remove yourself from his evening. Let him get back to his important business. It was the right thing to do, for his sake.
So you made one last quick lap of the gallery, marked down the information of a few pieces you thought would work for one of your clients, then collected your coat and went outside to hail a cab.
And maybe, a few months from now, Steve would at least speak a little fondly when he told this strange story at cocktail parties.
"So," Jen started as she sat down across from all three of you, "how'd you guys meet, then?"
Curtis, your strong, stoic one, surprises you by being the first to answer. "We all met at a mutual friend's birthday party. Just got into a conversation between the three of us and," he shrugs, "clicked. It seemed pretty simple, to be honest."
You grinned. "Yeah, felt like the three of us just all slotted into place. All at once."
"Well," Ari jumped in on your other side, his arm stretched across the top of the couch so that he touched you both, "technically I saw her first."
Your mouth dropped open in shock as you turned from one of your boyfriends to the other to find the biggest, most shit-eating grin on Ari's face.
Curtis leaned in over you, and even though you couldn't see his eye roll, you could feel it. "Fuck off," he muttered, with equal parts affection and exasperation.
Ari shrugged, his expression not changing. "I'm just saying. If we're talking about who was into who first, it was me. I saw her first."
"God, Ari," you laughed, just as Curtis reached across you to pull Ari toward him with his hand on the back of Ari's neck.
"Yeah? Well, maybe I saw you first, huh?" And then he pulled Ari into one of the filthiest kisses you'd ever witnessed between them. But never one to leave anyone out, his other hand slipped between your thighs. Not indecent, not exactly. But if this continued any further, the three of you would need to get home. Now.
You heard Jen awkwardly clear her throat on the other couch as Curtis thumb on your leg started to brush back and forth. Yeah, it was definitely time to go.
I think I’ve settled on a title for my new mob verse (with enforcer!Ari & mob boss!Andy) 👀
Mind Your Business
🤭 As in! Don’t stick your nose where it doesn’t belong, but also be cautious, but also tend to your own matters, but also oversee everything you’ve built, and it will all apply to various characters/Readers 🤓
Okay but also this just popped into my head and now I’m cackling:
Summary: You can't believe your luck when you find the perfect house for cheap.
Warnings: Dark fic, horror, haunted house, danger, SMUT - somnophilia (of a sort), sex dreams, masturbation, p in v intercourse - references to murder and suicide, gore, a horror ending, explicit language, adult themes All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI
Dividers by me
Masterlist
A/N: Oh boyyyyyyyyy, you guys. Happy Halloween!!!!! I hope this story helps make your season a little spookier.
Huge thanks to @stargazingfangirl18 for the initial inspiration for this and then for talking the whole thing through with me. Thank you, Siri!!
Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜
You stood in the middle of the living room, hands on your hips, surrounded by boxes, and felt, possibly, the happiest you’d ever felt. You’d done it. You’d bought your first house. And it was beautiful. You couldn’t believe how lucky you’d been. Priced to sell was an understatement. Especially for this neighborhood. Especially for the pristine condition. Especially for how recent a build it was. You were only the second owner. The realtor had seemed a little cagy about answering questions, but when the inspection came back clean as a whistle, you stopped worrying about it. You weren’t going to borrow problems. You’d bought it from a bank, so you assumed it was some sort of foreclosure situation. Well, as crass as it was, their loss was your gain. You owned a house! Eeee!
It couldn’t have come at a better time. You needed a change, a big one. You’d been deeply unhappy, caught in a rut with no one to lean on. So you’d picked up everything and moved to a new place. A completely fresh start. You couldn’t wait to see what this new life held in store for you.
For now, what it held in store were high ceilings and built-in arches. Your old apartment could never. This was the first step to the ideal, happiest you.
You were celebrating by unpacking boxes, aided by a moderately expensive bottle of wine you’d been saving for a special occasion. You’d made sure to unpack your wireless speaker first and were now blasting a high-energy oldies mix, reveling in the fact that you didn’t share walls with anyone anymore. “I love you, baaaaby,” you shouted along to the music, “and if it’s quite alright, I need you baaaaaby, to warm the lonely night.” Your half-drunk glass of wine sloshing dangerously in one hand while you rifled through a box of knick-knacks with the other. And yes, you were a little drunk, but that didn’t explain the intense chill that ran up your spine. And then–
BANG
BANG
BANG
The house shook with the force of whatever had just happened. You jumped, wine spilling across the hardwood floor in a gruesome red splash. Your heart was in your throat. Adrenaline rushing through your veins. What the fuck was that? The sounds had come from upstairs. You took a deep breath and tried to calm your body. It’d probably just been a stack of boxes falling or– There was obviously an explanation, and you just needed to go upstairs and look.
The chills were still crawling through your body, but that was just the adrenaline, just your spiked heart rate. As you approached the staircase off your front hall, you grabbed an umbrella that’d been haphazardly leaned against the door frame until you could find a permanent place for it. With a vice-like grip around the handle, the sharp tip pointed out to stab any would-be intruders (Oh god, please don’t be an animal. You had no idea how you’d get rid of it yourself), you forced yourself up the stairs. The first thing you noticed when you got up to the top was that the doors to what you’d decided would be your bedroom, the guest room, and your office were all closed. You hadn’t done that. Holding the umbrella out in front of you, you cautiously opened the first door, then shrank back in defense. But there was nothing there. It was completely empty. The gentle sounds of the suburban neighborhood at night filtered in through the open window. Oh right. You’d opened all the windows upstairs to let the lingering mustiness of the unoccupied house air out a little bit. A gust of wind must have blown through and shut all the doors. That was all. You let out the tension in your body with a laugh, then closed all the windows. But you didn’t glance outside to see that no wind blew through the trees and the air was completely still.
Your first night, you slept a little weirdly. You couldn’t remember your dreams, beyond the fact that you had some, but whatever they were, they’d left you feeling unsettled. You chalked it up to being in an unfamiliar place and got out of bed, ready to start your day.
You went for a run, excited to explore your new neighborhood. You also hoped that being out and about would give you a chance to meet some of your neighbors. You never really knew anyone in your apartment building. People were always moving in and out, which made it hard to forge any real relationships. Now that you were somewhere permanent, you were hopeful that that would change.
But as you ran, you quickly became discouraged. People were out: working on their yards, getting the mail, bringing in groceries. But anytime you tried to initiate contact, with a friendly wave and a happy “Good morning!”, you were just met with uncomfortable stares. The worst was an elderly couple tending to their flower beds. At your greeting, the woman leaned over to her husband and whispered something in his ear. He looked up at you, making eye contact, and sadly shook his head. Then they both got up and went inside. You didn’t understand what you’d done wrong.
You reassured yourself as you got back to your house that these communities could be insular. Maybe new people didn’t move in very often. You would just strengthen your resolve. Win them all over. You could do it. They’d see. You were gonna be a great neighbor.
Two days later, you were making good progress. You’d unpacked all of the essentials you needed to live, and now you were focusing on the little sprucing-up projects you wanted done before you’d get the furniture all in place and art on the walls. Fresh coats of paint in some of the rooms, updated fixtures here and there. The house didn’t need much work, but you were making it yours. It filled your heart to do it.
Currently, you were on the highest step of your stepladder in your bedroom, taping where the wall met the ceiling before you started painting an accent wall. You weren’t the most comfortable up so high, but you’d checked to make sure the stepladder was perfectly steady before you’d gotten on it.
You were about halfway done when a chill went up your spine, and you swore that you felt something behind you, and then, as you instinctively turned your head to look, the step stool just tipped over, the right two feet coming fully off the ground and you tumbled off of it with a shout, landing in a jumbled heap on the ground.
You breathed heavily as your brain tried to catch up with what had happened. Without thinking, you were already cradling one hand against your chest. It’d taken most of your weight when you’d hit the ground. It hurt, but the pain wasn’t blinding. You tentatively touched your wrist and then carefully rotated it. You could move it. It wasn’t broken. With a sigh of relief, your heart still pounding in your ears, you picked yourself up and turned back to deal with the stepladder. But– That wasn’t right. It was just sitting there, perfectly upright, like nothing had happened. No. It’d fallen over. Hadn’t it? Maybe– Maybe when you’d felt something behind you, you’d turned around more sharply than you’d realized and lost your balance. That was what happened. It was the only explanation.
As you went to wrap your wrist, just to be safe, you ignored the loud voice in your head insisting that you’d been shoved.
You loved this kitchen. You loved it so much. Marble countertops, a gas stovetop with six burners and a built-in griddle, an honest-to-god breakfast nook. It was like the whole thing had been plucked right out of your dreams. You still had no idea how you’d been able to afford a kitchen like this, how this whole house hadn’t been snatched right up above asking the moment it’d been put on the market, but you weren’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. You just let yourself be happy with it.
Your music was blasting, and you danced around the built-in island as you made yourself dinner. Your first real meal in your incredible kitchen, all of your cookware finally unpacked, put exactly where it all needed to go in the ample cabinet space.
You were sauteeing vegetables when your favorite part of the song hit, and you did a little shimmy as you sang along. But you were cut off when, right up against your ear, you heard a warm, low chuckle. You jumped and whirled around, your spatula held out at the ready. But there was no one there. Of course, there wasn’t. You were alone.
You shook your head at yourself. It must have been something in the song, or the sound had traveled in from outside, or– Or any number of things. You were just scaring yourself. It was fine. You took a deep breath to settle yourself and went back to making dinner.
You were in your bedroom. Well, except you weren’t. Not exactly. The shape was right, and you knew it was your room, but none of your things were there. None of your decorations. None of your furniture. Still, it felt familiar to you. You were on the bed, lying on top of the covers in a short, gauzy nightgown. The bed was a little softer than you preferred, the comforter a little downier. There was an armchair set across from the bed, with a man sitting in it. You’d never seen him before, but he was familiar too. He was tall, you could tell, even sitting down. Broad. He had soft-looking dark brown hair and a thick beard. He was staring at you.
He didn’t say anything, but you knew what he wanted. You placed one hand on the inside of your knee, slowly moving it up your thigh. With your other hand, you grasped your breast through the nightie, tweaking the nipple with one finger. You let out a little gasp and he visibly swallowed. The hand on your leg rose higher, but you didn’t rush it. You were taking your time, letting yourself feel. That was what he wanted.
Your hand finally reached your core, and you moaned softly. Oh. You weren’t wearing any underwear. You brushed your fingers across your lower lips, slowly, gently, moving your way between them. Over on the chair, the man leaned forward, and you spread and lifted your knees so he could see.
As you brushed your thumb against your clit, you wanted to close your eyes, sink into it. But you kept your eyes open. He wanted you to look at him, see him. He wanted your eyes on him as you came apart.
You didn’t try to stifle your gasps and moans as you moved one finger inside of yourself and increased the pressure on your clit with your thumb, moving it in small, fast circles now. With your other hand, you pinched your nipple hard. His icy blue eyes were on you. He licked his lips. The wave was rising inside of you, higher, higher, but you needed more. You slipped another finger inside yourself, spreading them slowly. You moaned at the stretch, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enou–
You woke up with a throbbing between your legs, and your breath caught in your throat. Memories of your dream slammed into you. That was– What? What was that? You rolled over onto your stomach, burying your face in your pillow, muffling your embarrassed laughter. Then you reached over to your nightstand to grab your vibrator so you could finish yourself off before you moved on with your day.
You checked the thermostat for the third time in just a few hours. It’d been chilly all morning, but the readout still said 70℉, exactly what you’d set it at. You must just be running cold today. You grabbed a sweatshirt and hoped you weren’t getting sick. Maybe you’d pick up some zinc at the store.
You couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching you. You were alone in your house. You knew this for sure because, as silly as you felt, you’d checked all the rooms. You’d checked the windows too, but of course, there was no one there. You closed all of the curtains anyway.
Now you were standing in your bedroom, trying to talk yourself into getting dressed. You were being so ridiculous. You knew it, but something you couldn’t put your finger on had you so completely unsettled. You took a few deep breaths. Come on come on come on. And then, finally, you changed as quickly as you could.
And you were fine. Of course, you were fine. Even though your heart thumped. Even though your skin crawled. You were fine. Another deep breath, and you left your room, turning off the light as you went.
But once in the hall, you realized you’d left your phone on the bed. You turned around to go get it and stopped abruptly. The light was still on. You’d turned it off. You knew you’d turned it off. You forced yourself forward and then paused in the doorway. You flipped the light switch. The lights turned off. Then you flipped it again. The lights turned on. Flipped it again. They turned off. Everything was working exactly like it was supposed to. You must not have actually flipped the switch all the way when you’d left the room. There. Simple explanation. Everything was fine.
You moved forward to grab your phone, sitting at the foot of the bed, exactly where you’d thought it was. As you started to turn back around, but before you were fully facing the doorway— you only caught it out of the corner of your eye—something rushed past the door, through the hallway. A flurry of movement alone. You saw heard felt it. What the fuck? What the fuck?
Your whole body was frozen, a chorus of nope nope nope running through your head. What was going on? You coaxed yourself forward enough so you could look through the hall. Nothing was there. But you had seen something. You knew you had. You had to get out of here.
You sat in the corner of the coffee shop, both hands wrapped tightly around the large, warm mug of herbal tea. Something calming. You’d settled down. Your breathing was back to normal. It was time to think about this rationally.
Ghosts, the supernatural, none of that was real. It was just things people made up for movies and books. Whatever you saw was because you were already on edge this morning, your brain in overdrive, looking for things to be afraid of.
Still. You took out your phone and googled “what to do if my new house has a weird feeling,” and were met with pages upon pages of results telling you it was perfectly normal to feel uncomfortable in your new home. Unsettled even. It could even send your brain into fight or flight, checking for threats everywhere in a new environment.
You breathed a sigh of relief. This was perfectly normal. Nothing was wrong with you. You just needed to keep working to make the space your own, and everything would settle out.
Later, when you were getting out of your car in your driveway, you noticed your next-door neighbor at her mailbox. Perfect. Forging connections would definitely help you feel more settled. But as you started to walk over, she turned around and quickly walked into her house, slamming the door behind her. You were sure she’d seen you. Why was everyone in this neighborhood so cold?
You were back on the bed in the room that was and wasn’t yours. The man stood over you now, his fingertips hovering over your naked body. You couldn’t move, but that didn’t worry you. He didn’t want you to move, and you wanted to do what he wanted.
“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed out, his voice sonorous, hitting you deep in your gut. “And here you are, just for me. I’m so lucky.”
There was deep tenderness in his eyes, but something else too. Possession. It sent a thrill through you. No one had ever looked at you like that before.
He hummed to himself as his fingers ghosted over your thigh. “But now that I have you, what should I do with you?”
When you opened your mouth, you found that you couldn’t speak. But once again, it didn’t worry or scare you. You were his; you'd do what he wanted.
He tentatively pressed his fingers to your skin, like he was testing something. He closed his eyes when he made contact and exhaled. His touch sent a shock up your spine. “It’s been such a long time since I've been able to touch anyone,” he rumbled, full of awe. “You really are perfect.”
He dragged his fingertips up your thighs, but then skipped over your core, landing his hand on your soft stomach. You whined in displeasure, trying to tilt your pelvis up at him. He ignored it.
“I don’t even know where to start. I want all of it. All of you. All of you, forever.”
You whined again. Your wetness was pooling between your legs, starting to soak into the sheets. You needed more of his touch, anywhere. Everywhere.
“Patience, sweetheart. We have all the time in the world. All we have is time.”
You opened your eyes, suddenly thrust into full wakefulness. You were soaking wet, with only fragments of memories of what got you that way. But you barely had any time to focus on that. You were freezing. Your entire bedroom was absolutely freezing.
You stepped back from the door to let the HVAC technician in, wrapped in a thick blanket over your sweatshirt and thick leggings. He paused over the threshold, rubbing his hands together and exhaling. “Oh shit,” he exclaimed with a whistle. “You weren’t kidding. It’s freezing in here. Must be at least a twenty-degree difference from outside.”
“Yeah,” you said a little helplessly. “It’s been a little chilly the last week, but it feels like it got much colder in the night.”
You led him to the thermostat, and he examined it. It still read 70°. “Hmm,” he hummed, opening the cover and giving it a once-over. “Seems like it’s probably just not communicating properly. Maybe triggering your AC when it shouldn’t. I’ll take a look downstairs and see what’s going on.”
You were trying to force yourself to focus on reading a book when the tech came back upstairs. His brows were furrowed, and he seemed lost in his own thoughts. You set your book down, not trying to be quiet, and he looked up, like he was surprised to see you there. “Everything okay?” you asked nervously.
“Huh?” he blinked at you. Then he shook his head, like he was trying to rid it of something. “Yeah, everything’s fine.” He paused, then looked at you very carefully. “You been in this house long?”
You shook your head. “Just a couple weeks.”
His gaze narrowed. “Has everything been okay?”
“What do you mean? Besides the thermostat?”
His eyes focused on you, like he was surprised by your presence again. “No, I– I don’t know. Sorry. Don’t mind me, I just must be feeling a little off today.” He shook his head one more time, then returned to business. “Furnace and AC both seem to be working fine. So it must be the thermostat. I’ll just replace it with a new one real quick, and you should be right as rain in a few hours.”
You breathed a sigh of relief, feeling even better once you heard warm air being forced through the vents. It made it easy to ignore the way it seemed like he couldn’t get out of your house fast enough.
In the room that wasn’t quite yours, you stood in front of a free-standing full-length mirror. You were wearing a short black dress that hugged your curves, a silver necklace around your neck, matching bracelets on both wrists, like cuffs. The man was behind you, pressed against you, his head hooked over your shoulder, making eye contact with you in the mirror, one possessive hand on your stomach, the other coming up to gently wrap around your neck.
“I’ve been waiting for something for so long,” he whispered into your ear. “Now I know I was waiting for you.” Both hands moved away from you, briefly, coming back together behind your head. Gently, carefully, reverently removing your necklace. He moved slowly, a look in his eye like he was unwrapping a gift he’d been staring at for ages. The necklace disappeared, and he moved on to the zipper of your dress. He lowered it achingly slowly. You didn’t move. He didn’t want you to. You knew that.
He moved the dress down your body at a glacial pace, revealing you inch by inch. His gaze flicking back and forth between your back and the mirror. Taking all of you in. Once it was down to your hips, he let it drop. You weren’t wearing anything underneath, fully exposed to him. For him. It didn’t occur to you to try to cover yourself. Why would you?
One hand came back around to touch your stomach. It drifted lower, and then he dragged it, oh so slowly, up to your chest. You felt his cold breath on your neck as he sighed–
You were lying on the bed, and he was on top of you. Finally. Your bracelets were still on, and now they were hooked together, keeping your arms above your head. You didn’t try to move them. You stayed where he put you. Of course you did. Your breath felt trapped in your chest. You were waiting. For him. You needed it. He was touching you, your whole body, like he couldn’t get enough. Like it would never be enough–
You were on your side. He was pressed up behind you. The mirror was next to the bed now. So you could see yourself. See him behind you, as he kissed up your neck. Behind your ear. His fingers danced along the cut of you. Between your lips. One, two, three fingers briefly slipped inside. You didn’t need it. You were ready.
You were ready you were ready you were ready you were ready.
You whined. Low and loud and needy. He hushed you. Then. Finally. Finally finally finally he thrust himself inside you. Forcing a grunt a whine a moan out of you. You kept your eyes open, locked on the mirror so you could see your face and his as he was finally inside of you, where he belonged. So you could see the ecstasy on both your faces.
He kept his eyes on yours as he thrust. As he set a punishing pace. As the pressure inside of you built and built and built. As one arm held you so tight to him, arm over your pelvis, hand between your breasts. His fingers pressing bruises into your skin. The other was between your legs, pressing pressing pressing against your clit, tight circles too much too much too much not enough just right. The hand on your chest pressed even harder, pushing you into his broad chest like he was trying to meld with you.
As you climbed up up up and finally crested over, the air between his mouth and your neck, in all of the spaces where your bodies made contact, went blurry, squiggly, like he was literally breathing you in. You felt something inside of you go, but it wasn’t a loss. It was right. It was perfect.
You came with a scream. “Andy!” A name on your lips you hadn’t realized you’d known.
“Mine mine mine,” he chanted as he chased his own release. “Forever. Eternity.”
You woke with a start. Your chest heaving. You were exhausted, like you hadn’t slept at all. And you were sore, stiff, all over. Between your legs. Inside of you. Almost like you’d–
Before you had time to wrap your head around that, you realized something else. You were absolutely freezing. The whole room was freezing. So much colder than it was before. No! You’d fixed it! No!
You didn’t have the mental capacity to deal with this. You were too cold, too worn out. Too fucked out, your traitorous brain supplied. You didn’t want to deal with that either.
You went into your bathroom and turned on your shower as hot as it could go. You didn’t turn on the exhaust fan. You needed all the steam you could get. Once the small room had warmed up a little, you quickly stripped and stepped into the glass shower stall. You stepped directly under the stream of hot water, pushing everything else, all of the very not right, out of your head. Focusing on just getting warm. You weren’t sure how long exactly you stood there for. Awhile. Long enough for the chill to finally leave your bones. Once you stopped shivering, you started cleaning yourself. Trying to let yourself go through your normal routine on autopilot. But that wasn’t possible when you found so many tender spots. On your legs, your hips, your stomach, your chest. New bruises. Like fingerprints. Like someone had gripped you too tight. Like your drea–
You pushed that thought away before you could even fully think it. Not real. Not real. Not real. You were losing it. Starting to come apart at the seams. Maybe you’d been too isolated. Maybe that was it. That had to be it. You took a deep breath to calm yourself. Then, as you started to get back to washing yourself–
Something brushed against the back of your neck. Like someone’s hand. Like someone had touched your neck. You weren’t making it up. It wasn’t just in your head. It’d happened. You’d felt it.
With your heart in your throat, you whirled around on instinct. And right there, over where your shoulder had been, in the steam, was the shape of a man’s face. You saw it. You saw it. Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god.
You crashed out of the shower, barely keeping your feet under you. You were soaking wet, but you didn’t stop to dry off. You couldn’t. You had to get out of there. You tore into your bedroom, grabbing the first leggings and sweater you could find, throwing them on as you continued to move. You grabbed your phone off your nightstand as you rushed past it. You had to get out of there. You couldn’t get out fast enough.
You didn’t feel safe until you were standing in the street in front of your house, trying to catch your breath, water dripping down your back. You bent over like you’d just run a marathon, adrenaline coursing through you. You needed to get your head on straight. You needed to think about this rationally. It was just a house. It was just a house. If you thought it enough times, maybe you’d believe it.
You slowly straightened up, trying to force yourself to breathe normally. And that’s when you saw your next-door neighbor, sitting on her front porch with a friend, staring at you. And maybe it was just the adrenaline that hadn’t dissipated yet, but– No. Absolutely not. Not today.
You stormed across her lawn, your best ‘fuck you’ smile on your face, not caring that you were still dripping. Not caring that you looked like a crazy person. “Hi!” you greeted when you’d gotten to the porch, too loud, too aggressive. “We haven’t been introduced yet. I’m your new next-door neighbor. I moved in a few weeks ago,” you gestured at your house, like they hadn’t just seen you run out of it like a bat out of hell.
“Oh my god,” your neighbor’s friend exclaimed, her eyes wide.
“I know,” your neighbor, whose goddamn name you still didn’t know, said to her, shaking her head.
“I can’t believe you moved into the Barber house,” her friend said to you, her voice tinged with horror. “Why would you do that?”
“What?” you asked, confused, some of your righteous anger leaving you.
She shook her head instead of answering your question, no longer able to look at you. “It was so awful, so awful, and then you just moved in like–” She sounded like she was on the verge of tears. Without another word, she got up and fled into the house. You and your neighbor both stared after her. What was going on?
After a minute of silence, your neighbor turned her steely gaze onto you. “You know,” she said, her voice cold, “maybe it seems like a lot of time has passed since it happened, but it’s still very fresh for this whole neighborhood. We’re still trying to recover. We don’t need someone coming in here and trying to dredge it all up again.”
“What–” you stuttered, “what happened? I don’t–”
“It isn’t easy for anyone here to talk about. They were our friends. I’m sure you can understand that.” Then, without another word, she got up and followed her friend into her house. And you were left standing on her porch alone, trying to catch up.
All you could do for several moments was just stand there, gaping. Your hands were shaking. Your mind was racing. But then, suddenly, you realized how creepy you were being. Oh god, she’d probably call the cops. So, with dread building in your chest, you forced yourself back to your own property.
You stopped at the end of your driveway. You couldn’t make yourself go further. Something was happening. You were missing something big. But you knew now, for sure, that there was something very wrong with your house. So, finally, you did the thing you should have done when things first started getting weird. When you first moved in. Before you even bought it. You took out your phone and you googled your address. Now with the added knowledge of adding Barber to the end of it.
Barely breathing, you clicked on the first result. Three Dead in Gruesome Apparent Murder Suicide. And there right at the top, a picture of your house surrounded by police. Oh god oh god oh god. You wanted to puke. But you made yourself keep reading.
The Barbers were a family of three: Andrew, Laurie, and their teenage son Jacob. Andrew was an assistant district attorney. Laurie ran a children’s community group. They were well-liked. Pillars of the community. And five years ago, all three bodies had been found in what was now your basement, a shotgun laying next to Laurie. It had rocked the entire community, leaving everyone desperately searching for answers.
You kept scrolling until you stopped dead in the middle of the page. A picture of the Barbers, happy and alive. Laurie was beautiful, picture perfect, smiling adoringly at her family. Jacob looked like any normal teenage boy, hair in his eyes, annoyed to be there. But that wasn’t what had your heart going still in your chest. No, that was the man looking straight at the camera. Looking at you. Andrew. Andy. Without a fucking doubt, the man from your dreams.
Your phone slipped from your fingers, landing hard on your driveway. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t breathe. What was happening? What– How– The fear was louder than anything else. You’d never been so scared in your life. You had– You had to go.
You ran into your house for the last time. You raced up the stairs, not looking around you. In your bedroom, you pulled a duffel bag from your closet, then just started shoving clothes into it indiscriminately. You didn’t know where you were going to go or what you were going to do. You just had to leave now now now.
When the bag was full, you tore back down the stairs, grabbing your purse and your car keys, heading right for the door. You were going to be okay. You were going to get out. But when you tried to open the door, it was locked. You didn’t remember doing that. You hadn’t done that. With trembling fingers, you flipped the deadbolt and then watched with horror as it flipped right back. No no no no no no no no.
You rushed to the nearest window in desperation, but it wouldn’t budge either. You cried out in frustration and panic. You moved to grab your phone then remembered that you’d left it on your driveway. No.
As you were about to run to your back door to see if you could get out that way, all of the lights in the house began flickering. On and off on and off on and off. And your bluetooth speaker suddenly buzzed to life, filling the house with music.
You’re just too good to be true
Can’t take my eyes off of you
You’d be like heaven to touch
I want to hold you so much
And there he was, standing in the middle of your living room. Andy. He was there and not there. You could see through him. But it was him. It was unmistakable.
“Shhh, calm down, honey,” he cooed. “It’s alright. You’re alright.”
“A– Andy,” you could barely get it out, your voice was shaking so badly. You couldn’t wrap your mind around it, couldn’t get control of your fear. You were talking to a dead man. “Please let me go.”
“Honey,” he started, his tone placating, “you know I can’t do that.”
“Why not?” It came out as a sob, helplessness crashing down on you.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he cooed, his brow furrowing at your distress. “Because we belong together.”
That’s when your tears started. This was another dream, right? It had to be. Maybe you’d never actually woken up. This couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be real.
The music got louder, and Andy crouched down in front of you. “This is our song,” he said softly, “remember? From your first night here. I’m sorry I scared you that night. I was– I was very upset. You were barging into my house and– Then you started changing things, changing my house and– you understand that’s why I had to push you right? Why I tried to make you go. But then. Then you stayed, and I started to get to know you. And I realized all the ways we fit. I realized the truth. That you were brought here for me. So that we could be together forever.”
You took a deep breath, forcing it. You wanted to tell him he was insane, but it was even worse. He was dead. A ghost. How could you reason with that? “Andy, no,” you started slowly. “All I did was buy a house. I’m so sorry that something awful happened to you, but this is my house now–”
“THIS IS MY HOUSE!” he roared, suddenly floating above you. The lights flickered even more intensely, and all of your shelves shook, books toppling over. And just for a moment, just for a flash, Andy’s face changed. Half of it disappeared, blood and viscera and bone and emptiness where his skin should have been. But then it was gone, back to normal, and he was once again on the ground in front of you. “This is still my house, that I had built for my family. The people who are meant to be my family are just a little different than I thought.”
You swallowed hard, trying to stop shaking. You had to find a way out. You had to get out of here. Andy was moving, floating, pacing, back and forth, mumbling to himself now. “That fucking bitch. Destroying everything I’d worked so hard for, everything I’d earned.” He was distracted by his own anger. You took the opportunity to start to crawl backward, see if there was something you could do to force the door open. “And then after all that, they left me alone here on top of it,” he continued, before his eyes locked on you, halfway to the entryway. “But you understand that better than most, don’t you, sweetheart? Being alone.”
You stopped in your tracks, collapsing back onto the floor. “What? No, I’m not alone!”
He shook his head sadly at you, like you were being ridiculous. “Honey, come on. I know you. I see you. All I do is watch you. You never go anywhere. You never see anyone. You never talk to anyone. You’re just as lonely as I am. But it’s okay. We have each other now. Forever.”
It was that word, forever, that made the bottom drop out of what you were feeling. Oh no oh god. It was only pure terror now. What was he going to do? What could he do?
He was crouching down in front of you again, so close to you that you could put a hand through him. But it wouldn’t do any good. You knew that. “Andy, I–” you didn’t know what to say, but you had to make him understand. Make him see sense. At the very least, to buy you some time. Get you out of this house. Burn it down, maybe. Destroy every part of it so that you could start over. Again. “You’re right. I see that now,” you lied, trying so hard to keep your voice even. “We fit. But– But we just can’t be together. I’m alive. I need– I need to live my life. We– We aren’t on the same plane.”
Andy shook his head, gliding closer to you as you tried to back up. He was practically on top of you now. It was a horrifically unsettling feeling. It made all the hair on your body stand up straight. “No,” he said, “no, we don’t need to worry about that. You’ve made me so much stronger. Since you came here, I can do so many more things. Things I never dreamt of when I was all alone. And after last night, I made you feel so good, and in return, you gave so much of yourself to me, my love.” The dream, you realized with a start. When it looked like he was actually breathing you in– And the exhaustion you’d woken up with. Like he’d taken part of your lifeforce. “Now I’m strong enough to do what I need to do. To make sure you never leave me.”
Your eyes got wide, and the panic that’d been ebbing and flowing this entire conversation spiked to a degree it somehow hadn’t reached yet. “Andy, Andy, wait, no! What does that mean? What are you going to do?”
He didn’t respond, just brushed his translucent fingers down your cheek, leaving an awful chill in their wake. And that’s when you heard it, the barely there hiss coming from the kitchen, accompanied by a sulfuric smell that you’d been too afraid, too heightened to notice until this point. Oh god, your beloved gas cooktop. You started sobbing. You couldn’t stop. Doubled over on the floor of this house you thought you’d been so lucky to find.
“Shh, sweetheart, it’s okay, you’re alright,” Andy consoled you. You could feel the whisper of his fingers over you’re hair. “It won’t hurt at all. You’re going to fall asleep, and then when you wake up, you’ll be here with me. Forever, in our beautiful home. It’ll be perfect.”
The first rule of fandom is have fun. The second rule of fandom is find an enabler and become an enabler. Yes you should write that fic. What if it was even hornier? What if it was angstier? What if you wrote it just for me?
I can only imagine Reader must be quite 🫠🥵🫣😏😬🥰😕 after her encounter with Enforcer!Ari... When will she see him again? Under what circumstances? Do we throw all our feminist gusto out the window for him? Was he just keeping us occupied to help his boss? Regardless of what he may have said or done, it was one night. That can get a clever girl spiraling...
I know the I AM SPIRALING!!!
How do we come to terms with the fact that we were taken up so easily and so completely by this big scary/not scary enforcer??????
WHAT'S A HOE/READER TO DO?
ASKING FOR ME AND ALL MY FRIENDS AND READERRRR. 😭
No but like oh my god, this man seriously had a chokehold on me from go, so I’m so happy I’m not the only one having an utter meltdown over him 🤭 But of course I can always rely on my beloved wifey and fellow hoes (especially those of you who voted for Ari in my recent poll) to be good hoe company hehe. I hope you all enjoy this ❤️
Unwelcome
Pairing: Ari Levinson x Female!Reader
Word Count: 2,462
Summary: You can’t shake the memories of that night with Ari, and to make matters worse, he returns–with another unwelcome guest in tow.
Warnings: Mob AU. Explicit language. Explicit sexual content. Soft!dark mob enforcer!Ari. Dub con. Vaginal fingering. Ruined orgasm. Mob boss!Andy. Reader owns her own business and is a spitfire with a complete lack of self-preservation lolll. Lots of antagonism.
A/N: You can read the ask and drabbles that started this all here.
You were distracted. Again.
Frustrated, too.
No matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t stop thinking about that night with Ari in your office.
About Ari in general.
And it made you so fucking cranky and ashamed.
You kept trying to tell yourself it was because he was terrifying–an actual facts mob henchman–that you hadn’t resisted much as he had so sinfully touched you...
“Shh shh shh,” Ari cooed, his hand on your belly giving a gentle pet before it slowly started to descend.
You gasped sharply as his touch slid between your thighs, as he cupped your cunt through your jeans and panties as his teeth caught your earlobe and gave a warning nip.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Ari husked. “You won’t fall victim to my usual methods. It would be such a waste, and I have a much better idea for keeping you occupied and out of trouble.”
You could only whimper and squirm as Ari–this man you didn’t even know, who you had only just meant mere moments ago–popped open the button on your jeans and stuffed his big hand down the front of your pants and panties like he had every right to.
His fingers were thick and rough as they teased along your cunt. When his touch glanced off your clit for the first time, you gave a startled cry that had you going rigid in Ari’s lap.
“Oh, I liked that sound, sweetheart, give me another.”
His touch grew more intentional then–more wicked. It seemed like it took him no time at all, and barely any effort, to have you creaming all over his fingers and begging him to make you cum.
Because it had been so long since you had been touched like this–especially by someone who knew what they were doing, who was so confident and scary in a way that made your body tingle.
You could feel the rock hard length of Ari press along the small of your back, and you could only imagine the way he ached, but still, he kept all of his focus and intent on you.
“God, look at you, honey, you’re like putty in my hands, so needy and desperate for it, huh?”
You whined at the deep baritone of Ari’s voice, at his seductive words, at that delightful pull pulsing deep within you, feeling like a live wire as pleasure and the cusp of ecstasy danced all along your body from head to toe.
You arched your back in desperation, shameless now as you rutted against Ari’s touch, moaning loudly and without reserve as he shoved two thick fingers deep inside your cunt and began to rub along your sensitive walls.
Sounds that could only be described as primal and desperate began to fall from your lips as you curled your fingers into Ari’s thick thighs beneath you, inching closer and closer to the height of your pleasure.
“You wanna cum, sweetheart?” Ari rumbled against the curve of your jaw.
“Yes!”
“You gonna be good for me?” he asked. “You gonna promise to keep that cute little nose where it belongs and out of our business?”
“Uh huh,” you replied without hesitance, not really comprehending Ari’s words but also willing to agree to anything in this moment if it meant getting what you wanted–being able to cum, to completely unravel in the best way.
His fingers went at you harder, making you keen and bow against him. Just before you fully ascended, only a swipe or two of Ari’s thumb against your clit away from falling apart entirely–from surrendering to the type of toe-curling pleasure you knew you’d remember for days–Ari stopped.
“Nooo!” you whined as his fingers suddenly retreated from you entirely, leaving your poor body taut and woefully, horrifically unsatisfied.
“Only good girls get to cum, and you gotta earn that privilege, trouble,” Ari husked against your ear, pressing a soft kiss to your warm cheek before he shifted you off of his lap then poured himself to his feet.
You gaped up at him in utter shock–in visceral betrayal–as Ari adjusted the bulge at the front of his jeans before shooting you a smirk and wink combo.
And then you could only stare after him as he turned and sauntered out the back door of your business, leaving you dazed, angry, and mourning the loss of what you knew would have been an incredible orgasm.
“Asshole,” you muttered under your breath, glowering at the memory.
And yet–you hadn’t stuck your nose where it didn’t belong since.
You weren’t sure if it was from fear and self-preservation, or if maybe you were hiding and didn’t want to draw any more unwanted attention your way.
Maybe you had learned the lesson Ari and his boss had wanted to teach you.
You crumpled today’s high tea menu in your hand at the very thought–being schooled, by anyone, let alone a couple of criminals. Then you frowned as you quickly tried to straighten out the wrinkles in the beige paper. The color of it, and the font printed on it, were a play on a book, since that was kind of your schtick.
Books & Brews.
Aka your baby. Your dream business that spawned from a combination of two of your passions–tea and books.
It was such a niche and novelty sort of business, that you hadn’t been able to secure any investors when you were first starting out. No one had believed in you and your dream except you, which honestly only made it all the sweeter now that it was such a success.
All it had taken was a couple of online influencers having high tea in your cute little shop, and raving about the food, tea, and book selection, and you had pretty much gone viral overnight.
And never looked back.
That was why you were so mad about the utter bullshit that had moved in next door.
This was a nice neighborhood. Safe. Family friendly. You had repeat customers that you loved. You hosted kids’ birthday parties, bridal showers, all types of milestone events.
If word got out that the fucking mob had moved in next door, you knew it would pretty much be a death sentence for Books & Brews.
“Ugh!” You tried to shake that thought–and all the thoughts like it–from your mind. Because then you would get mad. And start to spiral. You would get stupid protective over your business and all of your self-preservation would go out the window.
And now you knew what happened when that was the case.
So! Screw organized criminals and their unwanted neighbor status.
You had a successful dream business to run.
Speaking of… the little bell over the front door cheerfully jingled the arrival of new guests, and you straightened from leaning against the checkout counter, a smile already curling your lips.
But it instantly fell as you watched two figures step inside your shop. Although one was a total stranger to you, the other was familiar as hell–because it was Ari.
You hated that your first thought upon seeing him was that he was so ridiculously hot. So big and beefy. His worn denim button up shirt bulged with his muscles, his dark, wiry chest hair sticking out the top where quite a few buttons were undone. He was wearing another pair of those criminally tight jeans and–
Stop staring, you internally screamed at yourself when you caught sight of Ari’s arrogant smirk.
Because he had totally caught you ogling.
You made a face at him before rounding the counter, puffing up a little as your narrowed gaze shifted from him to the man beside him.
He wasn’t as tall or thick as Ari, but he was no slouch either in his obviously expensive suit and equally handsome features. He had fair skin, dark floofy hair that was perfectly styled, and a thick beard that was just as neatly trimmed. His eyes were an electric blue, and although they glittered with amusement as they met your fiery gaze, there was something about them that was too hard to be genuine.
Despite the charming smile spreading across his lips, there was an air of ruthlessness to him that you could see from a mile away.
And you knew that this man, he was the boss. Of Ari. Of the new “business” next door. Of an entire mob empire you wanted nothing to do with.
You also knew that he–and Ari–were ones not to be messed with, but they had your hackles rising so quickly, that it was like all logic evaporated from your brain as you marched right up to them, crossed your arms over your chest, and stared Ari’s boss down without care.
“You’re not welcome here,” you said firmly, giving yourself a mental high five at how confident you sounded.
The stranger’s eyes only twinkled more, a quiet chuckle spilling from his lips as he ignored your statement entirely and introduced himself. “Andy Barber,” he didn’t try to shake your hand, instead looking away from you as his gaze drifted around your small shop, which was a little quiet at the moment.
“What a… charming little place you have here,” he observed, and you knew just from his tone and delivery that he didn’t mean it as a compliment.
He meant for it to be condescending–to insult you and your business and put you in your place–but it had quite the opposite effect. Instead, it had you firing off your sassy response before you could think better of it–or realize just how closely Ari was watching you, awaiting your reaction like a teacher surveying their student’s progress.
“Certainly more charming than illegal activity and shady business associates,” you smiled beatifically, meeting Andy’s suddenly steely gaze without flinching. “But what’s a little murder and mayhem, as long as you don’t get caught, right?”
“Careful, neighbor,” Andy tutted, but his lips were curled in amusement, his eyes flickering with a hint of respect as he watched you.
For some reason, you got the sense that Andy wasn’t used to people mouthing off to him, that it was a rare novelty in fact, and he was actually enjoying it as you death stared him and tried to turn him away from your doorstep.
Him.
“We’ll stay for lunch,” he decided instead, stepping past you and picking the empty table of his choice without waiting for your response.
“You need a reservation,” you huffed, spinning on your heel and storming after him.
And, okay, while you did appreciate reservations, especially for larger parties, you never actually turned anyone away.
But today, for him—for both of them—it was an exception that you were willing to make.
“As luck would have it,” Andy hummed, reaching into the inner pocket of his suit jacket. “I have my reservation right here.” He pulled out his wallet, flipping it open and plucking out a few crisp hundred dollar bills before tossing them on the edge of the table in front of you.
Which only made you seethe more.
“I don’t want your blood money,” you whisper!hissed, aware of the two small parties across the room, enjoying their high tea service.
“Don’t worry, sweetie,” Andy smirked at the way your nose wrinkled at the pet name. “I left my blood money wallet at home today. That’s legit and legal revenue.”
Clenching your hands into fists at your sides, you were just about to tell Andy where he could shove his legal revenue when you suddenly felt a searing heat at your back.
“Be nice, trouble,” Ari murmured against your ear, his big hands falling to your hips and giving a warning squeeze that had you gasping and your body instantly lighting up at his touch. “Or else.”
You spun around, smacking his hands away from you before trying to shove him out of your space. “I am at work! Maybe that aspect of your life isn’t important to you, but to me, it means everything, and I don’t need you pawing me in public, asshole.”
Andy’s bark of laughter surprised both you and Ari, and it also gave you a reason to look away from the scary displeased look Ari was aiming your way.
“And here I thought she’d be cowed and welcoming after your visit the other night,” Andy smirked, plucking one of the fancy linen napkins from the table and arranging it over his lap. “Seems like you have some more work to do, Levinson.”
“Seems like.” Ari gritted, giving you a look so dark it had a chill racing up your spine as he shifted past you and sat in the seat across from Andy.
For a moment, you were frozen, both from their combined audacity, and that look Ari had given you–a look that conveyed you were in deep shit and had your stomach sinking with regret.
Which is why you could only stare at them dumbly for a beat–these two big, scary mobsters who were sitting in the middle of your cute, cozy tea shop bookstore, looking so painfully out of place that it was almost funny.
Almost.
Thankfully, the thick tension in the air was alleviated as one of your servers who tended to this section bounded over, looking excited to have a table to wait on. You forced a smile to mirror her own, stiffly nodding as she asked if these gentlemen were ready to be served.
“Yeah, sure, whatever,” you muttered, ignoring the watchful stares of Andy and Ari as you turned on your heel, intending to stalk away.
And maybe hide in your office until they were blessedly gone.
But the sound of Ari’s gravelly voice gave you pause, his words making your insides somehow wilt and flutter at the same time as he promised, “See you soon, trouble.”
Feeling your mouth go dry, you didn’t respond, didn’t even look at him, but you did low key hate yourself as you all but scurried away.
Desperate to be away from Ari and his boss, you cleared the main floor in record time before ducking down the back hallway. Once you were in your office, with the door shut tight behind you–and locked for good measure–you felt only the tiniest bit of relief.
Taking a deep, shaky breath, you sank back against the door, trying to get your rapid heart rate under control. As you felt anxiety–and something else, something that felt very much like anticipation–buzz along every inch of your body, you purposefully kept your gaze away from the small, worn sofa where all of this had started.
And you tried like hell to shove down all the sinful, shameful memories of Ari that just the mere thought of it conjured in your frazzled mind.
Raise your hand if you’re still in enforcer!Ari’s chokehold 🙋🏻♀️
—
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Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh boy. I am nervous for her. Not only has she stood her ground, but she's also embarrassed Ari in front of his boss and that seems like it could be a deadly mistake. I can only imagine what he has planned. She should be very afraid.
I, however, from the safety of my own home, cannot wait to see what he has planned! I know it's going to be so so good. 😵💫🤤🫠
And Andy!!!! I want to know so much more about him! The stature, the luxury, the condescension. 😩🫦 I'll take twelve please. To go.
And I really loved the dynamic between all three of them. I'm honestly a little surprised that all that tension didn't lead to something spontaneously combusting and sending that whole sweet little shop up in flames. 🥵
I really loved this Siri. I can't wait to learn more about this universe!!
Okay, I was hoping to get one more of these stories up tonight, but then a transformer blew right outside my building and now the power's out. So no wifi to post from my computer where half the draft currently resides. 😫
But I'll continue to work on these tomorrow. And prompts for this game are officially closed because you guys are amazing and sent so many!! I'm so happy I wasn't the only one feeling the need for a little poly today. 💜
I wouldn't put it past him to find out the details on his own and then just show up without warning. 😬 And then he introduces himself to your grandma as your boyfriend. 😅
You sat at the table as you watched Cole pace around the farmhouse kitchen. "This is a mistake," he said, as he took another lap around the island. "We're making a mistake."
"Cole," you tried cautiously. You felt like you were trying not to spook a baby animal. "You said you really like him. We both did."
"Yeah, I–" he paused his circuit and started wringing his hands together in front of him. "Maybe this is too fast."
"Curtis is just coming over to talk. That's all. Just talking. To make sure that we're all on the same page before anything else happens."
Cole nodded. Then again. And again. He was so cute when he was nervous.
"What exactly are you so worried about?" you asked gently.
Cole took a deep breath and looked away. "I don't– There will be three people here and, and three people's things. Do you think this house is big enough? And we'll have to get more groceries. We'll have to get more of everything. And a bigger bed!" He was talking and breathing so fast now that you were a little worried he was going to hyperventilate. "And I'm not sharing my jam!" he finished, throwing his hands in the air.
You got up then, approaching him carefully. When he didn't object, you put your arms around him. "Baby, you're getting ahead of yourself. No one's moving in today. Today is just for talking. To figure out what all three of us want. How we want this to move forward. And if any one of us isn't feeling it, then that's fine. It's done. Okay? Today is just about figuring out what we're all comfortable with."
Cole relaxed in your arms, letting out a deep breath. "Yeah," he sighed. "Okay. Sorry."
"Nothing to be sorry for," you murmured in his ear as you soothingly carded your fingers through his hair.
And then the doorbell rang.
You grinned as you both looked up. "You ready?" you asked.
He still looked nervous, but you believed his smile. "Yeah," he said, his voice much steadier now. "Let's go talk to Curtis."
Steve lifted your shirt above your head and was just about to pull it off when Lloyd cleared his throat from the bed. “Who said you could do that?”
Steve froze, so you tossed your own shirt off with a huff. "Lloyd, this is why we invited him over!"
Lloyd tilted his head to the side, running two fingers over his mustache. "I invited him over," he replied, voice low, "because someone kept getting dripping wet every time they watched the boy scout mowing his lawn, and apparently, 'We have such nice conversations, too, Lloyd. I really like him.' And since I'd do anything to make you happy, Sunshine, here he is." He leaned forward, and you felt Steve fidgeting nervously beside you. But you weren't nervous at all. You knew the fun was just about to start. "But that doesn't mean this isn't still my show. So the two of you are going to go at the pace that I set. For my entertainment. And then, if we all have a good time, we'll talk about what happens after. Understood?"
You were already nodding excitedly when Steve cut a questioning glance to you, the sweetheart checking to make sure that you were okay with this even after everything that had already happened. At your answering grin, you watched his eyes cut to Lloyd's obvious erection in his boxer briefs. And then, finaly, you got to see one of Steve's boyish grins. God, he was so cute.
"Whatever you say, Sir," Steve answered, loud and clear. And you could feel the way both you and Lloyd fell for him a little bit more.
You would have been squirming on the bench if you'd had any room to move. Curtis stood over you, looking down appraisingly as he absently ran a finger down your arm, leaving goosebumps in it's wake.
He tilted his head to the side as he addressed Steve, tightening a knot around your ankle. "I'd add more rope."
Steve looked up at him, his clear blue eyes catching the light. "You think?" he asked, running a critical eye over your body and the work he'd already done there.
"Mhmm," Curtis nodded, then placed a gentle hand over your bare stomach. Your breath hitched at his touch. But you'd been ordered to be quiet, so you tried your best not to make a sound. "Right here. You've left too much of this beautiful canvas empty."
Steve hummed in thought. "More of the blue, do you think?" he asked. You started to zone out as your Doms continued discussing you like you weren't even there, sinking deeper into the warm fuzzy space where thoughts slowed down and there was only sensation.
You weren't sure how much time had passed when Steve reached out a hand to cup Curtis's cheek, pulling him into a filthy kiss. You couldn't stop the moan that escaped your lips. That got both of their attention, dirty smirks appearing on both of their faces.
"Sweet little toy," Steve said, voice desceptively gentle, as he took a few steps back towards your head. "I thought we told you to be quiet."
You were about halfway through laying checkered tablecloths on the many folding tables arrayed across your backyard when Lloyd came out with another armful of chairs. "It's too fucking hot for this," he grumbled as he came to a stop next to you. "Why'd I agree to help?"
You rolled your eyes good-naturedly. You were too used to his grumbling. "Because you're a caring partner who understands how important this is to him."
He dramatically rolled his eyes right back. "I thought being non-monogamous was supposed to get me out of all this picket fence bullshit," he complained snidely as he still continued to neatly set the chairs around the table.
"Come on," you stopped him, pulling on his arm so he'd look at you. "You know how much all this stereotypical suburban dad stuff means to Andy. It's really important to him that we're accepted into our new neighborhood and he's expressing that by throwing a barbecue."
"I don't give a shit if these squares accept us," he mumbled as he wrapped his arms around you and nosed along your neck.
You couldn't help but grin. "Yeah, I can't say that I really do either. But he does. And we're going to support him and make sure this goes off without a hitch."
"Fine," he sighed, "but he's gonna owe us tonight." His tone turned lascivious as he wiggled his eyebrows at you with a smirk.
You were still laughing, the tablecloths forgotten as the man in question came rushing out with a large tray of meat. "People are going to start coming over any minute now, and I haven't even started the grill!" he worried.
You stepped forward to try to calm him down, but Lloyd beat you to it. "Settle down, cupcake," he said warmly, both hands on Andy's shoulders. "We'll get the grill going. Get yourself a beer. This is supposed to be fun, right?"
Your heart warmed as you watched Andy sag into him with a quiet "Yeah, you're right." The three of you might be a relationship no one expected to work, but you wouldn't trade your two idiots for anything.
