#I'm fighting for my fucking life out on these city streets

[buzz-kill]

On all levels except romantic I am able to connect other human beings.

[castielsprostate]

uhm anyway this is my official script outline proposal for venom vs spiderfriend / spiderman 4 / venom 4 !

cockroach!venom is travelling to new york all by himself (the the barman is there too because it's just really funny) while we follow eddie having thee worst day he's ever had. he stubs his toe getting out of bed in the morning, his coffee order is wrong and spills on his shirt, he drops his laptop on the concrete, he loses every lead he had on an investigation, a bird shits on his shoulder, it starts to rain and he doesn't have an umbrella, he gets hit by a street puddle a cab drives through, a fling he's "trying" breaks everything off over text message (gender ambiguous), and then when he's crossing the street he gets fucking BODIED by a truck. he gets rushed to the hospital, barely alive, major trauma, broken bones, brain bleed, cardiac arrest, and before he goes he says, "see you soon, buddy," whilst clutching his lady liberty keychain in his hands

cut to spiderman, doing spideythings on earth 616, swinging through the city of new york,

meanwhile, cock!venom is vroaching it up on the other side of the city, going from alley to alley, dodging cars and pedestrians, barely evading death, looking into windows searching for something, making tiny, whiny little alien sounds. he finds a tasty little treat (rat brains) in between and as he's about to munch spiderman's ass squashes him from falling through a marvel sparkles universe hole. venom attaches himself to spiderman and they are an absolute hate at first sight. by GOD does venom hate peter and does peter try to get rid of venom any and all opportunities! "YOU" "what me?" "YOU ARE THE RED BLUE MAN FROM TV" "well... yeah? i'm spiderman? can you get out of my body please??" venom does not, in fact, get out of his body, but they fight some alley bad guys, one calls spiderman an "uptight fruity" and venom goes ballistic. they fight together, badly, because neither of them is strong enough to control the other and then they fight each other before realising it's pointless. venom ends saying "don't let guys like that get you down, bug, sing your own song, dance to your own beat, it's what we do" to peter when they're done fighting and peter just goes ???

eddie is still dying in the hospital, medically induced coma, anne arrives with dan, they mourn him, getting told there's no chance of survival anymore. they're keeping him alive for mrs chen to say her goodbyes, and unhooking his life support in two days. capcut dream montage where he's raising a family together with venom, eddie says, "this is a life i like better,". that's normal behaviour

spideyvenom is being followed by some woodchippers, venom explains NOTHING to the spider man because they doesn't like the spider man. they have a day where they try to find out whats going on, barely working together, but good enough to find out some information. they have an alleycat fight and venom reveals that he's looking for someone "special to us" after coming all the way from nevada, and peter goes "ah.. mr venom, she must be important to you for you to travel all this way, huh?" "yes, insect... he is important to us" and spiderman goes O.O and then tries to help but no one's heard of an "eddie brock". the city, in the meantime, becomes jittery and weird, and something big is coming. something big and wrong. they go on a venom bender and meet the barman in an underground (gay) club in nyc and have a fun (for venom. terrible for spidey and the barman) night out

eddie is dying, slowly, in the hospital, unresponsive to everyone and everything. mrs chen says a tearful goodbye, leaving a bar of chocolate on his bedside table, anne stays with eddie whilst dan goes with mrs chen to get some food. she holds his hand, cries, maybe. she says, through tears,"i wish he could've protected you longer"

spideyvenom are doing what they can to protect people (venom eats a few of them), swinging through the city when more marvel sparkles appear. by god. that's a lot of fucking marvel sparkles. that's. that's too many marvel sparkles. the sky opens up, there really isn't a lot of time left, the something big, something wrong is here.

swinging through new york, spideyman is listing off everything that's going very, very wrong, trying to evacuate as many people, when venom spots eddie, barely, through a top floor hospital window. in reality he actually spots anne, throwing everything on a hail mary, and decides to crash them into the hospital window. anne ducks to protect eddie, spiderman takes off his mask in anger, "mr venom what the hell??? we HAVE to go, NOW,". venom rejects himself from spiderman, launching him out of the window, and jumping onto eddie, trying to be absorbed, "eddie?... eddie... eddie.. eddie. eddie eddie eddie eddie eddie eddie eddie eddie eddie!! eddie!!! eddie!!!! eddie!!!!! eddie!!!!!!! eddie!!!!!!!!!! eddie!!!!!!!!!!!!! EDDIE!!!!!!!!!!!!,"

venom goes to anne, looking at eddie, "why isn't our other waking up? what is wrong with our eddie, anne?". "venom, i'm so sorry."

so venom, without thinking, without any hold back, makes anne perform cpr, just enough to flow into eddie. just. barely. enough. and he brings eddie back again, slamming him back into life, waking up another codex in the process, but he doesn't care. because their eddie is back, and eddie is waking up.

eddie says, whilst reaching up to his chest, "hey buddy, i just had the-," "weirdest dream, eddie,"

silence, for a moment, the camera is only focused on them sitting in eddie's glass covered hospital bed before,

"am i dead? are we dead? is this it?" "no, eddie, we are alive," and eddie presses their foreheads together, gently, with no urgency. just relief. eddie gripping the back of venom's goop, entangling his fingers, wanting to feel venom engulf him again. the moment is cut short by spiderman jumping through ANOTHER window "what in the hell are you doing mr. venom??? we have to clear the city, now, we don't have any time for this"

freaked out, a little soggy, eddie says, "venom, that's th-the-the peter guy from tv from the the purple man universe" "yes eddie, we do not like him," "why is the peter guy from tv in here, why does he know who we are,"

spiderman goes ???, eddie braces himself for a fight, gripping venom tighter, he isn't going to lose him again so soon, "listen sweetie, we aren't going anywhere," whilst gesturing to him and venom, "what is going on here?"

something rumbles the ground, anne yelps, spiderman is up and out another window, "no time, gotta swing, we need to evacuate the city,"

eddie is up, getting anne to safety, she says "don't let him go, venom," before venom is filling him in on everything that happened and being shot into battle in his hospital gown. they full body, venom seeps into every part of eddie, impossibly further than any time before, and eddie lets him in

"we have a new tattoo, eddie?" "got it a while back, it's the," "codex?" "codex,"

they save a few people on their way down, venom eats a few bad guys, "you got a new tattoo, too, huh bud?" "it looks cool on us" they find spiderman and, despite their mutual dislike, team up and [epic battle here]. cool co-ops with veddie launching spiderman, spiderman webbing bad guys like a little burrito for venom to eat, eddie does a few kickflips and gets launched by spiderman to get some up-top threats. and the threat isn't clear, it's not knull, it's not more xenophages, it's something neither of them has seen before, and it just keeps coming... until the sky clears up in an instant. like it was snapped away, and spiderman is marvel sparkled back before any of them know what's happening, "mr venom??" "insect! see you never"

half of the city is destroyed (in true marvel hero style), venom and eddie have to get out of there quickly before anyone gets a too good look.

the final scene of venom and eddie is them sitting in central park, debris magically cleaned up, venom safely tucked in eddie's shirt saying some venom-y nonsense and alien purring, two new chickens who they named roan and gaga pecking away by their feet, looking off into the sunset. eddie whispers, "but i like any life with us best," and venom intertwines their hands

spiderman gets marvelsparkled back into the mcu, having the wildest story to tell, and having so so so many questions, with having none answered because it's Doom's Day.

[finalgirllx]

mattheo riddle | coffee shop drabble just some fluff with mattheo outside of his typical setting. been in my drafts for a while but the 500 mg of caffeine i’ve had today inspired me to finish it. 1.1k words | f!reader

After spending most of your morning strolling through densely populated city streets, you and your boyfriend Mattheo longed for a short break. You found yourselves entering an equally busy coffee shop; despite all of the action, you sighed in relief as the inside brought a coziness that the foggy spring weather had not granted. Your moment of peace was swiftly interrupted when the comforting air was punctured by a spiteful “Fucking London," muttered by Mattheo.

"Hey, remember what I said, to speak respectfully of muggle life,” you firmly reminded him, prompting Mattheo to roll his eyes.

"I'm just commenting on their ridiculous practices. Imagine living without a few charms to speed up their queues or possessing knowledge of hexes for unruly patrons. Some of these raggedy muggle men clearly have a death wish, eyeing you up," Mattheo explained, his voice heating up slightly as an air of jealousy spiked through him, earning a swift hush from you.

"Enough of that. Firstly, pay no mind to the muggle men; we're not leaving this cafe with an assault charge. And you can't simply overlook every aspect of their world, Matty," you told him. "We're gonna have to stop here sometimes. And let's not forget, you've already strayed from your 'hardened Slytherin principles' by being involved with a half-blood," you added, arching a stern brow. A faint blush tinged Mattheo's cheeks with the reminder of your blood status. He knew he had messed up slightly. "Feeling less judgmental now, are we?" you questioned with a pleased smirk before gesturing towards the lengthy queue of customers. "Come on, go get in line."

Mattheo shot you one last sour glance before standing up, planting a guilty kiss on your forehead, and apologetically joining the queue.

As the aroma of coffee grounds filled your senses and the chatter turned to white noise, you observed Mattheo as he waited. He was constantly fidgeting with his fingers and casting wary glances around, his discomfort for something so foreign to him obvious. It was jarring seeing Mattheo in a new context. Because of your relationship, sometimes you were oblivious to the fact that others found him a bit terrifying.

For one thing, Mattheo constantly exuded a dark allure. His deep brown eyes seemed to penetrate whatever they landed on. His tousled dark curls, erring on the longer end, failed to conceal most of the scars on his face. The most prominent one that lined the bridge of his nose left him looking jaded, with bystanders unaware of how often you placed kisses over it. Despite not being exceptionally tall, his muscular frame hinted at his physical strength. And then there were his scarred hands, roughened up by his often excessive fights, some appearing as if they could have happened as recently as the day prior (and to be fair, you're not sure what he had been up to the times you weren't with him). Even his all-black outfit served to highlight the rest. The subtle paces the muggles strayed away from him in the queue confirmed your suspicions that Mattheo stood out for reasons beyond magic.

Of course, you adored him. To you, he was simply your handsome boyfriend, with scars and poor choices of wording and all.

After a few moments of growing boredom, you made the decision to move from your saved table to join Mattheo in line. Lost in his thoughts (probably something like asking himself how he ended up here), it took you nudging his side for him to notice. He looked at you, the pointed glare he had been directing at everything else softening, but the tenderness was short-lived as he soon became mischievous.

"A tad antsy, are we?" he teased arrogantly, "Have you forgiven me yet?"

"You did offend me back there, so I'm keeping you on a tight leash for the rest of the day." You snuck a hand around his upper arm, emphasizing your point. He smirked and took the excuse to wrap his hand around your waist in a sweet but possessive hold.

"So, what is the lady ordering?" Mattheo asked with a light squeeze to your side.

"I think I'll go for the iced latte," you remarked while perusing the menu. Mattheo snorted, a cocky smirk gracing his lips.

"Don't tell me you also judge others for their coffee," you cautioned, letting him know he was getting on your last nerve.

"Oh please, black coffee being the better drink is just factual."

"Enough of that," you snapped. "You're pushing it today. And I'm not sure how much I trust you, with your entire diet consisting of coffee and cigarettes. Which, speaking of, is a habit we need to break you out of," you continued with your irritated lecture.

"Hey, I'm not on my deathbed," he cut off your tangent, feigning offense with a defiant scoff.

After what felt like an eternity, you reached the front of the line, and Mattheo watched as you placed your order. He offered to pay, a gentlemanly gesture that was most likely to make up for the half-blood comment, to which you accepted. After solving a slight delay caused by confusion over muggle versus wizarding money (Mattheo handing the polite employee galleons, to everyone's surprise), your drinks were finally being prepared.

"It serves you right," you remarked. “Keep insulting your lady, and you'll be paying forever."

"Don't worry; I planned on doing that anyway."

You picked up your drinks and Mattheo pulled off the lid to blow on his to cool it down, prompting you to giggle at his actions.

"How's that scorching black coffee for you?" you asked teasingly, looking a bit too pleased at the sight. He pouted slightly before upping the attitude, warning you to watch your tongue.

Once again, without a clue about his surroundings, Mattheo attempted to cool his drink with a freezing charm. You quickly stopped to remind him that fingertips don't typically summon ice in the muggle world. He gave you a scornful look but complied, waiting patiently instead for his prized black coffee.

Waiting a few more minutes before heading out to brave the lousy weather, you couldn't resist checking out your boyfriend again. You had to admit that Mattheo's intimidating look, paired with a drink in hand, was especially attractive. Everything about him just worked for you, and you pulled some corny comment about him looking hotter than the drink, eliciting a groan from him to hide his amusement.

Now fastened with liquid energy to get you through the rest of the day, you left the cafe side by side, the bickering never ceasing.

[archangeldyke-all]

prologue to the next ao3 fic i'm writing! it's childhood friends to enemies (to lovers) with sevika! hope you enjoy <33

30 years ago

Sevika trudges through the streets, kicking a rock along as she goes. Being ten fucking sucks. 

At the time, Sevika always thought that six would be the worst year of her life. That was the year her mom died. It was also the year her dad started drinking. But now she’s older and wiser; finally big enough to work in the mines: and Sevika’s beginning to suspect that life just gets worse and worse until you’re lucky enough to die.

Seven was worse than six. Seven was when Sevika learned that if she was going to steal and scam to feed herself, she was also going to have to fight. Sevika got her nose broken four times when she was seven. 

Eight was when she got tall and smart enough for her dad to feel threatened by her. It was the first time her nose had ever been broken by him.

And nine was when her childhood cat died. She found poor little Ladybug in the back corner of her dad’s closet, cold and stiff, curled up on top of her mom’s favorite red poncho. 

But even in those years Sevika wasn’t constantly sore, and her feet weren’t always blistered and bleeding, and she wasn’t coughing up dust all the time. 

And now she is. For less than a hundred bucks a week. 

Still. She has found one nice thing about being ten. 

“Sevika!” You squeal as you sprint up to your best friend’s side. Sevika tries to bite back her smile. She’s pretty sure she succeeds. 

“Easy.” She grunts as you launch yourself into her arms. You’re clinging around her waist, uncaring of the fact that she’s covered in soot. When you pull away to grin up at her, your cheek is smeared in black dust. Sevika chuckles and wipes it clean for you. “Hey, Honeybun.” She greets. The nickname makes your smile impossibly wider. 

“How were the mines today?” You ask as you haul your old flour bag over your shoulder. You’re so tiny, still only seven, and the bag is half your size. Sevika sighs, easily lifting it out of your grasp and hitching it over her shoulder for you. 

“Eh. You know.” She shrugs, trying to act tough, like she wasn’t just on the verge of tears from exhaustion. “How’s your Gramps?” She asks. You shrug, digging around in the little satchel you keep slung over your side. 

“He says to say hi to you. He said if I sell all these buns I can take five dollars of the profits.” You gesture to the bag hanging off Sevika’s shoulder. “Wanna help? We can use the money we earn to get some spicy slugs from Jericho’s!” You offer. Sevika grins. She’d say yes even if you weren’t buying her food. 

“I got nothin’ better to do.” She says cooly as you pull a bundle of fabric out of your bag. You unravel the scrap, and Sevika knows what’s wrapped in it before you can even unveil it. She can smell the cinnamon. You reveal the pastry to her with a grin, and her belly growls. Sevika briefly wonders if the sound is from her hunger, or if it's from the bugs that always seem to be crawling around in her stomach when she’s with you. She snatches the treat out of your grip and tears into it, trying to distract herself from the fuzzy feeling in her chest. “Cinna-roll for my Cinna-Sev.” You sing-song. Sevika rolls her eyes, nudging you with her elbow and huffing an embarrassed laugh. 

“Fuck off.”

She follows you blindly, letting you lead her up the winding streets of the Undercity and toward the docks. You’ve got a few spots around the city you frequently visit to sell baked goods, and judging by the way sailors are grinning and waving at you, this is one of them. 

“Bread girl!” A woman hauling a net full of fish off a boat calls. You giggle and wave at her. 

This has been the best part of Sevika’s days as of late: passing out bread to strangers with one hand, snacking on treats with the other,  as you exchange and count coins and loafs with your adoring customers. 

Sevika first bumped into you three days into starting work at the mines. You came down to pass out rolls to the miners dismissed at lunch time, and a few teenagers were giving you trouble. Two of them were throwing your bag of rolls over your head in a cruel game of keep away, while the third teen was snooping through the little coin purse you’d dropped. You were pathetic, and clearly about to be robbed blind, and Sevika was tired. But… She couldn’t help herself, and she stepped in to defend you.

You both ended up getting beaten to a pulp, and you still got robbed; but she earned your friendship. 

You’ve been there to pick her up from work when she gets off every day since then. She gets teased endlessly for it. She’s ten, and you’re only seven. All the kids she works with want to know what she’s doing with a baby like you. But those kids haven’t tasted your grandpa’s treats. And they’ve never made her laugh like you do. 

Sevika watches you work with a small smile. She wonders if you know how cute you are and play it up to sell more buns, or if it’s really just you. Bugs start crawling around in her stomach again, and Sevika tears her eyes away from you, looking up at the sky instead. 

It’s rare that she ever gets to see so much sky. Down in the Undercity, the sky is sliced into thin slivers, only visible from the right angles. Up here you can’t escape it. The sun’s starting its slow descent, and the blue sky’s turning a sweet yellow. A storm’s brewing in the west, dark clouds starting to cover the very edge of the horizon. 

In the river, the dock starts to fill up with fishermen and tug boats docking for the night. The swell of sailors and seamen quickly buy up all your buns, but you’re in no rush to leave the docks, and Sevika’s never in a rush to get home. 

So, she kicks off her shoes and socks and rolls her pants up, sitting beside you at the end of the dock, both of your feet gently kicking your feet in the river below. You’re counting your earnings on your lap, and Sevika watches with a cringe as coins start to slide off your legs and toward the water below. She reaches out and catches a few. “Thanks Sev.” You giggle, reaching for the coins and putting them in your satchel. You snap your bag closed then sigh, leaning over to rest your head on her shoulder. Sevika freezes for a second, and then she rests her head on top of yours. 

“How’s your dad?” You ask. Sevika swallows the lump in her throat. She’s never talked about him with you… or anyone, really. But you seem to know anyway. 

“Eh. Fine.” She shrugs. You kick her ankle in the water, and a tear falls down her cheek. It's quiet as both of you allow the lie to be true for a while.

“Do you wanna run away to my house? Gramps won’ mind. Y’know he loves you.” You whisper. Sevika’s heart swells, and she wraps her arm around your shoulders and pulls you to her chest, hiding her tears from you by kissing the top of your head. You’re so young. Nothing’s hurt you yet. Sometimes, Sevika scares herself thinking of all the things she’d do to keep you safe.

“I’m alright, Honeybun. You don’ gotta worry about me.” She whispers. 

Across the bay two men chat, waist deep in the water and clinking bottles of ale together as they bait their fishing hooks. You and Sevika watch the pair for a while, one broad tall man, one skinny and short. They seem to be in a deep conversation, and occasionally their laughs will carry across the river to reach the two of you. 

“They’re not gonna catch anything. Storm’s comin’ in, the fish’re all hiding.” Sevika says. 

“You’re full'a shit.” You giggle.

“‘M tellin’ Gramps you’re cursing.” Sevika threatens. You jam your elbow into her side, and Sevika cackles. “C’mon, let’s go to Jericho’s before it starts raining.” She says once she catches her breath. 

Before either of you can rise, shouts float across the water. The fishing friends have started fighting with one another, their rods forgotten as they shout, splash and tussle. “Are they… playing?” You ask.

Sevika studies the scene. An animalistic roar floats across the bay, and the big man shoves the skinny guy's head underwater. Her stomach drops and she springs to her feet, gathering your shoes and trying to tug you away as quickly as she can. “We need to get outta here.” 

“Sev.” You whimper, pointing. Sevika’s eyes catch on what’s got you scared: a growing splotch of red staining the water where skinny arms are flailing and clawing at the hulking figure holding him down.

“C’mon, Honeybun.” She grunts, trying to pull you away from the docks. The sky opens up, the first drops of the storm starting to fall.

“S-Stop!” You squeal. Sevika lets go, worried she’s hurt you, but when you fall to your knees and start screaming across the river Sevika’s heart shatters in her chest. “You’re hurting him! Y-you’re gonna k-kill him!” Your screams are ignored, carried away by a strong gust of wind before they can reach the other side of the bay. Sevika’s tugs on your arm cease, she collapses to her knees beside you.

“Honey, let’s go home.” She begs, her voice wobbling as her hands try to guide your face away from the scene ahead of you. Your eyes keep darting between hers and the fight where the skinny man has stopped struggling completely. The surface of the river is still beside the small echoing rings of raindrops falling. 

“S-S-Sevika--” You cry as you lean forward, burying your face against her chest. A crack of lightning flashes in the sky. Sevika puts her hands under your armpits and hauls you up, keeping you tucked against her as she drags the two of you as far away from the docks as she can.

Right before she ducks around the corner, a clap of thunder booms, and a skinny arm bearing a knife breaches the water.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @realgreeniebeanie @k3n-dyll

@sevsdollette @ellieslob

[wholoveseggs]

next parrtttttt plzZzzzzzZZZZZzzz of gardener

The Gardener {Part Four}

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Part Four

Things come to a head when you decide to confront the Mikaelsons, before your magic consumes you.

♡♡ Sorry for the slow progress on this one! I hope ya'll enjoy the ending! ♡♡

6.4k words - Warnings: little bit of smut, lots of violence, Klaus being Klaus, more brother fighting, Elijah down bad, lots of magical hijinks and lots of death..????...

{Part One}{Part Two}{Part Three}

@gorgeouslydangerous @starkleila @lydia1369sworld @notleylaaa @vampiresluv

@myanmy @xflowerbombxo @maryvibess @always-and-forever-daydreaming

@spnaquakindgdom @amournoir @meeom @damienmorton@wickedmuse

@cs-please @complicatedandconfusing-25 @youcanhavemybuckanyday @akala6670229 @yeaiamme2

@itsjulzandmydiamonds @spideysbabe @witch-of-letters @elijahstwink @rosecentury

@amanda08319 @starshipcookie @li-da-savage @veggie-eggrolls @spideybv28

@sunkissedebony97 @idk00sblog @savannaounana @sekaishell @b1tchy

@loving-and-dreaming @fancycassie-stayfancy @hcqwxrtss123 @iamawkwardandshy @ziayamikaelson

@absolutemarveltrash @darkened-writer @nina6708 @evasmlp @sweetieseven

The building was a ruin, a pile of rubble, and the ground was covered in vines and roots, spreading out and delving deep into the ground. The street was cracked and broken, and the air was thick with the smell of death and decay.

Wolves, witches and any other enemy to the vampires were clambering over the ruins, hacking away at the wood, taking whatever they could.

Maeve was giddy, stumbling around cheering and encouraging the rabble. You watched her hack off a smaller branch and start whittling at it with a dagger, laughing and dancing around.

"Take as much as you can! Don't stop!" She shouted, a feral grin on her face.

She handed off her newly made stake to one of the wolves, who looked at it, confused.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" He asked, his brow furrowing.

"Stab a fucking vampire!" She yelled, and then turned back to her task, snapping off another branch.

You were watching from afar, sitting on the curb, your mind still reeling. You couldn't believe it. They were all gone.

Agnes, Beatrice, Ava, Liza, the coven, all of your friends, gone. But you could still feel their magic inside you, their essence lingering. It made you sick, the way it made you feel powerful, but it also filled you with guilt.

"This is the best day of my life," Maeve said, skipping over to you, her arms laden with branches.

"Really?" You asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh yes, definitely," she said, dropping her load on the ground, her eyes alight with joy, "it's not every day that you destroy a thousand year old evil and become a god."

"You're not a god," you said, shaking your head.

"Oh but I am," she said, her smile growing, "and so are you! Can't you feel it? The power, the energy, the magic, it's all ours now, the city is ours!"

She was practically vibrating with excitement, and you couldn't help but smile.

"It is pretty amazing," you admitted, looking up at the giant tree, "but I can't believe they're all gone."

Maeve's expression grew somber and she sat down next to you, wrapping her arm around your shoulders.

"I know," she said, squeezing you close, "but it's okay. We all knew the risks, and we all did this together. They'll be watching over us, guiding us."

You nodded, sniffling and wiping the tears from your face.

"I didn't think I would make it, honestly," she said, letting out a soft laugh, "I was so sure I was gonna die, I didn't think I was strong enough, or smart enough. But I did, and I'm here, and now, we're gonna win."

You looked at her, a smile tugging at your lips, and then a werewolf jumped onto the curb, brandishing his new stake.

"I dedicate this stake to Klaus Mikaelson! The great abomination!" He bellowed, and the crowd of vengeful rabble cheered, pumping their fists and screaming. "I shall sink it into his heart and watch the life drain from his eyes!”

The group erupted into roars and cheers, and the werewolf ran off, the crowd following him, chanting and howling.

"That werewolf is too stupid to realize he's dead already," Maeve said, shaking her head.

"Then why give them the stakes?" You asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Because they need to feel useful," she said, shrugging. "And maybe there is a chance, like throwing a bunch of darts at a dart board. Who knows? Maybe one will hit the bullseye."

"Maybe," you said, staring up at the giant tree. "It's up to us though, isn't it? To finish this, to kill Klaus."

"Yep," Maeve said, smiling. "Then the rest of them… Including Elijah....," she trailed off, giving you a sideways glance.

"Yes, Maeve," you said, rolling your eyes, "I know."

"Do you?" She asked, her tone growing serious.

"Yes, and I'm fine. I don't- ....I won't let my feelings cloud my judgment," you said, holding her gaze.

"They died for this, Agnes, sweet Bea...," her eyes welled up with tears, "they gave their lives for this. I need to know, if it comes down to him or us, which will you choose?"

You hesitated, her words hitting you like a ton of bricks. You looked away, trying to avoid her stare, but she grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at her.

"Choose."

"I will choose freedom from oppression always," you said, your voice low. "Even if it means killing him."

She studied your face, searching for any hint of a lie, and then nodded, letting go of your chin.

"I know we've never exactly been close... But it's just us, you and me now," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, "I've got your back, and you've got mine. Right?"

"Right."

She smiled and stood up, stumbling a little as she dusted herself off, looking around at the wreckage and all the people grabbing branches and chunks of wood.

"We don't have long, I don't think we can hold this magic forever. Not if we want to live," she said, turning back to you. "That means we have to go now," she nodded towards the tree.

"Now? Like right now?" You asked, surprised.

"Yeah, why not?" She said, shrugging, "we're going up against the biggest, baddest, most powerful vampire ever, the element of surprise is the only advantage we have. So, let's use it."

"I just thought, I don't know, we would have more time," you said, running your fingers through your hair.

"More time for what? More time for us to lose our nerve? To think about certain suit wearing obstacles? We gotta act now, while we can," she said, the corners of her mouth turning up slightly.

You sighed, knowing she was right, knowing that there was no point in thinking about anything else. You couldn't save him, you had sacrificed too much for this already, it had to be worth it.

You stood up, giving her a small nod.

"Alright, let's do this."

The city was under siege, the French Quarter on fire. Werewolves had returned to the streets, attacking vampires left and right, their stakes at the ready. Witches were casting spells, creating traps and ambushes, luring vampires into their clutches.

It was chaos, the kind that Klaus usually relished, but this was different. This wasn't fun. He was being hunted, and he could feel the rage bubbling beneath the surface, the urge to destroy everything in his path.

“Niklaus!" Elijah's voice cut through the noise, and Klaus turned to see his brother rushing towards the entrance to the compound.

Marcel stumbled inside, covered in blood, a werewolf bite on his neck and a stake sticking out of his back. Elijah caught him, helping him to his feet.

"What the bloody hell is going on out there?" Klaus demanded, grabbing Marcel's shoulders and shaking him.

"Witches," Marcel said, gasping for air, the werewolf venom burning through his veins.

Elijah pulled the stake out of Marcel's back, guiding him to a sofa. Klaus watched them, his eyes narrowed.

"Witches are causing this?" He asked, his anger growing, "they're the ones responsible for the chaos in the Quarter?"

"Not just the Quarter, the whole city," Marcel said, wincing.

Klaus let out a sigh and bit down on his wrist, offering his blood to Marcel. Marcel hesitated, his eyes meeting Klaus'.

"Just take it, Marcel," Klaus said, his patience waning.

Marcel took Klaus' wrist, drinking the blood. The wound healed and the venom was neutralized, leaving Marcel weak and exhausted.

"What had made them so bold? Why now?" Klaus asked, pacing the room.

"Maybe it had something to do with this," Elijah said, his voice oddly quiet, and Klaus looked over at his brother, his gaze falling on the wooden stake.

"Is that?" He started to ask, but the words died on his lips.

"White oak," Elijah finished, holding it out to him.

Klaus stared at it, his expression completely blank, like his brain couldn't process what he was seeing.

"Impossible," he whispered, taking the stake.

"Apparently not," Elijah said, and Klaus could hear the fear in his voice.

"Where did this come from?" He asked, his hands shaking, he looked at Marcel, who was slowly getting up off the sofa.

"The wolves were the ones who attacked me," Marcel said, rubbing the spot where the stake had pierced him. "I killed a couple of them, but the rest fled. I think they are planning on attacking you,”

Klaus' eyes darkened and he stormed out of the room, the stake still in his hand. Elijah quickly chased after him, catching up to him before he exited the compound.

"Niklaus, wait," Elijah said, grabbing his brother's arm.

Klaus stopped and turned to face Elijah, his eyes filled with fury.

"They will pay for this," he growled, his grip tightening on the stake.

"There could be more out there," Elijah said, his eyes pleading, "we need to regroup, to plan, we cannot rush into this."

"You expect me to do nothing?" Klaus hissed, his anger rising. "You think I'll stand by and let my home burn? That I'll let these insolent fools threaten my family?"

"If they get to us, our sirelines go with us, you know that," Elijah said, his expression steely.

Klaus growled, his eyes flashing yellow, he hated feeling hopeless, stuck, weak.

"So what do you propose?" He spat, his words dripping with venom. "You want me to sit and wait for the axe to fall?"

"We need to stay here, let the vampires and werewolves handle each other," Elijah said, keeping his voice steady.

"It's not the wolves!" Klaus roared, pushing Elijah back, "it's the witches, they're the ones behind this."

"Niklaus," Elijah said, his voice soft, "how could they possibly-"

"I don't know!" Klaus yelled, throwing his arms in the air, his frustration and fear overwhelming him.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. His mind was racing, going a hundred miles an hour. He had to fix this, had to end this, he couldn't let anything happen to his family, his home.

Suddenly, it was like a light switch had flipped in his brain. His eyes widened and he turned to look at Elijah, his expression grim. He sped past him, up the stairs to the study, with Marcel and Elijah quickly following behind.

Klaus ripped the portrait off the wall and opened the safe, pulling out a small, wooden box. He held it in his hands, staring at it, his jaw clenching.

"What's that?" Marcel asked, his brow furrowing.

Klaus didn't respond, just opened it, and Elijah felt his blood run cold, his heart shatter. It was gone.

"Impossible," Elijah said, shaking his head.

Klaus threw the box across the room, the wood splintering, embedding into the wall. He was breathing heavily, his entire body was tense.

"I told you," he muttered, his hands clenched into fists. "I told you what she was... what she was capable of..."

Elijah stared at him, his heart sinking. He remembered the day that he had met you, the first time you had come to the compound. He remembered how beautiful you were, so soft and full of light. How could you possibly be capable of such a betrayal?

Klaus lunged at Elijah, his fist colliding with his jaw, and Elijah stumbled backwards. He recovered quickly, his own fists flying, striking Klaus across the face.

They brawled, punches and kicks being exchanged, and Elijah grabbed Klaus, throwing him into a table. They crashed to the floor, grappling and struggling.

"You have always been blinded by your feelings for her!" Klaus spat, his fangs bared, his face inches from Elijah's.

Marcel grabbed at him, trying to pull him off Elijah, but Klaus shrugged him off, pinning his brother to the ground.

"You fell for the oldest trick in the book! My noble brother, always willing to see the best in people, even when they're plotting against you," he snarled, his eyes flashing yellow, "how many times has it cost us, Elijah? How many times have we nearly died because of your stupid sentimentality?"

Elijah snarled, pushing Klaus back and landing a blow to his nose, knocking him to the ground. He pinned him down, his hands wrapped around Klaus' throat.

"You think I'm the fool?" Elijah growled, his grip tightening, "it was you who pushed the witches too far, you took away their hope, their freedom! You're the reason they're fighting back!"

Klaus grabbed the stake and jammed it into Elijah's neck, his eyes widening in shock. He pulled it out, and Elijah gasped, falling to the floor.

"Enough!" Marcel yelled, and he yanked the stake from Klaus' hand.

Klaus stood up, breathing heavily, staring down at his brother, his face filled with rage. Elijah coughed and sputtered, blood spilling from his mouth, the wound slowly healing.

"If we are going to survive this, we need to work together. Save the family drama for later," Marcel said, his voice hard.

Elijah stood up, wiping the blood from his face.

"He's right," he said, his voice hoarse.

"So, what do we do?" Marcel asked, glancing between the two brothers.

"We hunt them down," Klaus growled, his eyes filled with fury. "Those foul witches and their ilk."

"And then?" Elijah asked, his expression grave.

"We kill them all," Klaus said, his voice barely above a whisper, and the room grew quiet, the weight of his words hanging in the air. He looked at Elijah, his face filled with determination, "Every last one."

You made your way through the city, ducking into alleys and hiding whenever a vampire passed by. It was a bit odd to see the city so barren, the streets empty. You tried not to think about it, pushing away the memories of when they were thriving, full of vampires, witches and werewolves alike.

You didn't talk much, keeping quiet to avoid drawing attention to yourselves. But Maeve pointed to the trees and grass, the once green and vibrant plants that now lay withered and dead.

"Was that us?" she whispered. "Our magic?"

You just nodded, trying not to dwell on it. You had sacrificed a lot to get here, you couldn't lose focus now. You had to keep going, no matter what.

"We are going to die, aren't we?" She asked, her voice barely audible.

"Maybe, but so is everyone else," you replied, your voice equally low. "This is bigger than us, we have a chance to free everyone, to end the tyranny,"

You could feel the magic you had taken on, it was too much, twisting your insides, making you nauseous. You knew that the longer you kept it, the worse it would get. The ancestors didn't care that you were in agony, you were their vessel, a tool for their revenge.

"I've never really thought about the afterlife," Maeve said, a small smile creeping across her face. "But, I hope that it's peaceful, that my family is there waiting for me,"

"I'm sure it is," you said, your voice wavering.

"What about you? What do you hope the afterlife is like?" She asked, glancing over at you.

"I hope it's worth it," you whispered, "I hope that everything we did was worth it."

She nodded, her expression solemn. You didn't know what else to say, so you just headed towards the compound, the one place you didn't want to go.

As you grew closer, the damage done to the streets became more pronounced, the rubble thicker and heavier. You had to climb over fallen walls and dead trees, concrete stained with blood. There had been a fight, wooden stakes and branches lay strewn about the ground, but no bodies. Whatever wolves, vampires or witches had engaged them here were either dead or dragged away to be fed upon.

You tried not to think about it, clambering over the rubble, making your way through the gate, sticking to the shadows of the courtyard. It was dark, the sun hidden behind stormy gray clouds. You were glad for it, it would make sneaking around the compound easier, but a part of you wanted to see the sunshine one last time.

The bodies of a werewolf army lie strewn about the courtyard and the large pool of liquid in the middle of it. There were torn off heads, limbs, all in a pile and it was impossible to tell which person belonged to which body. There were a few witches as well, their bodies laying next to those of the wolves.

It was gruesome, the smell of blood and rot filling the air. You covered your mouth, trying not to vomit, but the sight was too much, the magic coursing through you amplifying your senses, and you dry heaved, clutching your stomach.

Before you had time to process what you were looking at, there was a strange shift in the air, and Klaus Mikaelson stood before you. He was covered in blood, his shirt torn and ragged. He was staring down at the pile of corpses, his expression blank.

"I presume it was you that caused this... massacre," he said, his voice eerily calm.

"No, pretty sure that was you," you retorted, and he smirked, a cold, hollow thing, turning to face you.

"I call it self defense. Why? Well they had these..." he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, and he held up a number of poorly whittled white oak stakes, "and were not afraid to use them."

He dropped the stakes, his eyes roving over you, then his gaze turned to Maeve, a cruel smile twisting his lips.

"I see you brought a friend," he said, his voice mocking. "Does she care to explain what's happening here, or am I going to have to torture it out of her?"

Maeve glared at him, her eyes narrowing, and she lifted her hand, a ball of flame appearing in her palm.

"We've come to kill you, to end your reign of terror," she said, her voice hard.

"Is that so?" He replied, his eyes gleaming. "I'm impressed, little witch, it takes a great deal of strength and cunning to kill an Original vampire."

He looked over at you, his expression turning dark.

"And quite a bit of debauchery too, considering the lengths in which you went to," he hissed, his tone bitter.

"This has nothing to do with us, Klaus," you said, taking a step towards him.

"Oh no?" He snapped, his voice rising, "sleeping with Elijah wasn't a calculated choice? That was all just a means to an end?"

"Don't," you growled, your voice low.

He threw back his head and laughed, a loud, mocking sound. Then he lunged, grabbing you by the throat, lifting you off the ground.

"I should kill you," he growled, his eyes burning with rage, "I should rip your throat out and tear your body to pieces."

Maeve's hands clenched into fists, the fire growing hotter, brighter, and she let out a scream, sending the ball of flame hurling towards Klaus.

He dropped you, flying backwards, crashing into the side of the building. You landed hard, the breath knocked out of you, your body aching. Maeve rushed to your side, helping you up. She pressed a stake into your hand, and you gripped it tightly, the wood smooth against your skin.

"Come on," she said, jerking her head towards Klaus, "let's finish this."

Klaus stood up, his shirt smoldering, the skin beneath it red and blistered. His eyes flashed yellow, and he lunged, moving faster than you could follow.

Maeve ran at him, the force of her magic causing Klaus to stumble, and he let out a roar, charging towards her. They collided in a flurry of blows, their hands and feet moving impossibly fast.

Klaus grabbed Maeve, his hands wrapping around her neck, and he began to squeeze. You ran at him, leaping onto his back, plunging a stake into his shoulder. He screamed in pain, throwing Maeve to the ground, and reached behind him, grabbing you by the throat.

He tore the stake from his shoulder, tossing it aside, and slammed you against the wall, his hands crushing your windpipe.

"Tell me, love," he sneered, his eyes boring into yours, "did you enjoy it?"

You stared at him, your mouth open, struggling to breathe, the magic within you bubbling and churning.

"All the pain you have caused, all the suffering, the lives ruined," he growled, his eyes darkening, "and you had the gall, the nerve, the audacity to pretend you are righteous,"

He was breathing heavily, his jaw clenching, and his hands tightened around your neck.

"To claim that you were better than me," he hissed, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous tone, "to make Elijah believe that you loved him."

The magic inside you burst forth, exploding outward, and you sent a pulse of energy towards him, knocking him off his feet. He hit the ground hard, rolling a few times, coming to a stop against a stone pillar.

You collapsed in the heap, coughing and gasping for air, the magic flowing through you burning, searing. You screamed, your back arching, your limbs twitching, your muscles contracting. It was too much, the pressure, the pain, and the magic began to escape, slipping from your grasp, flowing into the air.

You watched it, like a wisp of soft twinkle lights, drifting away, it gravitated towards the wood, the stakes and branches strewn about the compound, to the beams above you. It sank into them, filling them, and the wood began to glow, burning with the same white light that flowed through you.

Maeve stumbled to her feet, stake in hand, it was disintegrating, falling apart in her palm. She knew this was her last chance, she couldn't afford to wait any longer, the magic was escaping her, draining from her body and draining her life.

She snarled and launched himself at him and they rolled across the ground, grappling and fighting. She screamed and struggled, the force of her magic beating against his chest, but he was too strong, pinning her down.

You took a single step forward, and then you felt it; a sudden rush of coldness, a wave of despair, as his hand touched your arm. You turned, and he was standing there, Elijah.

He looked like he had been through hell. His clothes were tattered, his face covered in dirt and blood. But it was his eyes, his beautiful brown eyes that broke your heart. They were full of pain, a sorrow so deep, so profound, that you couldn't look away.

You stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity, neither of you saying a word. And then you heard a cracking sound, Maeve's scream, and Klaus' triumphant roar.

You saw her body fall, limp and lifeless, the white oak stake gone, Klaus holding the splintered remains in his hands.

The whispers grew deafening, chanting in unison, filling your mind, the voices blending together, drowning out all thought, and you were filled with rage.

You struggled in Elijah's grip, the magic swirling and coiling within you, ready to be released.

"Let me go," you hissed, your voice filled with venom.

He didn't budge, his grip tightening, but he wasn't looking at you. Klaus stood up, wiping his hands on his pants, his mouth twisted into a smug grin.

"It's over, brother," he said, his voice mocking, "kill her and end this,"

You snarled and kicked, lashing out with your magic, the air rippling. You struck him in the chest, and he fell backwards, his grip loosening, and you ripped yourself from his arms, turning to face him.

He looked like you had stabbed him in the heart, his expression crumpling. You felt dizzy, drunk almost, on the power. Everything was so vivid, so intense. Your senses were overwhelmed, your head spinning. Maeve's magic flowed through you, and you could feel her essence, her soul. The voices of your ancestors were a chorus in your head, a chorus calling for the deaths of all vampires.

Elijah moved, reaching out, trying to grab you, but you sidestepped him, dodging his attempt to restrain you. You turned towards him, the anger and pain that you had kept locked away, bubbling to the surface.

"You're all monsters," you hissed, your voice barely above a whisper.

"We are," Elijah said, his eyes full of anguish.

You felt a surge of emotion, your vision blurring, and a tear rolled down your cheek.

"I wish I had never met you," you whispered. "Why... Why did you have to take everything from me?"

He didn't answer, just stared at you, his face pale. You could hear Klaus chuckle behind you, his footsteps echoing in the silence.

"Come now, love," he drawled, "that's hardly fair."

You spun around, the magic inside you thrumming, your fingers twitching.

"You have no idea what's fair!" You snapped, your voice shaking.

Klaus smirked, taking a step towards you, but Elijah blocked his path, standing in front of you.

"Move," Klaus snarled, his eyes glowing yellow.

"No," Elijah said, his voice strained.

"You can't save her, brother," Klaus said, his voice low, his gaze fixed on Elijah. "She took too much on, look around,"

The ceiling was collapsing, the walls crumbling, the foundations cracking. All of the wood and plants were rotting and dying, pulsing with the same white light that you could feel pulsing through you.

"She chose this, to die for her cause," Klaus sneered. "How noble of her."

Elijah pushed him away, his jaw clenched, and he looked at you, his expression pained. Klaus grabbed him, pulling him away, and he let out a shout, struggling against his grip.

"Just let her go," he snarled, "it will be over soon."

Elijah shook his head, his tear filled eyes now turning to rage, and he punched him, hitting Klaus so hard, he stumbled, releasing his hold. Elijah's eyes burned with anger, his fists clenched.

"No, I will not kill her," he hissed, "not now, not ever."

"You're weak," Klaus spat, wiping the blood from his mouth, "she betrayed you, she lied to you, and you can't bring yourself to end it, to do what must be done. You are a fool, a pathetic, sniveling, little fool."

Elijah charged at him, his hands grabbing Klaus by the throat, slamming him into the wall. He punched him repeatedly, his knuckles smashing into his face, his eyes filled with hatred.

"You have only ever despised those I love," Elijah snarled, his fist connecting with Klaus' face, "because you are a coward, afraid of any emotion that does not serve your own selfish desires."

Klaus laughed, spitting blood, his lips split, his nose broken.

"You will never learn," Klaus said, his voice thick with disdain.

"And you will never understand," Elijah said, his voice barely above a whisper, his fist connecting with Klaus' face once again.

You could hear the whispers, the voices, the magic in the air calling to you. Your coven was gone, they were dead, but their spirits lingered, their voices echoing in your mind. You held all their power now, their legacy, and the weight of it was crushing. You were barely holding on, with Maeve dead all the magic was yours, and it was destroying you.

Your knees buckled, and you fell to the ground, your body wracked with sobs. You were alone, all alone, and the power was too much. You couldn't hold on anymore, your grip was slipping. the pain too intense, and you let go.

Everything went white, the light blinding, and there was a horrifying crack, and the earth beneath you exploded. The ground gave way, and you fell, the air rushing past you.

You screamed, falling, falling, and the voices grew louder, the light blinding. And then everything went black.

~~~

You awoke slowly, a dull throbbing ache in the back of your head. You couldn't feel your legs, your entire body was numb.

You blinked, your vision blurred, and slowly everything around you came into focus. There was rubble everywhere, a huge pile of it. The air was filled with dust, making it hard to breathe. There was a rumbling sound, as debris began to rain down, a piece of rock became dislodged and tumbled down, smashing into a pile of bricks, shattering them.

There was a ringing in your ears, and you could hear the muffled sound of shouting, a distant siren. You tried to move, but your body was heavy, your limbs were leaden, and you were stuck under something warm and solid.

You looked up, and Elijah's face came into view. His eyes were closed, his chest rising and falling in an unnatural way, his neck was at an odd angle, his hair caked with dust. He had you caged under him, his body covering yours, protecting you from the worst of the destruction.

"Eli?" You croaked, your voice hoarse, the sound of it muffled.

He slowly opened his eyes, blinking, his gaze focusing on you. His pretty brown eyes full of heartache and despair.

"Why?" He whispered, his voice breaking.

"I had to," you said, your voice wavering.

He looked down at you, his eyes roving over you, taking in your injuries. He moved slightly, pushing up against the rubble, his immense strength allowing him to lift the heavy wooden beam that was pinning you.

You winced as the movement jarred your legs, a sharp stab of pain shooting through you. You were sure they were broken, the bones in your lower half crushed, shattered.

"You used me," he whispered, his voice trembling, tears rolling down his cheeks, "you made me care for you, made me think..."

He broke off, shaking his head, his eyes filled with anguish.

"And then you betrayed me," he continued, his voice hollow.

The voices were screaming, the magic within you burning, searing.

"I was always told vampires were evil," you pleaded, the pain in your chest unbearable. "And then, I met you, and it was like, everything I knew, everything I believed, it all changed. You made me see the world differently."

His face crumpled, and he looked away, his shoulders shaking.

"I had a mission," you said, your voice cracking, "I was to destroy you, and bring peace back to this city."

You looked at him, pleading, your eyes welling up. You felt a stake next to you, the wood felt so hot, the magic inside it vibrating, the whispers in your head growing louder, a cacophony of sound.

"I never meant to fall in love with you," you cried, the tears rolling down your face.

"Killing me, would cause the thousands I sired to die too, many of them innocent. Who are you to decide who is worthy of life or death?" He asked, his voice trembling, his gaze full of anger.

"It doesn't matter," you said, the words spilling out of you, "they're all monsters."

"Just like me," he whispered, his eyes searching yours, "just like you."

"No," you whispered, your voice barely audible. You lifted the stake, pressing it against his chest, the wood burning against your skin.

"This is a mercy," you said, the tears rolling down your cheeks, "an end to the suffering, a chance for peace."

"Do it," he whispered, his voice shaking. "Kill me."

"I don't want to," you cried, the pain in your chest becoming unbearable.

"Do it," he yelled, his voice laced with anger, "End it. Put me out of my misery."

"No," you choked out, the pain overwhelming. "I don't want to, but the voices, the magic, it's too much, I can't, I can't hold on," you sobbed, the stake glowing brightly.

He leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, his breath tickling your face.

"I can't watch you die," he whispered, his voice soft, his face twisted with agony.

He kissed you then, a soft, gentle kiss, his lips brushing against yours, and you clung to him, the stake pressed against his heart, the wood burning. You knew you didn't have it in you, to make the choice that would end him, forever.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, the pain in your chest overwhelming, "for everything."

"Me too," he said, his voice filled with sorrow, he took the stake from your hand, casting it aside. You watched as it slowly disintegrated, the weapon you sacrificed everything for, turning to dust. Just like the magic you had inside you.

Elijah placed his hand on your cheek, cupping your face, his thumb brushing against your skin, his eyes meeting yours. Then he groaned, pushing hard against the debris that trapped you both, lifting the heavy wooden beam that pinned you to the ground. He pulled you free, holding your broken body close, and you felt his arms wrap around you, his touch gentle, careful.

You looked around, the devastation was worse than you thought. The entire compound was gone, the building demolished. There were fires burning everywhere, and a thick layer of dust and debris covered everything. The city was eerily silent, the sky dark, the only light coming from the fires. You were the cause of this, the destruction, the death. You couldn't take it anymore, the guilt, the shame, the pain.

You buried your face against his chest, letting the tears flow freely. He held you, his embrace warm, his touch comforting. You could feel the heat of his breath, the beat of his heart. The voices grew louder, and you were drowning in the sound, the pain was excruciating.

"I'm dying," you whispered, your voice muffled against his shirt, "and I'm afraid."

"Don't be," he whispered, his hand rubbing your back, his voice thick with emotion, "I'll be with you, every step of the way."

"I love you," you said, your voice trembling, the tears streaming down your cheeks.

"I love you too," he whispered, his voice choked, "with all my heart.”

He tightened his grip, holding you closer, his arms wrapped around you, his chest pressed against yours.

"Please," you begged, "please, kill me."

You felt his lips on yours, the taste of blood and tears. His fingers dug into your back, and you felt the pain, the fire in your bones, your muscles, the magic tearing through you, burning, scorching. You were going to die, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

"Not yet," he said, his voice breaking, and you felt the sharp pinch of teeth in your neck.

The pain was intense, like a fire, burning through you. You screamed, arching against him, and he pulled back, his eyes wide, his pupils blown, the veins beneath them protruding. He was feeding from you, draining you, killing you.

You felt the darkness creeping in, the whispers fading, the voices growing quiet. Then it was all blackness, nothingness, a void. You were floating, drifting in the darkness, and then you felt something, a tether, a rope, and it was pulling you back, calling to you. It was not the continual haunting drone of the ancestors, but one singular, familiar voice. The voice of the person you loved the most.

Epilogue

A soft sigh escaped your lips as Elijah's warm hands held you underneath him, the movements of his hips slow and controlled.

His hands roamed your body, the look of lust on his face making your heart skip a beat. You would never tire of the way he made you feel, the way he knew what he was doing. This slow, lazy dance, the intimacy of it, the gentle brush of his lips, the smooth silk sheets on your bare skin, the pleasure he made you feel. It was all overwhelming, intense, the sounds you were both making echoing in the room.

You stared up at him, the golden glow of the fireplace shining on his skin, his dark eyes staring down at you. A rare smile was on his lips, and he sighed in contentment, his thrusts becoming more forceful, the bed creaking beneath you. It didn't take long for you to fall apart, the sweet pleasure ripping through your body, Elijah following soon after.

The two of you laid there for a while, not saying anything, just enjoying the peaceful silence. As much as you wanted to, you couldn't stop the questions racing through your mind.

"You're thinking too much, my love," he whispered, his face nuzzled in the crook of your neck, his breath hot on your skin.

"I'm sorry," you sighed, shaking your head, trying to dispel the memories that were plaguing you.

"Talk to me," he murmured, propping himself up on his elbow, looking down at you. "I want to know what's going on in that beautiful mind of yours."

You closed your eyes, not sure where to begin. "I... I just miss it sometimes," you whispered, unable to meet his gaze, feeling the shame burning inside of you. "The power, the magic. It was so overwhelming, so intoxicating, and now... I feel empty without it."

"I know," he replied, his voice soft, his hand reaching up to stroke your hair. "I can't imagine what that was like, having all that power, feeling it consume you."

You nodded, the guilt weighing heavily on your shoulders. You knew what he was feeling. He was angry, hurt, betrayed, and you didn't blame him. It would take a long time for him to forgive you, if he ever did. You were grateful that he was even giving you a chance, allowing you into his life, his bed. He had been so patient, so understanding, so loving, and you didn't deserve it.

"I'm sorry," you said, your voice cracking. "I shouldn't have brought it up, I know it's a sore subject for you, and I'm sorry."

He sighed, shaking his head, his hand resting on your hip, pressing your legs apart. "No," he whispered, his eyes full of sorrow, his touch tender, his lips pressing against yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth. "It's not a sore subject for me, not anymore," he said, his voice firm, his words ringing true. "I forgave you a long time ago."

You blinked back the tears, his words washing over you, filling you with relief, with joy, with hope. You didn't deserve his forgiveness, his love, but you would cherish it, cherish him, for the rest of your life. And now that you were immortal, that would be a very long time.

You never expected to find peace or love with Elijah Mikaelson. Of all the ways your paths had crossed, this one was by far the most unexpected. Laying here, in his arms, a vampire, his wife, was never part of your plan. You chose this, him, and he chose you, and that's all you ever needed.

{Part One}{Part Two}{Part Three}

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 16 all chapters

~AUTHOR'S WARNINGS: N$FW, SEXUAL CONTENT, COPIOUS SWEARING, TOXIC POSESSIVENESS , IF SOMEONE TREATS YOU LIKE THIS IN REAL LIFE RUN RUN RUN BC IT WILL NOT TURN OUT WELL U CANT FIX THEM~

-Aware that John Wick knows this city much better than you, you stick to the crowds. You manage to find your way to the Peggy Guggenheim collection, and you hang out there for hours, looking through the art works, but really only half seeing what is in front of you.

You are devastated.

You’ve had controlling boyfriends before, and it was not fun. They seem exciting at first, until the person you were before is eaten alive by their tantrums and their ridiculous expectations as they try to fit you into a box of their own making.

You can’t believe John turned out that way.

Or maybe you can. Maybe you have a fucking type, and you should have seen this coming.

You stay almost until closing, then grab a bite to eat before daring to wander the streets. You find a little walled in park, a courtyard filled with lush greenery and a tinkling fountain. By some miracle, there is only one other couple on a bench at the far end. You practically have the place to yourself, and you sit down on a wrought iron bench with a sigh and eat your sandwich.

You pull out your sketchbook afterwards to pass the time. Your doodling hand wanders, and perhaps its no surprise when you draw John Wick from memory, his proud lips and haunted eyes. There are tears running down your cheeks as you do so. When it gets too much, even though you’re in public, you hang your head and weep into your hands.

Darkness falls, and you know you should be getting back. The bench has long ceased to be comfortable, and yet it’s like you have grown into it, unable to move.

Even with your head down, when someone sits silently down beside you, you just know it’s John.

You do not look at him, and thankfully he does not try to touch you.

“It’s getting late, y/n. You shouldn’t be out here alone.”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Yes it is,” he insists, sounding almost tired about it. You hate it that your demeanor softens towards him, just a little.

“You broke my heart, Mr. Wick.”

“I was afraid I might.” He is sitting with his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped in front of him. “Would you let me make it up to you?” 

“I'm not sure that's a good idea.” 

“No?”

“No. I think you have a mean streak.” 

He had tried to warn you, you realize, in his way.

God, are you really such a fool?

“Doesn't everyone?” 

You make a sound between your teeth, and he nods like you have said something profound. 

“I'm not a nice man, y/n. But I would be good to you.”

“Like last night? I didn't like that.”

The corner of his mouth curves in a wicked smirk, and your heart skips a beat in your chest, damn him. Was the contrition all an act?

“Yes you did.”

“Not the last part.”

“Hmm. I tried to warn you.”

In the vaguest terms possible, maybe.

“My fanny.”

He raises an eyebrow to that, and you’re not sure why that little gesture wounds you like a knife to the heart all over again. Perhaps because he is beautiful, and even though you know he’s dangerous for you, you still want him so very much.  

You start to cry again, and try to get up from the bench. You need to get away from him, because you can’t think straight when he’s near.

“Y/n, wait.” He catches your wrist, and when you don’t really fight him, he pulls you down into his lap, and goddammit if this isn’t what you’d wanted all along. You feel small in his arms, cradled against his long torso and sheltered in the bend of his neck, even if in your hindbrain you know you are not actually safe at all. He strokes your hair until you quiet, and he kisses your temple like you are something precious.

How can this man be so sweet, just to turn on you?

“Why did you leave me, like that?”

You just do not understand. You could have had a lovely, fulfilling, mind-blowing if not vanilla night together. He’d laid all the groundwork like a master orchestrator, and you would have let him fuck you senseless. Fuck, you wouldn’t have even minded the tying up part, if he just hadn’t humiliated you.

“Because…” His lips ghost along the line of your jaw, and you fight not to squirm as his large hand slides up your thigh, his fingertips feather light on your skin. “Only good girls get to cum,” he says low in your ear, and you hate how it makes you ache between your legs, to hear him talk to you that way.

Outwardly, you do your best to keep your cool.

“And touching your hair made me a bad girl?”

“No.”

“Disobeying you did.”

“Yes.”

“That’s kinda fucked up.”

“Maybe.” He actually seems a little amused by you, which is not the reaction you were expecting. “I like to be in control. But you make me feel...unbalanced.”

“Me?” You sound incredulous. The thought that you could affect this powerful man in such a way seems absurd.

“Yes, you, kitten.”

The urge to demand he not call you that desiccates on your tongue. 

“So...what? You feel the need to take revenge for that?” 

“Maybe. I thought you knew the game we were playing, when you batted those big eyes up at me. Mr Wick, Sir, aren’t I a good girl?” His fingers dig into your thigh with the memory, and you can feel his growing erection beneath you. “But you’re just an innocent, aren’t you?”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“You’re used to boys just eating out of the palm of your hand. But I am a man, with a man’s appetites, and a man’s desires.”

He was a little more than that, you reckoned.

“You want to control me.”

“That’s part of it.”

“Why?”

He smirks. “Maybe I had a rough childhood.”

You can’t tell if he’s joking or not.

“I want to take care of you.” He kisses your cheek again, and it is gentle and sweet and everything you had wanted from Mr. Wick, before this all went sideways. “I want you to be mine.”

You are not proud of the way those words unleash a fluttering swarm of butterflies in your belly, your breath quickening in your chest. You are proud when you manage to answer, “I don’t need taking care of.”

He just snorts lightly at that, as if it’s not even worth arguing over. “Come back to the hotel room with me. I promise I’ll finish what I started. With interest.” His hand slowly slides up your thigh, just beneath the skirt of your sundress, and you think you might die. You should not want this man, after what he did to you.

The ache between your legs suggests otherwise.

You give yourself some points, when you shake your head.

“No. I’m going back to my hostel.”

The shift in his demeanor gives you whiplash, a thunderhead of a frown pulling his handsome features. “Need to get back to your little friend Javi?” The jealousy in his tone hot as a brand. “Did he try to kiss you again?”

Your heart drops to your feet.

“How did you know he tried to kiss me?” you ask, your voice so small.

That was in Rome, after all.

What should have been obvious before comes crashing in, and you realize what a little fool you’ve been. That feeling that someone’s been watching you, and John’s so convenient and coincidental appearance outside the alley…

“Holy shit. You’ve been following me.”

“I’ve been protecting you.”

“Excuse me?”

“You have no idea what the world is really like, sweetheart. It’s a dangerous place.”

You frown at this.

“So…you think I’m stupid?”

“No, of course not.”

“You think I can’t take care of myself then.”

“I think I found you wandering around here like a lost little lamb. There are monsters here who would have gobbled a sweet little treat like you up in one bite.”

The fact that he sees you that way is more alarming than the thought of some unnamed threat in the shadows.

For some reason it makes you think of the men in the van back home—and how that van was found empty and on fire.

“How do you know about the monsters, John?”

“I just know.”

“You said you weren’t a cop. Were you FBI?”

He glares at you, which you take as a no.

“Interpol?”

You are met with silence, and you nod, mostly to yourself.

“You know about the monsters because you are one.” You think about those fierce looking Italian men with their scars and their bespoke suits. His previous words echo in your memory. Sono retirato.

“Were you in the mob?”

“Not…specifically.”

Then you remember he’d said he was from Belarus.

“Bratva, then.”

You should be terrified as you work all this out, trapped in the circle of this man’s arms, but you feel strangely numb about it all.

“My clever girl.” He sounds almost sad about it.

“Not clever enough,” you sigh.

You are not sure who is more surprised, you or him, when you burst to your feet. You actually manage to slip out of his grasp, though you only make it three steps before he captures your wrist again with a grip like an iron manacle. He gives you a dark look, annoyed that you would even try to play this game with him.

You remember what you learned in martial arts class a lifetime ago, pointing your thumb down towards the weak point of his grip and trying to jerk free. It’s worked before, with grabby men.

Not with John Wick, though.

“Stop.” Again, there’s that steely tone. The alpha voice one uses to reprimand a naughty dog. It only makes you angrier, and you struggle.

He pulls you hard against him, and you bite his hand. He doesn’t let you go, just adjusts his grip. “I didn’t want to do it this way,” he snarls low in your ear. “But you are so fucking stubborn.”

“Thank you.” You try to headbutt him behind you, but he ducks into the bend of your shoulder. You feel his chest trembling against your back, and only belatedly do you realize he is laughing at you.

“Enjoying this?”

“A little.”

“There’s no fucking way you can get me out of here without someone seeing. Let me go.”

He just sighs into your hair, like you’ve said something extremely naïve.

The arrival of newcomers into the park catches both of your attention. You lift your head, ready to ask for help, when you recognize the besuited tough guys from before.

Well, fuck.

“You've got some balls, showing your face around here, John Wick. Gianna d’Antonio’s son sends his greetings.”

“This isn’t a good time,” he snarls in return.

“Sorry, are you too busy fighting with your little girlfriend?”

He actually releases you then, pushing you to stand behind him. They are blocking the exit, so for now, you comply.

“You know how this will go,” John says, assuming a ready stance, his feet spread. He almost sounds regretful about it. “Do yourselves a favor, and leave.”

“Can’t do it, John,” says the one in the lead.

“For fuck’s sake,” curses John under his breath. The lead Italian makes a move, and John bursts into action. He is like a tornado of carnage upon them, throwing punches and breaking arms, cutting tendons and stabbing throats.

You are absolutely frozen as you watch all this unfold before you.

That is, until one of the thugs throws a knife at John, and you watch it bury in his chest. This is the thing that breaks your spell, and you run towards the fray with a scream, though who the fuck knows what you intend to do.

However, like he wasn’t just stabbed in the heart, John takes another attacker’s gun, pistol whipping him with it before shooting the knife thrower, then the last one standing. It cannot have been more than minute, before all of them are dead at his feet. He leans on his bent knees for a moment, catching his breath.

“John?” You hardly recognize your own voice as you rush to him, certain he’s taken a lethal blow and somehow fought through it with the surge of adrenaline. However, when you peel back his suit jacket you find no blood. He lets you look him over with frantic hands, maybe enjoying the fact that you don’t wish him dead, before pulling the still protruding knife from the breast of his jacket.

When he produces the little leather journal you’d gifted him from his inside pocket, now gravely marred with a puncture through the cover, you understand.

“Holy fuck.”

“You saved my life,” he says with an odd little smile down at you, as though all this is normal and what you just saw is totally ok.

Utterly horrified, you run.

“Y/n, wait!”

You throw yourself into the dark winding streets, taking any turn you can, trying to stay out of sight. Your feet fly beneath you; even in your shitty strappy sandals, it’s the fastest you’ve ever run.

It’s not fast enough.

When strong arms close around you, lifting you from the ground, you try to scream. A big hand clamps over your mouth, and you find yourself pressed hard into a stone wall. “Please, calm down,” he pants in your ear, out of breath from killing four people then running you down.

Your answer of, “Are you fucking kidding me?” is nothing but muffled syllables.  

“Goddammit,” he sighs behind you, rifling in his pocket for something as he pins you with his body. “This is not how I wanted this to go.”

Your pitiful plea of “Let me go,” is cut off by an evil-smelling cloth shoved into your nose.

[jiminiecrickets]

HONEY WILD & MANNA-DEW. JJK / M!READER

summary. werewolves are dirty, savage, brutal beasts, jungkook thinks. after nursing a particularly pathetic one back to full health and realising just how attractive he is... well, vampires have never been known to evade what they want.

wc. 3.8k

tags. smut | vampire!jk, werewolf!reader, dom bottom!jk, sub top!reader, reader is generally described as "strong", jk calls r. mutt/dog/pup/puppy (slight degradation), praise (r. receiving), slight dumbification (? r.)

notes. written for and with nick :) you know who you are. thank you for everything !! <33

"fancy seeing you here, darling."

"i'm not your darling," jungkook replies immediately, his expression souring. he throws back his glass of whiskey, setting the empty glass down on the dark counter. he spins around on his stool, leaning his elbows back against the counter as he stares coolly up at you, his eyes hard with annoyance. "excuse me, please. i think it's time to go home."

when he shifts, a shock runs through you, and it's automatic when you cage him in, arms shielding him from the outside world. your face is inches away from his, drawn into a frown. "you told me to come here. really gonna leave me alone without buyin' me a drink? that seems like the nice thing to do."

"i did tell you," he says airily, his gaze raking over your figure. the tight shirt you've donned under a jacket emphasises the raw strength werewolves are known for. "i've just changed my mind. you look better when the lights are off."

he smirks, eyes glittering coldly up at you, and he pushes your arm out of the way to stand. he's stunning in an all-black ensemble, his buttoned shirt with its rolled sleeves held together by a single brave button over his belt. he tucks his hands into the pockets of his perfectly-pressed trousers and cocks his head, gaze unwavering as your jaw ticks. "come, puppy. you'll walk me home."

as he turns on his heel, weaving with supernatural ease through the thick crowds like a ghost, you shut your eyes tightly, dragging a hand down your face with a groan.

fuck. you should head the opposite way; every instinct in you is screaming it.

he hums softly as you join his side, strolling down the neon-lit city streets. he'd never stopped walking – he knows the hold he has on you. "good dog. if only you listened so well all the time."

 you step in front of him. he glances up expectantly, placing his hand on his hip. "yes, mutt? what is it?"

"come on, darling. you can drop the façade. you aren't fooling anyone – everyone can tell you like this – like us." a smirk tugs at your lips. "say, when we get to your house... how far in would you like to go in? living room, kitchen? maybe even just the foyer?"

"quiet," he hisses. "this means nothing! we are nothing! you're a rabid dog who knows nothing except fucking and fighting!"

"really? you seemed to quite like how rabid i was last night."

he scowls, his glare deepening. his eyes flash, for the briefest moment, a dark, swirling, razing red. he leans in. "you owe your life to me, mutt. you're in no position to be mouthing off at me." he reaches up, seizing your jaw, and in a quarter of a second you find yourself pinned against a brick wall, the wind knocked out of your lungs. he presses his body flush against yours – you can feel the uncanny rise and fall of his chest, the plane of his stomach, the sturdy thighs against yours.

"what, pup? don't want to talk now?" he tilts his head, shifting his thigh between yours almost unnoticeably. you certainly do, and he smirks when your breath hitches. he leans in, baring his fangs and nipping at your neck. he whispers into your skin, "be a good boy, darling. you don't have your pack here to look good for – just look good for me. can you do that?"

your throat bobs and he tracks the motion with his sharp eyes. he waits patiently, fingers digging tighter into your skin, and you wince, inclining your head such a tiny degree that anyone lesser would miss it entirely.

jungkook hums and pulls away, releasing you. you loose a soft, shuddering breath, rubbing your jaw where his nails dug crescents into your skin. heat bubbles low in your stomach.

he smiles, sharp and fanged, and turns away. he beckons over his shoulder with a short whistle. "heel, mutt. seems like we still need to do a lot of training – better start right away."

—

"come."

it's so fucking humiliating. your entire face is aflame as you shuffle forward, your hands clenched at your sides, trembling slightly with the pain of your nails digging into your palms. your cock stands at attention, dark and heavy, and jungkook hums, taking it into his hand. your eyes squeeze tight in a futile attempt to ignore the way he twists his wrist so expertly – and he does it all with a demure smile, knees crossed neatly as he perches at the end of the bed.

the bed. big enough to fit both of you comfortably. a dangerous sort of hope blooms in your chest. maybe he'll finally let you touch him.

"that's my good boy," he coos, stroking you to a quick beat as he watches your every move. no twitch or flinch goes unnoticed. you're trying so hard, and lust warms his chest where his heart should beat. "let's try this again. sit."

you kneel at his feet, your head bowed. your hands close into fists on top of your bare thighs as he kisses the top of your head, stroking the place where your ears would be, had tonight been a full moon. it wasn't – not for one more day. you found yourself growing antsy, staring at open green parks and forested areas with more longing than usual.

you shudder as he digs his fingers into your scalp, massaging deeply. you swallow a moan, but it comes out half-choked as a white shudder zings down your spine. you barely suppress a whimper when he strokes your hair, petting you as if he loved you. you can feel your thoughts struggle – you make a valiant effort, concentrating on forming clear and logical sentences in your head.

and then he scratches you behind the ear. everything melts. you whine softly, pushing into his hand as you grip his legs. as soon as his hand halts, your brain catches up, and you yank away, defaulting to a proper sit.

he sighs, and the sound makes your heart leap in distress. "puppy..."

"no," you blurt out, an embarrassing shake to your voice. "no, please, i'll be good – i will! don't start again, please don't start again..."

he smells so good. like sweet, sharp wildberries. you like wildberries.

"very well," he breathes. "off."

you reach for his shirt, unbuttoning it with shaky hands. he watches you carefully and you swallow as you lock eyes with him, pushing the cloth over the lines of his shoulders. you tuck it out of his belt and sit back on your heels, folding the garment neatly into a square and setting it aside. you gaze expectantly up at him.

"good pup," he whispers, before rising to his feet. you will yourself to keep your eyes on his and not on the cute bulge five inches from your face. "off."

you suck in a deep breath as you unbuckle his belt deftly. you've done this enough times by now to do it in one motion. gently, you drag the cold black zipper down, hovering your hands over his skin as you tug his trousers down his long legs. the black cloth falls. he's not wearing any underwear. your mouth feels dry.

"you're doing so well. bed," he murmurs, stepping back until the backs of his knees touch the foot of the mattress. you crawl over him, hovering steadily as you stare down at him with rapture and painful anticipation. your cock hangs heavy between your thighs, right between his legs, but he ignores it, propping himself up on an elbow. the other hand trails between his thighs.

"ah, fuck..." he whispers as he slides a finger into his already-loved ass, soon adding a second. he begins to finger himself, soft breaths and gasps falling from those perfect rosy lips. he notices the darkening hunger in your eyes. "stay," he orders firmly, his voice breathy but not unsteady. "stay."

you can't breathe. you've tried this thrice before and all three times you failed to get further than this. it wasn't fair. he kept changing the order of his commands.

his widens his legs, hooking his ankles around the backs of your knees. his back arches as he moans, lashes fluttering shut as his expression goes lax with pleasure.

the lube makes things wet and filthy. your arms shake, crumbling under the pressure of the sight of him touching himself. nothing you do keeps the addicting sound of his moans out of your head.

"fu-uck," he drawls, inserting a third finger. his whole body shudders, his thighs pressed firmly against the sides of yours. he opens his eyes, gazing up at you with eyes of cut rubies, flashing in the semi-darkness. both of you are night-dwellers, creatures of the dark and cold night. you can see every pulse and twist in excruciating detail.

jungkook moans your name in a breath, his fingers sliding easily against his walls. nothing fills him up as well as you do, but he'd rather die than admit it to you. he shifts in his fancy bedsheets – oh, how deliciously wrong it feels to taint them like this – and wraps his slender fingers around his leaking cock, stroking himself slowly in time with his quicker fingers.

you watch, paralysed. your cock throbs at the sight of his pretty ass clenching around his fingers, and your hips rock involuntarily. it leaks precum embarrassingly steadily, pooling on a spot on his bedsheets.

jungkook smirks, moans soft and airy like pants for air. "stay," he says warningly when you begin to fidget, restless as you admire the curves and planes of his body. his thighs tighten around yours, keeping you steady. your fingers flex.

you can practically smell his lust. his cock throbs in his palm, wet and slick from his prior games. a spurt of precum dribbles down his shaft and he swiftly sweeps it up, smearing it along his length with a greedy moan.

fists clenching in the sheets, you close your eyes stiffly, thinking of anything but him. anything except him and his pretty smirks and lithe body and tight little—

"open your eyes," he commands, and they fly open. "want to touch?"

"yes," you rasp, your throat bobbing harshly. "yes, oh, fuck – yes, i do..."

"mm, well, you can't," he teases. "hah – you look so fucking pathetic, did you know that? so big and strong, and yet reduced to near tears because of someone like me. you must be ashamed of yourself, mutt."

your hips jerk at the title. a tiny keen escapes your lips. jungkook laughs, his hands quickening as his voice grows softer, airier. "ooh, that was almost a restart right there. oh, darling, your pretty cock's all swollen and needy – you look the best like this, trembling for me as if you're a young pup all over again."

all you can do is whine, your cock throbbing hotly with need. fuck, you can feel it all the way up your spine – the need to be inside of him, the need to show him how good you are, the need to prove that you're his. all and entirely his.

"it's okay, puppy. you're doing so well," jungkook breathes, watching with satisfaction as a droplet of sweat rolls down your heaving chest. your expression is starved and dark, brows furrowed with an almost beastly intensity.

you're just so cute. he can't help but want to shower you in praise. he shouldn't – you're just an unruly mutt, uncontrollable and savage when the full moon comes around. he's leagues above you on the food chain.

he shouldn't even be entertaining you like this – not when your kind are known for their quick-to-love natures. if he goes a step too far, you'll be all over him, all the time. all over his black clothes and antique vases. wolves are notoriously hard to shake off once they've developed a liking for someone.

he slides his fingers out of himself with a soft moan, reaching for your dripping cock. you flinch when he slides his palm over the tip, breathing growing shaky.

"i see why they call you monsters," he whispers with a smirk. he tugs his lower lip between his teeth, a single white fang bright white against the dark pink of his lips. "you want to claim me with this, mm?"

you nearly buckle under the fog filling your skull, his touch cold and burning. he hums, relaxing in the comfortable weight of your heat, radiating from your skin as if there's a star in the place of a soul. fucking a vampire in the filthiest ways could never begin to challenge how good it feels to simply be near you, engulfed in the blazing heat of your embrace.

him, with his icy skin and fanged sneers... you, with your cocky smirks and frequent, flirty touches. it's a match made in hell and escaping it seems awfully counterintuitive.

"please," you whine, bucking into his fist stiffly. "want... w-want you – baby, please—"

"i'm not your baby," jungkook reminds you with a sharp flick of his wrist. his thumb runs along the pulsing veins he knows are most sensitive. "i'm not your darling, not your baby. i never can and never will be. do you understand, mutt?"

you nod feebly, grunting as he squeezes the base of your cock in warning. "i un-understand..."

"better." he guides the head of your cock to his ass and your breath hitches as your tip rubs against his wet hole, sending shocks of heat up your nerves. "go slowly. i want to feel all of you."

his face pinches as you thrust in shallowly, the inches sinking in with ease. your slick cock glides against his soft walls, pulsing tightly against them. he gasps as you nudge that spot inside him, swollen and tender with his playing. "fuck, puppy, right there!"

your cock twitches at the breathy keen of his moans. you gnaw on the inside of your cheek, gently thrusting in until he's taken all of you. your balls press against his ass and he shudders, ass clenching like a vice around you.

you can't help it. you whimper his name, thrusting faster, and he grunts in surprise. his eyes fly open.

"f-fuck—! did i tell you to go faster?" he demands. "dumb mutt! do you want to do this all again?"

"no," you groan, your hips stilling. you shift over him, powerful thighs tense and trembling beneath his. "n-no..."

he grabs your jaw and tilts your head up, forcing you to look him in the eye. arousal burns low in his belly at the sight of complete and utter want dominating your expression: lips parted, throat bobbing constantly, eyes glazed and dark. your tongue darts out and runs over your lower lip, leaving a pretty sheen in its wake.

"good," he says eventually, and shifts his hand. it goes from clawing at your jaw to cupping your cheek, thumb swiping over your lips. you tilt your head and take his thumb between your lips, sucking gently as you stare up at him. those pretty eyes of yours are hazy and shimmery, as if you're on the verge of tears.

holy hell. jungkook releases a slow, steadying breath. having a man like you in the palm of his hand isn't doing anything for his superiority complex – you're really something else.

"move," he commands, his glare piercing you like a bullet through jelly. "what are you waiting for?"

you drop your head, shaking it with a gasp as he clenches around you. "i – i can't..."

"you can't?" he repeats, scoffing. "what's wrong with you, mutt? i give you an opportunity to please me, but you can't?"

a soft, embarrassed whine leaves your throat. your fingers itch to touch him – to hold him, to caress him, to worship him. all that pale, graceful, flawless skin, and not a single mark of your love. sure, it'll vanish in minutes, but you can fool yourself into thinking that it'll remain for weeks under his prim and proper black clothes.

"i can't," you whimper. "i'll... 'm gonna come..."

a short silence passes between you. then: he barks a laugh, sharp and derisive. "really? you're that excited from being told what to do? oh, my poor puppy... you're so adorable. i just wanna sink my teeth into you," he coos, his arm snaking around your shoulders. the other hand slithers over your ribs, down your side, across your back. he squeezes your ass, pulling you deep into him. he grins as you throb inside of him, cock leaking profusely. "go on, then. touch me, pup."

in an instant, your hands are on him, learning him in ways so devoted it surges affection in the hollow of his chest. they run down his stomach and thighs, then back up again, cupping his chest around his upper ribs. you grip him like a toy, gently bouncing him on your twitching cock, and he moans, high and breathy, tugging you closer into the crook of his neck.

he really does smell sweet. you can't tell if it's his cologne or his shampoo, or if he just smells like that all of the time, but it's heavy, it's heady, and you can feel yourself getting drunk off of his scent. you tug him down onto your cock, grinding into his ass, and he grunts, grip tightening on your shoulders.

"you fill me up so well," he moans, wrapping his thighs around your waist as you fuck into him. "fuck, a-ah – you're such a good boy for me, huh? such an eager boy, so – mnh! – so obedient for me... make me come first and you'll be rewarded, okay? i-i'll reward you so well, fuck, my good boy—"

he squeaks as your hips quicken, slamming into him desperately. he cries out in pleasure, nails digging into the bulk of your shoulders as you smother him with your body, your face buried in his neck as he moans and cries. the wet smack of your cock against his ass each time you bury yourself hilt-deep inside of him is dangerously obscene, white-hot and buzzing his nerves.

"what—! what are you—" he can't bring himself to chastise you. your thick tip punches past his swollen prostate on each thrust and he mewls, slanting his mouth against yours hotly. he moans as you overpower him, your tongue diving into his mouth as his fingers tangle in the baby hairs at the back of your neck. his fangs nick your lip until blood and you groan, long and low and greedy.

he widens his shaky legs, his heels digging into the small of your back as he yanks you hard into him. you groan, deep and pleased, and slide an arm under his spine. your hips rock hungrily against his ass until the bedframe shakes.

"sorry, 'm sorry," you mumble, over and over again, warm breaths puffing against jungkook's collarbone. your head spins. the faraway guilt lays heavy over your mind like a blanket and the pleasure fires threads of heat through your whole body, aching and greedy. arousal pulses low in your belly. "'m so sorry, f-feels too good, you feel so good—"

"y-you stupid mutt!" he cries, his leaking cock bouncing on his belly. he slaps your side weakly, knuckling the raised trio of scars that cross your chest and stomach. you grab his wrists and pin them above his head, palms flat against the soft, pale insides of his wrists. you're dizzy with it, the way he sucks you in and refuses to let go. "s-slow down, nngh, i-i'm—!"

he seizes up, sides tightening as his cock spurts. his ass clenches and swallows you whole, his staccato cries and moans burning permanently into your brain. with one last thrust, you empty yourself inside him with a drawled whine, pulling his body flush to yours. he's so cold – it soothes your sweat-slick skin and you rock yourself against him, mind numb to everything but the white-hot pleasure concentrating in a tangled mess at the base of your cock, swollen and hot and dragging forcefully against his vice-like hole. it stretches for you, pink and hungry.

jungkook groans breathlessly, the mess on his stomach dripping down his sides. it soils his bedsheets. he tilts his head towards yours, his breath cold against the shell of your ear. you shudder, still filling him up, and he admires the way your muscle flexes under your skin with each panting breath.

eventually, he leans back against his pillows, his muscles aching pleasurably. his thighs loosen around your hips and you slowly pull out until just the tip, feeling cum drip out of him, and lazily push back in, fucking your cum deep into his ass. he moans, holding you chest-to-chest.

"wh... what was that?" he croaks, his voice strained from the volume of his cries. "fuck, puppy, you were doing so well..."

"n-no! i was good!" you bury yourself in his neck, breathing in his scent to calm your thudding heart. "you came first, i did what you told me to do! i was good, i promise."

"i told you to be gentle," he groans, slapping your chest. "bad dog."

"you take that back," you whine. "'m not bad!"

"no."

"take it back," you demand. he arches an eyebrow. you wilt. "please..."

"fine," he relents, "but only if you do something for me."

you perk up, eyes bright with interest. hell... how you can be so energetic after such a thorough fuck, he has no idea. "yes?"

he pushes lightly on your hips, pulling your cock out, and rolls over onto his stomach. he props his cheek on the backs of his hands, gazing up at you through heavy-lidded eyes over his perfect shoulder.

he smirks, wiggling his hips. "fuck me like this, mutt. you can be as rough as you like, but there's one rule."

"a rule?" your stare is trapped on his ass and the way his hole leaks your cum. it scratches a deep, animal itch inside you.

"mhm." he arches his back slightly and grins at the soft gasp you let out. "you can't touch me."

you glance up, wide-eyed. it's criminal how innocent you look. "w-what?"

"you heard me, puppy. no touching. if you can make me come without touching me, and without losing it yourself... well, i can think of a few fun things you can choose from."

"yes," you agree instantly, eyes pinned on the way his ass presses against your cock. you place it between his ass and he rocks his hips, grinding against it as he pins it to your stomach. "fucking hell, yes."

"good." his eyes glitter, somewhere between malice and mischief. he grins playfully and traces his fangs with the tip of his tongue, tasting your blood. he hums as you eagerly push back in, groaning at the slick feeling of his soft insides. "no need to rush, love. you don't want to fill yourself up with the entrées, do you? we'll be here all night long..."

[bradshawshawaiianshirt]

Stuck on the Past | Part 3

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Ex-girlfriend!Reader

Summary: You never thought you'd see Bradley Bradshaw again, especially the way things ended between the two of you. So what happens when he's suddenly back for a special mission and is determined to win you back too?

Warnings: Angst (ish), adult language, drinking

Length: 1.6k

Stuck on the Past masterlist

"Who are you texting?" Bradley looked up from his phone to see Nat sitting down across from him. He'd had a bad day, that was for sure. With training for this mission and almost fighting Hangman earlier, he'd come straight to the cafeteria thinking food might help. Instead, he found himself staring at your texts, wondering if he should message to make sure you still wanted to meet, or if you'd turn him down and his day would hit rock bottom.

He looked up as Nat sat on the bench across from him, "No-one."

Nat rolled her eyes, leaning on the table in between them, "Come on, spill it. I need some drama around here that isn't to do with either Hangman or this mission."

Bradley poked at his food, "You're gonna tell me its a bad idea."

Nat smirked, "Can't be worse than other things you've done,"

Bradley chuckled and put his fork down, "I'm going out with my ex-girlfriend tonight. I think."

"Going out with an ex huh?" Nat shrugged, "Not the worst idea. We've all ran back to an ex once or twice."

"It's not like that." He sighed, "We were together a long time, while I was at Top Gun, haven't seen her in a few years now. Back then I really thought... I don't know. She was the only girl I saw myself making a life with, you know? Settling down."

"So, what happened? She dump you?"

"No." Bradley ran a hand through his hair, "I fucked it up. I ran.. but she didn't try to make me stay. Maybe she saw it coming, I don't know. I just knew I'd end up spending so much time away from her, I couldn't.. She deserved more."

"So... what? You want her back?"

Bradley shrugged, "I don't know. We're both in the same city, first time in years..."

Nat grinned, "It's like the universe is giving you a second chance, right?"

"You think I'm crazy?" Bradley chuckled.

"No." Nat stood, ready to leave, "But you want my advice? Don't fuck it up again."

-

You looked at your reflection in the mirror. He would be here any minute, and this was the third outfit you'd tried on. You shook your head, you're acting stupid. This wasn't even a date.. was it? It was just dinner. You could do dinner. Glancing at the mirror again, you started to panic. The dress looked good, but was it too dressy? Shit.

Your phone buzzed from your bed. He's here. The dress would have to do now.

You slipped on your shoes and headed downstairs to the front of your building, where Bradley was waiting, leaning against the side of his bronco. When he saw you coming, he grinned, "You look amazing."

Maybe the dress wasn't such a bad idea.

"Thanks." You looked Bradley up and down. He was in jeans and one of his classic Hawaiian shirts, his aviators hanging on the edge of his nose. "You look good too."

He opened the passenger door of the bronco for you and you climbed in. He reached over you to buckle your seat belt and you felt your stomach flip as you looked up at him. He smiled slightly and shut the door. You couldn't give in. You had to be strong.

Focus on the article.

He climbed into the driver's seat and turned on the engine, pulling away from your street, "You still love Italian food?"

You chuckled, "Are you kidding? I will always be down for pasta. Where are we going?"

Bradley smirked, "You'll see."

After a little while, he was pulling into a parking spot right outside the old Italian restaurant on the corner of the street. You almost couldn't believe it, the memories overwhelming you slightly. This had been your go-to for dates with Bradley back in the day. You looked out of your window and back to Bradley as he parked, opening and closing your mouth, unable to figure out what to say.

He turned off the engine, suddenly looking a little sheepish, "I know it's cheesy taking you here, if you wanna go somewhere else-"

"No." you interjected, "I love it here."

His shoulders relaxed and he began to smile, "Remember that time you were sick so I ordered like, five different meals from here and brought them to your place?."

You giggled, you guys had so much left over pasta that day, it practically fed you for the next week. "I remember." You said, "I also remember you trying to pour me a glass of wine and instead spilling it all down my front."

Bradley began to laugh, "That was so embarrassing! What was that, like, our second date too?"

You started laughing too and Bradley watched you, struggling to hold back his own laughter. You were so magnetic, your laugh so real and genuine, he'd missed it more than he thought.

"Yeah." you giggled, "You know, I never got the stain out of that dress, had to throw it away."

Bradley smiled wide as both of your laughter subsided, "Shame. You looked beautiful that night."

You cheeks burned as you both got out of the car and you felt yourself smiling harder than you had in a while.

Focus on the article.

He placed his hand on the small of your back as you both walked inside. It was a small restaurant, with a few seats by the front window and some further towards the back. The host showed you to your seat, right by the large front window. You'd sat here with Bradley before and you felt yourself wonder if he had requested this table especially. He ordered a bottle of wine for you both to share. If it were a first date, you would have been giddy with infatuation.

But it wasn't a first date, not really.

Once the waitress had poured you each a glass and left you to look at the menu, you decided to make a move. "How's the mission going?" You tried to sound as casual as you could.

Bradley gazed up at you from the menu, "Haven't spoken to Maverick, almost got in a fight with Hangman."

You frowned, putting the menu down, "You got in a fight? Are you okay?"

He chuckled, "Yeah sweetheart, I'm fine."

"So Hangman's still an ass?"

"Oh yeah. You remember him huh?"

You nodded, "I remember how much you used to bitch about him at Top Gun. Seems like he hasn't changed."

"Nope." Bradley looked back at the menu and smirked, "Wanna share their mega pasta? Think we can finish it all this time?"

You chuckled, reliving the memory. The restaurant was known for doing massive portions of any pasta you choose, meant for 4 people to share. Last time you and Bradley had barely made a dent in it.

"Sure." you smiled, leaning across the table, "As long as it's spaghetti bolognaise."

-

When you'd both finished your food, Bradley eating a lot more than he did the last time but still not managing to finish the whole plate, he paid the bill, ignoring your protests. The two of you decided to walk along the beach after that and you felt sparks as your hand brushed his every now and then.

Focus on the article.

"So, uh," you cleared your throat, keeping your eyes trained on the sand beneath your feet, "What's the deal with this mission? Is it dangerous?"

Bradley chuckled, "Why? You worried about me, sweetheart?"

You rolled your eyes, "Bradley."

He shrugged, "All missions are dangerous to some degree." He stopped walking, and you followed his lead, "I had a really good time with you tonight."

You smiled, "I had a good time with you too."

"I was thinking, you never answered my question the other day." You frowned as he continued, "Did you forgive me?"

You let out a puff of air and glanced down at the sand, "I did. After a while."

"Why didn't you ask me to stay?"

You looked up at him, his eyes were glistening in the moonlight, never leaving yours, he looked vulnerable. You shrugged, "You'd been distant for a while. I didn't want to beg you to stay with me and I thought if I did, it might make you run further away."

Bradley sighed, "I regretted it. Leaving you. I always wanted you to know that."

You looked down to the sand, suddenly feeling a lump in your throat. "Everything happens for a reason, right?" You chuckled bitterly.

It had been such a long time since you'd really thought about Bradley and everything that had happened between you. This trip down memory lane suddenly had you feeling overwhelmed with emotion.

Bradley thought back to his conversation with Nat earlier in the day, "I was young and stupid. I never meant to hurt you like I did."

"You're not all to blame. I knew you'd been distant but I never said anything. Maybe if I did, we could have talked about it. Things might not have ended the way they did." You replied, shivering a little as the wind picked up.

Bradley immediately took his Hawaiian shirt off and wrapped it around your shoulders, leaving him in a white undershirt. He pulled you slightly closer to him and you thought your heart might explode. "I don't want to rush things," He said carefully, "but I'd really love to get to know you again. If you'll let me."

You looked up at him. It was on the tip of your tongue to mention the task your boss had given you, to tell Bradley the truth. But looking into his eyes in the dark of the night, his shirt wrapped around you and his fingers gently rubbing circles over your shoulders, you couldn't muster up the courage.

The only thing you could say was, "Yeah. I'd like that."

[xlovely-liviix]

Remedy: A Huskerdust Fanfiction

Hello and welcome to my new fanfiction: Remedy!

I asked a fellow Tumblr...Tumblree?? I asked @masculinemiracles to borrow their AU because its just so-- it's something that makes me happy to a point where I can't describe it.

So without further ado, please enjoy this Huskerdust fanfiction that holds dangerous amounts of fluffy love.

"I'll see you tomorrow, angel cakes.." Valentino's voice sounded from across the room. "and Angel?" Angel Dust halted his trek towards the door and pivoted around, flashing a fake smile.

"Yes, Val?" Valentino creeped closer to the spider demon. "Don't be late again." the demon moth warned, his voice deepening.

He blew a cloud of blood-red vapor into Angel's face, as the arachnid-demon coughed and faced away from the toxic substance. "Yes, Valentino..." Angel muttered, before turning back around and exiting the studio.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘˗ˏˋ ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ ��ˊ˗∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Angel Dust pressed both flaps of his blazer together as the cold air pressed up against an exposed area of his chest.

It was a cold, dark night in the city. The streets were quiet, with only the occasional car passing by. Angel walked briskly down the street, his hands buried deep in his pockets. He was tired after a long night of work, but he was looking forward to getting home and resting.

He huffed, flicking his lighter multiple times in order to light a cigarette. Once he successfully managed to get a flame, he pressed the fire to the tip of the dart, breathing in a long drag of the chemicals before exhaling.

The spider continued walking, the bottom of his high-heeled boots scuffing against the pavement, that was soaked with rain from the night before. Raindrops coated the sky, falling down in a steady, yet heavy mist.

"Fuckin' Val always-- fuckin' up my life," Angel mumbled a slur of different curses as he recalled his previous interaction with his boss.

He sighed and looked down at his feet, taking another long drag from his cigarette, the orange ember casting a faint glow in the darkness. As he continued making his way down the streets that were covered in a thick layer of fog, he was suddenly snapped out of his stupor at the sound of footsteps behind him.

He quickened his pace, not wanting to get involved in any trouble. The rate of the mysterious persons footsteps only increased as Angel's did. The rhythm of their footsteps, mixed with the light tapping of Angel's purse against his thigh created an ensemble that only further activated Angel's fight or flight instincts.

 Angel's heart started to race, and he began to panic.

He turned a corner, and the person behind him turned too. He was getting closer. He was close to running, his heart pounding in his chest. He could hear the person's heavy breathing behind him. They were gaining on him.

Despite having a near-running pace, the person wouldn't back down, giving Angel one last option. He couldn't take it anymore. Stopping abruptly, he turned to face his pursuer. Reaching into his mountain of chest fluff (?), he pulled out his habitual pistol.

"Alright, the fuck do ya want wit' me?" He growled as a warning, pointing his gun towards the ferreter.

The person, who was a demon with a bat-like appearance, clad in a dark turtleneck, jeans, and an orange fedora, took a small step back, although he never showed any signs of fear. "Easy there, slut. I come in peace."

This only caused Angel to cock (teehee) his gun, inching closer to the man.

"Aw c'mon, baby. I only want ya services. You do anything for money, now don't cha?" he smirked, eyeing the spider-demon. Angel cringed at that, tightening his grip on the weapon before exhaling and lowering it.

"Sorry ta disappoint, but i'm off duty," Angel shrugged, turning around as he began to walk away, turning his back on the demon.

"Oh come on, whore. You'll do anything for a quick buck." The demon's petty smirk only got larger. This statement caused Angel to stop in his tracks, turning back around.

"Listen here ya little desperate fucker," Angel began to approach him, holding out a slim, gloved finger as he pointed at his stalker. He bent down to reach his height. "I said i'm off duty. Niente sesso per stasera. So why don't ya go and choke on ya own cum? That might satisfy ya little fucked up cravings." the arachnid poked him in the chest a few times, causing the demon to lose his grin.

The man remained quiet, as Angel stood back up to his full height, rolling his eyes as he turned around once more and began walking. The stalker growled, stepping forward as he suddenly grabbed Angel's wrist.

Before he could even get a word, Angel instinctively brought his arm around, firing at the demon. His body dropped at Angel's feet. The spider sighed exasperatedly, kicking his limp body to the side as he began walking once more.

Living in a place like this could change a person. He had been living a dangerous and risky life for years, selling his body for money and getting involved in all sorts of illegal activities. He had become numb to the violence and the darkness that surrounded him, and killing someone was just another day in hell.

Even when he was alive, Angel was no stranger to the life of crime. Growing up in an italian mafia, crime was all he knew. But that's a story for another time.

Although he felt no remorse for what he had just done, he couldn't help but think about his previous encounter.

This.

This isn't the life that he wanted. Ever. Not for himself, not for...Whitney.

He flinched at the thought of his daughter, the air becoming significantly colder. Shivering a bit, he rubbed the sides of his arms, creating friction between the two surfaces in hopes of sparking some form of heat.

This wasn't the type of upbringing he wanted his daughter to have. She was an innocent soul, who deserved good parents-- well, a good (other) dad. She deserved someone who didn't suck dick for a living, one who could make money without having to take off his clothes, one who could be there for the important moments of her life.

Angel pulled his phone from his purse, squinting his eyes at the glowing screen. He opened his text conversation with Husk, scrolling through their past messages.

He chuckled softly at an image of Whitney and Husker, where the two sat on a couch, the spider-kitty sitting on her dad's lap as they both drank from bottles. Husk's booze, and Whitney's milk. The image had a caption labeled as: "Drinking Buddies"

He scrolled a little further, looking at all of the pictures and videos sent by Husk to Angel. His giggles slowly turned into waterworks as he shut his phone off, stuffing it back into his purse as he viciously wiped the tears from his face.

It wasn't fair to her. It wasn't fair that his daughter had to be born into this fucked up place.

It wasn't fair that she had to have a shitty papa.

He doesn't deserve her. He doesn't deserve Husk, he doesn't deserve Whitney, he doesn't deserve Charlie...

He doesn't deserve anything.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘˗ˏˋ ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ ˎˊ˗∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

"..And they all lived happily ever after...the end.." Husk mumbled, not even bothering to describe the accurate ending to the story as he had stopped looking at the book.

"I wanna noder..." Whitney whined, tugging at Husker's facial fur. The toddler attempted to gain his attention by "climbing" her father, gripping on to his fur and wrapping her hands around his neck. "Nene, please..." Husker groaned, his eyes remaining closed as he leaned his head back against the cushioned armchair.

"No!! I wanna noder...." Whitney continued to wail, smashing her tiny head onto Husker's cheek. "Ten piedad de mi alma…." the feline demon muttered, opening his eyes once again as he shifted in the armchair. "No more books, Nene. It's way beyond time for bed." he said, beginning to stand up, picking up the infant.

"No, no no!!" Whitney shrieked, attempting to free herself from her fathers' grip. "Whitney!" Husker snapped, but then regained composure.

"Whit, if you don't go to bed now, then you'll be tired tomorrow." Husk tried to reason with the small feline, but it didn't seem to be working.

"I want papa...." she wailed, pressing two sets of tiny paws to her eyes.

"Whitney, please, daddy is here now. You don't need to cry for papa," Husk said, trying to soothe her.

But Whitney continued to cry, her little face turning red with frustration. She had been waiting for Angel to come home all day and she wasn't going to sleep until he was home.

As her cries turned into sobs, Husk felt a pain in his heart.  He knew how much Whitney adored her papa, and how she always needed him to be there when she went to sleep. But her papa was out at work, working ridiculous hours thanks to that fuckhead.

Valentino. Always messing up Angel's life one way or another. If Husk could ever have the chance, he would skin the moth demon alive and dump his body into a pool of-

Husk's thought train was interrupted by Whitney's screams. She shrieked, making noises that Husk himself thought was physically impossible for a living organism to make.

Desperate to put an end to her cries, he tried negotiating.

"Okay, shh, shh. Hey-- hey, Nene, if you listen, then i'll-" his voice could barely reach her ears due to the screams. "Whitney." he said, this time with a much louder voice, overpowering her screams.

She ceased the nonviable screams for a moment, pausing to listen to her father.

"Listen, if you stop crying, we can go downstairs and wait for papa, okay?" the toddler contemplated her father's proposal for a moment, before wiping her eyes with a singular fuzzy paw, agreeing to his offer.

Husker smiles, grateful that he was able to but a stop to her ruckus.

Shifting the spider-kitty in his arms, he took her downstairs, venturing to the bar, where he usually spent most of his time.

He sat Whitney on the counter as he poured her a glass of warm milk. He pulled out his personal bottle of cheap booze, and began chugging it from the bottle.

As the two sat there, sipping their beverages, they remained silent. Husk was afraid that the slightest movement would set her off and Lord knows that that doesn't need to happen again.

Husker sighed as he continued gulping down the alcohol. He looked up at Whitney, who seemed distracted. He sat up a little bit, hesitating to touch her.

Just as he reached out, the small felines ears (that were way too large for her) twitched, and pointed in the direction of the door.

"I think papa's home.." Husk sighed in relief. Whitney immediately set her milk down, squeaking a little bit as she begged her father to put her on the floor.

Husker chuckled, picking up the spider and placing her on the ground. As soon as her little feet hit the floor, she immediately sped off, running as fast as her little legs could take her.

"Papa~!!"

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘˗ˏˋ ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ ˎˊ˗∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Angel sighed, trying to wipe away the remainder of his tears as entered the hotel. He quickly turned to the wall closest to him, sticking his cigarette into his mouth as he disarmed the silent alarm.

"Fuckin'...stupid..." Angel brushed a hand through his hair as he tried his hardest to remember the code the the alarm. He had always been a forgetful person, especially to the more..unimportant things in his life.

His stream of profanity was cut off by a sweet, recognizable voice shouting: "Papa!!" and a force colliding with his lower leg.

"Cupcake!" Angel exclaimed, immediately picking up the small kitty and spinning around with her, quickly putting his cigarette out with the bottom of his foot.

Angel smothered kisses on Whitney's soft, fuzzy face as Husker walked up, disarming the alarm.

"You two waited fa me?" Angel raised an eyebrow, giving Husk a quick kiss as he made his way over to the bar, Whitney still in his upper set of arms.

"More like she waited for you," Husk chuckled, walking back behind the bar counter as he retrieved two glasses, grabbing Angel's favorite bottle of whiskey.

"You stayed up just fa me, cupcake?" the arachnid smiled, lifting Whitney up to his face as he nuzzled her, nose-to-nose.

"Yeah papa...I cried..ce--cebause you weren't here.." her big ears lowered a little as the kitten recalled her behavior. "Awh, snuggle muffin'..." Angel's smile dropped, as he kissed her forehead.

"Ya don't have ta cry fa me...okay? I'll always be wit' you..even if i'm not..physically wit' you...okay?" the spider gave his daughter a small smile. Whitney noded, sniffling a little. Angel was quick to wipe away any other tears that she had.

The arachnid-demon buried his chin into the top of Whitney's head as he sat down on one of the stools. Husker slid Angel's glass towards him.

"Thanks, Husky..." Angel gave his partner a tired smile as he quickly downed the drink, placing it on the counter. Husk poured him a round two, but Angel didn't drink it right away.

"Open, Nene.." he looked down at his daughter, as she opened her mouth, showing a set of barely-there teeth. Angel took off one of his gloves, dipping his bare finger into the small glass, bringing it to his daughter's mouth as he rubbed the alcohol onto her gums.

Husker's eyes widened and he opened his mouth to say something, but closed it once again. He knew that Angel would never intentionally hurt his daughter, and for that reason, he trusted his actions...

....even the more.....questionable ones of the bunch.

Such as this one.

Angel chuckled a little bit to himself as he noted Husk's demeanor. "It's ta help 'er go to sleep and stay asleep." he giggled.

Husk raised an eyebrow. Out of all his years being a bartender and his...out-of-hand relationship with alcohol, he hadn't known this. Despite this, he brushed it off.

"What? Am I making a face? I never said anything!" Husker exclaimed quietly. "Ya body language says it all, baby."

Angel downs the second drink, wiping his mouth before cautiously getting up, shifting Whitney in his arms as he gently, yet firmly, pressed her miniature body to his.

He took the small demon upstairs to her room, gently placing her down in her bed as he planted a kiss to the crown of her head.

"Goodnight, cuddlekins..." Angel whispered, smiling as he slowly walked out of her room, making sure to turn on her projector nightlight before he left.

Once he was back downstairs, he went back over to the bar, where Husker wiped down the counters, closing up for the night.

"Every day.." Angel groaned, carelessly flopping down onto one of the stools. Husk prepares himself for Angel's upcoming rant, hanging up the cloth he used to clean the countertop.

"He's always on my fuckin' ass. In the sexual way, and the "my-boss-is-a-bitch" way. I can't take it anymore!" Husker chuckled at Angel's choice of words, before regaining composure.

"Tell me all about it..." Husker goes over, taking a seat next to Angel as he allows his partner to lean into him, testing his trust with the small stool.

Angel hesitated for a moment before letting out a sigh and launching into his story. He talked about the long hours, the never-ending workload, and the constant pressure from Val.

"You've had a long day, baby..." Husker frowned, caressing Angel's side with his claw.

"Fuckin' tell me about it! I'm exhausted." Angel groaned, slamming his head down onto the bar counter with frustration.

He let out a muffled noise, that caused Husk to take his hand, sliding it in between Angel's chin and the bar counter, lifting his face up. Angel avoided his gaze as Husk spotted shiny tears pooling in his eyes.

"Baby.." Husk started, before he was cut off by Angel.

"I just-- I don't want to drag Whitney into alla this shit.." he wiped at his nose before continuing. "I don't-- I don't deserve ha....she deserves someone so much betta..." he let out another squeak, trying to dab away his tears.

"Baby...you..you do deserve her. I don't care what the fuck Valentino says, or even what you say to yourself. You deserve Whitney as much as you deserve the world." Angel opened his mouth to protest, but Husk was quick to press a finger to his mouth.

"So know....even if things are as fucked up as they are...it doesn't change how much you love her, or your capability of taking care of her." He gives Angel a soft, warm smile.

Angel leans forward, pressing a kiss to his lips.

"I fuckin' love ya, Husky.."

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘˗ˏˋ ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ ˎˊ˗∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

This took me.....way longer than it should've.

I'm honestly disappointed in the ending but...whatever. I was in a rush, LOL. There's so many things I hate about this, such as the length, but...whatever. (I said that already, I know)

It doesn't really take me long to write fanfiction like this, but for some reason, I decided to be lazy, and write like, two words per day. (silly me!)

Anyways, if you can't tell, I LOVE me some fluff and fem/mpreg! I don't know why..some just say...I was born this way (Ooh, there ain't no other way babyyyyy). ANYWAYS let me stop-

I hope y'all enjoyed this short little fic. As I mentioned before, this is a borrowed AU from @masculinemiracles so...consider checking out their blog!

Also, if you liked this, then consider sticking around, because I have some other Hazbin Hotel (mainly ship and mpreg) fanfictions OTW!

Bye now!!

~xlovely-liviix

Word Count: 2,769

[hwanchaesong]

☞🍹Sixth Drink: Living in champagne and sparkles is a dream come true for anyone. But not with him, a mess in his head, won't you fix it for him? 🍸

🎧: The Weeknd - Snowchild

wc: 567

genre & warnings: angst, fluff, comfort, rich!chenle, fiancé!reader, cursing, etc etc

a/n: this is a part of The After Hours Bar series. if y'all want, you can read the other album inspired fics of other groups here.

"Are you having fun here? Alone?" you ask the man who is sitting on a kid's swing, taking the empty spot beside him and staring straight ahead.

"Not really." he answers, laughing weakly while he absentmindedly kicks a pebble on the ground.

"Then," you crane your neck to look at your beloved, "would you mind sharing with me what's in your pretty little head?"

He grins, this time a genuine one, "I'm sorry to break it out to you but my head is not little. I will accept the pretty part though."

He smiles when he hears you laugh at his joke before breaking out a sigh, gazing down at the dirt and contemplating whether to spill his problems to you or not.

He could always play it off. Tell you that he's tired because of work, but how much more can he take until he explodes?

"Lele," you reach out and hold his hand in yours, engulfing his cold ones with your warmth, "it's just me. You can be honest with me."

You're right, he did choose you as his confidant in life. There really is no point in hiding things from you.

Chenle intertwined his fingers with yours, his usual smiley expression is now devoid of any emotion.. well, one emotion— indifference.

Not towards you, but towards the people who are supposed to be his pillar when life gets tough.

"They are so shitty." he says and you wait for him to continue, "I always did whatever they wanted me to do, and when I ask them for something, they can't even do it."

He sighs, closing his eyes in resentment to calm him down.

Throughout his existence, the extravagant life and business-minded attitude have been drilled into him. He was taught to think critically, that wealth and success come first over anything else.

But he is tired from all of those, and he wants to escape.

That is why he asked them for a small favor of giving him a break, but they can't because it will hinder the plans for the company.

Fuck all that.

"What did you ask them?" you inquired, gazing at his slumped figure.

"Just a few days off." he murmurs and your heart squeezed painfully in your chest. You couldn't fully fathom how simple his request is yet they aren't able to give him that.

You were silent for a few seconds before you stood up, walking in front of him and crouching down. Your hands are now fully engulfing his, and the shiny engagement ring on your finger gleams under the dim street lamp light.

"Let's try again. I will come with you." you declared, beaming at him when he gave you a confused look.

"Y/N, it's okay. I w-"

"No, no." you shook your head. You are not going to sit down and watch your fiancé slowly rot in hell (his workplace), "We will fight for that vacation of yours together."

Chenle had a lot of good food from the Michelin star chefs and restaurants, but he never really felt the kind of full that he's experiencing now.

"Thank you, Y/N." he chuckles when you childishly stick your tongue out, acting like an adorable fool to make him laugh.

As the snow begins to fall in the middle of the city, Chenle was oddly warm, and he knows that you are the reason for it.

taglist:

@sunghoonsgfreal @yeosayang @mystverse

@shakalakaboomboo

[zapreportsblog]

❝lemme spoil you babygirl❞

✭ pairing : earth 42 miles morales x reader

✭ fandom : spiderman into the spiderverse

✭ summary : miles enjoys spoiling his girl with anything her heart desires, and whiles she may not always voice what she wants he can tell simply by her eyes. After all the eyes are the window to the soul right?

✭ authors note : don’t take offense to half the shit I said in this, I’m Black and half Asian on my grandfathers side. This is written in good fun if you can’t take a joke kindly fuck off :)

✭ spiderman into the spiderverse masterlist

The streets of Brooklyn buzzed with life as Miles swung effortlessly between the towering skyscrapers, and buildings. The city was his playground, his domain, and he couldn't have asked for a more thrilling existence.

But amidst the whirlwind of his double life as both a high school student and the enigmatic Prowler, there was one constant that grounded him, that gave him a reason to fight the good fight every day – you.

(Y/N) had been in his life for as long as he could remember, but it was only recently that they had taken their friendship to the next level. The two of you were inseparable, and Miles couldn't help but fall head over heels in love with you.

As the Prowler, he had the means to spoil you, and he did so with a actual genuine smile on his face. He didn't ask for much in return, only your radiant smile and the joy that being with you brought into his life.

One evening, Miles and you found yourselves on a quiet rooftop, away from the chaos of the city below. The night air was cool, and the stars twinkled above, as if they were celebrating your presence.

Miles wrapped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer. "You know, I'd give you the moon if I could."

You chuckled, leaning into his warmth. "I'm happy with just you, Miles."

His uncle Aaron, who had become something of a mentor to Miles, had been watching from the shadows. He couldn't help but grin at the scene before him. He stepped out, causing both you and Miles to turn your heads in surprise.

"You treat that girl like she's your world, Miles," Aaron said with a teasing glint in his eye.

Miles laughed, his voice full of affection. "I got to, Uncle Aaron. Otherwise, some small-time punk's gonna come around thinking he can take what's mine."

Aaron chuckled, clapping Miles on the back. "You've got that right, nephew. But you know, it's good to see you happy."

Miles and Aaron shared a genuine laugh, the bond between them stronger than ever. The Prowler had a reputation to uphold, but he also had a heart that beat for the people he loved, especially for you, (Y/N).

As the night continued, you, Miles, and Miles uncle Aaron sat on that rooftop, sharing stories, laughter, and a love that could withstand even the most challenging of circumstances. In the heart of the city that never sleeps, this was a night to remember – a night that reminded Miles why he swung through the city, risking his life as the Prowler, because he had something worth fighting for, something worth protecting. And that something was you, his world.

It was another day, which meant another day of spoiling his girl. (Y/N) strolled through the bustling mall, her fingers interlaced with Miles'. The afternoon sun filtered through the large glass windows, casting a warm glow over the shoppers. Miles carried an array of designer shopping bags, each filled with luxurious items that he had picked out for her.

"You know you don't gotta buy me all these things, baby," (Y/N) said with a soft smile as she looked at the bags bearing the names Chanel and Balenciaga.

Miles grinned down at her, his eyes filled with affection. "I know, baby girl, but seeing your eyes light up when I get your pretty ass a gift just makes my day."

(Y/N) couldn't help but blush at his words. "That's so corny," she teased, though her heart swelled with warmth.

Miles chuckled, his deep voice resonating in the bustling mall. "Well, it's true, baby girl. Now, give a kiss."

(Y/N) rolled her eyes playfully but leaned in and planted a sweet peck on his cheek. It was moments like these that made her realize how lucky she was to have Miles in her life.

“Naw baby girl, give daddy a real kiss.”

With a roll of your eyes again, you leaned forward and gave miles an another kiss on his check this time just inches away from his luscious plump lips.

Miles wasn’t having that though and pulled you forward once more by your throat, his grip firm but still gentle enough to not hurt you. Your lips met, and for a moment, the bustling mall around you faded into oblivion. It was just the two of you, lost in each other's affection.

As he pulled away, a mischievous glint in his eyes, he whispered, "Don't go rolling those eyes at me, babygirl, otherwise, I'll give you a reason to be rolling them."

You chuckled, the warmth of his kiss still lingering on your lips. "You're impossible, Miles Morales."

He grinned, his love for you written all over his face as he continued to carry your shopping bags. "And you love me for it."

Hand in hand, you both continued your leisurely stroll through the mall, knowing that your love was the most precious gift of all, and the fancy bags filled with designer items were just a sweet bonus.

“Hurry your pretty ass up I wanna take you to get your nails done, it’ll go pretty with your next gifts.”

Miles and (Y/N) entered the nail salon nestled within the mall, the serene atmosphere a welcome contrast to the bustling shopping floors. Miles guided her to one of the plush salon chairs, and she settled in, eyeing the array of nail polish colors displayed before her.

"Go crazy, baby girl," Miles urged with a playful grin. His eyes danced with anticipation.

(Y/N) bit her lip, feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension. "Don't you think you've spent enough today?" she asked, her gaze shifting to the designer bags still in his grasp.

Miles leaned in closer, his voice low and filled with affection. "For you? Never."

With that, he called over one of the salon workers, who approached them with a warm smile. Miles wasted no time. "Give her the whole spa treatment. I'm talking massages, a full set on both her nails and feet, and include that gel set you ling lings always be trying to sell your clients. Touch up the brows, and if she wants, wax her, too. I want her pampered and happy by the end of her session."

(Y/N) looked at Miles with wide eyes, a mixture of surprise and gratitude. "Miles, stop it, that's too much and definitely rude," she protested, her cheeks flushing.

Miles waved her off, his eyes filled with adoration. "It’s true though! And nonsense, baby. You deserve it all. Now, enjoy yourself."

The salon worker nodded though offended at the long long comment they ain’t take it too personal, they’ve been called worse, and with one final nod they began to prepare for what promised to be a luxurious pampering session for (Y/N) or in their eyes the dark skinned fellow sugar baby. As she settled into the chair, her heart swelled with appreciation for Miles and the love he showered upon her. She couldn't help but smile as she realized just how lucky she was to have him in her life.

(Y/N) and Miles left the nail salon with her feeling like a queen after her pampering session. She couldn't stop admiring her perfectly manicured and xl full set of nails and her silky smooth skin. Miles had a way of making every moment special, and today was no exception.

As they strolled through the mall, they made their way to Footlocker, a store that always got Miles excited. He was a sneakerhead, and (Y/N) knew he couldn't resist the lure of fresh kicks.

Inside the store, the scent of new sneakers and the sight of rows upon rows of colorful shoeboxes greeted them. Miles was like a kid in a candy store, and (Y/N) couldn't help but chuckle at his enthusiasm.

"Baby, what are you feeling today?" Miles asked as they browsed the selection of sneakers.

(Y/N) considered the options and then spotted a pair of sleek white Nikes that caught her eye. "I think these would look great," she said, holding them up for Miles to see.

Miles nodded in agreement, a smile spreading across his face. "Good choice, baby girl. Let's grab those."

They each picked out a pair of matching Nikes, and then Miles, with his discerning eye for style, spotted a pair of limited edition Jordans on display. He knew he had to have them.

"Check these out," Miles said, beckoning (Y/N) over to admire the Jordans.

(Y/N) couldn't deny that they were impressive. "Those are fire," she admitted.

Miles decided without hesitation. "We're getting them."

After some time spent trying on shoes, making their selections, and chatting with the friendly staff, (Y/N) and Miles left Footlocker with matching Nikes and the limited edition Jordans in hand. The excitement of getting new kicks and the shared experience of picking them out together added to the bond they shared.

As they walked hand in hand through the mall once again, Miles couldn't help but glance at (Y/N) with a loving smile. Every moment spent with her was a cherished memory, and he was grateful for the happiness she brought into his life.

“Now onto your final surprise before I take your pretty ass to get some food.”

Miles and (Y/N) ventured further into the mall, their bags all held in the strong hands of miles morales. The next stop on their shopping adventure was Pandora, a store known for its elegant jewelry. Miles had a mischievous glint in his eye as he led her inside.

Once they were surrounded by displays of intricate bracelets and shimmering charms, Miles gently took (Y/N)'s hand. "How about a little something special from Pandora?" he suggested with a warm smile.

(Y/N) was both surprised and delighted by the idea. She nodded eagerly, her curiosity piqued. "Fine, let's see what they have. But I’m only agreeing because i know you’ll drag my ass in here anyways.”

Miles guided her to the charm bangle bracelets section. Each bracelet had a unique design, and the charms ranged from adorable animals to elegant gemstones. He handed her a bangle bracelet adorned with a star charm and said, "For our shared love of Star Wars."

(Y/N) grinned as she accepted the bracelet. "I love it."

Miles then picked out a few more charms, each with its own meaning and significance to their relationship. He selected a heart charm, a symbol of their love, a travel-themed charm for their shared adventures, and a pair of intertwined rings as a symbol of their commitment to one another.

With each addition, (Y/N) was touched by Miles' thoughtfulness. However, as he handed her the last charm, which looked strikingly like an engagement ring, she couldn't help but raise an eyebrow.

"Miles, this one looks like an engagement ring," she commented, her voice laced with amusement.

Miles chuckled and winked at her. "Well, until we're a bit older, it's just a promise ring," he said, slipping it onto her finger. "One day, though."

(Y/N) blushed at his words, the promise of a future together warming her heart. She accepted the charm bracelet and the promise ring, feeling grateful for the love and dedication Miles poured into their relationship. As they left Pandora, hand in hand, she couldn't help but smile, knowing that their journey together was just beginning.

[allwaswell16]

A fic rec of One Direction fics with no smut as requested in an ask that got lost somehow I'm so sorry! If you enjoy the fics, please leave kudos and comments for the writers! You can find my other fic recs here. Happy reading!

- Louis/Harry -

🩵 forever is in your eyes by we_are_the_same / @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed

(M, 125k, fantasy) “Jesus Christ.” He whispers, shaking his head and resisting the urge to brush the back of his hand against his lips, erase evidence that isn’t even visible to the naked eye. Harry stands there, as though nothing’s changed, and of course he does, because he’s a statue. A statue that Louis has just kissed.

🩵 Tired Tired Sea by MediaWhore / @mediawhorefics

(M, 113k, lighthouse au) As a B&B owner on the most remote of all the British Isles, Louis Tomlinson is used to spending the coldest half of the year in complete isolation, with his dog and the sea as sole companions. Until, one day, a mysterious stranger on a quest to rebuild himself rents a room for the winter.

🩵 An Amazing Race Around the World (And to my Heart) by Thingssicant / @slowlyseducedbycurls

(E, 89k, enemies to lovers) Or an Amazing race Hate to Lovers au

🩵 Into the Weeds by kair0sclerosis / @night-is-a-feeling

(M, 87k, character study) With the help of the captivating bartender, Louis, who he can’t seem to stop daydreaming about, and his enchanting group of friends; Harry remembers what it is to be alive. This is a story about small-town secrets, found family, queer identities, and the battle between fight and flight.

🩵 Let Our Hearts Collide by @crinkle-eyed-boo

(M, 76k, While You Were Sleeping au) When Harry, a lonely transit worker, saves the life of the handsome commuter he's been secretly pining for, an innocent mistake results in Liam Payne's family believing that Harry is engaged to their son. In the Paynes, Harry finds the big family he's always longed for...and a love he never saw coming.

🩵 another dream but always you by you_explode / @nobodymoves

(M, 66k, famous/not famous) Harry is a Dreamwalker; he has the ability to visit people in their dreams and help put them on the right path. He's assigned to Louis, who's struggling after the break-up of his band.

🩵 Forget the Silent Nights by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

(T, 44k, roommates) Either way, the last Christmas with the seven of them in that broken old house on Redwood all together was probably one of the most memorable holidays each of them had, what with the wedding and the the snowstorm and the raccoons in their attic...And the baby they stole, of course.

🩵 Too Young To Know by @2tiedships2

(M, 35k, omegaverse) the one where Harry doesn’t present as an alpha… until he does.

🩵 All Out of Love by SunTomato / @sun-tomato

(G, 32k, cupid au) Harry is a Cupid, who work their magic on a different plane, invisible to humans.

🩵 Fuck You For Ruining New York City For Me by galactic_larry / @galacticlarry

(T, 11k, exes) Louis broke up with him in their New York apartment, so Harry left the city for good. Except now he’s back, visiting with his new boyfriend.

🩵 Does it Ever Drive You Crazy? (Just How Fast the Night Changes) by xx_soup_xx

(G, 7k, strangers to lovers) Baker Harry Styles takes it upon himself to get his mysterious grumpy customer, Louis Tomlinson, to like Christmas by taking him on a disastrous first date.

🩵 Girl Crush by Hopeless_blue

(T, 7k, strangers to lovers) He used to be so close to fulfilling his dreams when he participated in X-Factor. But that was four years ago, and now, on a rainy day, he wanders the streets looking for a pub where he could sing sometimes. Charming bartender Louis is ready to give him a shot...

🩵 Why Don’t We Start Writing The Story Of Us by red_panda28 / @red-pandaaa

(T, 6k, omegaverse) Alpha Louis and Omega Harry get off on the wrong foot, Louis has the worst timing, and Harry believes in second chances. Three times Louis asks Harry on a date and the one time Harry accepts

🩵 now i'm tracin' all my steps to you by @alwaysxlarrie

(T, 5k, 5 times fic) Of all the things Harry was prepared for this summer, Louis Tomlinson and his wonderful, wonderful scent isn't one of them. It probably shouldn't be as shocking as it is that it makes Harry want to nest.

🩵 Missed Connection by @kingsofeverything

(M, 3k, humor) Harry is absolutely clueless when it comes to figuring out if other guys are into him, so he enlists his friend Niall to assist. That may or may not be a mistake.

🩵 You & Me by @allwaswell16

(G, 3k, uni) Louis hasn't had much luck in love, so he decides to finally meet this boy his mother thinks is his match. As fate would have it, he encounters an intriguing stranger to confide in before he meets with destiny.

🩵 All The Way Home I'll Be Warm by @justanothershadeofblue

(T, 2k, friends to lovers) Harry & Louis jokingly send out holiday cards together as friends, and now everyone is congratulating them for finally getting together. A 5+1 fic, for Christmas.

🩵 skinny dip (in water under the bridge) by hazzahtomlinson / @itsnotreal

(G, 880 words, exes) It’s a Wednesday and nostalgia might just get the best of Louis.

- Rare Pairs -

🩵 I Go Down Blazing, Feeling Like I'm Going Crazy (series) by @lululawrence

(NR, 29k, Niall/RoryMcIlroy) the soulmates AU where Niall won't know who his soulmate is until his twenty-first birthday, but becoming friends with Rory McIlroy is a great distraction while he navigates fame and does his best to be patient.

🩵 Blind Date by LadyAJ_13 / @ladyaj-13

(G, 13k, ot5) Louis Tomlinson, model and aspiring actor, has been chosen to appear on Blind Date. The only problem is, all the contestants are wonderful. And so is the host. It's making things difficult.

[cherryberry-sugarandspice]

Taming the Bull - Snippet

A/N: so this is a snippet of my college AU of Miguel x Reader, Reader x Gabriel, the love triangle thingy. I just thought this was so funny teeheehee!

You get into the car, heart throbbing painfully in your chest. You lay your head against the steering wheel, fighting the urge to breakdown. This is all too much. You long to be with Miguel, but by being with him, you hurt Gabriel.

Besides, Miguel has been with nearly every woman on campus. What if wanted another notch in his belt? All his sweet, tooth rotting words...what if they're a ploy to get you into bed?

You sniffle, straightening up and pulling out of the parking lot. A little drive around the city wouldn't hurt. Maybe go visit the beach. You're driving through the parking lot when a large body throws themselves onto the hood of your car with a loud thunk. You scream, slamming on the break.

"Miguel?" you say in shock, rolling down the window. "What the hell are you doing!"

Miguel places his large hands on the windshield, brown eyes staring into your face with burning determination.

"I'm not giving up on you! I meant what I said! I want to be with you! It's always been you!" Miguel yells. He speaks the absolute truth. "I know I've been an ass, and I'm trying to change. You are who I want!"

"Miguel, get off of my car, or I'm driving off with you on it," you snarl, slamming your horn.

He hardly flinches at the blaring horn. "No! You need to know how much I want to be with you."

You glare at him and press on the gas pedal, tearing through the parking lot. Miguel holds on for dear life, but he doesn't break his gaze. "Please, you have to believe me!"

"I'm not listening to you!"

You pull onto the street and drive down the busy streets.

"You're the one I want to be with. You're the one I want. Why is that so hard to believe?"

"Because you've slept with nearly every woman here! Besides, aren't you the same one who told Gabriel that you just wanted to sleep with me?"

Miguel grinds his teeth. Damn him brother. "I did say that, but that's before we reconnected. Your the kindest person I've ever met. You stop to allow ducks to cross the street. You help tutor others. You take the time to talk to random strangers if they look just a little sad!"

You continue to drive, heading to the beach. People give you strange looks with Miguel on the hood of your car, but right now, you can give two shits.

"You think I don't pay attention to the little things you do, but I catch on! You hug any pillow to hide your beautiful body. You cover your mouth when you laugh. When you get passionate about something, your eyes light up and you don't care how loud or excited you get, and god fucking damnit, that's fucking cute!"

"You don't mean that! Just shut up!"

"I do! I mean it!" Miguel's face is smushed into the glass, his body swinging back and forth against the hood, but he holds on tightly. "You're the one I want to be with!"

"No I'm not!"

You head down the winding road to the beach, driving through the sand towards the water. "I swear I will drive into the fucking ocean! Leave me alone!"

"No! Because you need to know how much I care about you!"

"Man, fuck you!"

You drive straight into the water, and both you and Miguel have to trudge out of waters and back to shore.

[sometimesthatsbetter]

Every thing i read in Febubary

I Became the Tyrant of a Defense Game

The MC of this novel is so fucking silly cause who tf names their kid Ash 'Born hater' Everblack? Like i'm being for real right now, his mom literally called him her 'little hater'. Love that

So, a Korean gamer who was streaming about this old strategy game on hardmode where if you fail once the game resets. The guy got isekaied the moment he finished the game on stream and right in the middle of the battle field too, tough luck hater.

Before we go more in depth about this story I would recommend that you read the novel version, the manhwa seems a little tacky and i've seen alot of readers complain that the manhwa makes everything look cheaper.

So, one of reasons why it made on to my reading list is because it was recommended by my guy friends who has great taste for this kinda genre. It drew him in because it used actual strategies that he would also use in his game instead of throwing around random lingo in hopes to cater to gamers. Like every battle was truly suspenseful and the author isn't afraid to show that every victory requires a sacrifice. Also I've seen people praise the character development of this novel, everyone starts out a little stereotypical and annoying but they get their own story arcs to shine.

Another thing i like is that this story is about the fight against the end of the world. Like i know alot of stories with that kind of premise but rarely do i ever feel the urgencey as strongly as i do with this story. The last stand against a sea of monsters waiting to consume the world and the young prince who's tasked with the question of remaining human or turning into a monster to save his world. I love me some classical fantasy

Anyways, it has 500+ translated chapters and it's all free. Go read it now.

The problematic prince

If i'm being honest here i can think of at least 10 more manhwa crown princes who are even more problematic than the ML, especially that guy from the abandoned empress, yeah fuck you blueberry head.

So the story premise is the typical bad boy x good girl story trope. Our prince Bjorn keeps getting pestered by his ex wife whom he doesn't want contact with and our FL is being sold off to the highest bidder in society, shinnaigans happen and so the are married. That's the very shorten version of the plot

First thing that i noticed, the vibes. It gave off so much Edwardian, turn of the century energy that i adore. From the costuming to the city streets and the interactions between common people. Love it.

The author seems to have been blessed with amazing writing skills because oh my god did the writing style made me swoon. Erna, our FL, can be classified as one of those soft girl heroines but i feel like she's more than that. She knew what she had to do to keep her loved ones safe and always strived for better, she's not a cunning villainess nor a simpering coward. Erna never settled and kept enduring and trying new ways to connect with others around her even when she's being labelled as a home wrecker.

Also the nobilities and medias reaction to their marriage was incredibly realistic, i see alot of manhwas with rags to riches stories or men marrying women with horrendus reputations but never mention how powerful the influence of the peoples opinions. Here you can see that Bjorn and Erna's relationship, while rocky still holds strong, it seemed like they are truly in love and happy with their choices. Yet media still condemns her as a witch, a slut and a disgrace towards the royal family. It even lead to a attempt on Ernas life. Which shows you how easily the public can be whipped into a frenzy just because of a narritive that she is other woman.

The spirit queen

If i even find the author of this manhwa i would like to make out with them and have their babies, cause this kind of genious deserves to be preserved.

Do you want a story with proper drama? Do you want something that actually keeps it's momentum and doesn't half ass shit half way through? Do you want themes about power and how it turns people into the worse version of themselves? Well look no further. The spirit queen has your back

Another thing that i loved about this story was it's sympathy towards the working class. The servants in this aren't the stereotypical happy go lucky loyal maids that you see in manhwas, they also aren't evil back stabbing people either. They know that their lives are worthless when it comes to the upper classes so they do all that they can to survive and to protect their loved ones. And i respect that as hell, even if it made them do less than savory things.

Also i recently learned that the author, Tutu-nim, wrote and drew this manhwa on their own. A true girlboss

Run away with me, girl

Remember all those times you said that you can be a better husband for the FL? Well this is a lesbian romance based on that premise.

It's a bittersweet romance story about two girls who were high school friends meeting each other after 10 years. Maki, who is till doing her graduate courses while living with her mom and lamenting her loneliness, while Midori is engaged and pregnant and living that perfect, normal life she wanted. Of course everything is not as it seems, and that's what the author wanted to explore in the coming chapters of the story

It's a short read, about 16? 17? chapters. But the author manages to do so much in that short amount of time. Every character felt so real and complicated. At first when you see Midori and the way that she treated Maki after their reunion, it's not hard to come to the conclusion that Midori is just playing around with Makis feelings. Especially with the way that she flirts and then reminds Maki of her engagement to her boyfriend.

This manga has the most realistic, hut wrenching potrayals of abuse, love and hate i've seen in a while. And if i'm being honest there is a high chance i would do the same if i was stuck in their situation.

[writingsforwhatever]

magnolia (m.s.) part 2

part 1 part 3

summary: reader has a friends with benefits arrangement with matt (what is there to explain?)

genre: ANGST

word count: 1k

a/n: hi! please read this before pressing 'Keep reading' ~ this story was written years ago, it was for my creative writing and same as all the stories I posted here. I used different inspirations for this, from stories I've read before whether book or online. Again, this is fiction.

The sunlight streamed through the blinds, causing her to squint. She heard Matt's gentle breaths as he slept beside her, his body facing downward on the bed while his head turned towards her, granting her a view of his flawless face, even in slumber. He breathed quietly, not even a snore.

Last night felt like a dream. He took her to a rooftop restaurant with a stunning view of the city lights, where he confessed his love and decided to end their arrangement. She kissed him and cried, agreeing it was a stupid set up intended to only break their hearts. That was all Matt needed to hear.

Eventually, they ended up having sex in every corner of his place. He was grateful for his and his brothers' decision in giving each other the chance to move out and have their own place at times like these because he could not be seen fucking her in the kitchen counter by Nick where he eats his cereal every morning. And that is something Matt preferred not to think or worry about ever while he's buried inside of her. It also gave Matt a chance to be his own self after living with them for half of his life.

Familiarity with his apartment comes naturally to her, almost surpassing her knowledge of her own place. A forgotten scarf of hers, delicately hanging behind his front door, stands as a tangible reminder—a subtle representation of her presence in his life. Just like the scarf, she lingers, an ever-present figure, intricately woven into the fabric of his existence.

After a long day at work, she made her way to the coffee shop located on 11 Bow St, Somerville. He had texted her earlier that day that they needed to talk, this however set off an unsettling feeling inside of her. Walking down the familiar street, on the way to the apartment complex where Matt resided with his brothers—Chris down the hall and Nick on the second floor—she couldn't shake off an eerie feeling creeping upon her. Was Matt regretting in making her his girlfriend already? Why not just tell her over text? Was something wrong? With each step, she prepared herself for their conversation. More thoughts flooded her mind, yet she had no inkling of the surprising news Matt was about to reveal-something she hadn't even considered ever in her life.

When she stepped foot in his apartment, she secretly hoped it was a dinner surprise, him cooking her favorite meal, maybe an intimate bath he prepared for them while she was out; easing her worries from his text message. However, she stumbled upon Matt seated on the couch, his sobs echoing through the room. He sat with his hands on his head. His eyes, red and swollen. Coat and hat tossed aside carelessly. Tousled hair evidence of repeated running of fingers through the strands. As she took in the scene, he glances at her, blue eyes filled with tears.

"Oh my god, Matt. What happened? What's wrong?" she gasped, sinking to her knees before him and holding his trembling hands. He hugged her, his tear-streaked face buried in her shoulder, wetting her black turtleneck.

He couldn't manage a response, only releasing more sobs.

"What's going on, Matt? You're scaring me," she asked again, her voice soft with concern, her eyes reflecting the sorrow etched on his face.

In all the years she'd known him, she'd never witnessed Matt this distressed, not even close to this level of despair.

Matt struggled to speak through his tears. "I'm sorry, baby. I really am sorry."

Concern turned to deep worry. "Okay, now you're really scaring me. What happened? Why are you saying sorry to me? Did you and Chris have a fight? Or Nick—" she attempted to guess, while still trying to comfort him.

He interrupted, locking his gaze with hers. "It's Grace."

Her mind raced, a million more thoughts are now going through her head. Grace who?

"Who's—" she started, her voice trembling.

"It's the..." He faltered again, tears streaming down his face. "It's the girl I met at the bar in Canada."

With a nod, she silently urged Matt to continue. His tone conveyed an overwhelming sense of despair, as if his entire world had collapsed in an instant and shattered right before his eyes.

"She called me this morning. I don't know how she got my number, maybe from my friend way back in college, I don't know," he explained, his voice trembling, unable to meet her eyes.

It finally clicked in her mind—the vague mention from her friend last month about the familiar girl she saw Matt with. This woman, she was their former schoolmate at UMass. Until this moment, Grace had been a complete stranger to her, but she knew Grace was connected with some of her own friends, a mutual acquaintance.

Someone she had never expected would come between them, someone who hadn't crossed her mind—an unexpected threat she hadn't even considered. It was unfathomable, someone seemingly unassuming becoming a disruptive force in their shared life and the love they held for each other.

She didn't even know the woman.

"Okay, Matt, just breathe," she pleaded, trying to calm him down.

He rose abruptly, taking a couple of steps before turning back to face her, she mirrored his movement, standing and locking eyes with him, bracing herself for his next words.

"She's pregnant. And it's mine. And she's decided to keep it," he confessed through tears, his voice quivering, his gaze fixed on hers, as he searched her face for a reaction.

Her legs felt weak, but strangely, no tears came. It was that sensation of the world collapsing around her. The instinct to run away, to escape the situation and never lay eyes on him again clawed at her, she felt the need to stab her heart with a knife, that's what it felt like anyway, but she knew that not a single cry from her, not a single tear shed by Matt, nor any surge of anger from anyone could change the clear reality they found themselves in. Their life, as they knew it, had come to an end. For her, it wasn't just about their shared life crumbling; it was her own life, her plans, everything she had envisioned, all shattered. He was going to be a father, and despite the torment and agony within, she understood that no amount of despair or heartache could alter that irreversible truth.

tags: @querenciasturniolo @athenalive

[starter-library]

THE RISE AND FALL OF A MIDWEST PRINCESS BY CHAPPELL ROAN LYRIC STARTERS

feel free to change phrasing as you see fit

“I’m so sick of online love”

“Um, can you play a song with a fucking beat?”

“Ladies, you know what I mean and you know what you need”

“She was a playboy, Brigitte Bardot. She showed me things I didn't know”

“She did it right there out on the deck, Put her canine teeth in the side of my neck”

“I just wanna get to know ya guess I didn't quite think it through”

“Fell in love with the thought of you”

“Baby, why don't you come over?”

“Want me to fuck you? Baby, I will 'cause I really want to”

“Well, back at my house I've got a California king. Okay, maybe it's a twin bed And some roommates”

“I heard you like magic I've got a wand and a rabbit”

“Baby, let's get freaky, get kinky, Let's make this bed get squeaky”

“Nothing good happens when it's late and you're dancing alone"

“Cause after midnight I'm feeling kinda freaky, maybe it's the club lights”

“I kinda wanna kiss your girlfriend if you don't mind”

“I love a little drama, let's start a bar fight”

“I really want your hands on my body”

“Baby, put your hands up, Be a freak in the club”

“I'd suggest the jazz bar on Mary Ann Street but you'd buy me a drink and we know where that leads”

“I'll meet you for coffee ‘cause if we have wine you'll say that you want me. I know that's a lie”

“If I didn't love you it would be fine”

“I'd rather feel something than nothing at all”

“If I didn't trust you it would be fine”

“We've done this before and I don't need it anymore”

“Let's not do coffee. Let's not even try”

“I've heard so many rumors that I'm just a girl that you bang on your couch”

“I thought you thought of me better”

“It's hard being casual when my favorite bra lives in your dresser”

“I try to be the chill girl but honestly, I'm not”

“Bragging to your friends I get off when you hit it, I hate to tell the truth, but I'm sorry dude you didn’t”

“I hate that I let this drag on so long, you can go to hell”

“Never waste a Friday night on a first date"

“And so, I take him to this bar, this man wouldn't dance, He didn't ask a single question, and he was wearing these fugly jeans”

“He doesn't have what it takes to be with a girl like me”

“I'm through with all these hyper mega bummer boys like you”

“I need a super graphic ultra modern girl like me”

“We're hot, we're drunk”

“Look at her moving, baby, she's the one”

“At every party we're the party, shaking our asses and making out while the world collapses”

“Get up off your feet, get up on that bar”

“I could be the one, or your new addiction”

“I don't want the world, but I'll take this city”

“Call me hot, not pretty”

“Baby, do you like this beat? I made it so you'd dance with me”

“You can take me hot to go”

“I try not to care but it hurts my feelings”

“You don't have to stare, comе here, get with it. No one's touched me there in a damn hot minute”

“Baby, don't you like this beat? I made it so you'd sleep with me”

“What's it take to get your number?”

“What's it take to bring you home?”

“You coming home with me?”

“If karma's real, hope it's your turn”

“It's hot when you have a meltdown In the front of your house and you're getting kicked out”

“It's hot when you're drinking downtown and you're getting called out 'cause you're running your mouth”

“People say I'm jealous, but my kink is watching You ruin your life, You losing your mind”

“People say I'm jealous, but my kink is karma”

“Wishing you the best, in the worst way”

“No need to be hateful in your fake Gucci sweater”

“Do you picture me like I picture you?”

“Am I in the frame from your point of view?”

“So, tell me now all your perversions”

“I'm too scared to say half of the things I do when I picture you”

“I guess we could pretend we didn't cross a line”

“If you really wanna leave I'll never make you stay”

“Whatever you decide I will understand and it will all be fine”

“And love is a kaleidoscope how it works, I'll never know”

“I know you wanted me to stay but I can't ignore the crazy visions of me in LA”

“Won't make my mama proud it's gonna cause a scene”

“On the stage in my heels it's where I belong”

“Every night's another reason why I left it all”

“Don't think I've left you all behind”

“I know you're probably busy but I would love to see you”

“I'd love if you knew you were on my mind”

“Boys suck and girls I've never tried and we both know we're getting drunk tonight”

“Touch me, baby, put your lips on mine”

“I know you want it, baby, you can have it”

“If I don't try, then it's my loss”

“Won't you fucking touch me?”

“I just want to touch you”

“I want all of your love”

“Thought I'd be cool in California, I’d make you proud”

“To think I almost had it going but I let you down”

“I fantasize what we would do and how would it taste?”

“Can we drag it out and never quit?”

“Oh my god, you are heaven sent With your dirty mind”