#THIS BITCH HAS BEEN IN MY FUCKING WINDOW FOR WEEKS PLOTTING HOW TO GET IN

[s-4pphics]

soul ties. part I (e.w.)

SYNOPSIS: a product of brokenness. WORD COUNT: 13.4K WARNINGS: ellie’s a painter/art dealer, heavy angst[oc is suicidal and has dissociative episodes + abusive parents/SEXUAL ABUSE(nothing explicitly written but aluded to) + patriarchy/men being predatory/traditionalist households + mentions of cheating + alcoholism + disordered eating/self-harm(cuticle picking) + thoughts of murder + mommy issues/daddy issues + parental grief + homophobia + more patriarchy but with dykes + unhealthy relationships with sex(coping) + brief mention of masturbation + sexual tension + making out + fondling + slapping + DUBCON + just matching freaks to avoid trauma], miscommunication, just 2 socially inept crash outs lol  A/N: hellloo lol. fixed plot bc im venting… s been a very rough few months. i was convinced i lost my very acute skill so uhhh consider this a test. uhh what else… idk when i’ll be back bc im now a piano player #NEWFOUNDESCAPISM LOL.  suggestion: this technically could b read alone but if u care ab context read this first. then this. that is all LOL byeee :p hi taggies we back: @dyk3ang3l @acidblum @mellifluousgirll @elliesatchel @callmewhenyoukan @natgf123 @elliesstella @spaceforescape @floridaopal @lonelyfooryouonly @ellies-converse @amiorca @darkerstarsstuff

fuck the bitch that made this game.  dont buy his shit.

aid links from my inbox: one, two, three, four

What to do, what to do… 

Ellie is a wreck. An agitated, craving, mess. 

What to do… Love your wife, fuck the daylights out of your wife, kill your wife before she kills you… What to do… 

It can’t be that hard to hide a body. Is it still murder if it’s self-defense? Ellie’s sure the next bath you run for her will either be filled with bleach or result in her being forced underwater until she’s lifeless. There are lots of people willing to get their hands dirty for her if that’s the case. Not a trace of you or her would be left and she’d finally be able to escape with only the clothes on her back. The weightlessness in her pockets wouldn’t move her in any way. Nothing compares to freedom. What a suffocating life she lives. 

The guest room mattress becomes less and less plush every time she lays in it. The sheets are itchier and cold and she’s stuck pondering with each swirl of the ceiling fan, wet hair wrapped in a bath towel; restless, fidgety, and honey-like ache in the pit of her stomach, mind warped with lecherous thoughts of her wife that she despises but not as much, her supposed life partner and fuck, how did you two get here…

Stuck with a tension so thick it permeates your home; if you’d even call it that. You’re both successfully trapped between your own walls; Elegant windows take the place of rusted, metal bars that confine you from the life you both dreamed of before all this; one soft and doting and colorful, one where your light isn’t dulled. 

Why does she feel so guilty, suddenly? You’re not lovers, and neither in love, so why does her chest ache with every glance she steals when you’re unassuming? The pain that’s always etched on your face, and if not, in your eyes — fills her with regret. She would abandon you for days — weeks at a time, not at all concerned about what you might be experiencing to rid herself of shame. And to think that you were merely a younger version of your mother; villainous and cruel and greedy when… when you’ve barely spoken. She finds herself, unfortunately, reminiscing on how bushy-tailed you were after marriage. So eager to please and prick her mind and annoyingly mechanical. You cooked at the same time everyday. Cleaned, did both your laundry, sunbathed, swam in your pool. She hated how rehearsed your lifestyle was; it reminds her of the worst parts of her childhood. When her mother was alive. So, Ellie chose to step out on you the second you took her last name; ravaged other women, released her anger and desires on strangers when she should’ve had you beneath, above, on your knees for her. Where has that craving to harm you gone? For months, she’s ached for your suffering to mirror hers, but now… What’s happening to her? What’s happened to you? 

Ellie believes you’ve lost it, and somehow she’s found herself chasing that unforeseen part of you; unfiltered and angry and wild. This manufactured doll your mother molded you into is shattering at the core and Ellie craves to see more of you. Guilty. As hurt as you were, that night was the most alive she’s seen you be. You shouted and cried and tore at the seams, desperate for someone to hear you, and Ellie did. Loud and clear. She saw you for what you are. Mangled from the inside out, entirely hopeless. Just like she is. An unspeakable link that binds the two of you.

Soul ties. 

She shook and pleaded for you to enter the bathroom and see her battered against the shower wall with a hand between her legs and your name dripping from her lips, but the knob never twisted. Her orgasms were unsatisfactory, and she accepted with irritation that it was because you weren’t there. She ignored the throbbing between her legs and vacated the bathroom. Ellie, with legs that trembled, found you wrapped in satin and snoring. They sounded like whistles. 

She stood for a while, just watching you twitch and wiggle in your rest, eyes glazing to the space beside you that could easily fit another body. The sheets are already warm from where you lay. The two of you have never slept in the same room, let alone bed. 

Her feet carried her out. Silently left the room with an unfamiliar ache in her chest. 

Her mind made an enemy out of you because that’s what you are. When she thought her life couldn’t get any worse, you appeared and destroyed everything in her path. Left her world in ruins. Disrupted her pattern. You’re an enemy and deserve to hurt. 

Aren’t you? Don’t you? 

Everything is unclear. Ellie hasn’t been this conflicted since she was 15. She wishes she could sleep forever so she wouldn’t be forced to think. 

If she had any sense left, she would paint her agony away. In the past, her mind would shut down with every splash of color on a canvas to compensate for the darkness that conjured in her mind. She refrains from that now, though. She’s horny; scared she’ll start imagining what your pussy looks like and sketch it all over the bedroom walls. That’d be too much; a boundary that will remain untouched.

But her brain knows she’s not a good person; she can’t help but imagine how gorgeous your pussy is because you are and she’s known that since the beginning, the second she saw you drenched in white. Drenched in sorrow. 

She clutches your wedding band in her palm. 

What to do… what to do… 

Birds are artists. 

They never fail to sing every morning; sonnets aimed to awaken life as sun rays spill from behind mountains. You've always appreciated their tunes whenever you were pulled from a hollow rest, no longer surrounded by darkness. 

Maybe it was the routine your mother set for you from young. You were 9 when she first coddled your drowsiness as she shook you awake at five in the morning; the early bird catches the worm, a saying you naively assumed as preparation for the day, for your homeschooling. An energy booster, possibly. Motivation. Something to get you through. 

How stupid could a child be? 

You were 12 when your cycle started. You were 12 when you realized that your mother never envisioned actual birds and worms like you had. Your mother has games she plays and she cheats. She’s had you on a leash for the past decade; the scars around your neck are forever a reminder of the hell you’ve endured under her hand. It took no effort on her part to be uncaring of your suffering, and somehow that aches more than anything else. 

Even more than the existence of him. A demon walking.

Animals aren’t like your family. Birds aren’t. The minute specks of sunlight begin, their job starts, and they complete it happily without compensation or praise or the slightest acknowledgment. Everyone wakes, and they fly to anywhere to wake the next. 

But wealth is dirty. Wealth makes people dirty. They swindler and lie and experience life with a vacancy that’ll never be filled with anything but greed. Your mother trained you for years to accept whatever was given as long as you were taken care of. Play your part, she’d say. It took you years to learn her strategy — and unlearn yourself — but you’re here. Married. Successful by association. Rich. Unhappy. Unloved. 

Birds guided you. They never shy from their duty, and you hadn’t either… 

But you’re human. You crack and cry and scream and you hate. You despise so strongly that you lash out and everything in your path becomes victimized. Sometimes it gets to a point where you crave blood. You want to drown in it, drink it until you’re sick. Your soul is dead. Everyones’ should die with yours. 

You don’t know who should go first. Your mother, your stepfather, or your wife. 

You want to swallow Ellie whole—

“Good morning.” 

You’ve never seen Ellie not dolled up. She clearly just awakened with her wrinkled MILFS ONLY shirt and sporadic hair. Timidity doesn’t suit Ellie. You're so used to seeing her exasperated. Her weary eyes don’t meet yours. You should tell her your plans to adopt a hummingbird. Or maybe you shouldn’t. She might laugh at you.

“Hello.” 

“… Hi.” She seems like she wants to say something. You sip your coffee. 

“My dad called.” 

You hum around the rim of your mug. “Woke you up?” 

She merely shrugs. “I uh… did anyone tell you about tomorrow?” 

“Of course not.” 

You don’t expect Ellie to flinch at your tone. You weren’t that sharp, were you?

You might’ve been because she slows her speech. Like she’s approaching a wounded animal, “Dad’s hosting a dinner. Corporate bullshit but we have to go.” 

“Why.” 

She squints at you. “Why what.” 

“Why do we have to go.” Your mug lands on the table harder than expected. 

“To make mommy and daddy look good.” She sneers while approaching her seat, “Did you forget?” 

“I just thought they wouldn’t want two dykes contaminating their spaces anymore.” 

Ellie snorts. “They don’t. Companies do. Gets their cocks hard. Two gay daughters, how progressive!” She mocks and plops on the chair directly across from you, wiping at her eyes. Your throat dries when you notice her wedding band. She hardly ever wears it. You don’t know where you left yours. Since when does she care to wear it? “They’ll do anything they can to get on their good side. They’re… merging organizations or whatever the fuck he said.” 

She swallows. Shrugs uncaringly, “We going?” Her eyes watch your hands squeeze your mug. 

“Are we.” 

She regards your cup with caution. Does she think you’ll throw it? The thought nearly makes you laugh. 

“Yes.” She answers. 

“Okay.” 

Your wife finally looks up and stands, nose upturned, “Okay? That’s all you got?” 

“Yes. Okay.” You sip silently. Your foot taps on hardwood. 

“Excited to see your family? You like ‘em now?” 

Excited is laughable. 

“No, I don’t.” 

The sudden calamity from your wife confuses you. She tugs at the strands that flop on her head in agitation. They look soft as they bounce with her pacing. You’ll never feel them. Or you might later. Who knows with her. Who knows with you. 

Ellie’s still talking. Her arms flail like she’s annoyed by you. You’re not sure why. You’re following. You’re allowing her to guide. To control. That’s the entire point of this. That’s why you’re going to dinner with her. She told you to go and that’s it. 

Play your part play your part play yo—

You don’t remember much of anything; the past, the present, but you recall what Ellie sounds like when she’s angry, whether it’s at you, her father, the woman her father is fucking or married to or whatever. If you’d listen, you’ll discover what ticked her off, but your ears ring too loud. Much louder than her screaming. 

You sip your coffee silently. Ellie leaves you at the dining table with a slam of a door. 

You think it’s the first floor’s guest room. 

The sun sets. Ellie can’t remember the last time she’s been home this long. 

She hates the weekends. The gallery is never open and she can’t drown herself in deals. She hates being home when you are. Why the fuck are you always here? You don’t have friends, a job, a life outside of this goddamn house? There’s a sinking in her stomach at the thought of your isolation, but she ignores it. Tries to ignore it.

… Can’t really ignore it. How pestering. You’re a pest. 

She knows nothing about you, only bits of your past expressed through photographs at your mother’s or outbursts in your bedroom. Your stepfather is fucking creepy and your mother’s glare is killer, but that’s about it. Still, she doesn’t think she can hate your parents more than you. 

You’re so fucking weird. Just like them. Unforgiving and unchaste one day then apathetic the next. How the fuck can one communicate with a person like that? 

That feeling in her chest again. Sharp and annoying. Try try try, it says. Begs from her. 

Try and do what? Do fucking what—

It took Ellie 3 seconds to unlock the guest room door and fly down the stairs when a crash rings from the first floor. Glass clatters and you sound in pain and oh fuck did someone break in

There’s red all over the kitchen floor but it’s not blood it’s red wine. Red wine red wine it’s not blood— 

You’re on the kitchen floor surrounded by green shards and dressed so pretty. Hair coiled and free and your face is done up and you’re wearing flowers. There’s flowers all over and your skin shines and why do you have heels on like a play doll?

Ellie palms at the scattered racing of her heart. Everything’s fine, her brain blares, She tripped, that’s it. Clears her throat. Rustles her hair to appear normal. 

She’s not dead. 

“… You good?” 

An unsteady hand rises to throw her a thumbs up. Your body wobbles when you attempt to stand. Ellie ushers to the counter to slide on her slippers, tells you to stop when your palm nearly plants on a shard. 

“Move back before you hurt yourself.” Ellie takes a quick lap around the kitchen for the broom and dustpan. Finds you just as quickly so you don’t accidentally slice an artery. 

Your lashes flutter and her heart follows suit, taking in the mess. “I think I fucked up.” You croak.

Hearing you curse is always odd. She huffs, “It’s fine. Can you stand?” 

Your head shakes and your bottom lip juts. “My… my shoes…”

You slowly plop onto your bottom and rest your back against the dishwasher. You struggle to grip your buckles to pull and slide the strap and Ellie remembers why she hates heels. She sweeps the glass away from you and realizes she should’ve mopped first because the bristles are soaked and streaking the clean parts of the crystal porcelain. When was the last time she cleaned? The maids always do. Sometimes you help. 

You look stunned when Ellie moves to squat in front of you. Jumps back when she adjusts your ankle. 

Her palms hang in surrender, “I’m gonna help you. Relax. Do your knees hurt?” 

You landed right on them. They should. You don’t disarm, eyes guarded and body locked tight, but you shrug. It’s good enough for Ellie. 

She unravels the buckles around both your ankles and tosses them next to you and you just watch. Ellie’s glances are quick and flitting, but she follows the traces of her hands; the sharp inhales whenever her fingers brush against the skin of your leg. You’re not as close as you were last night but she can smell you. Her chest is throbbing. You look like you’re about to cry but you’re drunk. It’s meaningless. Drunk people cry. 

Try try try try 

“Can you stand now?” She croaks. 

It takes a second for you to register her inquiry, but you shrug, and she sighs. When Ellie stands, both her hands extend out to you, but you don’t accept them; She gets jittery under your scrutinizing gaze after nearly a minute passes. Her throat dries and her face burns when you brush her hands away; standing on your own is an unstable journey, but you do, back against the counter to stabilize yourself. You look ill. Your brain must be jumbled. 

“Can you get upstairs on your own?” 

“You talk a fucking lot. Shut up.”  

The corner of Ellie’s mouth rises, but she says nothing. Gives you space to move. 

You take one step, then two more, then your eyes shut and your throat jumps. Uh oh.

“Oh shit, come—“

Ellie guides you to the garbage can near the front of the counter, away from the glass, and you dry heave. Liquid splatters inside the can and Ellie hates this so fucking much. The sounds are enough to make her own stomach lurch. It’s been a while since she’s been around someone this drunk. 

But she holds your waist so you don’t faceplant into your own vomit. 

“Get it out,” She hums with a grimace, “You’re fine.” An I gotcha almost rolls off her tongue but she catches it. She glides a comforting hand over your curved spine because you’re drunk and you won’t remember such gestures in the morning. She prefers it that way. 

You’re not gagging anymore so Ellie removes herself from you. Until she hears a whimper. And a sob so quiet she assumes you’re trying to mask it. Drunk people cry; she’s seen it countless times. Why does that seering feeling spark in her chest for what felt like the billionth time today? Fucking try, for fucks sake! 

“Let’s… let’s get you—“

“I wish I was dead.” 

Your prayer is hollow. Not even sad despite your tears. So, so empty. Ellie’s seen this before, experienced that nothingness countless times, but despite it all, she never learned how to console. Hell, she barely knows how to self-soothe without falling victim to her dark temptations. Even her paint brushes can’t eliminate the constant ache she feels. She just watches the tremble of your shoulders from behind. 

“I really don’t wanna go tomorrow.” You whisper. 

Ellie sighs. There’s no other choice. You know the stakes; follow your families’ commands or lose everything at the drop of a hat. They’ll leave you both on the streets to rot with no remorse if they please, replace the two of you with two normal children. Het children that won’t deviate. You’re both on thin ice as it is. Mainly because of Ellie. She can’t seem to keep herself out of trouble.

“I…” 

I’ll be with you the entire time. I don’t like being around those cunts either. 

“It’ll go by quickly.” She settles. 

“I hate when p-people look at me.” 

“Me too.” 

“I wish my family loved me.” 

Ellie’s softer now. Only slightly. 

“Yeah…” 

A tug in her ribcage. Try. Please, try. 

“Me too.” 

The pounding beneath your skull wakes you quicker than the birds. You shove your face in the pillow you rest on. 

The devil tells you to check the time so you do. The bedside clock says noon, meaning a new day, meaning it’s Saturday meaning you’ll die. Maybe not physically but mentally. You’re so drained and you’ve barely opened your eyes; the idea of leaving bed alone is enough to exhaust you. Your wrists and legs ache like fucking hell on top of that. 

You make fists with both hands. Repeatedly clench and unclench. The weight is different on your wedding finger. Heavier. You haven’t seen your ring since yesterday… or a few days ago — you’re not really sure. You must’ve found it in your drunken stupor. Just when you hoped to never see it again. 

The universe will always remind you who you are. 

If you stand you’ll vomit but your phone is ringing from the drawer you stuck it in weeks ago. How is it not dead? You know your mom’s calling. You hate that she is… 

The ringing stops and you thank the heavens. 

You curse them when it starts up again. 

The drawer slides open with reluctance. The ringing sounds 20 times louder. You retrieve your device blindly and your throat snaps shut when you speak. 

“You rang.” 

“Did your… partner tell you about tonight.” 

Hard and distant. That’s how she speaks to you. Your heart cracks. 

Your mom already knows Ellie did. She loves to bother you with nonsense. You don’t think she’s ever called Ellie your wife. 

“Yes.” 

“You’re attending.” 

“Yes.” 

“Good.” 

“Is that all.” 

“Your gown was delivered here. Come by well before 8 to get ready.” 

And she hangs up. Just like that. Always. She’s never told you to have a nice day, or to rest well, or that she loves you, at the minimum. And if she had, you don’t remember any of it. There’s a lot you force yourself to forget. 

The selfish part of you disregards the burning of your eyes to stare at your phone — low battery and… no messages. No texts, no phone calls from anyone except your mother, no likes on Instagram because your mom scared you into not making one when you were a teenager. No one cares about you. People care about your wife, though. Maybe because she’s talented; she’s certainly not nice. 

Your darkest memories are always the most prominent. 

Your phone drops to the floor and you don’t reach for it. You just pray to sleep again. 

Tonight will be interesting. 

The ride to your mother’s is silent. 

At least she chauffeured the two of you. Ellie can be scary when she drives. You’ve never been in a car with her, but she did ram into a lamppost on the sidewalk a few nights after your wedding. 

Your wife is already dressed despite the party being hours away. She sits right next to you in all black; in a trenchie and turtleneck and slacks and loafers with fur and gold jewelry. When she descended the staircase, you gawked when she wasn’t looking. So simple, but she had your heart fluttering when she’d asked, ready? You’re still in your sleep shorts, teeth unbrushed and starving. When was the last time you ate? 

What an embarrassment — you’re an embarrassment, but you can’t bring yourself to care anymore. If only newly wed you could see herself now. 

You swallow a lump when you feel eyes on the side of your face, but yours remain glued out the window. The closer you get to your mom’s, the faster your mind starts to shut down. Everything passes you by in a blur. 

By the time the gates with your father’s initials come into view, your thoughts go silent, only filled with the calming images of nature and the song of birds. Your only escapism. 

The only way you’ll make it out of here in one piece. 

Ellie! Darling! We’ve missed you! Give us a smile! 

Ellie! Ellie, look this way! 

Ellie, where’s your wife? 

She wishes she knew. You’d barely made it into your mother’s home before getting swept down the hall by 4 other people who poked at your appearance. Ellie didn’t even get to give your mom the passive, spine-chilling hi, mom like old times before another SUV came to whisk her away from that hell hole. Her dad always knows somehow. 

She hates being at your mom’s; it’s stifling and quiet and the aura is dark. Like mother, like house or whatever the fuck. 

She scowls when the bombarding questions redirect to you. Some concerning, some sarcastic, some raunchy — those get under her skin in particular — and she can’t stop fiddling with her ring. Her chest tugs tugs tugs. 

Trouble in paradise? 

You were caught leaving the bar with another woman on your arm a few weeks ago! How’d your wife react to that? 

She doesn’t know. She’s never home to see you break. 

Guilt ate at her when the door of your mother’s mansion shut behind her, but she disregards it now. You shouldn’t be forced to listen to their guised jabs; You get enough of that from everyone in your life. She hopes you’ll go through the back entrance when you arrive. 

When will you get here? 

Ellie’s never made an event appearance without you. You’d pose and fidget and display awkward affection so that they’d buy your love a little bit, then enter the gathering as two separate hearts, riddled and torn, never to cross paths until the bustle is over and it’s time to go home. 

Finally, security moves and barricades her until she gets past the 20 foot gate and treads the steps. The flashing cameras are still blinding from behind. 

The tended garden is the first thing she notices. Wide and green. The daisy and rose bushes are no longer tangled with weeds and surrounded by dead grass and gnats. How could Joelene not see that and be vengeful? Ellie and her dad may not be close anymore, but she knows him; maybe even more than he knows himself. He still misses her mom after everything, and chooses to express it through her favorite hiding spot. Keeps the flowers that bloom and trims the ones that don’t so she lives through them. Ellie hardly remembers a time when her mother wasn’t covered in dirty overalls and sunburnt. 

She manages to hold it together when the large double doors open. The violins suddenly sound like nails on wood. 

Voices fade into nothing. People are outside your car. Light hurts so terribly. 

One second you’re here, the next you’re not. Your mom and her husband sit across with twined arms and the lace from your dress is itchy and you wanna disappear. When you blink, you’re gone. You only exist on this plain if your eyes are open. 

Something hard and leather brushes against your ankle, scratches against your stockings, slow and snake-like. You know what it is, who it is, and you freeze, eyes locked onto your mother. No matter your hopelessness, there’s still a young girl in you that wishes your mother would defend, act on anger, be disgusted at minimum. At least when his crimes are done in secret you can’t blame her for not knowing. 

But you’re here and she’s here and he’s here. A shared secret between the three of you. 

His shoe doesn’t halt on your leg. Your mother never looks at you. 

Birds and songs and sonnets. You’re a bird and you can fly against the strongest winds. Music is your guide and you follow the clouds. 

Your fingers twist together in your lap and the black interior of the car glows red. If only… he’s not the only one with sick intentions. If only. 

You’re flying you’re flying you can fly and there’s someone who’ll love you gently. They’re out there somewhere and you’ll find them and they’ll find you like every trial was worth it. 

Patience. That’s all you need. Just be patient. 

The rest of the car ride is unbeknownst to you. Next thing you know, your door is being opened and two men await your entry at the glass door. 

Champagne is good. Tequila is better. The two mixed is hell. 

Ellie’s throat burns and her mind swirls but she plays it off well enough. Mingles with pensive, old bastards while their daughters’ gawk at her with bright-eyed curiosity and you haven’t arrived yet. 

She lost her dad somewhere in the night. He greeted her briefly upon her arrival, pointed out the important men of the night, called your mother a selfish bitch, then walked off with his mistress by his side. Ellie’s eyes keep meeting the back door from the living room. 

Where are you? 

“Ellie!”

She downs the rest of her chute and guards her agitation with a grin. Shakes the hand of… 

What the fuck was this dude’s name? 

“It’s an honor! Your art is incredible! I’ve truly—“

—Fucking Ronald? Reginald? … Ronald might be it—

“—Your father, ya know, he’s an interesting man, incredibly smart! I’ve never—“

Her dad gave her a run-down of the … merging or whatever the fuck but what the fuck did he say and holy shit, is she sweating? The man’s handshake threw her off, frankly; almost snapped her wrist in two. Fucking old piece of shit. More business jargon that she pretends to understand and care so much about because it’s a show after all. All cheers and stiff laughter. 

“And your wife! By God, what a looker!”

Her jaw clenches. Where are you where are you where are you

“What we’d give, I mean, c’mon!” Men that pass laugh with him and it’s taking everything in Ellie not to smash this glass over his head. One quick swing and it’s over. For him and her. How promising.

“Where is she anyway? You two didn’t come together?” 

“She um, she’s with her parents right now. They’ll be here.” She jerks her chin toward the entrance. 

“How lucky are you. Treat her like the star she is!” It looks like the shithead’s leaving, but not before taunting, “Holler when she arrives, will ya?” 

And just like that, he leaves Ellie to simmer. Three deep breaths. A man in a suit and tray filled with champagne waltzes passed her and she snags two glasses. Downs the first in one thick swallow before another clinks with hers. 

Why does everyone keep fucking with her? 

“Cheers.” 

Ellie doesn’t need to look to know who it is. She scoffs. “Sounds like you’re having fun.” 

Jolene stands next to her, shoulders slouched and dress glowing under the chandelier. She arches a dark brow, “Who wouldn’t? Men are the most entertaining when they’re on ego trips.” 

“Same goes for my dad?” She snips, and Jolene shocks her with a smile. 

“Meh.” 

“Why are you here.” 

“I just told you—“

“No, where are you here.” Ellie gestures between them, “Why’re you talking to me right now?” 

Jolene downs her drink and shrugs, “My attempts at bonding. On a scale of 1 to 10, how shit were they?” 

“900. Leave me the fuck alone.” Before Ellie can run, a hand clamps down on her wrist. 

“I know—“ The woman rushes, “I know we don’t have the best relationship, but I’m not—“

Ellie almost corrects her out of pettiness; They don’t have a relationship, period. There’s no best or worst. But her sudden desperation halts her. 

“—the enemy. There’s not a lot for us in these spaces. I just wanted to try and establish something. Anything. Between us. It can be so lonely without a real support system.”

Ellie hates the direction her heart turns her mind. Suddenly you’re there and you’re crying and clawing at your chest and Ellie just watches like she did that night. So powerless. So empty. 

But Jolene isn’t you. She chooses to be selfish. Yours comes from self preservation and nothing else. 

Ellie snatches her hand back and throws her the deadliest stare. “You don’t know shit about being lonely. You’re the one who gave up everything you had to fuck my dad when my mom wasn’t looking. How much did you care about her loneliness then? Hm?” 

The timing was perfect, really. 15 year old Ellie watched her parents get into one of their most abhorrent arguments; her dad leaves first, then her mom, then only one of them returns, and it was not her mother. Imagine her shock when a news reporter confirmed that her mother’s body had been thrown in a garbage bag and left in a dumpster to rot. It only took two weeks to mourn before he was marrying another woman. 

Nobody cared that her mother had been shot or stabbed or gutted. She was just a woman married to a successor who raised a deviant child. 

Ellie forces herself to not point fingers, though. Anyone could’ve killed her, she always reminds herself; to keep her from going fucking crazy. But timing… 

How telling is time. 

Jolene’s eyes widen and her grip weakens. Ellie takes that as an escape before she has a breakdown in front of the caviar platter. 

She barely takes a step before she collides with a body. 

Funny. 

She bumped right into a star that shines a royal blue. The woman of the hour, for sure. In her mind, at least.

“Sorry.” You whisper.

“You’re fine. All me.” Ellie says lowly as she takes you in, and you do the same to her. Shy, but yearnful glances. Glossed lips tightly sealed and brows tense. Your dress shimmers and holds you snug and she feels guilty for staring at your curvature. She’s suddenly hyper aware of the vultures that disguise themselves as men and she has an instinct to hide you. And your ring is on. The thumping in her chest picks up. Only slightly. 

“It’s great to see you again.” Jolene says shakily from beside Ellie and she almost loses it before a grating voice interrupts. 

“You, as well. And your husband is…?” 

Your mother. And her lap dog wagging his tail beside her. What a bitch. Both of them. 

Your stepdad says something and you inhale sharply and no one notices but Ellie. She studies you carefully. You look like a frightened cat with a frilled tail as he speaks. Claws out, not because you’re ferocious, but so, so scared. She glances at your stepdad; greasy smile while he ogles at Jolene; what a nasty son of a bitch. 

Ellie whispers to you, “Is everything o—“

“Joel! Man of the hour! How are—“

“Where’s the bathroom again?” You whisper back. 

Ellie takes your hand in hers and flees while the family’s distracted, leading you down a hallway that’s way too long with lights too bright. 

She gestures towards the door. “It’s… This is it. One of ‘em at least.” 

“… Thank—“

“What’s the matt—“ 

“I’m fine.” 

“You look like you’ve seen a fucking ghost. Did that piece of shit say something to you?” Ellie glances to make sure no listeners are hiding in the shadows. 

The widest smile grows on your face as you laugh, hearty and loud with your head thrown back. Ellie stares in confusion. 

“Oh, Ellie! You’re so silly,” She jumps when your hands hold her cheeks. You’re fucking freezing and they tremble. Your eyes are a dark void. 

You lean in closer, lips right against her mouth and they part slightly on instinct. She’s concerned and should ask more questions, but your skin is so soft. Are you gonna kiss her, she wonders? You haven’t kissed since your wedding; your breath hits her mouth and her tongue swipes her lips. Her eyes flutter shut and she aches to touch you—

“Save a seat for me, love? Please?” 

It happens so fast; the frost of you is gone and the bathroom door slams shut while an elderly woman fondly whispers, “young love,” as she walks by. Ellie only nods with a rigid curl of her lips, throat cinched too tightly to swallow. 

You puzzle her. She’s tempted to wait for you, to ensure you make it back safely without bombardment, but then 

“Ellie! Why didn’t you call me! Your wife made it safely, I see!” 

A hand claps on her shoulder while men laugh from the side, boisterous and predatory and so wide their fangs show. Ellie’s sick and a war rages within her. 

“Your father sent me to find you! It’s time to eat!” 

She sends them a weak smile. She rushes away from the door and they follow close behind. 

Anything to lure them away from you. 

Attendees have dwindled, only Ellie and her family and you and yours and some CEOs that are really getting on her fucking nerves. But you’ve eaten, thank God. She can breathe a little. 

Only a bit, though. You’re putting on a fucking show and it’s scaring her; Even her dad seems impressed. Charmed by you. Clinking glasses and telling jokes and smiling. Did your mom hold you at gunpoint before you got here? How much did you drink? Not much from what she’s seen. 

That one fucker from earlier — Raymon or Robert or whatever the fuck — keeps leaning over the table whenever you do. Peeping at your chest, probably. She wishes these steak knives were sharper. 

“So! Our young couple,” says Old Bitch with a Combover and wiggly brows, “When are we getting those heirs?” 

You cough uncomfortably and Ellie squirms in her seat. Your mother scoffs, “Two women can’t have children—“

Said Old Bitch shrugs, “Well, not biologically—“

“My point exactl—“

Ellie’s father cuts in with a tense grin, “When they get to that point, we’ll discuss their options. There’s… many nowadays, evidently.” 

Neither you or Ellie interrupt, but she notices you’ve moved closer to her. Inched your seat a bit. You squeeze your hands so hard in your lap she’s scared they’ll shatter where they lay. You’re not smiling anymore. 

Her dad and your mom are subtle with their blows at one another; snarky with brutal stares, unremarkable to strangers, but you and Ellie know. When dinner ends, you’ll both be caught in their crossfire. 

“There’s no shame in me wanting my grandchildren to be by blood. I shouldn’t have to go shopping for an heir.” Your mother hisses. 

“Sh—“ Joel huffs with disgust, “Shopping for an heir? That’s what you think adoption entails?” 

“Does it not?” Your mother’s tone rises. 

Reggie, Rory, or Russell interjects with a dismissive wave, “C’mon, you too! No need to argue. I’m sure girls like them will be fine with obtaining children! It might be more… complicated, I will say!” 

“May I be excused?” You croak, and Ellie straightens. 

“Why? So you can wallow about dying childless?” 

The table silences. No laughter, no wittiness. Completely still. That wasn’t from your mother. Ellie doesn’t remember the last time she’s heard your stepdad speak so clearly. Her blood thrashes beneath her skin so harshly that her tongue unties. There’s a darkness in her that whispers, “grab that steak knife”. Brutalize him. Just for a second. Do it for you. 

Do it for her. 

“Go fuck yourself.” She spits. 

Your neck almost cracks with the speed you turn to her, eyes wide as the moon. Her father condemns, “Watch your mouth, Ellie.” 

“Or what, you old fuck?” 

Her heart rattles noisily in her chest; her hands shake where they rest on her lap, her cells trembling with the instinct to harm. The gaze of her father is distant and filled with inadequacy for his only line. Nothing unbeknownst to her, but there's a flash of something so deep, so forbidden for them, but she sees it every time they hold contact. Beneath all the loathing and lesions left to drain, there’s longing. An inkling of gratitude that she knows he’ll suppress until he’s buried underground. He’ll never look the same to her, and she imagines the same for him. Too many bridges burned. 

“How’d I do?” Ellie rasps to him, “Hm? The night went how you hoped?” 

Look at what you’ve done, she hopes her eyes say. Tears welt against her will. When was the last time she cried in front of him? She hadn’t even given him that honor at her mother’s funeral years ago. 

Ellie’s stiff stature nearly cracks at the light brush atop her knee. A wind catches in her throat when a pinky turns into three fingers, then five, then a palm that squeezes comfortingly, desperately. Maybe partly to keep her glued to this chair. She gulps the dryness down and a flame lights in the pit of her stomach. 

Her glance to you is brief, barely out of the corner of her eye, but you’re watching her. Intensely, and it scorches her cheeks, all the way down to her neck. Scared cat. Scared cat. Shrilled and cold and frightened to hell and she despises it. 

What changed? She’ll always wonder. That look hardly shook her a week ago and now it makes her teeth ache. 

Suddenly, it’s too warm here. 

“Get up,” Ellie rushes you. Grabs your arm and yanks you from your seat, “Not dealing with this fuckin’ bullshit tonight. We’re leaving.” 

There’s suddenly shouting from all directions of the dinner table with each step Ellie takes for you, but you never drop her hand. She clenches it tighter when you finally reach the back door. 

The door slams shut on the wreckage behind you. 

Consider plan MERGE a bust. 

Ellie’s a thief. You think. Maybe. 

Is it stealing if the car belongs to a family member? Where she snagged the keys from? You don’t remember. One second you’re at dinner, then watching the city pass you by the next. It’s silent in here. 

“Stop.” 

You slam back into your body. Still in the car. You wish you were asleep. 

“Huh?” 

Her eyes watch the road, but a hand rests on both of yours to pry them apart. 

“Stop. I hate that sound.” 

“… Wha—“

“You’re gonna rip your skin off if you don’t stop.” 

… Oh. Yeah. Bloody cuticles. It was all accidental, you swear. 

“Sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize.” Her eyes shut briefly and she sighs, sounding so worn. Exhaustion is her white flag. “Just stop.” 

“Alright.” 

“Thanks.” 

It’s quiet again. The red from the stop light reflects in the car and you’re instantly reminded of your stepfather. 

“Ellie.” 

“Hm.” 

“We should get a bird.” 

“… And do what with it.” 

You shrug, “Pet it. Feed it, too.” Sing with it, you wanted to add. Ellie would’ve probably laughed at you. 

She snickers dryly, “That’s usually what you do with a pet.” 

“I never had one.” 

The light turns green and the car revs. Your wife hums, “I had a fish once or twice.” 

“Lucky.” 

A small — very, very minuscule grin quirks Ellie’s lips and your heart hollers. For joy? In warning? 

“Not really. They kept dying so I gave up.” She snickers to herself, and you can’t help but stare. She starts talking then. Eyes gone, tension gone. She’s suddenly relaxed. 

“My mom… she, uh… loved water. Was always in it or… watching it on TV or something. She always bought fish from fucking… PetCo—“

“PetCo?” You laugh, then Ellie does. 

“Right? She’d take me and be like, “get one”. And I went home with a new fish every time.” 

“I thought you only went once or twice?” 

“… Times 100,” She giggles, “My mom lived there. She would always talk to the cats through the glass.” 

You don’t hesitate, “I wanna go.” 

“To PetCo?” 

“Yeah.” Why not? 

Everything is almost over. So, why not? 

“… K.” 

“So we’ll go?” 

“Mhm.” 

And the conversation ends. The car is silent. Suddenly tense again when you ask, 

“Do you think we’re cut off?” 

Ellie’s jaw clenches and the car is suddenly tense. Back to square one. “Possibly. Tonight was a shit show. It went by fast, at least.” 

“What’s gonna happen to me?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I’m…”

Alone. You’re fucking alone and know nothing about life outside of what was built around you. Without it, you’ll spiral and fail and face a dreadful reality. No more rose colored glasses even if they’re browned and wilted as is. You’ll be eaten alive by the creatures in the night without a protective border. 

But the curse will end. You won’t inherit or be forced to lie or play a game that ends in fire. Decades of legacy down the drain just like that, and by your own hand. It fascinates you, that power. A force you’ve been withheld from. 

“I don’t know.”

“Still thinking about divorce?” A void in Ellie’s tone. 

“I don’t know.” 

“They’ll never allow it, you know that, right?” 

“What if I just leave?” 

“And do what?” Her voice raises. 

“Who knows. Who cares.” 

“Please,” Ellie exasperates, “Your mom will get fucking SWAT to bring you back.” 

“What good will a corpse do for her?” 

You’ll be dead but you’ll have a bird. A colorful one. That’ll be your legacy. That’s all you need, really. Ellie doesn’t say anything. Neither do you. 

More buildings flash by and suddenly you’re home. Parked in the garage with Ellie beside you, gazing off into opaque walls. You wonder what she’s thinking. If she sees everything in black and white like you do. Maybe she’s the opposite, vision bright and full of suppressed color. She is a painter after all. 

“What’re your plans?” Ellie suddenly whispers. 

“For?” 

“Life. The future. Anything,” She pries and digs for something, “There has to be something that interests you! That gets you excited! There’s so much shit to do.” 

You shrug. Not much. Not anything. 

“I used to be excited for my wedding,” You mumble, “Like… as a kid. White dress and flowers and everyone’s just excited to be there. For love, and whatever, you know? That’s how it was in movies, at least.” It’s embarrassing to admit, but it’s off your chest. The unhealthy romanticization of the happiest day of your life ended up being just another day to honor the greed of your families. Everyone was so lifeless when they watched you and Ellie kiss. It hadn’t even lasted 3 seconds before she shoved the band on your finger with teary cheeks. Such beautiful scenery was wasted on misery. 

You look over and Ellie’s eyes are roaring, palms squeezing together in her lap while her wedding ring twists around her finger. You watch it cycle. 

“Now I…” You chuckle sadly, “I just want a bird, to be honest.” 

With your heels and purse in hand, the car door opens and you exit, forcing yourself not to peek through the windshield at Ellie again. 

The second floor, your bedroom, your bathroom, are all quiet. Did Ellie not follow you inside? For a while, you envision what it would be like if you weren’t married. If you weren’t born as you, would your world be this still? 

It haunts you in the shower. Wolffish eyes and dry hands grasping at your shoulders and waist but everything’s quiet. 

You wash your face, brush your teeth, wrap your hair alone. You wonder if anyone is actually in the house. Was Ellie a figment of your imagination? Is this one of the nights that proves she doesn’t exist and that your brain is your greatest enemy? You shove your face into the mattress before your thoughts venture. Silence rocks you to sleep, but not forgetting the taunting desire to know 

Is death this quiet? 

Your mom’s calling. 

Vibrations rattle in your bedside dresser. The sun isn’t up yet. The birds are still resting. She never calls this early… or late. Something bad must’ve happened. It takes 17 seconds for your drawer to stop shaking before it starts again. 

You can’t move to answer, though. Your body isn’t yours at the moment. Your soul will reclaim its shell soon enough. Or maybe it won’t. 

Your drawer shakes shakes shakes. Your heartbeat eventually matches the pace of its vibrations. You think it’s been 20 minutes. Maybe longer. When will the birds wake? 

Finally, the calls stop. Your eyes shut again. Instantly taken by darkness. 

You never wear normal clothes. 

Ellie’s only ever seen you in thousand dollar dresses and high heel shoes that scrape your achilles and cloth that squeezes you so tight she thinks she might explode by just looking at you. No matter how fucking good you look in them. 

So what the fuck is that? Moreso, why does she like it so much? Her cheeks are on fucking fire and her heart is trying to flee its enclosing. 

You have a t-shirt on. A simple, non-Gucci white tee that says LAS VEGAS and black shorts and a scarf on your head and socks with squirrels on them. Is this the fucking matrix? 

You never wake up this late, either. It’s 20 till 10. 

“Did my mom call you at all?” 

No… no she didn’t… Why can’t Ellie speak? She’s sitting there gaping like a fish and taking guilty glances at your nipples through your shirt. She shakes her head. You nod yours. 

“I uh…” She mumbles with a cotton mouth when you step into the kitchen, “I made coffee.” 

“I smelled it.” You serve yourself at the counter. 2 Splenda packs, no cream.

“Did your mom call you?” 

“Yes.” 

“What’d she say?” 

“I didn’t answer.” 

… Interesting. Odd. Her calls are never missed by you. 

“I hope it’s something bad.” 

Ellie swallows her sip thickly. “… Damn. Why?” 

“She deserves it.” You say calmly while stirring. “He does, too.” 

“Your dad?” 

“My stepfather,” You hiss and slam your mug on the table. Ellie flinches, “Yes.” 

Her palms raise in surrender, “Sorry.” 

“Where do you go at night?” The chair across from her scrapes on hardwood when you sit. 

Nowhere, recently. Ellie shrugs as nonchalantly as she can, “Anywhere. Wherever I want.” 

“Take me next time.” 

She pauses her sip to ogle. “Hm?” 

“Take me. I wanna see what’s fun for you.” 

Ellie huffs a shocked laugh, “No, you don’t.” 

You squint, “Yes, I do. That’s why I’m asking to see.” 

“It’s not your scene, dude, trust m—“

She jolts where she sits when a hand — your hand, soft and agile and cold, slams down on the table, rattling both your mugs and the vase that holds dead flowers, nearly shattering the glass with an accusatory finger. 

“You dunno know shit about me! I’m fucking going whether you like it or not! Whether she likes it or not, and if I have to do it myself, I fucking will, you fucking psychotic fucking bitch!” 

You rise and stomp to where she sits with a pounding heart and a lecherous swirl in her gut. You look about ready to slice her open with a blunt butter knife. 

“You treat me like fucking trash just like everyone else,” You whisper venomously, and Ellie shakes, “The least you could do is listen for once. Scared to take me to the place you cheat on me at? Don’t want me to see it? That’d be too real, huh?” 

Ellie exhales a shaky breath of your name, but your nails, cut and manicured to perfection, sink into her cheeks so tightly that she winces and blushes and her tummy twists with heat. You don’t flinch when her fingers delicately entangle around your wrist; doesn’t want you to think she’s holding you there even though she is. 

“You’re gonna show me a good time tonight. If it’s as fun as you say, that shouldn’t be an issue, right?” 

Her eyes must read yes, yes, it’s not a problem; Your grin is wild like a hyena; pretty lips swelled around pretty teeth and you always smell good. Caramelized sugar and nectar.  

“Who knows,” You purr and Ellie feels goosebumps forming, “Maybe I can meet one of your little friends.” 

She chokes around a gasp before her lips curl into a conniving grin, cheeks plush around your fingers, “Aren’t you a little hussy.” 

“Fuck you.” You shove her so hard her back collides with the seat but her eyes glow pink. She watches you leave the kitchen and stomp up the steps with a burning chest until a door slams from upstairs. She releases a breath she didn't realize she was holding, wracked and desperate. 

-

-

-

Ellie will never admit — or maybe she will, but she purposefully uses your shared bathroom to catch glimpses at you. She always expects to find you out cold and wrapped in warm blankets, chest fluttering with each twitch of your socked feet that peek from below the blankets. 

What she doesn’t expect to see, though, is your phone shattered to pieces and left to drown in the clogged sink. Right next to a weighted rubber mallet; Where’d you find that? All your pent up emotions were taken out on your device… and the counter, apparently. The marble is chipped. 

She can only laugh in astonishment. Amazement. Fear when she realizes… 

Your mom.

Did you ever answer the phone?

Another day you’ve slept away. Either you were dreaming or someone was holding you suffocatingly tight; you enjoyed it, strangely. The sun is completely gone and there’s rustling and music echoing from the bathroom. Ellie’s in there. 

All the blood rushes to your head with how quickly you sit up, but your feet carry you past your closets until the light from the room sizzles your vision. 

Your wife stands by the mirror, drying her hair with a towel with a cigarette between her fingers. The guitar synths coming from her phone are grinding in your ears. 

Is she really keeping her promise? 

Did she promise to take you? You don’t remember. 

“Hi.” Her eyes meet yours in the mirror and your spine twitches. You say nothing, so she chuffs with a teasing lift of her lips, “Chickenin’ out?”

“No.” 

“K.” 

“What do I wear?” 

She shrugs, “Whatever you want to.” She speaks around smoke and her timbre’s dry. 

“What are you wearing?” 

“Whatever I want to.” 

She must sense your skepticism because she’s suddenly reassuring, voice crackly, “You’re not under any expectations tonight. You wanted me to show you what I do for fun, and I’m gonna. You just have to do your part and enjoy it.” 

Your nails dig into your thighs while you watch her. She has her ring on and her body wash coats the room in cinnamon. With a pounding heart, your hands slowly drag up your sides, fingers dragging at the hem of your shirt. She’s not looking. 

Enjoy it…

“Did you eat today?” 

“No.” 

She gives you a look. Stern. What is she mad about? Your tummy flutters, “There’s leftovers downstairs, you can have ‘em,” She shakes her wet hair and puts on her glasses, checks her watch, checks her phone, hits her cigarette. “We’re kinda behind so you should get read—“

Enjoy it. 

Her eyes meet where your shirt drops to the floor, breasts on display while your hands inch up your legs to drag your shorts down, all while you watch her. And she watches you. It’s overwhelming, your wife as an audience while you undress. But she told you to enjoy it. Enjoy the night. Enjoy the stares. Enjoy the attention. Enjoy her, for once. It all seeps into your pores. You step out of your bottoms and peel your socks off. 

Ellie drinks you in slowly. Says nothing. Simply takes her time memorizing every line, curve, dip, scar of you. You like how ravenous she looks. The sin in her pupils only darkens when your thumbs hook in your underwear to shed them. They dangle from your index finger when you walk; You smile when her throat jumps. 

She watches your filled hand travel to her pant pocket to shove the flimsy cloth in. The muscles in her back twitch when your finger traces her spine. Ellie’s pretty, littered in cute, red and brown spots. 

“I’m gonna shower.” Your lips brush her ear, and goosebumps rise all over her arms. Her eyes flutter in a pleasant blink, nodding in understanding. 

Your wife takes her lighter and reignites your favorite candle while your water warms. How sweet of her to set the mood for you. 

Ellie finishes her cigarette while you lather, watching her through the fogged glass of the shower walls, massaging soapy hands into your breasts and your legs and everywhere. She lights another at some point, bent over the counter while she smokes, ogling you through the mirror shamelessly. You smile when it settles in your chest.

You’re gonna fuck your wife tonight. 

What a fucking oddball you are. It’s cute. A little sexy, too. Only a little, she swears. 

… Fuck. 

She waits for you on the bed, dressed and jewelried, fiddling with her watch out of nerves because what the fuck are you playing at? Whiplash; that’s what she’s had all fucking day because of you. She works in the morning, for fucks sake. 

Still…

Does she deserve this sudden… What the fuck even is this? Certainly not affection; you nearly strangled her at the dining table. Attention, possibly? Seduction? She’s wired to hell, she wants you so bad. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

She could act on her attraction, sure. She’s positive you’d allow her to take whatever she wanted because that’s what you’re trained to do; to satisfy your partner — husband, she imagines your mother grating — in any way he desires. But Ellie’s not a man, and she doesn’t want that. She needs you to love it, to crave it as much as she does. To take from her like she dreams of taking from you. Ellie needs you to batter her, and if you’d like, she’ll do the same to you. 

If only you’d give her something tangible. Teasing isn’t enough. She’s desperate to get a grasp on your headspace; she wishes she could prick and prod at your brain for a second. What an experience that would be. 

You enter the bedroom like a ghost; hair still wet and coily, dressed in all black like she is, only decorated with gloss and earrings. No heels either. Just very shimmery looking flip-flops. Ellie bites down a smile. 

“Where are we going?” 

She shrugs at your inquiry, “Somewhere really, really loud.” 

“Will people find us?” Paps, you mean. Ellie denies. 

“Not where I’m taking you.” 

“Must be secretive.” 

She tuts, “Not… well, maybe. It’s fun though. I think you’ll like it.” 

“Okay.” 

Ellie stands with her wallet and keys and kiddingly offers you an arm to hold onto. “M’lady.”

But you don’t accept it; back turned, halfway out of the room towards the stairs.

Pleasant. She doesn’t mean to smile. 

She makes sure to grab the to-go box from earlier before locking the front door behind her. 

It is very loud here. And hot. And raunchy. 

… You like that. Your mom would have a heart attack if she were to ever walk in here. 

The trip to this whatever, wherever place was pretty far. You counted every second of the nearly hour ride, mainly because Ellie’s jittery knee made you nervous. It’s smaller than you assumed, but not quaint. Not at all. There's a ruckus from the entrance to the back exit, people your age and older, screaming and shouting words that you don’t know while people pound on drums and shred on guitar. They sweat through their clothes while their makeup streaks down their faces as they make love to microphone stands. 

… Better than tea time, you suppose. How exhilarating. Your heart’s pounding like crazy.

Not much can be said between you and Ellie. You can’t hear over the bass and rumbles from the floor but she holds your hand and small purse. Guides you to a small section in the back with a bar. She hands the tender her card and… that’s it. Four clear, questionably large shots are poured and slid to her like nothing. You want all of them. 

Ellie seems so at home as she guides you, already a burning shot down, into the crowd. You’re shoved instantly by party goers, but she catches you, holds you strongly. You look at her, puzzled with shock, but she uncaringly lifts her shoulders, downs a shot, and starts thrashing. 

Your jaw slacks and lights beam and flicker at a rapid pace but you’re smiling. Your wife meshes with the scene so nicely. You wanna be like that. So you follow. You drink and jump and flail and scream your head off. 

You and your wife are synched for once. Terrible dancers. No rhythm whatsoever. Who cares who cares who cares.

You wish your mom was here to see you like this. You hope your mom’s dead so she never has to see you like this. A thought so dark shouldn’t bring you this much joy. You laugh and holler at the imagery. Blood all over the marble. Blood all over the doors of your childhood home. Blood blood blood everywhere because they deserve it. Look at what they’ve done to you. Sick evil people.

You wanna kill your stepfather. This music makes you wanna kill your stepfather. It’s gorey in itself, almost. Abborherent verbiage. You think Ellie wants to kill your stepfather, too. You should ask her later. Maybe when you're both sober. Maybe you should make your mom watch you skin him alive. Him dying would damage her more than you ever could. 

When your eyes open, Ellie’s gawking at you, seemingly surprised. Impressed? She holds your cheeks to get your attention, gesturing, asking if you want another drink. You nod and shout in her face and she laughs. Ellie holds you by the waist and guides you to the bar. The bartender must like Ellie. You leave with a full bottle this time. 

You and Ellie pass it between yourselves, the night becoming more and more broken. Touchy. Feely. Ellie rubs all over you while you pour liquor into her mouth. A bit dribbles down the sides but she doesn’t care. You don’t either. So you lick the drops from her neck like a cat with milk. Ellie stops and you stop and everything stops. It’s just the two of you, suddenly; all other patrons evaporate to nothingness. Her eyes are blown and heavy as she searches your face, and they halt their wandering at your lips. She’s thinking about it; You want her to see how bad you crave it. Even if it’s just for a second. She smiles, pleased. You shudder. 

But she doesn’t do it. She spins you so your back is against her chest, lips at your neck while she pushes her hips into your ass. She’s messy, drenching your already sweaty neck in spit. Her nails dig into the fabric of your dress, guiding your hips, swaying you on her. You follow. You follow so blindly because you like her hands on you a little too much. You drink and drink and drink. Everything feels light. Good. 

You think Ellie’s speaking to you. Or singing words in your ear. Or maybe she isn't speaking at all. You’re not sure, but your face is burning hot. She tongues at your ear and you make a noise that you can’t hear but hope she can. You need this. 

Her hands are suddenly slow where they crawl up your sides until they rest on your breasts. Your empty hand lands on one of hers to squeeze so that she can squeeze you. You feel her smiling on your skin when your jaw slacks. 

Your head turns to chase her mouth, but she does you one better. Whisks you once more so your chests smash together. She snatches the bottle from your hand, takes one last swig before passing it to eager, drunk hands that wave from behind. You gasp when her thumb catches your bottom lip, pulls it down to get your mouth open enough for her to dribble liquor into. You moan loud enough for Ellie to hear over those booming drums, swallowing down everything she gives, nails sank into her waist while her hips push into yours. When you swallow the last drops, she kisses you. Messy and hot, tongue and teeth; it gets your heart singing. Her pink muscle swirls inside of your mouth and your arms wrap around her neck, yanking her into you so no space is left. Her hands are everywhere; tangled in your hair, grabbing at your hips, your ass, your thighs. Everywhere everywhere everywhere like she can’t get enough of you. You’re overwhelmed and high out of your mind but you follow her guide. Anywhere she wants you, you are. 

Maybe you’re just as bad as she is. After everything she’s done, you should hate her. You think you do. You hate her for leaving you. You hate her for embarrassing you. Abandonment. Her only gift to you. Maybe that’s why you kiss her with such conviction. 

Her touch is passionate; strong but not forceful. She breathes you in like a rarity, something she treasures, all while she licks and tugs at you like a slut. There’s a pulse deep within you when her lips enclose around your tongue to suck it. Your thighs squeeze and she grins madly, giving you one last innocent peck before she grabs your hand to spin you. You laugh and twirl with her. 

You understand why people fall in love so fast. You hate that you’re one of them. 

Or are you simply as delusional as they come? 

You’re even more enthralling when free of restraint. 

Ellie’s drunk and sweaty and exhausted but she uses every last bit of strength to stare at you. She sits at the bar as the crowd dwindles, artist after artist, established or aspiring, all go on to perform, and you haven’t taken a break once. You simply twirl and spin and mouth incorrect lyrics with the widest smile on your face, all while Ellie brings you her drinks to finish. 

You’ve been here for hours it seems, but Ellie can’t drive. But the night is young. You certainly don’t look ready to go home. 

What more can she show you?

“Thank you all for comin’ out! Tonight was a dream—“

You’re a dream, Her chest screams. You you you you fuck—

You clap like the happiest seal on the planet before spinning around to face Ellie. It happens in flashes: you come closer and closer until you’re in front of her, warm hands on her cheeks, ears tingling when you whisper, 

“I didn’t get to meet your sluts.” 

You sound upset about it. Ellie stumbles about how they didn’t come, how they’re not here. How she doesn’t wanna see them right now and she means it all, but you don’t believe her, and her chest hurts. Guilty guilty guilty. 

“Get up.” You step away and Ellie pains to pull you back, savor the night a second longer. But she signs the receipt before following you towards the exit. The cold air feels so good. She needs water now. 

She gives you a little yank when you start wandering the opposing direction, “Come… come here. This way.” 

You grin and slur, “Where to?” 

Ellie’s brows wiggle playfully, “Gas station. You hungry?”

“…Yes.”

Ellie extends her hand for you to hold, and surprisingly, you accept. Her heart jolts to life. 

The walk is quiet. Your eyes are glued to the sky, wide and innocent; the large moon entrances you, surrounded by glittery stars. You both wobble down the sidewalk, trying to avoid bumping into pedestrians and other drunkards. She thought the rowdiness of nightlife would frighten you, but you seem drawn to the chaos.  

Soon enough, you’re both surrounded by aisles filled with chips and sodas and a fuck ton of candy. Ellie cringes at the fond stares she gives you holding 4 packs of watermelon sour patches. You’re cute as hell right now. Have you never been to a convenience store? What the fuck. 

“El! El, what the fuck! Where ya been!” 

Her sluggish brain is trying — really trying to figure out who the hell just left the staff room and is walking towards the two of you. It’s someone that knows her name or whatever shortened version they’ve created and the closer this person gets the more you shield yourself behind her fuck fuck fuck

Arms latch around her neck in a strong hug. Muscular, nice voice, smells like cherries. 

Abigail Anderson. Shoulda known. Great. 

“Jesus fuck, you smell like my dad’s liquor cabinet! We fucking missed you! We haven’t seen you in…” 

When Abby pulls back, her eyes immediately find you. Ellie steals a glance; eyes wide, soft with curiosity. They darken slightly when they lock onto Abby’s shoulders, all the way down to her arms and Ellie… why the fuck does that annoy her? 

“Who’s that,” Abby whispers suggestively and Ellie sighs. Scratches at her eye in irritation. 

“I’m her wife.” You say causally, and it shocks both of them. Abby moreso. Did Ellie never tell her? She’s sure she did. Everyone knows she’s married… right?

“Wh— wife?” Her eyes shift onto Ellie, “Bitch, you got married? What the fuc— when—“

“3 months ago.” You answer.

“Fucking — holy shit. Congrats? Uhh… sorry! Nice to meet you! You’re gorgeous, by the way,” She stutters to shake your hand, but you accept it, “I’m Abby!” 

“Hi.” You smile in delight and your shoulders relax. Abby smiles just as gently and Ellie thinks it’s time to go because you’re both getting on her nerves. 

“Alright, well, we're gonna pay, so… yeah. I’ll text you tomorrow or something. We’re tired.” 

“Mhmm,” Abby hums cockily, eyes glued to the mess Ellie made of your neck, “Looks like y’all had a great time.” 

“We did,” She confirms with pointed eyes, “See ya.” 

“Byeee.” Abby sing-songs with a chuckle before Ellie leads you towards the service counter to dump your snacks. Ellie gives the cashier a familiar nod. 

“Is she who you fuck?” 

Ellie chokes on her water and the cashier gawks at you from behind their reading glasses. You couldn’t have been any fucking louder in that moment, what the fuck.

“What—“

“Do you fuck Abby? I hope not in that bathroom,” You clumsily point to the gender neutral sign near the entrance. “I heard they’re filthy—“

Ellie whispers even though there’s no point, “Dude, are you fucking crazy—“

“… It's just a question—“

“Have a nice night.” 

The cashier rigidly hands Ellie her a stuffed baggie and receipt. She snatches them before snatching you to leave. She drops your hand the second briskness surrounds you, “The fuck was that about?” Her chips are calling her. She needs a stress reliever. 

“What—“

She squeezes the bag and the pop rings like a gunshot, “Why the fuck are you asking if I fucked Abby? What the fuck—“

“She’s hot and you kinda are… to a certain degree, I guess. I just assumed.” 

Ellie’s appalled, but doesn’t have the energy to look offended. “Stop assuming, it’s… that’s fucking weird—“

You simply shove tiny watermelon slices in your mouth and steal her water to chug it. She watches you impatiently before you hand the crumpled, half-empty plastic back to her. She downs the rest and discards it some-fucking-where. 

Her thoughts are clouded. Did she fuck Abby? Are you forreal—

“I don’t care, you know.”

“About what?” 

You shrug, “If you fuck her.” 

“Please be quiet.”

“Okay.” 

You both do for a while, dead grass and Dorritos crunching around you. 

Until Ellie speaks again. 

“You’re quiet.” 

“Mhm.”

“Sleepy?”

“Nmhm.” 

Wide awake, actually. The world passes you by with each step the two of you take, swirling with bright lights and laughter. You follow Ellie closely, handfuls of candy shoved in your mouth while she munches on her chips. You never had those orange triangles before. Neither of you are in a rush to make it back to the car. Can Ellie drive in this state?

“Do you, uh, like places like that? Concerts?” 

“Yes.” You break out in a grin. 

“What else do you like?” 

“I dunno. I haven’t… experienced much.” You shrug, accidentally brushing against your wife’s shoulder. Electricity sparks near the end of your spine where a steadying hand rests. “Your friend… does she go with you? To concerts?” 

“Who?”

“Aaabby.” You tease, mocking the blonde girl from earlier, and Ellie’s expressions flattens. She's unsure why. 

“Oh, uh… yeah,” Her chip bag is suddenly very interesting. “Sometimes. I met her at one a few years back after a showcase I hosted.” 

“I like her.” She’s nice and smells nicer. You regret not shaking her seemingly strong hand a few seconds longer. Strong all over, actually. 

“… Uh huh.” 

Your brow arches at that, “Does that bother you?” 

“Why the fuck would it bother me? You can like whoever.”  

“Exactly how you like whoever, huh?” You sneer lazily, and Ellie goes stoic. And just like that, the conversation dies once more. You’re glad for it; selfishly, you’d rather refrain from telling your wife about how attractive you found her friend. She’s left you guessing under too many circumstances. Consider this a sliver of revenge. 

You both make it back to the parking lot in silence, minus Ellie’s agitated crunching. You lean against the passenger door while you watch her dig around for the keys. 

“Where to?” 

“It's almost 4 in the morning.” She hisses. 

“So?” You came home later than that for weeks. You wanna say it. You should say it. Grind your thumb deeper into that open wound, but you save it. Another day, maybe. Maybe not. 

“So we’re going home. I’m tired.” 

“Well, I’m not.” 

“Okay? Whatever, I’ll drop you off somewhere.” 

“You wouldn’t leave your poor, defenseless wife unattended, would you?” You whisper slowly, and Ellie tenses when you plant a soft hand on her shoulder. She doesn’t acknowledge you, just stares through the window behind you. You scoff and drop it by your side. Cross your arms stubbornly. 

“You’re mad because I like Abby.”

“There’s nothing for you to like! You just met her.” Her voice raises, and annoyance flares in you. 

“Exactly! I just met her, and I like her! The fuck did you think I was gonna do? Flash her right in front of the gummy worms?” 

“I don’t know! Fucking maybe!”

“So you can fuck other people but I can’t?” 

Ellie’s very close to you suddenly. Your heart jumps, “Oh, now you wanna fuck Abby? She’s the first person you’ve interacted with besides me since we got fucking married!” 

“SO?” You holler. 

“SO YOU’RE NOT FUCKING MY FRIEND! ARE YOU INSANE!” Speckles of spit land on your face and it sizzles into your pores. You might be. You fucking are. Maybe, maybe, maybe. Ellie’s forcing herself into your space, so why do you fight? Why are you hungry? 

Your palms crash into her chest and she nearly loses her balance, “I DON’T NEED PERMISSION FROM YOU! WE’LL FINALLY BE EVEN, YOU FUCKING WHORE!” 

“Yeah? Think Imma fucking whore?” Her grin is sinister, and excitement coils in your belly. Gets your fingers twitching from how hard they’re clenched. 

“Maybe I do.” Vehemence scathed your tongue. 

“You know what I think?” 

“I don’t care—“

“I think you do.” She mumbles against your cheek, “I think you’re jealous.” 

You still. Ellie’s eyes pierce through yours, burning and hot, nostrils flared: she looks like she could snap you in half. Your spine tingles with delirium. 

“You’re mad because I get to be. I can exist and fuck and party and come and go as I please and you hate it. You wish you could do what I do.” She stares like you killed her mother yourself. Strangled her with your bare hands. “I don’t have mommy and daddy breathing down my neck every 2 seconds. You want that so bad it makes you sick.” 

“So why stay?” 

It shocks her. You don’t waver; passive as usual. 

“You’re free and can do whatever you want, right? Why are you here? Go and be that. Be whoever you wanna be because you can.”

Everything will be over soon. Might as well. Ellie simply glares through you. 

Curiosity is your worst enemy. Might as well ask. 

“Why’d you defend me at dinner?” 

What does she know what does she know what does she know what

She rubs her eyes stubbornly, “Oh my fucking god, who gives a fuck!” 

“Me! I give a fuck! Why’d you do it! Why! You’ve never done it before!” 

She knows she knows she knows she knows she knows she knows

“BECAUSE FUCK HIM! FUCK EVERYBODY THAT DID THIS TO US! FUCK YOU, TOO!” 

You might cry, you might not. You’re unsure of everything and you’re angry and hurting. Ellie’s a reflection of you, and vise-versa. You hate her hate her hate her. 

Hatred. It might be the reason why kissing her feels so good. Because it shouldn’t be happening. Ellie shouldn’t have you trapped between her and her car, grinding so harshly into you that your spine bends. You shouldn’t tug at her hair to expose her neck to lick and suck and bite her neck red while she curses in your ear. 

This is the distraction you’ve been desperately searching for. To think you’d find it in your wife after all this time. 

“I’d be a whore for you,” She shamelessly seers against your throat, hands wandering to unbutton her own pants, “You know that, right?” 

… That’s cute. Makes you blush. 

“Yeah?” Her laugh is thick like syrup, “Gets you hot? Knowing how easily I’d give it up for you?” 

That sideways grin makes you tick. Your hand closes tight around her throat and she nearly bloodies her bottom lip with her fangs. Your wife looks pathetic; thumbs hooked into her pants, so ready to drop them for you in the middle of the parking lot. People are wandering about; she’s willing to fuck in front of them? 

How pretty would she look trying to be quiet for you? Nervous eyes searching for privacy, praying no one walks by and sees her on the edge with your hand down her underwear. Hopefully no one recognizes her, pulls out their phone, records the two of you. Blasts you both on social media while Ellie moans in your mouth. What would people think? Your families? How ashamed would they be? Their two girls making a mess of themselves in public. 

The thought makes you smile. Scares you. Makes you choke her harder. Her pained whine vibrates in your palm. 

“Get the fuck in the car.” 

The windows fog with the heat of your bodies; her body trapped beneath yours in the back seat that’s roomier than you anticipated. She rolls your hips on top of her, desperate and eager to rip your fucking clothes off and feel you for real. Your dress rests around your hips, your panties on display and she wishes she could see them. She only has her hands for reference, tracing over each thin seam littered with lace and patterns she tries to memorize. Your tongue belongs in her mouth. You feel so fucking good; you’re not close enough. She needs you closer. 

Her mouth chases yours when you finally separate, only connected by a thin string of saliva, but a stern hand collides with her chest to keep her flat. Her hands tickle your waist. Rests your dress even higher until she can see your belly button. 

“Wanna know a secret?” You whisper down at her, and she smirks. 

“I know you’re a virgin, baby.” She whispers giddily, and your teeth grit. A flame coils in your chest. You ignore her.

“You could’ve had me after our wedding, you know? With my face buried in the pillows and my ass in your face. I would’ve let you do whatever you wanted that night.” 

Your sudden vulgarity stuns her silent. Your wife looks like she’s imagining it; lip bruised from both your and her teeth, mind racing with filth of you in every position she can think of. She wouldn’t have been able to separate from you if that was the case. It’s one of the reasons she kept her distance; those pretty brown eyes rolled back would’ve put her underground. She’d never tell you that. 

“But no,” You say like it aches, “You wanted to go and bend over all those girls that follow you around like fucking dogs. You wanted a bitch, not a wife. Right or wrong?” 

She can barely breathe and your hand pressing on her chest isn’t helping; reduces her to sharp gasps that make her lightheaded. The more ragged they become, the harder you press. Your brow arches when she innocently bares her teeth. 

Her palms squeeze at your ass, “I thought about you the entire time—“

Your hand cracks and her head flies to the side. Right on her left cheek is the already reddening imprint of your hand. The crackles in your palm are numbed by the alcohol and your core burns at the shock on her face. She gawks off to the side, that meddling smile dropped completely, chest ragged with her breaths. 

“Ellie, put your hands down.” You spit, and they drop from you completely, palms flat on the seat beneath her. 

“You had every chance to do right by me and you wasted every single one.” You sound like you’re about to cry; Ellie’s too scared to look at you. Not the good scared that she’s felt around you this entire time, but a hollow scared. The one that freezes you. Her fight or flight is triggered. 

“I think you owe me an apology.” You whisper against her burning face before you kiss it gently. A pained groan escapes her, and you laugh. Loud, in her face. Even louder when she tries to grind her hips up into you. 

“Take us home, wife.” 

[respectthepetty]

Pit Babe Colors Finale

I'm challenging myself with this show and seeing how good my color skills really are, so I'm doing my normal thing of watching it double-speed on mute, but now, the captions are off also.It's just colors and vibes here. It's been a chaotic journey, but it finally ends today, most likely with a character death, so . . .

Disclaimer: I'm just screaming this entire post.

Surprising absolutely no one, Barbara immediately forgave Charles. Like I wrote last week, I'll hold this grudge for both of us, Babe.

If this bastard is still alive by the end of this, there is no justice in the world.

Did he just give them a key to get out? They could just walk through a door, but . . . I'll take it. Kentana is trying to redeem himself. Now, KILL YOUR SHITTY FATHER, and you will earn the top place in my heart.

Don't do it, Way Way. Don't. I see you eyeing that man, but you will take zero bullets for Pete or Babe. Am I clear?! NONE! I don't care if you are wearing white compared to everyone else's black. You will not die. No.

I'm not even going to say shit about these two's colors because BIG RED JUST KILLED A KID!

OH FUCK! HE IS KILLING EVERYONE!

KIMBERLY! I LOVE YOU!

And this is why you deserve to die. Who does something like this? It's not a porn, sir. This is a murder. You're about to die. Not get laid.

WAYMOND, NO! I TOLD YOU NOT TO FUCKING DO THIS! NOOOOOOOOOO!

I know it's blood, but the 'smoke' being red too is great and I need more of it as BIG RED DIES FOR KILLING WAY WAY!

Y'all are letting Big Red talk too much while Way Way is just bleeding out on the floor, and I just need one of y'all to apply pressure to the wound so Way has a fighting chance. Please for the love of God. PLEASE! LET WAY LIVE!

Oh, shit, this is awful. Do NOT think about any good memories with this man who wore red in the past but no longer does for some wacky reason. Those memories are all tainted. He is awful. KILL HIM ALREADY AND GET WAY WAY TO THE HOSPITAL!

I HATE HIM! Barbara, don't you trade your life for Charles. Don't fucking do it. Charles came back from the dead once. He can do it again. KILL BIG RED ALREADY!

OH MY FUCKING GOD, YES! I LOVE KENTA! KILL HIM!

YOU KILLED YOUR SHITTY FATHER! YOU'VE DONE WHAT NO OTHER BL BOY HAS EVER DONE!

YOU WON MY HEART!

Now, someone go hug him! Pete what the fuck are you doing?! One boyfriend is dying and another is breaking down. DO SOMETHING, PETER!

I knew this was going to happen! I knew Way was gonna die taking a bullet for Babe. I knew it, and I'm still upset! WHY?! Why can't Peter have TWO boyfriends?! Why do we always have to kill someone to redeem them and to cancel them out of the poly plot equation. LET POLY HAPPEN!

Fuck, Alan is crying.

FUCK!

I will not be pacified with Jeffrey finally being consumed by blue. I'm still very upset about Way Way having to die instead of Peter just having two boyfriends.

Vegas' Hedgehog, I'm so over your ass! Red flowers?! At Way's funeral?! That is sooooo rude! What is wrong with you?! Read the room, you pretty bitch! RED IS OUT! Way died for the blue! THE BLUE!

I hate this necklace. I hate that Way is dead instead of being taken care of by his two boyfriends. Where the hell is Ken anyway?! Why is he not holding Peter's hand right now? WHAT IS THIS LIE?!

I trust your dad, Barbie, because he is wearing blue, but you have had to cry a thousand tears this episodes, and I pray like GMMTV's First, you stay hydrated because crying can wreck havoc on a thirsty body.

Y'all cannot fuck the grief away in the blue. You can try, but Waymond is still gonna be dead instead of having two boyfriends. This is a real problem, and I want it addressed. RIGHT NOW!

KIMBERLY! YOU'RE BLUE NOW!

Everyone is in blue, and then we have Vegas' fucking Hedgehog in those damn orange pants, and . . . AHHHHHHH *starts throwing clothes around the room and out the window*

Barbie is lighter. He is still black, but now he has the white mixed with it while he looks longingly into the eyes of his Blue Boy (who lied to him several times including lying about his death, pero I'll carry this grudge for both of us, Barbara)

Now why the fuck are you wearing red, Alan?! Why won't this show just let me have nice things?!

So . . . now that this is all over and I, unsurprisingly, did NOT get poly nor Kenta x Pete, I will be unblocking the tags because seeing black boxes on my dash is driving me crazy, and I need to reblog some GIFs of Kimberly, Alan, and Waymond x Peter x Kentana to fill this huge void in my heart where a poly plot would have perfectly fit.

I will never go back and watch this show with subs. Never. Whatever I got from it was exactly what I needed to get from it, and I need nothing else. Because what I got was a boy FINALLY deciding to

KILL HIS SHITTY FATHER

Kenta, you deserve my respect. You loved Pete. You helped all the guys in your own way. You killed your shitty dad. You committed queer wrongs, and I forgive every single one of them. You deserve a happy life, and I hope you are laying in Pete's bed with his arms around you thinking about what y'all will have for breakfast, so he can read your mind and go make it for you.

I like you.

I respect you.

I love you.

And so does Pete.

GIVE ME POLY, DAMN IT!

[sarahnotjmaas]

Kingdom of Ash

Struggling to get into this one

Awww Rowan and aelins babies

This book feels like all my sweet babies are grown up 😭

Omfg is Yrene pregnant?? Is this the book they all have babies? Idk if I’m gonna like that

Dorian is gonna learn how to shift!! Wait last fall? This all happened so fast! 8 books of drama in like two years?? Jesus

I’m 100 pages in and needing more!! The last two books ended with so much action to be had it feels like nothing is happening!

Okay Manon is looking for a way to connect with the Cochran and her great grandma literally told her ‘we got our fire cuz Brannon GALATHYNIYS gave it to our queen your great great great great great grandma’ and you’re literally allied with Aelin Galathynius….. I read that and said ‘whoop there it is’

Yay Aelin is back!! Taking her scars is FUCCKKKED

I have been slacking on note taking but I’m like 400 pages in now and Aelin and Yrene finally met!!!!! I’m so ready for Aelin to start kicking ass again!

Oh and I hope Lysandra is okay….

So many story lines finally coming together!

Queen of witches🥹

Okay I’m getting sick of Aelin not using her power!! People are DYING Aelin! Get it together miss ma’am

When is it gonna be revealed that Elide had dope powers? I know it’s gonna happen

Okay Elide your man just got cut down, now would be the time to be a powerful badass

What a stupid reason for Aelin to not be using her powers. You’re literally at war lol

Manon and Dorian always get me!!! Ugh she loves him and just wants him to stay and not sacrifice himself!! Me toooooo!!

Forget any bad thing I’ve ever said about Elide and Lorcan, they’re precious 😭😭😭

Why doesn’t Yrene use the tower to cure all the valg

Don’t ask me why I go over huge plot points and don’t feel the need to document my emotions but Lorcan gives Elide a foot rub and I’m 😯🤭📝✍️ But seriously me too girl, a man giving you a foot rub is sensual as hell iykyk lol

The way that could’ve been so hot and SJM just blue balls the shit out of the reader. It’s fine I’m fine. She just got my heart racing just to go into one of Aelin’s fucked up nightmares 👍🏻 cool cool cool

Aelin and Dorian have all 3 word keys…

No one has died yet and I don’t want anyone to!!! I’m so scared I have 250 pages left, I know what feelings are coming for me I just don’t know why yet wait did Dorian learn how to use portals from Maeve!?!? Could he transport the army. My boy is the most powerful mf in the books

Not Abraxos. Bitch I’ll throw this book out the window. PETRAH!!!!! Bitch that was So badass fuck Iskra

Wtf!!!!! The entire 13!?!? No I fucking can’t wtf!!! Seriously what the fuck

Waaaahh😭Dorian and Chaol

They’re not wasting time on a vote… really?

I’m hyperventilating reading this unfold. Please don’t kill Dorian or Aelin for this stupid gate

‘My name is Aelin Ashryver Galathynius and I will not be afraid’ WAAAAAAHH 😭

The king saving Dorian and telling Aelin her parents are proud 🥲 I’m not ok

Snow capped mountains under shining stars. Where A winged Fae male stood beside a heavily pregnant female, gazing at those very stars. 👀👀👀👀

Wow Rhys saved her

Chapter 100 wow I’m so proud of myself

So quick recap: Stones are gone no longer in play and gate is shut meaning erawan can’t ever return to his brothers of bring them to him. BUT he and maeve are still strong scary muthafuckas who have like 100k soldiers a bunch of witches and 6 spider fuckers cool 👍🏻

Oh no Murtaugh

It’s about time Lysandra and Aedion! You’ve literally lived eachother for like 4 books now

Aelin has missed her entire war. It’s literally her war on her land and she’s been absent for like all of it.. I’m glad she saved Anielle but her own home needed her weeks ago

Darrow naming Evangeline his heir got me all teary eyed and shit

Omfg Gavriel!!!! No no no why do I even read SJM books they just hurt me

All the battle scenes are so bleak, they’re getting smeared in this war!! I don’t see how they’re going to pull through tbh I’m waiting for a big Aelin scheme but idk if I can take another 100+ pages of them getting they butts whooped

Ugh ‘And she will not be afraid’ that’s gonna stick with me forever

I’m so close! They did it! Chaols reading a letter from his mom and his wife literally saved the world 😭

I’m unwell.

[doctormomwriter]

New Look

Aizawa x OC Smut (filth)

Small plot because for some reason I am unable to write smut without a little background. Biggest lie I told myself...

Warning: Sexual Content, Rough, Sweet, Dirty Talking Sex

Ivy and Aizawa must come to terms with secrets, feelings, and how to go on teaching like nothing ever happened.

*********************************************************************

Part 1: Glitter Boy and The Ugly Witch

It all started with a small prank. Teaching a bunch of future pro heroes science was difficult. They never seemed to be interested in my lessons, only about the hell that would be reigned down upon them by Aizawa during his class periods with them. I learned the keep their attention by arranging small pranks on my favorite, sleepy coworker. For the last few weeks, I had hid glitter bombs in Aizawa's desk. Three of them that would go off at the perfect moment. I told the class if they all passed their midterm assignments, then I would shower Mr. Aizawa with glitter in the middle of his lecture. Their grades were all above passing. I had never been so proud and so nervous in my life. I was really hoping for one failing grade so that I could back out before I was in too deep. I am a woman of my word though.

I peeked in Aizawa's window and flipped a small switch and without failure, all of the glitter bombs popped in unison. He did not say anything. The class burst into laughter and his eyes flashed at the doorway where he caught me red handed. I bolted to my office and immediately began planning my apology.

The day dragged on as I taught the next two classes. One of my students asked why I looked sickly, like I had seen a ghost. I nonchalantly admitted that if Mr. Aizawa catches me today, I would be a ghost! Thankfully the purple haired kid did not seem to have the energy to probe me for more information. Five o'clock came sooner today than any other day. It was time to face the music. Aizawa and I always had a unique way of speaking to each other. Small jokes at one anothers expence, followed by "I am only kidding" and visiously looking away from each other.

I walked outside and put on my lab coat that I always wore over my dress clothes. I was always afraid that my clothes were too tight or not professional enough so I bypassed the dresscode by wearing a lab coat nearly all the time. I am not sure really anyone knew what I looked like underneath except Nemuri. Midnight was my best friend and had seen me in everyway, unfortunately. She always laughed when we would go out in our group of friends and I would still be in this damn coat. Rain or shine. Hot or cold. I was covered neck, to wrist, to ankle.

"You fucking bitch! I need them to focus! They are literally training for their lives!" Aizawa pushed passed Mic and made a bee-line for me. I hid between Nemuri and the tree they were surrounding.

"I am sorry! It was to motivate them to pass my exam!" I winced and giggled. "They passed." I shrugged.

"I don't know if your quirk has something to do with childish bullshit or maybe you're just one of those quirkless assholes with a hobby, but it does not mean you have to look and act like a big, ugly, witch!" Aizawa looked like he immediately regretted his words, but I did not care. That hurt.

"I..I'm sorry." I felt like I was going to puke.

"Wait... do you not have a quirk?" Mic chimed in. Everyone ignored him.

*********************************************************************

Part 2: Who Let the Girls Out?

I snuck off to my apartment quickly. An hour or so later, Midnight knocked on my door. My face had been burried in my pillow, soaked with tears. I felt like a teenager. Did he really see me as big and ugly? I could not lie to myself about it, I had the biggest crush on Aizawa since we met. Every social gathering left the two of us together as wall flowers and we joked around and talked about our lives and it became a beautiful friendship. Until I ruined it..

"Ivy girl, you have to get up.. he did not mean it like that!" Midnight put a loving hand on my shoulder.

"I am not sure why it hurt.." I tried not to look at her. I was still red from tears.

"Because you like him." She said in a sing songy way.

"I do not! We are just friends." I almost shouted at her, but my voice cracked at the lie.

"You have to get up, we are having All Might's birthday party at Siripico's Bar and you know what that meansssss!" She held a finger under my chin that forced me to look up at her.

"It means I have to go and face Aizawa like the fat, ugly, witch I am?" I smirked and wiped my face from the tears. "I am going to sit this out, take Toshinori my gift please." I flopped back into the bed.

"No, do not make me knock you out and dress you up the hard way." Midnight tugged at her sleeve with a devilish grin.

My brown eyes flashed a matte gold color and my hair fell down from my messy bun. I smirked as I summoned my closet doors open so hard the room shook.

"God, I love it when you use magic!" She giggled and rummaged through my closet. Flinging dresses out left and right.

"Oh honey, none of this will work. You have to have on a dress that goes with heels!" She pulled out my old hero costume and flung it on the bed. "What about this?" She gave me an evil smile.

"You know good and well, I am never going to wear that again. My pro days are over, that is why I teach science." I held the weathered fabric in my hand. My touch made it flow back to a dark black again.

No one knew but Midnight and Nezu. No one was allowed to know about "Hecate: The Witch Hero." She disappeared about the same time Ivy moved to Osaka City to teach young heroes science...harmless science. I remembered how I looked though. Much like Midnight. Tall and curvy, my dark wine colored hair, long and wild with curles and narcisus flowers accentuated my black dress that resembled an Greecian robe. Long slits up from the ankle to my hips on each side. 'Cleavage and legs for days' is what Nemuri called it when I showed her pictures.

"No one will know if you keep your normal face on." She waved her hand in front of my face. I took a breath and changed my eye color back to brown and my hair seemed to not be so wild anymore. "Plus, you are not wearing your moon horn head piece and eye makeup. No one will know... come on!! This is sexy as hell."

I began to ponder the idea and grabbed my lab coat like a security blanket. She snatched it from me.

"If you even think about wearing this thing, I will knock you out and tape you to the flag pole...naked..." She licked her lips.

"You pervert. I love you, you silly goose. Fine.." I admitted defeat.

We got dressed together at her apartment. She had to approve my makeup and lend me a pair of heels. We took goofy pictures like always. One of them was a little riske'. Midnight jokingly put her hand around my throat while we were in our bras and panties. Our tongues were sticking out as our faces nearly touched.

"You better delete that one!" I grabbed for the phone. Too late.

"Nemuri!! Tell me you did not send that to Hizashi... please.. tell me you did not!" I was so embarrassed but the damage was already done. We finished getting ready and ordered a ride to take us to the bar.

***********************************************************************

Part 3: Look at This Photograph

"Holy shit!" Mic blushed at the photo and immediately texted back. "Yes Ma'ams!" to Midnight's picture. They had a friends with benefits thing going on that know one is supposed to know about, but everyone knows about it.

"What?" Aizawa spat in the sink and whiped the toothpaste foam from his lips.

"Don't mind me, looking to score twice tonight." Mic slid the phone to Aizawa and his face turned red. Mostly from anger.

"Like Ivy would even dream of you touching her." He coughed and rolled his eyes. Closing the bathroom door to breath and prevent his semi from becoming more than that.

Aizawa and Mic had a long conversation while they waited for time to get ready for the party. Mic explained that calling a woman "fat and ugly" even as a joke or retaliation is bad. Aizawa scoffed and while he knew Mic was right about that, he did not want to admit fault. Eventually they dropped the conversation when Mic mentioned to Aizawa that while no one had really seen my body not covered by work clothes and a lab coat, I had a pretty face and a great personality and that is all the mattered. Aizawa added in how intelligent I was and then began talking about training with his class.

"I just find it funny that you think Ivy would not jump on this dick if I gave her the option." Mic prodded as they were walking out the door. Aizawa clenched the keys in his hand to avoid feeling the rage that boiled in his bloodstream. "Could you imagine what her face looks like when she is going down... do you think she keeps her glasses on? Do you think her tits are that big out side of the pic.." Aizawa pushed Mic into the hallway wall.

"Shut up. Gentleman's agreement like old times? Keep your hands and eyes off of Ivy. No questions asked." Aizawa was so harsh with those words.

"See.. I knew you liked her." Mic fixed his jacket and they got in the car without another word.

Mic sent a text to Nemuri. "Finally he admits it." She responded with a thumbs up emoji.

**********************************************************************

Party 4: Lights Out, Drinks Up

I stepped out of the Uber and Nemuri pulled me in for a picture outside the bar's neon signage. We both looked hot. I felt naked without my coat, but it was time to feel confident after being knocked down to nothing this afternoon. We ordered a drink and mingled. All Might was huge and muscular like normal, his yellow suit traded out for a crisp plum color one with a black tie and belt. His shoes were so shiny they looked like wet paint. He hugged us so tight. He was so wholesome. Fawning over how beautiful I looked, he even whispered in my ear that confidence looked so beautiful on me. He also whispered something about beating the boys off of me with a stick if I needed. He was so kind. I adored that man for more than his hero work.

"This drink is strong, but I need another." I shouted to Midnight over the music but she was too busy making googoo eyes at Mic.

I flagged the bartender down, but he had already handed me a drink. A flaming orange concoction. He pointed to man at he end of the bar and winked. I blew out the fire and took the shot before turning around. My eyes grew wide like saucers when I saw the brooding Endeavor sitting down on a stool that looked way to small to hold him. His suit was black and his shirt a crisp white. His tie was one of those fancy paisley patterns with a sterling silver clip. I smiled and decided I should probably say thank you for the drink. I walked over and reheared a small talk starter in my head.

"Thank you, Endeavor." I was going to leave it at that.

He placed his hand on the counter and bartender ran 4 more flaming shots in front of us.

"You're not going to make me drink alone, huh? It's Enji outside of work by the way." He pushed a shot to me.

"I guess one more won't hurt... Enji.." I smiled.

I took the shot down. I didnt even blow out the flame that time.

"So... I have a question. Is there any particular reason you decided to dress like a fucking beauty queen tonight?" He took two shots back to back and passed me the last one.

Oh my god, was he hitting on me? Ew.. I teach one of his kids. My brain was not really thinking clearly anymore. The alcohol bubbling in my veins, my cheeks felt pink. I had to be careful or else I may forget to keep my quirk in check. I nonchalantly summoned the shot glass to my hand only a few inches so he would not notice.

"A shy girl, huh? No reason to be shy when you look like that. Although, I never really thought I would see that outfit out in the wild again. Hecate." He grabbed my hand firmly.

"What did you call me?" I giggled. He was bluffing. He did not really know.

"Do not play dumb with me.. You do not need to hide all that power from someone like me. I know all too well what it is like to have so much power and rarely get to use my full potential." He had pulled me close. Tucked my long curly hair behind my ear.

I was starting to panic now. I needed another drink. My mouth was dry. I pulled away but he pulled me back harder. My face smushed into his chest. He swayed to the music and kept his voice down low so I could hear him without anyone eavsdropping.

"I am just saying, imagine the legacy you and I could leave behind if you came out into the hero world. Not to mention, having this sweet ass and legs to look at on those lonely stake outs at night might ease the long hours... You could ease this long.." He stepped back a moment to see what had caught his attention. His foot suddenly slipped up into the air and he came crashing down to his ass.

I made my get away. I could not see what happened until the strobe lights flased on a silver grey cloth slinking away behind the bar and into Aizawa's suit pocket. My eyes trailed up to the man who was behind the prank.

When I made eye contact with him, he gave me a half smile. I had almost forgotten how badly he had hurt my feelings earlier. I turned around in embarrassment and unfortunately ran into a frustrated looking Endeavor.

"So you are just going to knock me off my feet and run away? Lucky for you, I like a challenge." He pulled me close to his chest again.

My eyes flashed back to Aizawa who was looking out of the corner of his eyes at us while he chatted with Vlad King. He looked angry. Did I really make him that angry? Maybe I should enjoy myself. Get a little flirty. Even if its with someone as disgusting as Endeavor.

"So, I do not want to disappoint you, but I am not who you think I am. I am just a science teacher." I shrugged.

"I am not dumb, Hecate. I have known since the moment I saw your face. Now that you're wearing your old dress, I confirmed it. What I cannot figure out is... why you are hiding? Who are you hiding from?" His face was so close to mine.

"I am not saying you are dumb, I am saying that..." A strong hand grabbed my shoulder. A forceful but careful pull, pulled me away from the firey man.

"We need to talk." Aizawa did not even bother to look at the angered Endeavor.

********************************************************************

Part 5: Time to Get Shit Faced.

Endeavor pulled me back to him and at that moment I ducked and side stepped to give space between us. Mic walked by with a tray of cosmo shooters and I grabbed two off and downed them. Hoping this would all go away when I opened my eyes. I was wrong, of course.

"Eraserhead, I did not peg you for the rude type. Ivy and I were just talking about how much we have in common." He winked at me.

"We don't have anything in common." I chimed in and it seemed like no one listened.

"Oh really, since when did she become a pretentious, fireball, asshole?" Aizawa flashed his eyes at Endeavor, watching the flames die down.

"To be fair you called me an asshole this morning." At this point, I swayed off without them noticing. I made my way to the bathroom as the alcohol started to really fuck with my senses. I have not drank this much in front of anyone but Midnight.

I texted Nemuri to come save me and decided to try to sober up some in the comfort of the bathroom stall. This felt gross.

Aizawa and Endeavor spent the next five minutes arguing before Aizawa noticed I was gone. They both blamed each other for my disappearance and Aizawa made a beeline for the hallway that led to the bathrooms and back door patio. I decided to stop hiding in the bathroom when I heard moaning in the stall beside me. That was my cue to leave. I needed fresh air. I opened the patio door and no one was there in my line of sight. I shut the door and sat in the chairs by the wall.

"Fuck.." I sighed.

"You wanna tell me what that was about?" Aizawa flicked a half smoked cigarette across the lot.

"Fuck!" I jumped up and immediately felt lightheaded. I sat down.

"I honestly have not a fucking clue." I covered my face and he down beside me.

"You're hanging out with Endeavor, that is...interesting." He lit another cigarette.

"Give me that...please" I pulled it from his fingers but it felt like they lingered on my hand for more than a normal amount of time.

I took a puff, I had not had a cigarette in forever. The last time was when Nemuri talked me into trying one of these special rainbow cigarettes that tasted like peppermint. I felt a rush as the nicotine flooded my system.

"I am not hanging out with him, he bought me a few drinks, made a pass at me which I declined, several times. He knows my secret..." I passed the cigarette back to Aizawa.

"Oh, okay. So you're not into...you're not interested in him?" He choked out. Pretending it was the cigarette making him choke.

"Of course not, he is gross. Not my type." I took the cigarette and took a long drag.

"Ha...and what is your type?" Aizawa raised an eyebrow.

We made eye contact for a moment and I could not make myself speak. I could not come clean. One part of me wanted to tell him that he was my type and the other part of me wanted to give a generic answer. Before I could open my mouth, the door crashed open and Endeavor and a waitress were entangled, making out loudly. He stopped when he saw me.

"Yeah, that is right. This could have been you. I could have fucked you stupid, Hecate." Endeavor turned back to the waitress who was stil gasping for air from the lip locking.

It's amazing how fast you sober up when you get hit with a blow of anxiety the size of a mountain. I bolted around the corner. Making it to the corner and trying to catch a taxi. I finally caught one and as I was about to shut the door, Aizawa slid in beside me. He handed a 50 to the driver and muttered an address.

"We need to talk." He looked at me harshly. I saw his eyes flash red and I pinched his thigh. He blinked before he had the chance to use his quirk on me.

"Not here." Thankfully he did not push.

We arrived at a small loft near UA. This was not my apartment... I guess it was his. He tipped the driver and we walked to the door. He grasped my hand and nearly dragged me inside.

"You do like him, why would you lie about that? You have a pet name? Why him? Why a fucking asshole like him? You are so smart and he's.." He looked at me so angry. His eyes flashed at me. His hair stood on end..

I let it happen. He watched as my skin tone grew paler and slightly glowing. My eyes turned from brown to gold and copper colored. My curls seemed to look bolder and less tamed. Large ringlets of wine colored locks. My lips turned from soft pink to the color of sugar plums in winter.

"What.." He relaxed his gaze. I kept my form.

"This is me.. the fat, ugly witch." A tear fell down my cheek. "When I was 20, a fairly young pro. I was Hecate. My quirk is witchcraft." I sighed again. "Endeavor figured it out and was trying to court me for breeding purposes. I dislike him. I promise."

Aizawa still did not say a work. He just looked at me. In a way he never really had before. There was so much awkward silence in the room, you could hear the neighbors across the street snoring.

"You're.." He took a long pause again.

"I am me, this is just an old part of me that I wanted to keep away from everyone. I am done being a pro.." I was teary eyed. Worried that he would ask why I hid this. Why I left a career I worked so hard to get..

"I just don't understand. How could I have been so blind not to see that..you're Hecate?" He walked towards me. Leaving little space between me and him. I backed up towards the door. My back nearly touching it.

"I am so...sorry." He whispered.

"For what?"

"For hurting your feelings... for calling you are quirkless normie.. for being awful tonight while you were just trying to have a good time." His hand rested on my shoulder. "Why would you hide this from us? No one would have cared." He chuckled.

"You never heard the story of how Hecate disappeared? My shame? You would not have cared about my failure as a hero? How I was tricked into killing someone...I am a witch by birth and by nature of my quirk. I swore to never do harm and I let a man....gain control of my body and use it for evil. I saw everything he did to my body and made my body do..I should have been put down like a rabid dog, Shouta." I was crying the type of way that makes you gasp for air. Tears streaming down my cheeks and down my neck.

"Ivy... I didn't..I had no idea. I promise. Even if I did, I would have never judged you for something that you did not do of your own volition." He wiped the tears from my eyes and held my face in his palms. "Then Endeavor kept talking about how our spawn would be powerful beings and it made me want to vomit, but I spent time with him to make you jealous and then.." His lips slowly pressed to mine.

He pulled away from me and tooks a few steps back.

"I am so sorry...I should have asked, but why did you want to make me jealous? You know what, it doesn't matter. Thank you for being honest with me. Want to go back to the party?" He was shaking his head in disbelief.

I felt my heart burst in my chest. How could he just kiss me and ask if I want to go to a party?! I wanted to be here. I needed some kind of explanation to his actions! I was hurt all over again. Maybe he just wanted to shut me up. Did it not matter at all that I wanted to make him jealous. Fuck this night.

"I...well, should we talk about what just happened?" I needed answers.

"Oh this?" Aizawa stepped forward as my back touched the door. He tilted my chin up and kissed me again. His fingers lightly moving my hair behind my ear and his palm cupping my jaw to hold me in place. He released after about a minute.

"Yes.. that." I felt so dizzy. Was I still drunk? Maybe a litte.

He locked the door and took my hand, pulling me on top of him on the couch. His hands moved around my waist as our lips connected again. Deeper this time. His tongue grazing my bottom lip after a soft bite. I whimpered into the kiss which triggered a low moan from him. I could feel his cock hard under his pants. If I could see myself, I am sure I was tomato red with anxiety.

*********************************************************************

Chapter 6: Drunk In Love

"We should really go back to the party...don't you think?" Aizawa had his hand in my hair, a hard grip. Pulling me only an inch back from his lips.

I pouted.. he was right though. He pulled his phone from his pocket and showed me 37 missed texts from Hizashi. I slowly climbed off of his lap and my legs felt like they weighed 500 pounds. I was shivering at the loss of warmth between us.

"I have questions.." I whispered as he smirked and wiped my lipstick from his mouth. I blushed thinking I should probably touch myself up before we head back.

"I have answers." His voice fell lower in tone.

"I still have no idea what is going on in your head...was this just a one time.. tipsy..thing?" I walked closer to the door.

Aizawa stopped and narrowed his eyes at me. I could not tell if he was annoyed, amused, frustrated, or confused. I was confused. One minute his tongue is down my throat and the next he is rushing us back to a party. He walked towards me and rubbed my small lipstick smear from my chin. Pressing me back to the door. He kissed me softly. Trailing them down my neck.

"Oh fuck!" I cried out as his teeth bit into my tender skin. Right above my color bone. He lingered and pulled off of me.

"We go back, be polite friends, give our gifts, have a drink or two. I want to dance with you in the dim light. Let me feel like I have given you a proper date and I promise you, when we get back to my apartment, I will leave no room for doubt in your beautiful brain. I will kiss you.." he learned in to my ear to whisper "I will have you screaming to whatever gods you believe in all night." He stood back up and smiled at me. It was an innocent and loving smile.

The uber drive back to the bar was short, thank god. He held my hand to guide me out of the car and we went back inside through the patio. Hizashi was still drunk. He grabbed me and told me how pretty I was. Aizawa sighed in annoyance. Then Hizashi screamed for Nemuri, she cam running from the back, drinks in hand.

"Nemuri!! Look! They did it!!" He pointed to my neck.

My face was on fire. I did not realize the bite had left a mark. Aizawa snaked a hand around my waist and pulled me to him, hard enough to make me place a hand on his chest for balance.

"Would you shut up and let the kids have their fun, we have been waiting for this to happen for months." Nemuri handed me a glass and asked me to dance with her.

I looked at Aizawa who just nodded for me to go off and enjoy myself.

Unknown to me, Hizashi begged him for details and Aizawa did not oblidge. He left is very vague. Only telling him that he could not fight his feelings anymore and that we kissed and came back to the party. Hizashi whined at the last of graphic detail, but eventually let the topic go.

Meanwhile, Nemuri and I were dancing and grinding on each other. Laughing and taking shots. I tried to pace myself, I did not want to be too drunk to miss out on the end of the "date." A broad hand cut in between us and pulled me close to him, I halfheartedly expected it to be Aizawa, but it was Enji. I pulled back quickly in disgust. He laughed and reached for my wrist again only to fall to his ass. My eyes flashed the gold and copper color that he had only hoped to see. I bound him to the floor with my magic. The music stopped and everyone back up as the giant man struggled to get up. I snapped my fingers and released him. There were gasps from all over the crowd. People mumbled, wondering what happeded, while the people closest to me could see that it was my own power that caused the scene.

"Hecate, I have to give it to you. I almost believed you for a minute. But, now your whole secret is out. Was it worth it? Doing this show all for me?" Enji was enraged and cocky.

"That was not for you... that was for him." I pointed to Aizawa, who had made his way to my side when he saw Endeavor fall to the ground.

"How cute...enjoy mediocrate.." Enji made his way back to the bar. Thankfully everyone had the attention span of a goldfish and went back to drinking and dancing.

"I think this was the best date I have ever been on." Aizawa giggled and pulled me close to him as a slower song played.

**********************************************************************

Chapter 7: Oh My God

It was over, we made it back to his apartment. Suddenly, I felt nervous again. Like a virgin being lured to into a sacrifice. I felt danger and excitement, passion and longing, but more importantly... I felt safe with him. I felt like he was testing me to see if I would try to initiate. I was far too nervous for that. I sat on the couch and waited for him to come back from the restroom. My blood ran cold when I heard the faucet turn off from him washing his hands. I do not even know how to act sexy.

"So, you have a pretty impressive music collection here.." I could have punched myself for trying to break the ice.

"So, can I see? Show me something magical?" He brough two glasses of red wine to the living room area.

As he passed a glass to me, I sipped the sweet and bitter liquid. Trying to fight off the hangover and keep a small buzz for confidence. I blushed at the question, I had no idea what I could impress him with. At this point in our lives, I feel that we have seen it all.

"Tell me what you would like and I will try to make it happen?" It was more of a question for him that a command.

"I want to see...what you desire." He sat back on the couch. His legs were spread and his rested his wine glass on knee. His other hand resting behind his head comfortably.

It took me about a minute of thinking. I put on one of his records and swayed slowly to the music. Sipping my glass of wine in between thoughts of what to do. Suddenly, I had the best idea. I shot down the rest of the wine and told him to close his eyes and count to three.

"One...Two...Three..." When he opened his eyes, I stood before him in a matching bra and panty set, black wiring, flesh toned transulent fabric that had emerald green stitching in the patters of webs and tentacles like something out of a Vintinour magazine. It was sexy, it was sinful, it made him audibly moan a low "Oh my god.."

"Now...what is that you desire?" I bit my lip and smirked like a brat.

"I would love for you to come sit in my lap....but I desire for you get on your knees right here..." He pointed to the floor between his legs. "Obviously, only if we are sharing that desire."

Aizawa, king of consent. It make me feel like I would soak through my magic-made lingerie. I took a few steps to him before dropping to my hands and knees and crawling up to his knees. He stood up and unbuttoned and I eagerly pulled them down with his underwear and gently pushed him back on the couch before taking his length into my mouth. The good thing about a little foreplay is that by the time you get to this part, there is no need for warming him up. He was stiff and hard, twitching at the cool air, pre-cum dripping from it's head. I was enjoying myself so much I did not realize I had been sucking for nearly 10 minutes, changing things around, fast and slow, circling my tongue around it and making sure to lick his balls while I stroked him with my hand. His moans made me want to beg him to fuck me, but I needed to make him feel like he was the only man in the world. I wanted to please him, erase the doubts from the Endeavor situation.

"I would not be a good man if I let you do all of the work, now would I? He gripped my hair in his fist and pulled me away from his cock. I was whining like a brat. He laughed as he through me on my back, I hit the carpet with a thud and a pout.

Now this was knew to me... I did not come down to the floor and spread my legs, he hooked his strong arms around my thighs and curled me my pussy up to his face. I was basically upside down. My shoulder blades on the floor as the man's tongue violated my pussy in the best way imaginable. I was crying, swearing, shouting out to the gods. I was so close I could not breath. He stopped and slid a hand up my back, putting me in his lap and my face to his.

His kisses tasted salty and sweet. I desperately grinded on his cock. Soaking it with my arousal, but never pushing it inside without permission. His kisses went down my throat as his hands shredded the lingerie way too easily. My whole body was exposed to him and I got a little nervous. No time to stay nervous when the man of your dreams has his mouth on your breasts and two fingers sunk inside your tight little whole. He even knew to curls him up while he pumped them in and out.

"Fuck... I am going to cum, please don't stop! Please don't! Please... FUCK!" I shouted as the juices flowed from me right onto his palm.

He stroked himself using my own lust as lube. He lowered me down onto my back. The couch was soft and comfy. Agressively, he threw one of my legs up and rested my ankle on his shoulder, while he lined himself up to my entrance. Asking permission once more. I barely finished the word "Please" when he pushed inside.

"Oh god, you feel...." He fucked me a few more times before finishing that sentence.

I think he knew he would not last very long on our first time, but he made every thrust feel like heaven. His moans set my body on fire, I wanted to praise him for treating me like a goddess, but I also wanted to serve him like he was my deity to worship for eternity.

"Tell me this is mine? Forever!" He shouted.

"This is yours, Shouta! Please.."

He came so hard, when he pulled out, his cum painted from my lower stomach to my chest. I was messy and sweaty and tired. He walked away and brough a warm towel to clean off with before inviting me to the shower.

This was how I would spend many nights after.

[yeoldotcom]

hehe there has been a sp**er in my room for the past week. i'm sure some of you knew. however, my brother came at me with some NEWS that he apparently killed it. so now we shall check. if it is safe, i will be able to nap again. if it isn't, i'm gonna scream.

[flyingjosephine-blog]

Right, so this is for the #alexbreaks100 celebration.

The amazing @cillmequick 's Lockdown Series has been my little obsession, lately, since discovering it by chance while on holiday. Alex, you deserve each and every follower you have, because your writing it's just so good!

I decided to go with: 👨🏻‍🍳 Banana Bread.

This little scenario has been playing on loop on my mind for a while and I just had to get it out. I have no idea of the result, but it was just soooo much fun writing it, whatever the outcome may be…!

Warnings: 🔞 smut, with a little bit of plot; use of sex toys; unprotected sex; mention of insomnia.

Author's note: I used to write when I was younger, but it's been a long while since then, so please bear with me. Plus, this is the first time ever I attempted to write smut, I just tried to do my best but I still feel very insecure about it (even more since there are so many incredibily good writers out there...!).

Disclaimer: English is not my first language, hope this is not completely unreadable. I proofread it at least ten times, but I'm sure there are still some grammatical and/or spelling mistakes somewhere in there...I'll find out just after I posted it, right? Because that's how these kind of things work!

❗️This is a completely fantasy work. No disrespect intended to the real Cillian or his family ❗️

Soundtrack: I have been obsessed with Coconut Skins by Damien Rice in the last period and I have been listening to it on repeat while writing this story.

Ok, enough rambling. Took me almost a week to find the gut and I am still nervous beyond words 😅, but here it comes...

Insomnia

Once again you couldn't fall asleep. Scrolling lazily through your phone, laying wide awake in bed, you were barely focusing on anything that popped up on your screen. Your eyes were watering, stinging slightly, but even though you could sense your body and mind being exhausted, still sleep wouldn't come. One of the many gifts lockdown was spoiling you with: insomnia. Huffing and restless, you changed slightly position under the duvet; your legs started hitching, your skin crawling like all the muscles in your body weren't able to stay still one more minute. You knew you had to get up, either you wanted or not, otherwise you'd be tossing and turning the very next moment, eventually waking up Cillian.

Right, Cillian. He, on the other hand, was sleeping like a baby, you noticed, feeling a sting of annoyance. The pale light of the streetlamp just across the road casted deep shadows all across his body, his bare shoulders scattered with freckles and his broad chest, evenly rising and falling. Seeing him so quiet, you felt like bitching and throwing a fit, even though you knew you were being completely unreasonable and irrational and it was none of his fault. But sleep deprivation can surely play horrible tricks on your mind and mood, you argued with yourself. You just wanted to get some rest, that was all you were asking for, honestly. To stop and feeling constantly on the edge, tensed and anxious and so fucking tired and sleepy, your mind clouded. Lockdown was a pain in the ass enough as it was, no need to add in the madness.

At least, after all Cillian and you got through in the last year, you had the chance to be with one another. And that was more than you would have hoped for.

Trying not to make too much noise, you threw your legs out of the duvet, sitting on the edge of the bed and looking out for your slippers, nowhere to be seen. Scout, you snorted internally.

“Love?” came a sleepy voice behind your back and the table lamp on Cillian's side flicked on.

Shit.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up”, you whispered, while he sat up, settling against the headboard. The complete silence you were experiencing those nights – no cars or people on the street, no teenager getting drunk below your windows or lovers laughing passing by – was unreal.

“Again?” he asked, keeping his voice low as well, though there was no real reason for it. He had been witnessing your insomnia for the past week and he was starting to get worried, seeing how bad it was affecting you, not only in the night, but during the day as well. Making you unsettled and cranky. Jesus, Cillian really must loved you to put up with you lately. You barely could stand yourself.

“Yeah. I'm sorry, babe. Really, go back to sleep. Don't worry, I'll be downstairs with a good book” you gently stroke his fingers, splayed on the sheets between you. He gripped your wrist, moving under the sheets to scoot over to where you were sat.

“Ei, don't be sorry. It's not your fault, but I think you really need to relax, love, and get some proper rest” he sighed, his eyes soft, looking at you behind those ridiculously long eyelashes of his. He kissed softly your bare shoulder. A small smile was playing at the corner of his lips and you caught a spark in his gaze, suddenly not sleepy anymore.

You tilted your head: “What are you thinking of, Cillian?”.

You wanted to sound annoyed, but actually it came out more amused than you intended for it to be. Lately, he was suggesting some quite funny shit to try and set you asleep. Some ethnic infusion he found online, that tasted like piss; a bubbly hot bath, smelling of cinnamon and vanilla, that resulted in Scout trying his best to get in the tub with you, making a mess of the bathroom; an ASMR playlist that made him nod off immediately, but, on the other hand, drove you almost crazy. How can people find some random noises relaxing? Impossible to deny, he really tried his best and you loved him for it, but still you were a bit wary to hear what was coming next.

The smile broke wide on his mouth, then, and he let go of your hand, reaching for his bedside table's drawer from where he retrieve a small white box. Although the box was completely plain, no sign or label, you immediately recognised what it was.

Oh, so that was what he had in mind. You felt yourself smiling as well.

“Well, maybe the time has come for you to try your new little toy...” he teased, raising an eyebrow, and you giggled. But the playfulness was immediately cut off by Cillian quickly gripping your arms and pulling you flat onto the bed with him again.

The main reason - almost the only one - you bought it was the feral look in Cillian’s eyes the second he saw it on your laptop screen. A friend of yours passed you the website's link, half as a joke, during an afternoon Skype Call you arranged just to kill time, and curiosity got the best of you. You hadn’t ever possessed or even used a toy, not by yourself or with any other partner. Not with Cillian either. And, truth be told, you never felt the need to. You probably would have not even thought about actually purchasing one that day, hadn’t been for the way he clenched his jaw and swallow a little too hard, asking you what you were doing, gaze fixated on the vibrator showing on the web page. And it was then and there you decided that maybe you could use a bit of a distraction during the tensed and excruciatingly slow lockdown days ahead of you.

Actually, you almost forgot about it, after it was delivered, having put the box away inside your walk-in wardrobe; and he had never suggested using it, either. But he must have been thinking about it, you now realised, seeing he had taken it and placed it in his drawer, within reach.

The vibrator was lean, not very thick, surely not as Cillian’s cock, and it had quite a peculiar shape, bulging on one side at the very tip. It was soft, silky almost, and a very bright pink in colour, with two little buttons on the white handle and a faint silicone smell. Cillian looked at it almost mesmerized and you could tell by the frown on his forehead he hadn’t ever used one too. But he seemed determined to make it good to you, so you just laid back and relaxed, slipping out of your nightgown in one swift movement, spreading your legs wide and feeling yourself getting wet at the mere thought of what was coming.

Cillian’s breath itched at the sight, spurring you on incredibly; you gripped at the headboard above you with one hand, letting the other slowly brush over your stomach. You felt so fucking powerful being on display like that and seeing what it was doing to him, his eyes darkening while he kneeled between your legs and gripped your thighs hard. Your fingers inched down.

“Don’t” he growled. This little game really was turning him on, you thought, a smile pulling at the corner of your lips, but you complied nonetheless, even though you were already aching for some sort of friction. It was always like that with him and it never ceased to amaze you: one look and you were ready to go. That craving for him never satiated, it seemed.

“Then get down to work, Murphy” you encouraged.

That was all it took. He turned on the vibrator, while hovering over you and gently nuzzling your lips, his soft hair tickling your face, before placing a soft kiss and licking your mouth slowly. He wouldn’t let you deepen the kiss, though, teasing you almost wickedly while at the same time running the small device inside your thigh.

Oh, that was fucking good. The low vibrations spreading through your skin and setting your flesh on fire, the sweet smell of him filling you senses and his warm weight engulfing you. You couldn’t imagine what it would be like feeling those vibrations, at last, on your cunt, hot and ready. But it seemed like Cillian wanted to take his time, savouring your small whimpers and gasps of anticipation, your mouth falling open under his lips and he quickly pushed his tongue inside, groaning, and devouring you with a sudden force and impatience, while all the same his hand moved still frustratingly slowly toward your centre. How he can be so focused and controlled was beyond your comprehension, as you already felt yourself coming undone, drifting towards the promised pleasure that was making your head dizzy and light.

You breathed deep through your nose, trying to slow down your racing heart, pushing your hands through his hair and kissing him back with the same unashamed need. A mess of ragged breaths, hot saliva and swollen lips. You opened your eyes to drown yourself into his blue ones, just at the same time he finally drove the vibrator on your core, sliding it between your wet folds and you could not stopped your hips from jolting suddenly and a deep moan escaping your mouth.

“Fuck”

“Feels good?”, his voice was so low, darkened by deep arousing, you heard yourself groaning again at the sheer sound of it.

“Fuck”, seemed the only word you could remember or utter in breathy whines and he smiled before tilting his head and latching his mouth to your neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses on your throat, drawing his tongue along the soft and sensitive skin there, where your pulse was running erratically.

His right hand continued to work the small tool through your folds, sliding it easily, coating it with your wetness and teasing your opening, while neglecting purposely your clit. You arched your back, bolts of pleasure exploding under your skin, running up your spine, coiling and boiling in you stomach. The new sensation so powerful you barely could get a grip of it, sparking so suddenly and so forcefully you could only try and go with the flow, not letting it drown you. Not yet, you thought.

He pinned your hips on the mattress with his other hand, his fingers digging into your soft flesh enough to leave a mark, stilling as much as possible your movements. You couldn’t push up, but you still could rotate your pelvis, grinding against Cillian's hand as much as you could, desperate for more. Your walls clenching around nothing, your swollen clit begging for some touch, some pressure, some...anything. The frustration was building fast. Was this his idea of helping you relax? Christ, he was driving you crazy.

“More, please”, you meant to sound convincing, instead it came out more like a pleading whine. You sensed his lips, kissing tenderly on your breasts, curl up a little. The little bastard. He may had not used a toy before, but he was certainly a quick learner and enjoying every bit of it. He bit down on your nipple, eliciting a small cry from you, and he stilled his hand.

“What?”, he asked in a growl.

Right, you thought, he had set his mind on killing you. So much was clear.

“Cillian”, you pleaded again. He wanted you to beg? God, you would beg. You were far past giving a fuck about decency or pride. His breath was ragged against your skin and he exhaled slowly, before returning to your mouth, kissing you hard and wet and getting back to where he had left, rubbing the vibrator's rounded head on your clit.

“Oh, Jesus”, you cried, your legs going tensed and closing around his hand, your back arching even more. There was no way you could keep this quiet, the sensation so foreign, so different and so damn intense you had to clench your teeth not to come on the spot.

He slowly, but steadily, slid the vibrator inside you, the stretch making you gasp and suddenly you realized why the unusual shape of its head. God, it was perfectly stroking your walls, hitting your g-spot on each and every thrust, drawing moans from your lips. Then he pushed one of the buttons on the handle, twice in a row quickly, and you felt the pulsations rising in intensity. Jesus, you could feel them anywhere, through your inner walls, spreading in your ass, in your stomach and your spine, all the way up to your nipples. It was so different from having a man inside you, but it was nonetheless so fucking good.

You gripped his shoulders to try and ground yourself, your head falling back and your mouth hanging open, gasping out of breath, your chest tightening.

Cillian stopped his ministrations on your neck to raise his head, casting his gaze down between your bodies where his hand was moving the device inside you, now faster and harder, the skin of your face and breast flushed, the muscles in your belly and thighs trembling. Your eyes following his, you saw his strong wrist between your legs, twirling gently, and his hard cock straining against his night pants. Even though you didn't think it was possible, the pleasure inside you grew even more. Each wave higher than the previous, stronger and deeper. It was consuming your body from the inside, like a hot fire spreading in your bowels and trying to find a way to surface.

Cillian's deep groan caught you off guard and you almost let go of your impending orgasm, rising so high in your stomach. He was drinking in every move you made, every sound you let out: the way you were lightly quivering, the way your skin was glowing in the pale amber light of the room, hot and sticky, the way your brows furrowed. He was so lost in savouring how your body reacted to the different pace he was setting, slower now, every thrust dragged out almost painfully, every soft inch of the vibrator stroking inside you, he barely realised he had shifted on his knees and was palming his throbbing cock through his cotton pants, trying to ease some of the tension. Fuck, he was out of breath himself. He could have got off simply looking at you, needy and lost in the pleasure he was giving you. You looked and felt so his, that he was enthralled.

You slid your hands from his shoulders, gripping his arms and then moving on, dragging your fingers on his chest, his ribs and lower on his stomach, scratching lightly your nails around his navel and the soft skin just below. You had to touch him. He quickly got the hint and abruptly stopped stroking himself, grabbing your wrists instead, forcefully. It would never cease to amaze you how his hands were big enough to take both of yours in one.

“No”, he protested, through uneven breaths “This is about you, babe”.

He flicked your clit with his thumb, his hand gone from your wrists, drawing small circles and increasing the pressure on each touch.

“Then...” you tried to say around a moan “I want to come around you”.

His eyes on yours, you saw his pupils blowing off, making them almost black and his jaw clenching. He had a hell of a self-control when it came to sex, you had to give him credit for that, but even Cillian fucking Murphy had his limitations. And you knew he was on the verge of the breaking point by the way he froze and took a deep, though shaky, breath through his open mouth.

“Please, I need you inside me. Now”, you pushed.

He, finally, succumbed to his own need, crashing his mouth on yours while sliding the vibrator out of your cunt. The sudden emptiness made you shiver, but was immediately replaced by the warm wetness of his cock's head pushing inside. Cillian's balanced himself, one hand each side of your head, before entering you completely with a swift movement of his hips. Buried entirely in you, he lowered himself even more, almost crushing you and trapping your body between his and the sheets. So fucking deep and not nearly enough. It was never enough with him, you were always craving for more: deeper, harder, faster, as you were constantly wishing one day he could just disappear inside you and you inside him.

You clenched your walls, as he waited for you to adjust, appreciating the small break himself. Fuck, he was so worked up already, he would have to take it slow if he wished to last more than a minute. You took the chance to run your fingers through his hair, longer than usual at the nape, and to pry his eyes on yours. He really was something else: flush spreading all over his chest, up his neck and on his cheeks, lips slightly open, swollen from all the kissing and nibbling, eyes dark and slightly hazed. You licked his bottom lips and he started moving, trying to go slow at first, wanting to savour the sensation.

But you had had more than your share of waiting, so you grabbed his ass, sinking your nails in his strained muscles and encouraging him to pick up his pace. He gladly obliged, while bowing his head to kiss and suck and lick your nipples.

Then it was like a fog descending on you and you weren't able to focus on anything anymore. You could barely distinguish whose hand was on your clit, or whose voice was the loud moan reverberating through the room. All you knew were the sweetness of the obscene sound your bodies made colliding and the spiral of delight running through you.

“Cill, I'm gonna...”, words strained in your throats, struggling to get out.

“Let it go, love. I got you.” he panted, sighing at the impossible tightness of you, fluttering around his throbbing cock.

He grabbed the back of your thighs, raising them and changing the angle of his thrusts, fucking you even harder, each stroke pushing him so deep you swore you could feel him in your stomach.

That was it: you came hard and fast, waves of pleasure and shivers coursing through you, moaning loudly something you yourself wouldn't know what it was – his name, God's name, who would have known? - and eliciting a seemingly endless stream of curses from Cillian's lips. Still he kept on thrusting hard, not relenting a bit, all through you orgasm and you were just coming down from it when you felt him tense, all of his muscles straining, and come inside you. Warm, so warm.

He stayed inside you a while longer, regaining his breath and waiting till your body stopped trembling.

Then he spooned behind you, engulfing you in his arms and resting his head in the crook of your neck, placing casual little kisses there from time to time. You laced your fingers with his, stroking lazily the back of his hand with your thumb and sighing contently; your eyes were drifting close, your whole body so relaxed you had a feeling that you were melting away.

“Better?” he asked, smugly and you knew, even without looking at him, he was smiling.

“Mmmh”, you mumbled, your capacity to form words long gone now, while he slipped one of his legs between yours.

“Well, now at least we know how to fight off your insomnia” he scoffed, nuzzling the soft spot just behind your ear.

And with that your world shut down, dark descending on you, but not before one last thought had the strength to cross your mind. You were one lucky bitch to have Cillian in your life; and you knew, deep down, he was there to stay for good.

[thearvariblues]

Sing Me a Song

“You Geralt of Rivia’s bard?”

Jaskier looks up from his notepad and grins at the man who’s just sat at the opposite side of the table.

“Technically, I used to be,” the bard says, taking a sip of his ale. “We had a tiny misunderstanding last year. I’m sure he’s gonna be fine, though, I’m just giving him some time to cool down and wallow in self-pity.”

Jaskier frowns, because his brain has finally caught up with his mouth and informs him that even though the man who asked the question is very pretty (and he is – a bit short, but lean and clearly very agile, brown-skinned, with dark, wavy hair and stunningly unnatural green eyes), he also has got two big, scary swords strapped to his back, way too many scars and has, in fact, only one green eye, the other being covered by an eye patch, presumably missing.

And then there’s the Cat school medallion on his chest.

As Geralt would say… fuck.

“Unless you’re here to kidnap me and torture me to lure him into a trap. If that’s the case, I’ve never met a Geralt of Rivia in my life. Also, if you harm a hair on my head, he will hunt you down and kill you, very slowly and painfully. Just a heads up,” Jaskier smiles, utterly failing to sound at least a little bit threatening.

“Thanks for the warning,” the Witcher laughs. “But I actually need you to write me a song.”

“Sorry, I’m afraid this bard already has a Witcher to praise,” Jaskier protests, shaking his head firmly.

“Ugh. Who says I want praise?” the man says, making a face. “I just can’t seem to find a friend of mine, so I need to make him find me.”

“With a song? Do I look like a fucking pied piper?” Jaskier smirks.

“A little, yeah.”

“Fair enough. What’s in it for me?”

“What do you think is going to happen once Geralt hears that his bard has found himself a new muse?” the Witcher grins.

“Oh,” Jaskier says, chuckling. “Oh, but that’s good.”

“Are you in, then?”

“Absolutely. And, uhm… What did you say your name was?”

“By the gods, where are my manners?” the Witcher laughs. “I’m Aiden.”

*

Geralt places two tankards of ale on the table and sits down with a grunt.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting old, Wolf,” his brother Lambert smirks and promptly pulls one of the tankards closer. “Because that almost sounded like Vesemir when he’s trying to get up from his chair.”

“You’re so fucking funny,” Geralt murmurs.

“I know, right?” Lambert grins, tucking a strand of curly red hair behind his ear. “So, how’s life on the Path without your beloved bard?”

“Not my bard.”

“So pretty fucking terrible, eh?” Lambert chuckles.

“Fuck off, Lambert.”

“You’re being very nice and friendly today, you know?”

“I bought you a drink. So shut up and… drink.”

Lambert shrugs and for once does what he’s told. Within a few seconds, half of the tankard’s content vanishes.

“If it’s any consolation, life without my Cat is also pretty fucking unbearable,” he says then.

“Hm.”

“Oh, really, Geralt? You’re using your famous hm against me? Me, your brother?!”

Geralt groans.

“By the gods… Why can’t I just run into Eskel for once? Why does it always have to be you?”

“You’re just lucky, I guess.”

“Lucky. Yeah.”

Lambert rolls his eyes and focuses on his ale again – until the local bard grabs his lute and starts playing a slow, romantic ballad. Lambert growls.

“Fuck, I hate that song!”

“Why?” Geralt blinks, because he’s never heard the song before, and to be perfectly honest, it doesn’t really sound that bad.

“A brown-skinned woman with dark hair who’s seemingly killed, then comes back to life already plotting her revenge, only to find out that her lover’s already avenged her? Always reminds me of Aiden.”

“Aiden wasn’t exactly… A woman, was he?”

“He also hasn’t come back to life, as far as I know,” Lambert mutters.

“Who wrote it?” Geralt frowns, listening carefully. “It sounds like Jaskier’s work.”

“Some Master Dandelion. Never heard of him, but it seems he’s very popular now.”

“Hmmm…”

“Oh, not again!” Lambert groans.

“It just… It really does sound like Jaskier’s song.”

“You just fucking miss the bard, Geralt, that’s all.”

“No. No, I actually think…”

“That might be exactly the problem,” Lambert says and places his empty tankard back on the table. “The second round’s on me.”

*

“Seems like your plan’s not working as intended,” Jaskier comments. He’s spent weeks traveling with Aiden, and they still haven’t even heard about another Witcher trying to find them.

“I’m aware,” Aiden mutters, chewing his dinner without even noticing its taste – which is, honestly, probably for the best. “Could you be, like… less subtle?”

Jaskier shrugs.

“I suppose.”

“Fine,” Aiden nods. “Do it.”

*

“It’s a man now,” Geralt frowns, listening to the song he’s heard countless times already. “That’s new.”

“Looks like Master Dandelion might like to, uhm, dual wield,” Lambert snorts.

“It still sounds like Jaskier’s work.”

“Does Jaskier like to dual wield?”

“Hmm,” Geralt says dreamily.

“All the more reason to apologize, then, eh?”

“Oh, shut up, Lambert…”

*

“Still not working!” Aiden groans. He’s been waiting for three months for his Wolf to find him, and to no avail.

“I could, you know… Try something more obvious,” Jaskier offers.

“Please.”

*

“It’s a cat now,” Geralt blinks. “Dark-skinned, dark-haired… cat.”

Lambert sighs.

“Yeah, I hate those fucking metaphors.”

*

“I’m starting to think I should have just… kept trying to find him,” Aiden sighs, staring out of the tavern’s window.

Jaskier, cheeks still flushed from his performance, downs his ale and shakes his head.

“Don’t give up hope just yet,” he says. “I’ve already made a few changes to the song.”

“Oh, have you?” Aiden smirks. “Does it now say Lambert, I’m alive you moron, stop hiding and fucking find me?”

“Well, not yet… But almost.”

“Great. I can’t wait to hear it.”

*

Lambert is staring at yet another local bard singing the fucking ballad. He doesn’t even blink. Geralt is getting a little worried that his brother’s brain might have actually exploded.

“It says a Cat Witcher now,” he says, hoping it would get a reaction out of Lambert.

The redhead finally blinks. That’s probably good.

“A Cat Witcher who comes back to life only to find out his Wolf lover has already avenged him,” Geralt adds.

Lambert blinks again.

“And you know, I’m almost sure that this Master Dandelion is just Jaskier’s new alias.”

“I’m gonna fucking kill him,” Lambert mutters when the song finally comes to its end.

“Which one of them?” Geralt smirks.

“Both of them!” Lambert growls. “I swear to gods, if I find out your stupid bard stole my Cat…”

“Excuse me, madam,” Geralt says to the innkeeper who’s just brought them their dinner. “Where did your bard learn this song?”

“That sappy ballad?” the innkeeper frowns. “From this Master Dandelion himself. He passed through the town last week with a Witcher.”

“And Master Dandelion…”

“You know the bard that calls himself Jaskier? It’s him with a fancy hat on,” she smirks.

“About this Witcher,” Lambert growls. “Does he look like in the song?”

“Pretty much, yeah. Kind of small for a Witcher, and almost too pretty, you know, but we had a little griffin problem and he slayed that beast like it was nothing, so…”

“I’m so gonna kill them both,” Lambert murmurs while Geralt has to try very hard not to chuckle.

“Would you happen to know where were they heading?” he asks.

“I would,” the woman says and looks at the Witcher expectantly.

“I see,” Geralt sighs. “You have another monster problem, don’t you?”

“Well. It turns out the griffin probably had a mate…”

“Of course it fucking did,” Geralt nods and picks up his fork. He simply refuses to deal with this with an empty stomach…

*

Jaskier critically eyes the clothes he’s picked for tonight’s performance.

“What do you think, Aiden?” he asks his companion. “Isn’t the purple a bit too much? It’s a small town, after all. Wouldn’t the steel blue look better?”

“I don’t know, I like the red one best,” Aiden shrugs from his spot on the bed.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Reminds you of Lambert’s hair,” Jaskier says, rolling his eyes. “Melitele’s tits, I wish he’d find us already, because this is getting really–”

As if on cue, the door of the room slams open and a big, red-haired man walks in.

“You fucking bitch!” he yells when he sees Aiden.

The dark-haired Witcher beams and gets to his feet.

“Lambs!”

“Oh. Okay. That was fast,” Jaskier nods.

Lambert growls and grabs Aiden by the collar.

“Asshole!” he hisses. “I fucking mourned you!”

“Oh, honey, that’s so sweet,” Aiden smiles.

Lambert pushes him against the wall, so hard that Aiden grunts.

“I cried for you!”

“In my defense, it wasn’t exactly my fault,” Aiden smiles.

Jaskier inches towards the door.

“I guess I’ll just… leave you two to it.”

Needless to say, Lambert ignores him completely.

“I fucking avenged you!”

“Yes, that was very kind of you,” Aiden grins, utterly unaffected by Lambert’s angry face so close to his own. “You saved me a lot of trouble.”

Lambert groans, buries his face in Aiden’s shoulder and sighs deeply.

“You fucker,” he mutters.

“Yeah, I missed you too, puppy,” Aiden smiles, wrapping his arms around Lambert.

Jaskier, who’s already standing in the doorway, places his hand on his heart and takes a deep breath.

“Oh,” he whispers. “I shall write the most beautiful ballad about this… Ow!”

He’s unceremoniously dragged out of the room and this time it’s his turned to be slammed against the wall by a big, angry Witcher – but this one is white-haired and dressed all in black.

“Geralt!” Jaskier exclaims, his face brightening up.

“You won’t write a fucking thing,” Geralt growls.

“Is that so? May I ask why, dear heart?”

“Because you’re mine. My bard. And if I ever find out you’re writing about another Witcher again–”

“Then what?” Jaskier asks, cocking his head. “But before you answer, I’d like to remind you that I am not yours anymore, as you have made it quite clear on the mountain that you are not interested in having me as a companion–”

Jaskier is effectively shut up by Geralt’s lips pressing against his with determination that makes it absolutely clear that Geralt hasn’t merely lost his balance and happened to be falling in Jaskier’s general direction.

“Mine,” he growls.

“Well,” Jaskier sighs, slipping his fingers into Geralt’s hair. “When you put it like that… Fuck the mountain, I suppose.”

“Fuck the mountain,” Geralt agrees. “But I’m sorry. For what I said.”

“Apology very much accepted,” Jaskier laughs. “I’d ask you to fuck me, but I’m afraid my room is currently… occupied.”

Lambert’s loud moan only confirms Jaskier’s statement.

“Hm,” Geralt hums. “Do you think this tavern has a bath? I think I still have some griffin blood in my hair from last week.”

“Oh,” Jaskier purrs. “Oh, yes. And I’m sure I could get some chamomile oil…”

They hear another moan, this time Aiden’s.

“What are we waiting for, then?” Geralt grins and grabs Jaskier’s hand. “Come on, bard. We have some catching up to do…”

[jiminrings]

can we get a fratboy Jimin and good girl oc with pinning from both sides 👀 ahhhh thank u in advance love ur writing!!

cherry king

drabble week: day four

drabble week masterlist

pairing: fratboy!jimin x goody two-shoes!reader

wordcount: 3k

glimpse: "y-you uhm, you-? y'know, you like... doing that? is that why it's your nickname?"

feedback + support mean the world to me!!

“next!”

great!! the line’s moving :D

that’s only like the 87th time jimin has heard the word next and it makes him wonder how much more would it take him to bring him to the front

(it’s actually only been 14 times and jimin might just be a self-admitted impatient bitch!!!)

he understands that yes, it’s ten in the evening!!! and reasonably-large stores/pharmacies like these can have less staff at the time compared to ten in the morning

sure, checkout machines and cashier lanes could be broken down!! or they could just not be open at all

jimin gets that alright, maybe the self-checkout machines are close at this time of the night because it is ten in the evening

what’s not clicking in his mind, however is that at the exact time that he comes here

as in the EXACT time that he’s here (!!!) — there happens to be dozens of people in a store at ten in the evening, and there happens to be a grand total of one (1) cashier lane

atleast random store music would be entertaining :((( all he hears are the beeps of a scanner and the chatter of groups of people who came here

jimin was eavesdropping on some guys in front of him and he wAS invested but lmao turns they were just discussing the plot of die hard or any testosterone-jacked movie like it

he’s also tried looking at the smaller middle-aged woman’s phone in front of him who’s scrolling through her facebook feed, but quickly decides against continuing it

because what if u could see his face and when she turns it off, she’d see a college guy deeply-invested in the baloney article she was reading about how subway sandwiches are the work of the devil

so uh yeah he’s just looking everywhere besides the front, back, and the sides of him and in all angles basically

he’s,,,,, aimlessly scrolling through his instagram feed he’s already scrolled through tHREE times and his explore’s page a little too dry

it’s a good thing that jimin’s entirely sure he’s the nosiest person out of this line and no one else is trying to figure him out

might be wrong though

“cherry king?”

hold the fuck on

jimin’s eyes widen, head snapping up and clueless to the fact that he doesn’t look discreet at all, and his head-cocking’s the most movement he’s done the whole time in this store

WHO’S SAYING HIS NICKNAME?????

it can’t be a coincidence either because as far as he’s concerned, there isn’t anything named cherry king that’s being sold here

there is literally NO other plausible scenario happening here besides the fact that someone who knows him is in the store!!!!

his gaze falls to the person behind him, brows knitted in confusion until it clicks

oh

that was you?

“jimin? huh, it really is you. i thought i was losing my mind for a second.”

“y/n?”

okay maybe hE’S the one who’s losing his mind here

he knows you!! you’re the smart girl in his year who’s known for being pristine and stuff!! you’re like the good-est girl he’s ever known and heard of

.... quick question lads is that weird to know someone by

“you could’ve just called me by my name, y’know,” jimin chuckles heartily, still a little dumbfounded to see you here but he’s grateful for the interaction nonetheless

you look casual today?? like you still look like yourself but everyone else would think it’s an out-of-body experience to see you out of your pretty dresses and monochromatic get-ups

it’s you..,.. in a hoodie three sizes larger than your size with your pristine shoes traded in for socked-feet wearing slides

jimin thinks that you look like grace under pressure

“i wasn’t sure,” you smile right back and it’s the first time he realizes that there’s glasses atop your nosebridge, softening your image more from the usual composed look you carried

“how were you sure enough to say my nickname out-loud though?”

jimin questions you, bringing light to how he’s wearing a plain white shirt and is looking as relaxed as ever with how he’s dressed — his hair long enough to be put into a messy sprout of a bun

you clear your throat, the amusement bubbling in your scratchy throat

“you have yourself as your lockscreen, jimin.”

oh my gOD

he winces when you say it, eyes screwing shut in embarrassment that he whines in pain with how direct you put it

“n-no way — fuck you respectfully, y/n. i-i’m not- i’m changing it right now!!”

does he look the vainest person alive rn

the way he has a mini freakout entertains you to your core, giggles unable to be suppressed as he finds the latest-taken picture he has of dogs that he comes across with

that’s 10/10 an experience he doesn’t want to repeat again

“it’s okay. i won’t tell anyone.”

he hears you reassure and he believes you, a flustered blush on his cheek still as he coughs to make up for a diversion topic he couldn’t think of

frankly, you’re getting bored too and jimin’s the only form of entertainment you have because using your phone atm would be too disorienting

“what are you doing here, by the way?”

your head tilts in query and he’s relieved that you address something else, not being relieved seconds later when he realizes his answer

“just a little supply run for our frat. we weren’t supposed to run out of things for three more days, so this is just a lil emergency haul for awhile.”

you nod in understanding, glancing down at his basket and uh

uhm 1/4 of the space is literally occupied by boxes of condoms

....

......

jimin’s confused to why you turn silent, thinking that he must’ve gotten boring to continue talking to until he follows your gaze to his basket

NO WAY?!]>|>]%%[%]%]

“i-it’s not l-like that!!!” he crouches and immediately gets the food and the bottles of shampoo and conditioner to bury the condoms in the bottom of the pile, attractively getting more attention from you who’s ready to let it go

“i-it’s not — it’s ours — n-no!! t-they just gave me a list and i just put it because it’s on the list b-but like it wasn’t my-...”

how many more times will the universe fuck jimin up in front of the person he has a lil happy crush on

you only smile meekly, tilting your head and he thinks this is the part where you tell him how much of a douche he is

"y-you uhm, you-? y'know, you like... doing that? is that why it's your nickname?"

:O

“t-that?” jimin clarified albeit confused, thinking back to his nickname as he tries to rapidly connect the dots to not look like a fool

cherry king? that?? what do you-

WAIT WHAT

“nO!! o-of course not!!”

he almost shrieks and his voice sounds ultimately defensive, shaking his head no

why does he look so frantic

“hey, hey, i believe you! — calm down, jimin. you don’t have to explain anything to me.”

whew

fuck

but he argues that it iS the truth though!!!

but why won’t you just ask him why he’s called cherry king though >:(

you’re already content with the silence after the conversation but he isn’t, still wanting more

is it so bad that he wants redemption D:

“how about you? what are you doing here?”

you don’t answer instantly and it’s because you’re nudging jimin to continually walk, the cashier looking much more visible now as he’s nearer in line

he takes a look at the handful of things that’s in your basket —

electrolytes, hot pockets, soup, cup noodles and fever patches...?

“oh. i think i’m running a fever.”

what???

what are you doing here aLONE if you think you’re running a fever???

he’s not gonna lie about the fact that you don’t look too good

what if you pass out and no one’s there for you and all the graveyard shift employees do is put a wet floor sign around your figure???

“y/n?? what are you doing here alone then?? are you oUT of your mind??”

the panic in jimin’s voice is clear as day and you���re a little startled, instead responding to tapping him on the shoulder to point that he’s already the one on the cashier

what he does is grab your basket before he is, putting it in front of the conveyor belt because he couldn’t even wait for it to roll out

“i said i think i’m running a fever.”

jimin stops from simultaneously rummaging for his rewards card and putting his items on the counter to unceremoniously drop the box of condoms down jUST to put his hand on your forehead

“you are.”

you surely don’t think low of jimin but you can’t help be surprised either at his concern for you when this is the only time you’ve had a conversation with him!!!

“you drove here?” he asks in seriousness, sending you a look while waiting for the total amount

“walked. the airconditioning makes me even more sick,” you answer with no fuss because even thinking about car fresheners while you’re sporting a fever makes you want to gag. “let me-...”

jimin already pays for both your items in cash, getting them bagged separately as he’s not gonna take no for an answer for what he’s gonna propose next

“then i’ll keep the windows down. i’ll drive you back to your dorm.”

he grabs both your bags in one hand and uses the other to beckon you over, holding you still because it’s dark out and a fever vision wouldn’t exactly help

it’s only when he straps you in and (true to his word) puts the windows down and starts his car that you start asking

“why are you doing this for me?”

why IS he doing this for you??

jimin thinks about his answer in a second

“would you do the same for me?”

well

if you were in front of him at a godforsaken line, had yourself as your lockscreen, realize that jimin’s behind you with a fever and is by himself in a store at 10 in the evening

“of course i would.”

jimin smiles, steering away from his parking spot

“then i would too.”

( ♡ )

maybe you’re thinking of jimin

no wait you’re dEFINITELY thinking of jimin

you’re much better now and your fever’s already subsided enough for you to go back to class!!!

the whole interaction with him was three days ago and maybe your head is just full of him at this point

“are you sure you’re okay to handle this by yourself??”

jimin worries when he drops your bag to your hands, briefly coming inside your dorm to set it down

“mhmm. i’ll just sleep it out.”

“i think if you’re missing a couple of steps.”

you snort as his paranoid features, waving him off. “i’ll eat. then go to the bathroom. and then sleep.”

okay good enough

“what if this just-“ jimin trails off, his expansive mind suddenly running as he points to your chest, “stops????”

cute

“i have a smart watch.”

“would you put me as one of the emergency contacts? please?”

he’s making you take down his number without malice because jeez he’s gENUINELY worried!!!!

it may not always be great sharing a house with his frat brothers, but he knows that if he has a fever, atleast half of them would dote over him and you have atleast one who would go into hysterics!!! it’e a full package!!

“i’ll be okay, jimin. i’ll call you when i need someone to hand me my puke bucket.”

“please do. i’m not even kidding. get better now because i miss your dresses.”

o_O

uhm

“n-no i meant your usual style!! wait, not that there’s anything wrong w-with your style right now. i-i was-...”

“yeah. i miss them too. now go home, jimin.”

“you sure?”

u never really had the impulse to invite a guy to go inside your place but maybe now you do

“mhmm. drive safe.”

okay

:-)

“good night, y/n. call me whenever.”

classes were a bit rough today because you’re still easing yourself on getting back to the groove of things, but it was tolerable!!!

you’re getting your key out of your backpack when a lock clicks open a couple doors away from you, the hinge noisily squeaking

it’s jimin who leaves it, with seri who’s the actual occupant of the dorm leaning on the doorframe

“y/n—!”

he squeaks the moment his eyes land on you

your hand automatically waves, the same meek smile for him to see

“jimin.”

( ♡ )

the last interaction you had with him is still on jimin’s mind, a whole week later

it’s been bothering him recently that you know what it looks like the last time around!!!! but he could swear up and down that it wasn’t

he just feels this great urge to explain even if you haven’t asked

“oh. so we have to move out for the time-being?”

jimin clarifies with namjoon, the head of the frat, and he’s met with a solemn nod

it makes sense!!!

the house got checked today and there were mULTIPLE fire hazards!!! and it needs to be fumigated anyway under new campus protocol so it indeed makes sense

practically everyone's going home because it’s a long weekend anyway because of a holiday

and he’s not sure if he wants to take the same route.

“hi.”

jimin squeaks the moment you open your door, surprise evident on your face but not shock to the point you’d close the door on him

“jimin?”

okay maybe he’s gonna go straight to explaining

“frat house needed to be closed because of some complications, and it wouldn’t be open to us for another three days. most of the guys are coming home,” jimin clears his throat, his head down while he shyly scratches the back of his ear, “i have one, but i’m not sure if i wanna.”

oh

it’s that problem

it takes one, two seconds before it all registers in your head, nodding surely

“you can take my bed. i’ll take the couch, it’s a pull-out anyways.”

you open the door for him widely and the only thing you ask if he’s had dinner and if he’d like some

god you’re really throwing him in a loop here

it’s after a batch of your cooking that jimin’s only ache is why you were the way that you were, half-dazed the whole time he’s met you properly

“why do you never ask me?”

“hmm?” you hum as you dry the dishes that you’ve used, wanting to get it done as soon as possible so your full attention would be on him

no, actually. jimin WANTS you to pry!!

he wants you to worm your way into his privacy and into the confines of his mind

but it seems like you’ve already did without even asking.

“ask me why i’m called the cherry king.”

you tilt your head in confusion, that time playing in your head of why jimin looked confused when you didn’t continue to ask further

maybe you’ll indulge him

“why are you called the cherry king?”

jimin smiles, leaning to your couch with his arms relaxed

“we did secret santa for christmas at our frat house. taehyung thought it would be nice if he pranked me by gifting me a jar full of cherries, but i thought that was his actual gift, and i liked it to the point that i finished it in one sitting.”

tHAT’S ACTUALLY PRETTY ENDEARING

cute, even

“ask me why i came out of seri’s apartment last week.”

oh that’s.,.,. that’s a bit higher in level compared to nicknames

“why did you come out of seri’s apartment last week?”

“because seri’s the ex-girlfriend of hoseok, my frat brother, and he wanted me to return all her stuff because he doesn’t want to be reminded of his cheating ex.”

well that was definitely weighted

jimin plays with the hem of his shirt, the words tumbling out of his mouth

“ask me why i love you.”

why do you wHAT

your mouth drops open, the new position you took on the other end of the couch taking an impact on him

“w-why do you love me?”

jimin’s a lot of things but he’s not drunk tonight

he doesn’t know why he’s letting his feelings slip either, but it’s the bottomless need that he feels when he’s around you

“i feel wanted. i feel needed.”

he smiles cheerfully even if he feels shy dropping this on you all of a sudden

“not sure if you want me nor need me, but i feel welcome with you if that makes sense.”

:)

“you just make me feel loved, i guess.”

jimin looks at you for the first time since he’s opened his mouth, an equally fond look on your face

you said no words but what jimin receives is a gentle tug, your hand on the side of his face until he’s leaning on your shoulder

“i wanna know what's up there.”

he points a finger to your temple, an amused lilt to his tone, “surprise me.”

it’s an unfolding of things that was weeks in the making but months in developing, the distant glances leading you to recognize jimin in the shop in the first place

“i feel the exact same with you,” you answer honestly and it makes his laugh from his chest, his cheeks warm and his heart content

and you just wanna suspend yourselves in this moment forever

“oh! and if i were to lose my virginity to anyone at the moment, it'd be you!!”

...

....

jimin swats at your shoulder to which you only giggle at, a toothy smile on display as this is the warmest he’s ever felt

“i wasn’t kidding!!!”

you yawn when you defend yourself, predicting that you’d fall asleep sooner or later on the couch, but for the time-being, you just stroke jimin’s hair to soothe the both of you

jimin is now the furthest thing from sleepy

"what? you told me to surprise you!!"

[watchmegetobsessed]

VALERIE - Part IX. (Harry Styles)

yall are gonna hate me for this but it needed to be done IM SORRY! also, i can’t believe valerie is ending this week, just one more part to go! can’twait to read your reactions and thoughts on this part, even though i know yall gonna be upset lmao

word count: 5.6k

SERIES MASTERPOST

masterlist

Some days it truly feels like the universe has plotted against you to make every possible thing go wrong. As if it wants to see just how much you can take before breaking, experiment how long it can dance on your nerves before you end up one of those crazy people who shout at random strangers on the bus for no actual reason.

Starting the day you overslept awfully leaving you only ten minutes before you had to leave. In your hurry you ended up putting on socks that do not match and you were forced to buy a sandwich on your way as breakfast, but you promised you wouldn’t buy packed sandwiches for a reason, this one tasted like it’s been sitting on the shelf for weeks. Maybe it really has been. 

You made it to work successfully, but then you realized that you’ve left your notebook at home, the one that had quite a lot of important information you need for your work, so you spent your first hour at work emailing different people for things you should now, explaining that you just left your notebook at home. Some didn’t really give a fuck and just answered you normally, but others didn’t shy away from commenting that you should be more responsible and careful.

This alone gave just the perfect foundation for the day. It was all downhill from then. Your boss loaded twice as much work on you than usually, everything with close deadlines, throwing even more anxiety into the mix as if you didn’t have enough already. 

You met up with Marcus at lunch, but that didn’t go as planned either. It’s been getting more and more frustrating with him, the two of you have already had at least five fights this week and it’s only wednesday. It seems like even the smallest things push you over the edge these days and you easily pick a fight over anything. It didn’t happen differently this time either and by the time you got back to the office you were fuming. Worst part is that you always have a hard time ending a fight and tend to continue it through texts, the same thing happened today as well.

Now it’s a few minutes past five and you’re getting ready to go home, get changed and head to family dinner since today is Valerie’s first birthday, but even on the bus you’re still furiously typing away on your phone, sending a reply to Marcus, wanting nothing more than to throw the device right ot the window.

At one point you decide you’ve had enough. Turning your phone off you sink it into the depth of your bag and just try to focus on breathing, because even the smallest things seem to be hard tasks in such an upsetting state of mind. 

These past few weeks things have taken an absurdly wrong turn between you and Marcus and you don’t know what to do about the whole situation. Every night you go to bed thinking that you should just let go of him, would do a favor for the both of you, but then that stupid little voice in the back of your mind tells you that if you break up with Marcus it’s game over for you, you’ll spend the rest of your life alone. It all ends up with you violently holding onto the pieces of what’s left from your relationship and you’ve been trying to figure out where it went wrong, but you have absolutely no idea. 

After you changed into a pair of light washed jeans, a bright orange sweater and your black leather jacket it’s time for you to leave, though you already know you’ll be late. With a sigh deep you decided to turn your phone back on when you were sitting in the Uber, immediately deleting the notifications about the messages Marcus left you and going straight for the few ones from Rosa, your mom and Harry. They all arrived not too long ago asking when you’d be arriving, so you quickly typed your sorry and told them you’re on your way, you just got caught up at work. For Harry, you add something else too:

“Save me a seat and order me a tequila.”

His response came quickly.

“Done. Both.”

You let out a chuckle seeing his message. He knows you too well.

Walking into the small restaurant you don’t have a hard time spotting your family, three tables have been pushed together to make enough room in the back, taking up the small, kind of separated area of the place. Rosa smiles widely when she spots you, Valerie standing on her thighs, hands on the table as she is trying to snatch one of the glasses away, but her dad is pushing it further from her grasp.

“Sorry for being late,” you huff out and take the seat right next to Harry who watches you with a smile. “Well hello there, birthday girl! You’re so big now!” you babble at Valerie who giggles at you before her attention is averted once again.

You feel Harry’s elbow poking your side and turning to him you see him nod at the two shots on the table.

“Oh, fantastic. You’re drinking too?”

“No, I’m driving. Both for you.”

“If I didn’t have such a shitty day I would question what kind of alcoholic you think I am, but I kinda need both,” you sigh, taking the first one and downing it faster than ever. From the corner of your eyes you see your mother’s disapproving look, but you decide to ignore it for now.

“Wanna talk about it?” Harry asks, eyebrows furrowed in worry, but you shake your head, the alcohol still burning your throat.

“Not now. Can you give me a lift home tho?”

“Sure,” he nods, turning back to the conversation at the table. 

You somehow succeed in putting everything that happened today behind and just focus on the time spent with your family. It helps that seemingly Harry works hard all evening to tell you about random things, just occupying your thoughts as much as he can. It’s nice to relax a little and forget everything that’s been weighing down on your shoulders recently. 

“It’s so crazy she is one already,” you sigh when you and Harry are walking to his car.

“Right? It makes me feel incredibly old,” Harry huffs as he fishes his car keys out of his pocket.

“How old are you even?” you ask laughing, realizing you don’t even know how old he exactly is. There are quite a few things, small details you’ve just never gotten around to find out about Harry.

“I’m turning 27 in February. Wild, isn’t it?” he chuckles.

“Yeah, you’re basically a grandpa,” you tease him and he narrows his eyes at you, but you can’t miss the little smile hiding in the corners of his mouth. 

“That makes you a grandma, because you’re turning 25 in April, don’t you?”

“You know when my birthday is?” It takes you by surprise, you don’t remember ever telling him when your birthday is.

The two of you reach his car and he clears his throat unlocking it. Seems like he doesn’t really want to answer, but your burning gaze on him kind of forces him into it.

“Uh, I do. I wanted to meet up with Steven last year the day you had your birthday party, but he said he had plans already. Tried to lure him into cancelling, but he didn’t even want to share where he was going. Then he admitted that it was your birthday party, but you told him and Rosa not to even mention it to me so I don’t show up.”

Your stomach drops hearing his version of a story you’ve only known from your own point of view. You remember that you indeed told them not to tell Harry about it, but now it seems like such a hate crime, when in real life, it was still when the two of you hated each other with passion. 

“I’m… Harry I’m sorry. That was--”

“Don’t worry about it,” he smiles at you, starting the car. “We left it all behind, didn’t we?”

His smile seems genuine, but you still feel guilty for being such a bitch. It reminded you how much time and energy the two of you wasted for years hating each other when you could have been just like you are now. If only things happened in a different way…

Arriving at your building Harry parks the car and stops it. As the engine stops, the silence that’s been thickening the air just becomes even more obvious. He is waiting for you to say something about what’s gotten you so upset today, you know that, but you don’t feel like sitting around in his car.

“Want to come up for a little bit?” you ask and it’s a hidden message that you want to talk in the comfort of your own home. Luckily, Harry understands it right away and nodding he tells you to lead the way. 

You make some tea and the two of you sit on your couch, Harry is sitting sideways so he can see you while you bring your knees up to your chest, staring down at the mug in your hands.

“I had a fight with Marcus,” you quietly start.

“Oh.”

“And… it wasn’t the first time. We’ve been constantly fighting lately and I’m just… so tired of it.”

Saying it out loud for the first time, having someone listen to you brings you an odd sense of relief, and it doesn’t feel weird that you’re talking to Harry about all of it. He has proven himself to be a great listener.

“We’ve been fighting constantly, over the smallest things and my… my patience is running short, at this point.”

You’re talking slowly, carefully putting your thoughts into words, trying your best to interpret them for Harry after boiling them only in your own head for so long.

“I just… I have no idea what I should do.”

“It seems like the relationship is not making you happy anymore,” Harry softly speaks up and you have nothing to bring up against what he just said. “So why are you trying to continue it?”

You were expecting the question, you just knew he would ask it, but it still brings a painful, stinging sensation into your chest as you try to find the words to answer him. 

“Because…” you breath out and slowly turning your head, your eyes meet his gaze. “If I can’t make it work with him… then… who is it gonna be? There’s this voice in my head that keeps telling me, that he is literally my last choice, that if I mess this up it’s gonna be over for me.”

“Y/N, you know that’s not true,” Harry tells you tilting his head.

“Do I?” you chuckle bitterly, turning your gaze to the ceiling before you look back at him. “Because I don’t think I do. I’ve been literally feeling so miserable for weeks, yet I still can’t get me to move on, because I think I’m gonna die alone.”

“That’s not gonna happen, don’t say that. You’ll find the right person for you, you just… have to be patient.”

“But that’s the thing. I have lost my patience. I’m done, over it.” The tears form in your eyes in just a few seconds and the next thing you know is that you’re crying. “I’ve been trying so hard in my whole life, but somehow I always ended up… not being enough, or thrown away, stepped over, left behind. No matter what I did, I always ended up alone and I can’t help but notice a pattern in it. It has to be me, what else?”

“It’s not you, okay? You just had a few bad experiences.”

“Not a few,” you huff closing your eyes. “All of them are bad. I was… I was never enough for anyone and now that I found a guy that seemed to be just perfect… I’m ruining it.”

“I don’t think you’re ruining anything.”

“Then explain to me what’s happening, Harry!” you snap in despair and Harry stares back at you at a loss of words at first.

“Do you have feelings for him?” he then asks. You can’t answer right away and it tells him a lot.

“I… I’m not sure.”

“That sounded more like a no.”

“Okay, alright. No, I don’t. But… I could develop feelings eventually, couldn’t I?”

“That’s not how it works, Y/N. You can’t just torture yourself hoping that one day you wake up and you’ll be in love with him. It’s not gonna happen and you’re just wasting your time.”

“How do you know it’s not gonna happen? What makes you so sure of that I will not end up alone?”

Harry stays quiet, her green eyes are staring right into your soul and for a moment you forget about your misery. This man alone holds such a power over you, it’s starting to scare you.

“I know it, because… I know you. And I see you. You’re literally the funniest girl I know, so easy to talk with, you always know when to crack a joke and when you have to be serious. You have so much love for others, you care about your loved ones and you’re always there for your friends and family. You make it so easy for others to get comfortable around you and you make everyone feel safe around you.”

You listen to him intently, drinking up every word that leaves his lips. Harry looks down at his hands as he continues.

“And you’re beautiful. So fucking beautiful, it always baffles me when I see you.”

“What?” you breathe out.

“It’s the truth,” Harry chuckles lightly, he brushes his knuckles together nervously. “Every time you walk in, you just… make everyone turn their head at you, and I always wonder if you even notice that. The way you walk, your smile, your laugh, Y/N, you make every man go crazy about you.”

“You’re just saying that because you are trying to cheer me up,” you sniff, wiping a few more tears away from your eyes.

“I’m definitely not,” he chuckles and his eyes finally find yours. “I remember when we first met.”

“When you walked in on me changing,” you sigh, the memories living vividly in your mind.

“Yeah. I remember how… breathless I felt when I saw you standing there, your dress handing a little on your frame because of the zipper. I forgot my name for a moment. I offered to help with the zipper because I just… wanted to touch you in any kind of way. So I knew that you were real.”

“Harry…”

“I know this sounds made up, but I’m telling you, this is the truth. And I know I didn’t act like that for a long time, but I always thought that you were an amazing person and I know that any guy would be so lucky and incredibly happy to be with you. I hate the thought of you thinking otherwise of yourself, when you are literally such a delight and… just a gift to all of us. I don’t know what’s really been going on between you and Marcus, but if he can’t see your worth and can’t make you feel like you deserve… he is not worthy of your time.”

You feel your throat closing up, but you’re not sure Harry knows the reason behind it when the tears start rolling down your cheeks again. 

Because it might look like his words touched you and made you tear up, but in reality, a bittersweet feeling has taken completely over you. If this is how he thinks about you, why did he act like that when he had the chance to be with you? Why didn’t he want you to stay? What did you do that made him want to throw you out?

It’s a spiral straight down and you can’t stop yourself from falling. Harry has always been the biggest mystery of your life, and now you’re just even more sure it was something you did or said that made him want to run. 

He reaches out and easily scoops you into his arms and you let him hold you tight, face buried into his chest. You hold onto his shirt as the silent cries escape your lips. You want him to want you. You want him to mean all those things he just told you, but you just can’t seem to move on from the past even though you’ve agreed to forget about it. It keeps bugging you in the back of your mind that no matter what he says, you weren’t good enough to make him want to stay with you when he had the chance. 

***

It doesn’t get better after that night. Harry stayed until after midnight, made sure you got into bed and told you he’ll check in on you the next day. And so he did. 

You felt guilty for loading all of it on Harry, so you decided it was the last time you ever talked about Marcus or your love life in general with him. You easily made yourself believe that he didn’t really care about it and he just listened to you because he was trying to be nice. It seemed the best to just try and forget about it all. 

For a while you were contemplating breaking up with Marcus, but you didn’t have the strength to do it, telling yourself you have to give it another chance and some more patience. However it’s ending up to be quite draining, you gotta admit, but you are starting to get used to feeling numb every day.

Rosa invites you over, because she went through her closet and found some stuff she thought you’d like, so you head over not long after you get home from work. She mentioned that Harry would be over watching some kind of football game with Steven, so you are not surprised to see his car parking on their driveway.

“Hi guys!” you greet them when Rosa lets you in, the game is already on so they just wave in your way, intently watching the TV.

“Come on, I have everything in the bedroom,” Rosa nods in your way and you follow her upstairs. Valerie greets you with a loud shriek as you walk in, she is sitting in her crib, surrounded with a bunch of toys, seemingly having a great time.

“Hi there, Princess!” you coo at her, caressing her cheek before you sit on the edge of the bed that’s filled with piles of clothes. “What’s the big sorting?” you ask, grabbing a cardigan and taking a look at it.

“I just have way too much stuff, can’t fit new stuff into my wardrobe, so I needed to sort it all out.”

The two of you go through everything and just catch up while you try on what you like. At the end, you are just sitting on the bed playing with Valerie. You can tell there’s something Rosa wants to share, but she seems reserved about saying it out loud.

“So, the other day we were talking with Steven about how crazy it is that Val is over one year old,” she starts, eyes glued to the little girl, handing her another building block as Valerie works on… whatever it’s going to be when it's finished.

“Yeah, that’s what we talked about with Harry after her birthday dinner. Makes us feel old,” you chuckle.

“Exactly,” she sighs chuckling. “So then we talked about, maybe… having another kid sometime soon.”

You perk up and looking at Rosa you see the shy smile on her lips and you gasp, but she shakes her head.

“I’m not pregnant,” she assures you, but then adds: “Not yet.”

“Oh my God, so you’re trying for another baby?” you whisper, even though there’s no chance of the guys hearing the two of you. You can hear the sound of the TV up here, they have no clue what you’re talking about.

“I mean, it can take some time, so we thought we could… start now.”

“That’s fantastic!” you breathe out, truly happy for your sister. You just know Valerie will be such a good big sister. “Val, you want a baby sister or baby brother?” you ask her and she looks at you with a serious expression, holding out one of the blocks.

“Baba!” she exclaims.

“Yes, baba!” you chuckle. She’s been learning kind of real words lately and it won’t take too long before she’ll be bossing around everyone in the house.

When it’s getting late you pack the clothes you choose and head down to leave. The guys are still on the couch, but Harry’s head perks up when he hears your footsteps.

“You want me to give you a ride?”

“Um, I’m fine, don’t want to bother you while the game is on.”

“It’s ending in five. If you can wait a little it’s alright.”

“Okay,” you nod smiling so instead of going to the front door you stop in the kitchen to wait for Harry.

Rosa puts Valerie into her high chair and gets a banana for her while you check your phone just when Marcus calls you. Hesitantly, but you answer it.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Hi, just wanted to check in if the weekend is still on.”

“Uh, sure. It is.”

“Great. I’ll have to check again with my boss, but I think I’ll be able to pick you up.”

“Great. Talk to you later.”

“Bye, babe.”

The call ends and you find yourself facing a curious looking Rosa on the other side of the kitchen island.

“Marcus?” she asks and you nod. “How are things going?” You’ve only mentioned it to her that it’s been hard between the two of you, but you definitely didn’t go into details. Harry was the first and last person to hear the whole story.

“Um… neutral, I guess?”

“That doesn’t sound promising.”

“I know, but I’m just trying to figure it out. We are spending the weekend together, I hope it’ll help us to get a little more… settled? I guess, I don’t know,” you stammer, nervously fidgeting with your phone in your hands. 

“That’s nice, was it his idea?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s good to know that Marcus is making the right attempts to smooth things out.”

“Attempts?” Harry’s voice makes both of you look in his way as he stands at the door, seemingly confused about what he just heard. “You’re still with Marcus?”

“Harry, I…”

“No, don’t try to explain it. I thought I talked sense into you last time.” He is clearly pissed, not holding back how upset he is to get the news that you are still dating Marcus. But on the other hand you can also feel yourself getting angry how he tries to control your life.

“You did, but I never said I’ll break things off with him.”

“Well, it surely sounded like you made up your mind,” he huffs.

“Well, I didn’t,” you scoff, crossing your arms on your chest.

“What the fuck, Y/N! You can’t keep doing this to yourself!” he snaps gesturing in your way. “I thought we were over this!”

“We? What do you mean we?” you grimace and now you are raising your voice as well. “Harry, there’s no we! This is my relationship and it’s nice that you care, but you can’t tell me what to do!”

Harry is vivid. He needs everything in him not to burst right then and there and for a moment you think he’s gonna just explode. But when he speaks up again his voice is quiet, however you can feel all the anger and frustration behind it.

“Get in the car, we’re leaving.”

“What?”

“Get in the fucking car, Y/N!” he barks making you jump. Rosa and Steven, who arrived to the kitchen in the middle of this madness, are just watching the scene unfold, completely unable to even say a word.

Slowly, you slide off the stool and grabbing the bag filled with clothes you turn to Rosa.

“Thanks for… these,” you mumble before walking out, Harry following you right behind. 

Nothing is said as the two of you get into the car, Harry is clearly on the verge of anger outburst, but you’re pretty upset yourself. The drive back to your place is painfully quiet, but you can’t stop staring at his hands gripping the wheel. HIs fingers and knuckles are turning white from the way he is basically crushing the wheel in his hold. You wouldn’t be surprised if it had his grip’s imprint on it by the time you arrive to your building. 

“What the fuck, Y/N?” he snaps once the car is parked.

“Would you stop pretending like you have a saying in what I do?”

“I do have a saying in it! Because when you break again I’ll be the one picking you up from the ground!”

“Well, sorry it’s such an inconvenience to be my friend. But don’t worry, I won’t come to you again,” you snap back with a grimace and try to open the door, but it’s locked. “Let me out, Harry!”

“Fuck no, not until we talk about this,” he scoffs and it’s the last straw for you.

“There’s nothing to talk about! It’s none of your business, Harry! Stop pretending like you care!”

“I do care!” he shouts back so forcefully you are taken aback, sinking into your seat. “Of course I fucking care! How would I not?! I care about you so fucking much, how do you not see it?!”

At this point, you’re certain Harry has lost all self control and he is about to load he has been holding back out on you, while you’re just sitting there, staring at him completely speechless over how his whole being is filled with anger and fury.

“Stop fucking telling me that I don’t care when all I think about is you! Every damn day! I can’t fucking stop thinking about you, because every time my mind snaps right back to you when I’m trying to think about something else! Do you know how fucking painful it is?! See you fucking waste your time with that dickhead when I want to be with you?!”

Eyes widened you forget to even breathe as the words leave his lips and soon enough realization hits him hard about what he just said. His chest is violently waving, eyes staring straight ahead. Next time he speaks up the shouting is over, he is clearly shocked at his own behavior.

“Y/N, I-- what you told me last time, about ending up alone, that wasn’t the first time you told me all of that.”

“What?” you gasp.

“You broke down the same way at the wedding. Told me all about how you think you are just simply unlovable and will probably die alone.” His eyes snap down at his hands on his lap as he continues. “I was shocked how you’d ever think that way about yourself, because I was… I was already falling in love with you and I barely just met you that night. I couldn’t imagine what happened to you that made you believe that nonsense. I never felt like that with anyone else before and it was so fucking scary. Every time you looked at me or touched me, I could feel… the sparks. The fucking sparks, Y/N,” he lets out a bitter chuckle. “I never believed in that, but you made me feel that way. Then… one thing happened after the other and we were up in my room. I saw the way you looked at me, like I was your fucking everything and I have never experienced that. You fell asleep in my arms and I told myself that this is exactly how I want to spend the rest of my life.”

Tears roll down your cheeks as you listen in complete shock as Harry is still avoiding to look at you.

“I wanted to be the person who shows you how lovable and amazing you are, how worthy you are to be loved. Like I found my mission all of a sudden.”

“Then what the fuck happened in the morning?” you ask choking out the words. Harry finally turns to face you and you see his watery eyes. He was crying.

“You fell asleep and I was just watching you… and I realized that… sooner or later I would do something to hurt you. Because that’s what I always do and I didn’t want that. You didn’t deserve that, but I just knew I won’t be able to give you what you wanted and needed. And you told me all about how you just want to be loved and… I didn’t want to disappoint you in any way.”

He rubs his eyes turning back to look straight ahead and you see his lips tremble before he speaks up again. 

“I said all those stuff so you’d have a reason to hate me and you wouldn’t try to stay with me.”

“This is literally the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” you chuckle bitterly as the tears keep rolling down your cheeks. “Do you have any idea how fucking horrible I felt after that? I felt so ashamed for fucking weeks, Harry!”

“I-I know. I mean, I figured.”

“You made me feel unwanted and dirty, it took me so long to build my confidence back and be able to think of myself as more than just some used rug that was thrown out!”

Harry sits there in complete silence and just lets you load everything out on him, because he knows that’s what he deserves. He has tried to punish himself in so many different ways for what he did to you, but he knew he had to face you someday. Now the time has come and he is done trying to run away from the consequences of his actions in the past.

“I was blaming myself all this time, thinking that I must have done something wrong, when in reality it was you! It was fucking you!”

“I know, I’m so sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean it to end like this.”

“You didn’t mean it to end like this?” you snap. “You literally continued to treat me like shit for years! If it wasn’t for Valerie, you’d still be a complete dick to me! And what was your intention with this now, huh? Why did you tell me all of this now?!”

“Because I couldn’t stop… seeing you be so unhappy with someone who clearly doesn’t deserve you in any way. I’m selfish and I realized that I made a mistake, but I now know what I should have done, because…” He finally turns to face you again, you see a tear roll down his cheek as he takes a deep breath before continuing. “I love you. I love you, Y/N, and I’m fucking done pretending like I don’t.”

You stare back at him, breath caught in your throat and it’s the breaking point. You reach over to his side and unlock the doors so you can open yours and you jump out of the car wanting to get as far away from him as possible. He can’t just throw all of this on you after everything the two of you went through, that’s not how it works. Does he even mean it? How are you supposed to believe him after years of hatred?

You try to get inside the building, but he is quick to catch up with you, he grabs your upper arm and pulls back, but you yank his hold away. 

“Where are you going?!” he snaps towering above you.

“Home. And don’t fucking touch me!”

“But I literally just told you I love you, you’re not gonna say anything about that?”

At first you plan on not even answering, you make your way towards the door, but then you change your mind. Turning around you unload on him once again.

“You don’t have the right to tell me you love me! Not after all the shit I took from you! How am I supposed to believe it when you literally made me feel like shit for all these years, saying the meanest stuff to me every damn time we met! I was avoiding you like the plague because I can’t even count how many times you made me cry calling me names and treating me so fucking horrible! No, you are not just gonna waltz in here, tell me that I have to break up with my boyfriend because you’ve been in love with me all along. I don’t fucking believe you, Harry. So stay the fuck away from me,” you tell him and push your way inside. This time he doesn’t follow.

By the time you reach your front you’re sobbing, barely seeing from your own tears. With shaking hands you unlock the door and get inside shutting the door behind you before you collapse on the floor. 

Harry lives in delusion if he thinks he can just unload all of this on you and make everything right magically. Not after more than three years of the shit you took from him. How are you supposed to believe that he is telling the truth? If he loved you all along, how could he treat you like that? That’s not what love should feel like. All those countless times when you came home after seeing him and you couldn’t help but cry after some of his meanest comments… and now he is trying to make you believe he did it all to protect you from him? Bullshit.

It doesn’t work like that and now he is gonna have to face the consequences of his actions. 

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[tooinlovewithfictionalpeople]

The Five times She met the Hargreeves- Five Hargreeves

Plot: Fives wife has been looking for him for ages, and she is not so happy about it, although she meets his fellow siblings along the way (Fluff and cuteness mainly)

Cammie was dangerous. In-fact she was well known for being the most ruthless assassin the commission has. Her abilities made her quick, her training made her agile, he mind made her strong. She never played by the rules. But if you saw under the fact she could kill you within the blink of an eye, she was a sweetheart. Her heart was made of gold, she was soft and kind the kind of girl thought to be made of honey and glass. 

However, not playing by the rules, lead the Handler to become fed up with the bright bubbly girl so she threw her to the end of the world with nothing to ‘harden’ her up. Unfortunately for the Handler that is how Camille Winters met Five Hargreeves and the two became inseparable - unstoppable - the perfect duo.

There were moments where Cammie was willing to murder Five Hargreeves, and that was the day he got the equations wrong.

                                                           ***

It was a cold Thursday night when Allison Hargreeves was talking with her friends about the revolution in the hair salon. It was like any other day.

Until  - with a loud crash, the door was thrust open. Everyone jumped to their feet, standing in a defensive position.

In the door frame stood a girl, who looked to be in her teens. Her face was unreadable as she spoke in a clear commanding voice.

“I’m Cammie. Man over the road called the cops on ya love. I’d disperse the mothers meeting”

Allison never got to thank her, she was gone as quick as she came.

                                                        ***

Klaus as never one for constant socialising, which is why he was sat in an empty coffee shop with Ben sat opposite him. He didn’t notice the girl in a waitress uniform stand next to him until she spoke.

“Im Cammie, you want anything else Mister?”

Klaus looked up, to see a teen girl staring back at him with an unreadable expression.

“Are you not a little young to be of the working class my dear?” he asked absentmindedly. Ben rolled his eyes.

The girl smiled. “Im way older then you would believe darling,” she turned to where Ben was sat, seemingly invisible to anyone but Klaus. “And what about you hot stuff?” she smirked.

Klaus lifted his head from his arms “You can see him?” he asked

“No one ever comes in here darling, I think I’d notice not one but two cuties when they walk in,”

Ben sent an awkward smile “No thank you.” he said.

Cammie sent a sweet smile before walking off. She was gone before they could say anything else. 

                                                         ***

Cammie was furious. And that was an understatement. Five had gone through the portal, taking her with him to get back to his family but somehow she was thrown away and separated from him thrown back into the 60′s where she tried desperately to find him. Then, when she awoke to the grimy alleyway she had been chucked into she realised that she was stuck in her teenage body.

She told Five. She told him the equations were wrong but did he listen? Nope.

And now she was stuck god knows where.

Now, Cammie like Five had extraordinary powers. Although there lines of what she could do were blurred she could see flashes of events that happened in the past, present and future. In other words, time was her bitch. But when she saw the flash of Five being threatened by the Handler her blood boiled.

The only issue with Five is that the little shit couldn't seem to stay in the right timeline so Cammie didn’t know when he would be experiencing what she thought he was going through.

Needless to say all thoughts of common sense went out the window when she saw the Handler pointing a gun at her teenage husband. So naturally she teleported to the commission.

When she arrived the Handler was sitting at her office with an unpleasant smirk on her face. In-front of her were two people whom Cammie did not recognise. The first was a man, with long Jesus style hair and tan skin. He had tan skin and wore a shocked expression. The other was a woman with shoulder length dark hair and wide brown eyes. The Handler did not seem even slightly surprised and Cammie’s sudden appearance.

“Cammie dear, to what do I owe the pleasure?” she asked smiling.

“Why the HELL is my husband?” She growled, eyes narrowing into slits. The Handler rolled her eyes.

“Ah yes. Don’t worry he’s a free man, still trying to stop what cannot be stopped..I must say you do look better at this age than you did two weeks ago”

Cammie rolled her eyes, looking at the two people next to her, who were staring in shock.

“I told him.” Cammie said angrily. “I told him the equations were wrong. But my husband thought he was right.”

Cammie picked up a Vase and threw it against the bookshelf so it shattered into a million pieces. “BECAUSE FIVE HARGREEVES NEVER FUCKING LISTENS”  

The Handler didn’t even blink, but the man in the chair with the Jesus hair spoke up “Hold on a minuet, Five Hargreeves is your husband? The bastard managed to get married??”

Cammie laughed. “And how would you know him?”

The man paused for a moment, “Im his brother, Deigo”

Cammie rolled her eyes, “Tell me, was he always a little shit?”

“Yes,”

The Handler stood up, picking up a gun and pointing it at Cammie who didn’t seem even slightly fazed at the fact her life was being threatened. By now it was a common occurrence. “What do you want Cammie?” she said

“Where. Is. My. Husband.” she seethed

Diego spoke up “Last I heard he was with a Man called Elliot, down an alleyway”

Cammie turned to face him “How come your’e more helpful in a second than Five has been his entire life?”

“Tell me, do you flirt with all the Haregreeve siblings?” The Handler sneered.

Cammie laughed “She’s just salty Five chose me and not her.”

The Handler raised her weapon firing multiple times but it was too late. In a flash of blue light Cammie was gone.

“Five got Married?”

                                                          ***

Five and Luther were having a nice little conversation about the poor dead Elliot in the chair when they saw a flash of blue light which seemed to be emitting a lot of crashing sounds and swearing coming from the balcony below them.

“Shit. Its the commission get down.” Five whispered to Luther who decided to do as he was told.

“How have they found us?”

Five sighed running his hands through his hair in frustration as he peeked behind the sofa. “I don’t know, but they are dangerous so be careful.”

“FIVE HARGREEVES I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU ARE HERE I AM GOING TO WRING YOUR NECK AND STAB YOUR EYES OUT WITH SPOONS”

“How many enemies do you have??” asked Luther eyes wide in shock.

However Five was staring at where the sound was coming from with a slight smile on his face. Luther was more shocked that Five was producing a genuine smile than anything else. 

“She’s not an enemy” he said standing up and walking to the stairs.

“FIVE GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW OR I SWEAR I AM GOING TO KILL YOU”

Luther looked at him incredulously “Well she sure sounds like it.”

When Five got to the stairs, he was relieved to see Cammie, standing hands on hips glaring at him with the angriest stare she could muster. He merely smiled back, finding it slightly amusing how angry she was. (And slightly scary but he would never admit that)

As soon as it clicked that Five was in fact okay, Cammie marched up the staircase yelling how much she was going to absolutely slaughter him, her speed not slowing down as she drew nearer

“Er - Five? Are you sure she is not the enemy because she looks -”

Luther watched as Cammie came nearer to his brother unsure of what to do until she ...kissed Five?

The girl had ran to Five and placed her hands firmly on the sides of his face pulling him down to kiss her. His arms wrapped around her waist pulling her closer. Her hands travelled to his hair, running her hands through it. 

Luther just stood there mouth open, trying to comprehend what was happening in front of him.

The kiss broke, leaving Cammie still on her toes, face buried in the crook of Fives neck as he had one arm still wrapped around her waist and the other stroking her hair.

“W h a t?” Luther finally managed to get out

The pair separated looking up at the bigger man, who was staring between the two blankly. first of all he was shocked that Cammie hadn’t tried to kill them, but also the fact that his annoying, self centred arsehole of a brother actually found love - and not to mention the fact he had never seen Five as happy as he looked right now.

“Cammie, this is my brother Luther, Luther this is my wife Cammie.”

“Im sorry you are married?”

Five rolled his eyes so Luther turned to Cammie.

“You actually like him?”

At this Cammie laughed, brushing hair out of Five’s face “Surprisingly I do - even if he never listens to me.”

Five turned to her “I do listen to you!” 

“Erm no you don’t. I told you the calculations were off but you didn’t listen to me”

Five open and closed his mouth but no words came out, so he turned to Luther.

“We carry on with the plan, but this time we have her. She is so much better.”

“I still can’t get over the fact that you are married,”

                                                      ***

Cammie was laid in bed. Her head was on Fives chest, her arms wrapped around him, her leg hooked up on his waist. He was snuggled into her, burying his face in her hair as she slept, his arms tightly wrapped around her

The Hargreeve siblings were stood around around them, each with their mouth open slightly in shock.

“Can anyone else not get over the fact Five is Married?” Luther asked

“To a reasonable person no doubt,” Allison continued.

“And a baddass. The commission adore and are terrified by her.” Diego added

“Ben and I would like to point out she clearly makes Five happy. That’s a yay right?”

“Vanya nodded her head. “He looks at peace for once.”

And he did. For the first time in years the siblings saw their grumpy, annoying, pessimistic brother smile, a real genuine smile.

“If you guys don’t stop staring he will kill you,”

[suicidalslasher]

𝒋𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒚 - 𝒋𝒂𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝒅.

the one where Jason is a jealous  dumbass,  that’s it -  that’s the plot.

WARNINGS: This is a Jason Dean fanfiction, therefore, you all know what you’re signing up for. I don’t really got to tell you, twice. 

  Possessive!Jason. Jealous!Jason. Female reader, reader’s pronouns are she/her. 

Slight mention and scene of choking but it’s not graphic. A hint of NSFW but it isn’t shown. Also there’s a few mentions of blood but it’s not a lot, either. I wanted to tag that nonetheless, too. Also, Jason actually shows emotions in this which is out of character but in MY world, Jason Dean is a simp to his girlfriend and would rather die than to live a day without her. 

I may add the smut scene later on, who knows?  Not me. This is my first imagine of Jason Dean so be nice to me or I’ll be like Ghostface and gut you like a fish (◍•ᴗ•◍)♡ ✧*  

If you enjoyed this story, don’t hesitate to follow and or leave me a request, as they are open. If you also like my work and or have a dollar to  spare, as it will help me write and create more stories like this one, my ko-fi is here. 

Thank you and enjoy :)

White knuckles from clenching his fists too hard, and gritted teeth from effort to remain silent, Jason bit back his words, knowing they'd be harsh and full of  poison.  He's fully aware of how much damage he'd likely cause if he spit out the words that were on his mind.  He was going to break, and he knew it wasn't going to take too long until he did so.   Yet, as the female continued to talk beside him as an attempt to grab his attention, the feelings only grew larger and he dug his teeth into his bottom lip, the metallic taste of blood trickling on the tip of his tongue.   Jason swallowed that anger when it was nothing but a fire-seed and he had forgotten to drink something cold right after, in an effort to calm himself down;   therefore, it grew in his stomach until it came out hotter than any dragon breath.... all those negative emotions that swam in his veins  and crept in the pit of his stomach exploded and all the feelings he desperately was trying to hold back came burning on the one person he loved the most, his girlfriend, (Y/N). His face was red with suppressed rage and when (Y/N)  set her finger on his shoulder, he swung around and mentally snapped, his nostrils flared  and his pupils were blown and dilated  as he snarled like an  out of control beast.  "I hate him more than I do the Heathers," spat Jason,  as he pushes his girlfriend up against the wall, the framed photograph that hung there now remained at the bottom of their feet, shattered into hundreds of pieces.   "I don't like you hanging out with him." Jason growled, his fingers curling around (Y/N)'s throat, feeling her pulse begin to quicken  as he presses his weight down onto the palm of his hand.  "Do you know how much it hurts to see you look at someone else? To see you smile at someone else? It makes me feel sick.”     "Jason... Let go of me. Let's talk. Please? You don't even know him... if you'll let me speak and tell you-"  "You love him, don't you?" Jason hisses, the sentence feeling like a slap to (Y/N)'s face as he throws out this statement.... it was a lie, that's what it was and (Y/N) desperately was trying to tell him how wrong he was but he just wouldn't listen, the arrogant  son of a bitch never listens!    "You love him more than you do me."  Before either teen realizes it, Jason is letting go of (Y/N)'s throat only for him to raise his hand up  into a fist and he's punching the only other framed photograph that was beside her, the glass shattering behind his knuckles. (Y/N) screams in horror and although she's pissed off, she - obviously - still cares about her boyfriend.  "Jason!" (Y/N) yelps, tears falling down her cheeks as she rushes to her boyfriend's side, examining his hand which was now dripping with crimson, a few drops of red landing on the now broken picture frame and the wooden floor beneath their feet. "C'mon, I've got a first aid kit around here, somewhere-" "You love him." Jason repeats, ignoring the fact she was trying to help him.  He pulls his hand back, dropping his arm by his side, not  even caring about the way the blood was falling from his knuckles and staining both his pants and shirt. The anger and venom that once coated his words were now replaced with a hint of sadness and heartbreak.  She's never seen him this upset before.... regardless, if he'd just calm down, she could explain.  "Jason, baby-" His voice broke as he looked up at (Y/N), sad eyes meeting with her confused but angry gaze. On top of those, she was sad, too.   "Go then. Go to him, if you prefer to spend your day with him rather than your own boyfriend. You don't care about me, I'm not sure you ever did."  (Y/N) sighed, shaking her head as a few more tears spill past her cheeks. "Fine. If you won't let me talk and tell you my side of the story, I'm leaving. If that's what you think and if you truly think I don't give a fuck about you, I'm gone." (Y/N) mutters, letting go of his hand as she walks back over to the door, grabbing her keys and wallet before storming out the door, slamming the door shut as she leaves.

A week passes. 

Another week following behind that.  

(Y/N) didn't bother to call or show up.

He really fucked things up, didn't he? 

Jason wasn't huge on  showcasing his feelings and putting them out on display for people to see. The only emotion he was so used to showing was anger and madness. Nothing but chaos was built and stored away in Jason Dean's body, too.  All three traits made him who he was.  People may not like him because of his temper and all the flaws he had but it was him, and he didn't plan on changing for anybody.  Expect.... of course, (Y/N). As he sat alone in his bedroom, he felt depressed. He never cried, either.  Couldn't tell you the last time he ever did cry. Did he even cry as a baby? Jason wasn't sure, nor could he tell you.  

But.... Jason cried. For the first time in forever, he broke down and cried. Couldn't help himself.  By the end of the night, there were no tears left to cry. He had run dry. His body couldn't form any more tears.   Feeling both mentally and physically drained, Jason reached over and grabbed his phone off of the night stand, dialing the one number he actually had memorized.  All he got was her voicemail.   "This is (Y/N). I can't answer the phone at the moment but  I will get back to you as soon as I can! Bye!"  Jason groaned and he was half-tempted to throw the phone out of his window but he decided against it as he left a voicemail, regardless. He wanted (Y/N) to know he was sorry. 

He wanted (Y/N) to know that despite their arguments (which weren't constant but when they did fight, it was mainly due to Jason's behavior rather than her own) he loves her.  

 (Y/N) coming into his life was the only good thing the world had offered and gave him. He wasn't going to give her up. Not that easily, anyways.  "Hey." He had forgotten he was leaving a voicemail, having zoned out for a second, the beep brought him back out of his thoughts.  "It's me. Uh.... Jason.... your boyfriend? I hope so, anyway, still.... But, yeah, it's Jason.... Jason Dean.... ha, uh.... you knew that.

  Listen, I'm sorry for everything,  (Y/N).  I'm sorry for having that temper tantrum and taking out my frustration and jealousy on you. I'm not good at this type of stuff, not so great with showing my emotions in person either, so....

 I'll talk here,  hopefully the message goes all the way through. I don't want to say this in person, again, I'm not good at the whole unraveling my feelings, especially not face to face.

 But... (Y/N), baby, you're the best thing that's ever been mine. You're my darlin', my girl, and I got jealous because I was scared, okay? 

I was scared of losing you. And I'm telling you this because it's been awhile now and I haven't seen you around or heard from you in awhile. Therefore, I may have already lost you but.... I love you, (Y/N)... and I'm sorry, okay? 

Thought you'd never hear me say that, huh? Me, apologizing? That's like... once in a blue moon. Hah.....  

But, uh... well, it's true. I'm sorry and I, Jason Dean, love you, (Y/N) (L/N). And I hope that you still love me too."   With that, Jason ends the call, hanging the phone back up on the table as he falls back onto the bed. He didn't - doesn't - know what to do if he didn't have (Y/N) by his side.   Trying to ignore these thoughts and place his attention elsewhere, he decides he needs to focus on sleeping. His body was exhausted after all that crying, plus the punch to the picture frame was still making his hand ache and throb, despite it being a few weeks since he had done it. 

He had one hell of a nasty bruise, too. He was sure it wouldn't look so ugly and scarred if he  had listened to (Y/N) and taken her up on that offer when she suggested the first aid kit...  Before he knows it, he's drifting off into a deep slumber, naturally bringing a pillow into his chest, tucking it underneath his arm as he falls asleep.   

Faint whispers of (Y/N)'s name spills pass his lips as he sleeps. He'd rather be cuddling her than a pillow but he'll take what he can get. He just hopes she'll accept his apology.  

(Y/N) gets home a little after midnight, sighing heavily and tiredly as she kicks off her shoes and strips out of her jacket, hanging the coat up first before setting her shoes under the rack. She had just finished unpacking and helping her cousin move things in his new apartment and she was exhausted. All she wanted to do was take a shower and go to bed. 

 In the corner of her eye, however, she notices her answering machine is flashing red, letting her know someone had left a voicemail.  She walks over and clicks on the button, expecting it to be for  her parents but instead she's met with a shocking fate - it was Jason.  

Hearing his voice, so weak and vulnerable, brought tears to her eyes and she bit back a sob. Especially when he apologized, that was new. 

They've said those three words to each other before, of course, but it was hearing how sad he sounded that let her know he truly did love her, despite everything they've been through and all the silly arguments they've shared over the past few months; they loved each other. 

 And nothing - nobody - could ever stand in the way of that.   Jason was still a huge dumbass, however. 

And as she grabs her jacket, sliding the thick layer of clothing around herself and dips her feet into her boots, she's quick to go and tell him that, too.  

She loves him, yes, but she needs to let him know he was a  huge fucking idiot. 

Jason, for the most post, was sleeping peacefully until he heard a loud crash coming from downstairs, along with a string of curse words. 

  He was quick to get up, throwing the blanket and pillow aside as he opened his bedroom door and creeps down the hallway, wondering who the hell was in his living room.   

He was met with.... well, not a burglar  neither his father as he would have guessed the next outcome to be but rather his girlfriend.

"(Y/N)? What are you doing here?" He asks, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands as he tried to shake off the remaining sleep that had taken over him not even a few hours ago. 

"I came here to scare you, obviously." She scoffs, rolling her eyes as she scrambles up and off of the floor, brushing her knees and arms from the fall she had taken.  "Your door was locked, couldn't find the extra key anywhere so I snuck in through the window and-"

"And... you're bleeding." Jason said, gesturing to the tiny gash on her arm.   "C'mon, I've got a first aid kit around here somewhere." He mocks, giving her a playful smile as he quoted the words she had said to him the day they got into that fight. 

 (Y/N) said nothing but she follows when Jason offers his hand out to her, anyway.   He was surprised when he did find the small box up in a cabinet.   

"It's fine. I'm fine. Nothing  a bandage won't fix, right?" 

"(Y/N). Why are you here? You never did answer me." Jason said, getting out the tiny box of band-aids, ripping one open as he presses the item down onto her arm. She was right, it wasn't a big cut, a few drops of blood, sure, but it wasn't one that'd get infected.  

"I got your voice message." She said with a shrug of her shoulders. "And I came to talk to you about it."

He wasn't sure whether or not that was a good or bad thing.

 "Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah. You're a dumbass." 

Oh. 

 It was bad. 

He felt his heart drop down to his stomach. He really let his jealousy get the best of him and now he was going to lose the one good thing he had in his life. 

"I love you but you didn't let me speak," She continued.  "That guy you saw... first of all, you have no right to judge him or say you hate him when you have no idea who he is. That dude I was seen with was my cousin, who, may I add, is gay.” 

“I’ve been helping him move which is why you saw me in town with him. We were getting a few supplies and picking up his furniture.” She continues.

“You got jealous over a guy who is far from being attracted to  females. And you know... he's related to me as well, so, that also plays a huge part in it. And if you didn't notice either, the picture you broke was actually a portrait of my family and his together at a family reunion. Of course, you didn't see that, though or probably even noticed but.... yeah, you're a dumbass. I love you, J.D, but you're an idiot for thinking I'd ever love someone more than I love you." 

Jason says nothing, he feels embarrassed, ashamed, but overall; he feels happy, knowing she still loves him, even if he was a total moron.  "I'm sorry, baby, I got jealous and I shouldn't jump so quickly to conclusions  and-"

"And you need to make up for it." She said, pressing her chest up against his, resting her hand on the palm of his cheek, brushing a few stray hairs out from his face as she gives him a seductive look. "And how.... exactly, are you going to make up for it, baby?" She purred. 

"I think I've an idea." He said with a smirk.

"Oh, yeah? While you're at it, can you choke me like you did, too?" 

"I'll do more than just choke you with my hand, darling." 

"To be suffocated and to choke on either your cock and hand would be a blessing, my dear." 

"Then let's go upstairs, shall we?"

(Y/N) smiled and took Jason's hand with her own, giggling as if she wasn't just talking about getting choked by her boyfriend, as if she was some saint rather than a sinner. Fuck... Jason loves how dirty she was. "We shall." He replies, nearly dragging her up the stairs and into his bedroom. 

"Going to show you how much I love you, going to treat you so good, so well, baby girl... missed you so much, love you so much..." 

[hoseokmylovesworld]

Sway Me More | Mafia!Jungkook (M)

Pairing: Mafia!Jungkook x Assassin!OC  

Part 2: Sway With Me (M) / Part 3: Sway Me Smooth 

Requested: Anonymous:

“ ok i think i got something. i was thinking e2l mafia leader!jk and assassin!oc. they're always competing on killing the same enemies and oc beats kook to it everytime but plot twist he's actually sleeping w oc in secret, his gang doesn't know that she basically does the dirty work for him. maybe a scene where jk is busy in his office and feels something is off and he and oc pull guns on one another but its just a form of power play bc that's their relationship. dirty talk, oral male receiving, reverse cowgirl in his office chair, choking, little bit of degradation bc one of the victims oc had to seduce but kook calls her his little slut bc he's possessive like that and they both just have lots of tattoos and piercings. maybe some light bondage too? he ties her hands and the petname sweetness? i love that shit sm. ok i'm out of ur hair now fksks ”

Genre: Mafia!Jungkook, BTS mafia au, Smut, humor, e2l, angst, pining.

Length: 15,664k Words

Warnings: Strong language, lots of violence, minor deaths, guns, oral sex (male receiving), fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, squirting, overstimulation, orgasm denial, dirty talk, BDSM(?), degradation kink, praise kink, light bondage, choking, breath play, spanking, rough sex (if you couldn’t tell), possessive!jungkook, Mr. and Mrs. Smith vibes.

A/N:

1. Not sure if this counts as a Song Fic, but this ask immediately made me think of Sway With Me by Saweetie and GALAXARA hence the title so that was on repeat haha (Stream Birds of Prey: The Album and Stay Gold for clear skin!!).

2. I didn’t mean to make the OC that crazy she just kinda was. Like honestly I don’t know what happened at the end there. Also, I thought it would be a fun dynamic for them to only refer to each other by last names. (Y/L/N)

3. Shouts out to this anon for being so specific! Writing this fic ruined my search history.

3.b You said a little bit of degradation, but I mighta over did it lol.

4. This is really fucking long. For no reason...I’m not sorry, it’s all worth it in the end. Please leave a comment, let me know what you think

Jungkook sat in the back seat of his black town car parked at the street corner, his eyes never leaving a specific window of the skyscraper adjacent to him. He watched as the piece of shit who meddled with his gang’s last drug deal canoodled with his lady friend in his apartment. Probably a hooker, he thought. This particular criminal to land on the mafia’s hit list, has been known to bring home many a sex worker. 

He took a look at his Rolex and sighed; the man as slowly, but surely losing patience. They’ve been here for a good hour. A hit has never taken this long to complete for Jungkook’s team. He communicated his frustrations to his sniper, Taehyung, who was camped out in the building directly across from the apartments. 

“When the fuck is this bitch gonna leave?” He grumbled through his earwig to his employee and friend. Taehyung laughs tiredly. 

“Yeah, I’m asking myself the same thing. They’re not even fucking, they’ve been talking and kissing for like thirty minutes.” The sniper griped.

Jungkook chuckled, hearing the response in his ear. “Just stay sharp. Or you’re back on cockfight duty.”

Taehyung paused. “You wouldn’t.” 

“Just focus, yeah?” Jungkook said, refocusing his binoculars to check on the couple in the apartment so that he could see them clearly. The bright lights in the room and the lack of curtains or shades helped him out immensely with that.

“Sure thing, boss.” 

Jungkook could barely craft a response due to the shock that took over him at what happened next. He watched as the female sitting to the left of the target with her legs draped over his thighs, pulled a knife, seemingly out of her crotch, and stabbed the white collar criminal in the gut at lightning speed. 

He lurched up in pain and grabbed at the knife only for his date to pull it out and stab him again, making deep eye contact all the while. She was obviously a strong woman to overpower a man of his burley stature. But why would she want to?                                                                                                                                                        

“What the fuck was that?” Jungkook asked immediately, continuing to watch the scene unfold carefully.

“Looks like his date just stabbed him.” Taehyung responded, just as confused as his superior. 

“I can fucking see that, but why the fuck would the hooker kill him?” He raised his voice in annoyance. The murderous hooker finished the job, wiping her fingerprints off of the knife still lodged in the target's stomach and travelled to  a nearby closet. 

Jungkook watched, overcome with awe and confusion, as she returned with a duffle bag. And his jaw literally drops when he sees her pull white coveralls out of the duffle bag, put them on over her clothes and switch off the lights in the apartment, completely blocking Jungkook’s view.

“Fuck, what’s she doing now, Taehyung?” He asked quickly, knowing that the scope on his sniper had night vision. 

“She’s...cleaning the apartment...and the body.” 

So she’s done this before, Jungkook thought pensively.

“Do you recognize her?” He uttered, needing to know more about this woman  immediately.

“Hell no, I would remember this bitch.” The gunman responds instantly.  

“What the fuck is going on?” His boss muttered to himself and Taehyung took the liberty of answering him. 

“She’s leaving.” 

Jungkook cocked his head back in surprise. “Well that was fast.” 

 “You’re telling me...she’s making her way to the street. You want us to go after her?” 

He thinks about it. No harm done, he figured.

“No, leave her be. Less mess for us.” 

“Roger that.” Taehyung nodded and packed his things. Jungkook ordered his driver to take him home and they called it a very eventful day. 

What Jungkook didn’t count on was encountering that same perpetrator again...and again. Ever since he came across this deadly woman the first time, it’s like he can’t escape her now. “The Hooker”, as the mafia were calling her, had killed three more of the names on their hit list of people who had crossed them...directly before Jungkook’s men got the chance to do it themselves. 

And the fact that it didn’t affect the gang took a backseat to the amount of irritation it brought them and Jungkook for their victim to drop dead in front of them at the hands of someone else. It angered Jungkook because he didn’t know who she was or her motives. She was obviously dangerous and stealthy and could be coming for them next for all they knew. He knew he had to catch her and find out what she was about. 

“Alright, guys. You know what to do.” Jungkook huffed to his men through his earpiece as they prepared to ambush a traitor of the gang. He had been on the run recently, selling mafia secrets and tonight the gang would put an end to him and soon, everyone he blabbed to. 

After three days of following leads, they took to tracking and set out after him. Jungkook and his members followed the conspirator from a distance and three different sides in an attempt to corner him in the ominous dark of the night. They were closing in on the ex-gang member consistently and it all seemed to come to fruition when he shuffled into a dark alley. 

This is too easy, the mafia boss thought enthusiastically to himself. Jungkook and six of his men sped up in pursuit, hoping to trap the imbecile before he realized he was a dead end. Finally, the group turned into the alley quickly, expecting to find a young man ready to shit his pants. Instead they found his slumped over corpse that had been propped up against a dumpster. 

Jungkook’s spine straightened in astonishment. They literally just saw him walk into the alley and he just drops dead? Each of the men look around for who could have done this in possibly two minutes flat. The leader draws his gaze to the roof directly in front of him and grinds his teeth in anger at the sight in front of him. The Hooker from weeks ago stood above them with an amused smirk on her face in a black, hooded catsuit. 

“You gotta be fucking kidding me!” He roared.

“Would you clean that up for me? Thanks.” She deflected playfully and took off in the opposite direction, jumping from one rooftop to another.

“Get her.” Jungkook said calmly, still looking at the spot where the woman was previously standing. He’s had enough of this nonsense and he would be getting answers.

The gang moves out immediately, splitting up in search of the murderer. Two of them take the firescape closest to them, while the remaining men circle around the buildings to cut her off eventually. In the meantime, Jungkook calms himself down and examines the body.

“How did she even do this?” He pulled a leather glove from his breast pocket and moved the head of the deceased to the right side, looking him over carefully. He promptly noticed bruising around his neck and blood on the crown of his head.

“She choked you out that fast...without making a sound?” He whispered, completely impressed, but absolutely irritated at the same time. He sighed, at a loss and took it upon himself to actually dispose of the body. He waited in the alley with his arms crossed, thinking of how he wanted to interrogate this possible threat. 

His men communicated to him that the woman had seriously injured Jimin and Suga and that Hoseok and Jin would stay with them, but the good news was that they caught her and were on their way back.

“Wonderful.” He sighed sarcastically into his earpiece. 

After thirty long minutes, Namjoon and Taehyung re-entered the alley, this time carrying their new victim by her arms, her hands restrained behind her back with the rope originally meant for the traitor. She struggled against their hold as they made their way in until she laid eyes on Jungkook. 

She straightened slowly and walked with confidence, studying him thoughtfully as they passed the mafia leader and turned her to face him while forcing her to her knees. She winced slightly as her knee caps came in contact with the hard, wet ground.

The three of them watched carefully as the leader paced back and forth leisurely, his gaze focused on the puddles on the ground with his hand picking at nothing in particular on his lip. His train of thought was disrupted when the voice of the woman echoed through the alley.

“You gonna say something?” She scoffed impatiently. Jungkook turned to her slowly, revealing his dark, disapproving facial expression. He didn’t miss the flash of mischief in her eyes when they finally made eye contact.

“You incopacitated two of my men.” He started, continuing to walk back and forth in front of them with his hands behind his back. 

“They were chasing me.” She shrugged.

Jungkook stopped in his tracks at the negligence of her tone. He turned on his heel to face his suspect with a serious face. “Who are you and why do you keep killing my targets?” he demanded, just wanting to get to the point of why they were here. A humored smile broke out across her face.

“Your targets? Someone’s a little full of themselves.” She giggled innocently.

“Tell me and I won’t take a hammer to both your shoulders.” He said smoothly looking deeply into her eyes making sure he got his point across. 

Her cocky smirk dissipates but doesn't completely disappear. 

“You don’t have a hammer.” she muttered to herself, thinking that the mafia leader couldn’t hear her. He just gave her a pointed look, silently telling her to continue. She licks her lips slowly while holding Jungkook’s stormy gaze. 

“I was paid, you asshole.” She muttered.

“By who?” 

“No one you and your goons need to worry about.” He sighed and looked up in frustration. “Why?” 

The woman shook her head furiously. “Are you daft? It’s my job, obviously.” 

Jungkook whipped his head in her direction, his eyes widening slightly and his voice taking on a more agitated tone. 

“You disrespect me one more time and I’m gonna slap that smug smirk off your face.” He warned her harshly.

“Promises, promises.” She sang with that self-satisfied grin that he was having mixed feelings about. 

With that, Jungkook swifty brought his hand up to backhand the assailant and jumped in her direction, but stopped when his hand was halfway to her face. She didn’t move an inch or even blink. She even narrowed her eyes at him playfully. 

He backed away from her, impressed. She may have earned some of Jungkook’s respect that day, but he would never tell a single soul about it. He composed himself, eyeing her carefully. He then enganges her in a more calm conversation.

“Do you know who I am?” 

“Yes.” 

“Does your employer know who I am?” 

“I have multiple. Some do.” She shrugs coolly. 

“What do they—” 

“Look we know you're in charge of the mafia, or whatever, but we don’t care. The people I’ve killed have wronged more than just you and your circus of idiots here and they deserved to die.” She gestured to the two henchmen holding her in place. 

“Besides I did you a favor. Several, actually. I’m a blessing in disguise.” She smiled sweetly.

Jungkook shakes his head in disagreement. “You’re a fucking pain in my ass is what you are.” 

“Oh, what a pleasure. And how do you figure that?” 

“Some mysterious...aggressor taking out a number of important people on the east side. Wouldn’t that alarm you in my position?” He queried with a raised, pierced brow. 

“Mysterious? Mr. Jeon, do you find me attractive?” She leans forward and is yanked back in place by the men flanking her. She held a suddenly sultry and intense light behind her eyes directed at Jungkook. 

He couldn’t deny her beauty; anything with a pulse would be attracted to her. Seeing her up close, he noticed her many piercings along her ears, on her septum and her left brow, just like his. He could see tattoos peeking out from her sleeves and neckline of her suit and he wondered just how much of her body was covered by tattoos. 

He was trying not to let that get in the way of this interrogation and failing miserably with his mind wandering in dangerous directions. It didn’t help that he couldn’t look her in the eye for too long, her gaze was so captivating and somehow held so many emotions that they caused him to lose focus. 

He regarded her thoughtfully for a moment before asking, “What is your name?” 

“Deathstalker.” Wow, Jungkook thought to himself. 

“You wanna tell me your real name?” He offered, nodding at her.

“That’s the only name you're gonna get. And just a heads up, I’m not gonna talk if you torture me.” She says confidently with hooded lids. Is she bored?, the mob boss thought. He began to pace for a few moments, the only sound in the alley coming from his designer shoes squelching against the damp concrete.

“No...no, we’re not gonna hurt you.” Jungkook decided. The two henchmen that were restraining the woman, looked up in shock. Jungkook has injured or killed people for far less than what she’s done in the past hour. 

She tilts her head uncomfortably in the hold of the gang members, to get a good look at the mafia leader’s face. She gasps and beams as if she’s had an epiphany. 

“You like me.” She settled. 

He whips around to face her. “What are you on about?” 

“I thought I was gonna have to seduce you to get you off my back, but it seems you already have a soft spot for me.” She deduced with an appeased grin on her face. 

Jungkook’s breathing deepened. He thought quickly of what he could do to draw the attention away from the truth of her statement. He didn’t know what it was about her, but she was different from any of the other suspicious characters he’s interrogated. And for some reason he didn’t want to hurt her, but he couldn’t be seen as weak in front of his inferiors. 

In a flash, he was directly in front of her, teeth clenched and gripping her face tightly in his strong hand. His fingers pressed roughly into her jaw, her cheeks were forced to scrunch up, obscuring her vision and her mouth was bound to a permanent, painful pout. 

“Stop spewing nonsense, I wouldn’t sleep with you if you were the last woman on earth. You’re too dirty.” He lied gratingly. “I don’t have soft spots for anyone and you would do well to learn that. Come into my sight again and you’ll see what kind of damage I can really do.” He seethed. 

“Hot.” Deathstalker replied through forcibly clenched teeth. Jungkook sighed before flimsily releasing her chin, flinging it to the right causing her to wince. Jungkook inwardly did the same at the sight. 

“Let her go.” The henchmen do as they are told. “Get out of my sight.” She got up off her knees awkwardly with her bound wrists.

“I’m sure you know how to get rid of that yourself.” Jungkook nodded at the rope around her wrists. She nodded back casually and walked passed Jungkook, brushing up against him as she did so. 

“Catch you on the flip side.” She whispered to him before she took off in a run into the night.

Three weeks had passed without a surprise appearance from “Deathstalker” and Jungkook was beginning to think she had actually heeded his warning in the alley. He should be pleased with this fact, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. 

Not only was the thought of her ingrained in his mind, but he was slowly convincing himself that maybe he did appreciate her services even if he wasn’t the one paying for them. His men seem to have gotten lazier with the physical side of organized crime since Jungkook’s encounter with Deathstalker. 

Or perhaps with no one to properly clean up the mess left after a hit, he’s noticing just how sloppy they’ve been. Either way, people are talking and names are traveling through the air like pollution; they can’t go on like this. 

He and his men have been actively searching for the assassin and any information they could find on her. The leader didn’t disclose his true motives to his foot soldiers for fear of looking weak, but he couldn’t have the feds knocking down the doors of his companies and he was desperate. They succeeded in finding her real name, her past hits and the names of some of her employers, but nothing on where she was hiding or how to contact her. 

Jungkook curses himself for not realizing Deathstalker’s worth sooner and tries to calm his rampant mind by chugging his flute of champagne. He looks around, disinterested at the ostentatious group of people at the pompous event he was advised to attend. 

As the head of the leading construction company on the east side and since no one suspected his night job, he showed his face in these environments from time to time. This one happens to be an art auction and Jungkook was regretting it by the minute. 

He quickly snagged one more flute of champagne before taking his seat in the front row for the auction. Half-way through the auction he considers leaving, he hasn’t raised his number card once as none of the pieces appealed to him. His head began to lull back out of pure boredom before he heard an all-too familiar voice above the noise. 

“Two million dollars!” The voice was forthright and attractive, causing every head to turn in it’s direction. 

Jungkook didn’t have to look far as the owner of the voice was sitting in the front row as well, roughly twelve seats away. His eyes widened at his suspicions being proven correct. He stares at her for a few moments, taking in her full appearance since meeting her for the first time in the alley. 

She traded in the black cat suit for a peach colored cocktail dress that hung off of one shoulder and blinding white pumps. She covered up her tattoos with makeup to Jungkook’s dismay, but still showed off her many piercings and her long wavy hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail. That’s a good look, thought Jungkook who spared her one last glance before settling into his seat and devising a plan for how the rest of the night will go. 

The auction finally came to an end and the elites took to day drinking and networking once more. Jungkook blended in with the crowd, but kept a close eye on Deathstalker, waiting to find her away from her companions. He spotted her amongst strangers, nursing a glass of champagne and intently watching the middle aged crooner sing along with the orchestra.

When Marimba Rhythms start to play

Dance with me 

Make me sway

Then he pounced.

He positioned himself behind her and leaned in to speak softly into her ear. “What are you doing here?” 

She didn’t flinch or even react to his words, as if she knew he was there, and just continued to enjoy the music. She never failed to impress him.

“Well, killing all your targets actually counts for something. I’m spending my hard earned money on some fine art.” She smiled after a moment. Jungkook came to stand next to her instead. He took a swig from his drink, the two of them still not making eye contact. “You know it’s not polite to brag.” 

She finally turns to him to show off her expensive outfit. “Does this dress scream humble to you?” 

“No, but it does scream desperate.” He took her in, using it as an excuse to check her out. That cat suit didn’t do her legs justice in his opinion, but this ensemble has his approval. 

“For what?” She demanded, cocking her head to the side. 

“You tell me—” 

“You’re full of shit, Jeon.” The assassin sneered and quickly turned to walk away. Jungkook catches her by the bicep at the last second, attempting to make it look playful and desperately trying to avoid any unwanted attention.

“Wait.” He smoothly but firmly pulled her back to him, guiding her left hand to his shoulder and holding onto her right one before leading her in a slow dance towards the dance floor. He told himself he needed a more discreet position to confide his intentions in her ear again. 

Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore

Hold me close

Sway me more

“I have a proposition for you.” 

She glances up at him, sporting narrowed and curious eyes. “Oh? This should be good. Last time you saw me, you threatened to hammer my limbs in.” She swiftly stomped on his foot, with a tight-lipped, spiteful smile. 

He groaned and gathered himself with closed eyes before getting down to business. “Drop the attitude Y/L/N.” Jungkook grumbled, causing the assassin to freeze, but he made sure to keep them moving. She switches from her normal playful demeanor to a more formidable version of herself and he is almost alarmed by the switch. She leans closer to him to reach his ear and drops her voice to a grave whisper.

“How did you know my last—” 

Jungkook doesn’t back down from her close, menacing form and goes as far as to tease her with a satisfied smirk. “Hate to break it to you, but you’re not the only computer genius in this room okay?”

She only glares off into the distance, clenching her jaw. 

“What?” Jungkook revels in the feeling of having the upper hand on her. “My men may not be able to catch you in action, but they do know their way around a file cabinet.” He shares proudly, biting his lip with joy.

Realizing the leverage he had over her, Y/N made the decision to hear him out. “What the fuck do you want?” She spat before Jungkook spun her and dipped her quickly. And though she was angry, she moved with grace and he couldn’t help, but admire her beauty. 

Like a flower bending in the breeze

Bend with me, sway with ease

“You.” He smirks, already missing her playful personality and hoping to bring it back out. He smiles wider when he succeeds.

She finally cracks a smile and throws her head back, unable to stop herself from laughing. “That’s funny, I thought you wouldn’t fuck me if I were the last woman on earth.” She threw his line back at him effortlessly.

The mob boss hesitates for a split second. “Okay, your memory is impeccable, I get it, but I’m talking about your services.” 

Y/N blinks in bewilderment before forming the words she never thought she would. “You want me to work for you?” He nods evenly.

“I’ve already killed five targets for you, Jeon. What more could you want?” She sputtered, not being able to fathom the request. Jungkook only releases her hand, keeping the other wrapped around her waist and nods to the empty balcony of the ballroom before leading her through it’s floor length glass doors. 

“Trust me, I’m well aware. It was insanely fucking annoying,” He said earnestly, making the assassin giggle. His heart seemed to lurch at the sound, but he ignored the pleasant pang in his chest to continue his proposal. “Until I noticed how well you clean up after yourself. Leaving almost no trace of your involvement at the crime scene.” 

He released Y/N’s waist carefully close to the door of the balcony, peering into the room to see who might be looking at them. They seemed to have a bit of privacy as of right now.

Y/N tilted her head and raised her eyebrows sincerely. “Are you really shocked that the neanderthals you hired aren’t too keen on cleaning up after themselves?” 

 “I’m trying to compliment you.” He sighed looking up.

 “You’re doing a pretty shit job.” She mumbled. He ignores her complaints and carries on. He tucks his hands into his pants pockets and walks towards her.

“My men haven’t been as stealthy as possible as of late and there’s talk that we may have caught the attention of the authorities.” 

“Again, are you surprised?” She overannunicated sassily with her arms crossed.

He marched up to her, towering over her small frame intimidatingly. “Don’t push it, Deathstalker.” He sneered at her. Her snark was beginning to piss him off. Why was he always so hot and cold with her?

“Or what?” She said seductively, suddenly snaking her arm around his torso and pressing herself against him. She gazed up at him, with flirtatious eyes

Jungkook bit the inside of his cheek, gazing back down at the woman coolly. He considers feeding into her words and actions for a second, but figures it’s probably just one of her games so he tosses the idea. “I’m trying to make you an offer here.” He insisted. The mercenary sucks her teeth, lets go and turns to walk away. “Ugh you’re no fun...You couldn’t handle me anyway.”

The one time he tried to be professional. He pulls her back by the arm, forcefully pressing her into the stone wall next to the door of the balcony. He presses himself against her firmly while gripping her small waist with one hand and her chin with the other. 

"Fine,” He challenged. “Is this what you want? You want me to fuck you right here, up against this wall, like a little slut?" He spoke in a low voice so as not to concern the guests inside and the rumble of Jungkook’s voice in his chest made Y/N’s body start to heat up.  

His offer brings a genuine, delighted smile to her face. She tosses the idea around in her head while making heated eye contact with Jungkook. But that would never work, she thought bitterly. Her date would come looking for her soon. Not a good look when you're trying to bag a guy and rob him for his millions. So she decided to tease him instead, It was the perfect opportunity with him being all riled up like this. 

"I knew you liked me…” She let her sultry yet snide words linger, toying with the fabric of his collar. “But that would be unprofessional, Mr. Jeon...seeing as you are now my boss." she uttered softly, still keeping her seductive gaze. Jungkook briefly wonders if she could feel his dick twitch when she said his name like that before refocusing on the situation.

When we dance you have a way with me

Stay with me, sway with me

He took the sudden change of pace and her choice of words as her officially accepting his offer and released his hold on her with a grimace. She walks by him, smoothing down her dress with an unfazed expression and heads to the railing to take in the view, as if she wasn’t just assaulted by one of the most important men in the country. 

“So you’ll do it?” 

She kept her back to him, letting her heavy voice travel over her shoulder casually. “How much will you give me?” 

He joins her side, resting his hands on the railing. “Eight hundred, thousand.” 

She whips her head in his direction, an obviously offended expression on her face. “Do I look like one of your minions?” Y/N inquired. 

“It would be your first job with me, you gotta start somewhere.” He made a gesture with his hand, trying to reason with her.

“I started years ago and I’m good at my job. The best actually…I want a million.” She decided with a hand on her waist. 

Jungkook blinked repeatedly, taken aback. “You want me to give you a million dollars?”

“Yes, or no deal.” She answered quickly before he could even finish the question. The mafioso took a step back and laughed silently in disbelief. 

“You’re infuriating, you know tha—” 

“And you make me wanna vomit.” 

“You’re projecting.” 

“Oh, suck a dick Jeon!” She began marching towards the glass doors into the ballroom before Jungkook caught her by the arm and brought her back to him swiftly. 

“Fine, it’s yours.” He muttered, glaring down at her with frustrated eyes. 

The woman simply winked playfully at him and caressed his face. “I knew you’d come around.” She beamed looking satisfied and walked away only to be yanked back to Jungkook’s chest yet again. This time she grumbled in slight annoyance. He made a note to let up on the pulling. 

“If you cross me, we will kill you.” He said seriously. She only smiled as if he’d made a joke. 

“Unless I beat you to that too.” His face turned angry and he opened his mouth to speak when they heard the glass door open and a voice call toY/N. 

“Oh, Ruby, there you are. Is this guy bothering you?” An older gentleman in a suit and a gold chain spoke in a scraggly voice. Jungkook recognized him as Walter Schillings, a white collar criminal who has been giving Jungkook’s men a hard time and definitely landed himself on their hitist. 

Thankfully, the scum has never actually seen the mafia leader before so they were able to avoid a tricky situation at this crowded event. Though Jungkook had men scattered throughout the building in case anything went down, he never travelled alone. But, wait. Why was he referring to Y/N as Ruby?

The mafia leader had no time to figure it out because he had to explain why he was gripping this innocent looking woman the way he was. He lets go immediately and addresses the man. “We were just having a convers—” 

“No,” Y/N sighs and saunters over to Walter, grabbing his huge hand and having it encompass her small one. 

What the fuck is this? Jungkook thought, his heart suddenly racing. He tried to hide his emotions behind a cold demeanor. 

“Just some loser trying to get my attention.” She glanced back at Jungkook arrogantly, allowing Walter to slide an arm around her waist and kiss the side of her forehead as they re-entered the ballroom. 

Jungkook ground his teeth together at the sight and nearly sprinted to Walter to tear his arm off when he saw his hand reach down and grip Y/N’s ass. It bothered him even more that she hadn’t reacted whatsoever. 

He turned away and braced himself on the railing again, attempting to calm himself. “I hope she slits your goddamn throat, motherfucker.” He grumbled to himself, seething with anger. 

Jungkook spent the next fifteen minutes pouting on the balcony, gripping the railing in anger with a bothersome boner while the rich and famous boozed it up inside. Surprisingly no one had come out to bother him, giving him enough to time think about what he just saw. 

He didn’t know why the sight of Y/N with Walter infuriated him so, but he knew he never wanted to see it again. He wondered how she could flirt with him so heavily and then disregard him completely at the drop of a hat. He just wanted to make her eat her petty words, drive her as crazy as she seemed to be driving him. 

It didn’t help that he had been having fantasies of her for the past few weeks in that catsuit just letting him have his way with her. And here she comes, looking like sex on legs and clouding his judgement after disappearing for three weeks. Just who does she think she is? Jungkook sighed frustratedly at the pitiful turn his night had taken. 

He wished he had a distraction from his thoughts. He wished he could leave this vexatious place, but something was keeping him here and he had a feeling that, that something was a menace in a dress and liked to play mind games. 

Okay, so, the boner that won’t seem to go away may also be responsible for keeping him isolated on this balcony, but he had every intention of taking care of it. He just had to convince Y/N.

He quickly tucked his boner into his waistband and walked back into the ballroom like he never left, eyes peeled for Y/N’s small form among the guests. He sees her enter the restroom from afar and doesn’t think before pursuing her. 

On any other day Jungkook wouldn’t dream of executing what was going on in his head, but Y/N was admittedly the most breathtaking thing he’d ever seen and she caused him to think purely with his dick after their interaction today. 

He doesn’t know how he managed to skip into the women’s restroom without setting off any of the guests, but he considers it a victory when he’s in and locks the door without thinking about it. He turned to find Y/N touching up her make-up at the large mirror above the sinks. 

They make eye contact through the mirror, but they have yet to exchange words. Y/N narrows her eyes questioningly while Jungkook considers the silence and stillness in the room. So far so good. 

Jungkook’s shoes clicked on the tile floor as he took a few steps away from the door. “Where did your date go?” He questioned casually.

Y/N finally pauses touching up her face. “He also went to the bathroom, what are you doing in here?” She answers speedily, watching him intently through the mirror. “We made our deal.” 

“I came to see you…” The woman hums in understanding and starts on her lipstick again, seemingly uninterested. “You getting all dolled up for him?” Jungkook finishes.

“Essentially yes.” There is a pause before Jungkook just comes out with it. 

“So you gonna sleep with him tonight?” 

Deathstalker scoffed. “Of course not. I’m an assassin not a hooker.” 

Jungkook muffles a laugh at the inside joke amongst him and his men when his new ally finally starts to show some interest. “Why do you care anyway?” 

He walks up to her boldly, gripping her waist and pressing against her from behind causing her to put the make-up down and zero in on his face. She continued to watch his eyes when he leaned down to whisper in her ear.

“I just wonder what he would say if I messed up this pretty little face.” He brings his hand up to gently grip her chin, unlike how he did earlier. She smiles slightly, making no attempt to free herself from his grasp. If anything she leans more into his touch.

“Mr. Jeon.” She drawled. “Are you still threatening me?” She bats her eyelashes coyly, knowing exactly what was going on. Jungkook has no idea why that innocent look and the words ‘Mr. Jeon’ falling from her mouth made him hard, but he continually needed more of it. He shuddered lightly at the name and her sweet, sweet voice, barely managing to keep his cool.

“Not in the painful way...unless you like that.” He rasped, brushing her lip with his thumb tenderly. She held back a moan and Jungkook took that as an invitation to take it a step further. 

“Do you want me?” He breathed deeply in her ear, sending chills down her spine.

She licked her lips and smiled her signature seductive smile. Jungkook was no match for both her smile and her beautiful doe-eyes. “Oh, Mr. Jeon, you know my pride won’t let me answer that.” 

“Cut the games Y/L/N. I’ve had enough of your shit today. Do you want me?” He repeats. He fully pressed his body into hers allowing her to feel the need that he had been accumulating out on the balcony, his breathing getting heavier. She returned the gesture, pushing back against him discreetly. 

“I thought we agreed that you would just be my boss.” She said with wide, naive eyes, though Jungkook knew better. 

“Well, then, as your boss I hope you would do as I ask and let me fuck you on this sink.” He let his fingers travel from her chin to her throat and let them wrap around her neck ever so gently, giving her just a taste of what was to come. He felt her swallow thickly and watched the innocent look in her eyes turn to primal lust. “So? You wanna see if I can handle you or not?” He whispered, touching his lips to her ear.

She shivered at the touch and quickly turned around to face him. Jungkook leaned in and they were nose to nose. She wrapped her arms around his neck, but their lips barely brushed when she backed away suddenly. He looked into her stern eyes confusedly. “This means nothing.” She said, making sure they were both on the same page. “I’m aware.” he responded before they both pounced at each other, teeth clacking and tongues swirling.

Y/N moaned in delight when Jungkook gripped the back of her thighs and sat her on the granite sink counter with a quickness. He forced her skirt up to her hips roughly so he could properly grind his crotch against her and she seemed to enjoy the rough handling. He made a note of that. 

His hands were everywhere on her, massaging her breasts, squeezing her hips and ass, eager to finally be living his most recent fantasies. Y/N revelled in the attention with a smile on her face, hands playing freely in his silky hair whilst he kissed along her neck. 

He quickly reached down between Y/N’s legs to find that she wasn’t wearing any underwear. He leans back and their heated gazes meet. “You dirty little slut.” He noted, gruffly. “You like it.” She confidently reassured him. “You’re damn right, I like it.” He mumbled as he attached his lips firmly to hers and applied pressure, rubbing her swollen clit with his fingers. “...Mmm, God, you’re so wet.”

The assassin’s body jerked several times and she moaned into his mouth, grinding further into his touch. She separated from him when she couldn’t take anymore and stared deeply into his eyes. “Please,” she pauses to catch her breath. “Please fuck me, Mr. Jeon.” 

Jungkook unzipped his pants before she could even finish her sentence, preparing a condom that he is thanking God he brought with him today. “I like when you say my name like that.” He whispered against her ear.

“I know, your dick told me. Now, hurry before someone breaks the door down.” Jungkook then slides into her easily. Y/N sighs in ecstasy while Jungkook is stunned into silence at the way she gripped his dick. He starts to move almost immediately, holding her in place as he snaps his hips into her, their lips sloppily tangled all the while. The sound of their moans began to bounce off of the tile walls of the bathroom, both of them throwing any cares they had for being discreet out the window.

Jungkook grunted with excitement and pleasure at the sight in front of him. He was watching her moaning form closely, memorizing every detail of her incase he never got this chance again.

“Fuck yes. Your dick feels so fucking good inside me.” She panted, focused on his wide, intense eyes. “Just keep fucking me like that, Mr. Jeon.” He released a satisfied growl at the name.  

Even though he had only met her weeks ago, Jungkook never would have guessed that Y/N would be the type to beg for anything. But here she was under him, at his mercy just like in his dreams, begging for him. It occurred to him that the Deathstalker he met would never admit to or do any of this, but Y/N seemed to be living for it. The idea excited him so much that he didn’t know up from down and didn’t bother to control any nonsense that spewed from his mouth in response to her. 

“You look like a dirty little slut under me right now. Letting me fuck you in the bathroom while your date’s probably outside waiting or you.” He whispered harshly in her ear, never letting up as he continues to thrust in and out of her swiftly. 

Y/N threw her head back and moaned, feeling nothing but turned on by his comments. “Oh, fuck yes..” She murmured, letting herself be carried away with pleasure. 

“Not wearing any panties for him, letting him touch all over you, ugh...but I’m the one who gets to have this sweet pussy by the end of the night.” He breathed heavily, not taking his eyes off of Y/N’s face that was contorted in pure bliss. “Flirting with both of us all night long, making us want you. You’re such a bad girl.”

“I am, I’m a bad girl.” She whimpered hurriedly. “I need to be punished, Mr. Jeon.” She finished, her words not completely registering in her drunken state, but they resonated with Jungkook all too well. He forced himself to slow his thrusts considerably and focus on his breathing much to Y/N’s dismay.

She leans back into him and rests her forehead on his, running her fingers through his hair and grinding on him desperately. “No, no, no, no, no, no. Why did you stop?” Her low, lusty voice implored. 

Jungkook chuckles lightly. “You’re gonna make me cum sweetheart.” She pulled his hips into her helping him find a new rhythm. “Then by all means, do, Mr. Jeon. I want you to cum inside me.” She purred before kissing him softly. 

That set something off in him causing him to pound into her once more. Y/N was thrown back by the force, unable to hold her upper body up any longer. She rested her elbows on the counter and tilted her head all the way back while Jungkook thrusted away into her. 

He saw her face in the mirror and appreciated that he got the watch the pleasure they were experiencing together until he noticed her eyes were closed. 

He realised he didn’t wanna cum this way. He pulled out of her, ignoring her cries of disapproval, turned her around and roughly bent her over the counter. 

“Oh, baby, you gotta see this.” He rasped before sliding into her again and instantly started fucking into her wildly. Y/N yelped before biting her knuckle in order to keep quiet. “Oh my god, yes, fuck me!”

Jungkook grabbed her ponytail and dragged her up off the counter and into his chest so that he could whisper in her ear. She winced, but let him wrap her hair around his fist and pull harder, the back of her head totally resting on his shoulder. 

She could see him behind her, relentlessly hammering into her greedy body in all his glory. Maybe she misjudged him. The sight turned her on even more, sending another rush of wetness between her thighs. 

“You’d better keep it down princess. Wouldn’t want your date to think his girl was in here getting railed like a slut. Oh, wait.” Y/N wanted to laugh, but Jungkook released her hip to wrap his large hand around the base of her neck and firmly squeezed. 

Her eyes immediately rolled back at the gesture, but she made sure to refocus on the mirror as Jungkook was watching closely. The pressure was building in her core more and more. She was gonna fall over the edge any second now, she was so close.

“Oh m-ffffuck, yes! You’re gonna make me cum, Mr. Jeon.” She whined through clenched teeth, looking into his piercing eyes through the mirror. 

“Then fucking cum for me.” His deep voice grated in her ear. 

“Harder! Choke me harder!” Y/N pleaded as her orgasm crashed right into her. He squeezed tighter at just the right time and with just the right pressure that had Y/N seeing stars and prolonging her high. Jungkook held off his own orgasm, trying not to think about her velvety walls pulsating around him, so that he could watch Y/N fully enjoy hers. And boy was it something to watch. 

Her jaw dropped and stilled as her eyes rolled into her head, but it was the most beautiful thing Jungkook had ever seen. Her body was frozen in a perfect arch as he thrusted away into her and her hand firmly cradled his head so that their cheeks were pressed together. He would hold out for as long as he could as she rode her high completely if only to watch her like this for a little longer.

Eventually she tapped Jungkook's hand causing him to let go of her neck and she collapsed onto the counter breathlessly. “Holy fuck.” She gasped as she braced herself on the granite surface. 

She coughed a bit and caught her breath and then looked up at Jungkook with fucked out, voracious eyes. He never took his eyes off of her and never stopped pumping his dick into her delicious cunt. 

“You gonna cum for your little cock slut, Mr. Jeon?” Y/N croaked, throat sore from being choked. But every word sounded like music to Jungkook’s ears. That look on her face made him wanna blow his load on the spot. “Yeah, baby.” Is all he can offer as his hips break their rhythm without his permission.

“Please, cum inside me.” She moaned out as Jungkook emptied himself into the condom, hips sputtering near the end until they stopped with his dick still deep inside of her. He was in his own head, lost in a post-coital stupor, thinking about how that may have been the best orgasm he’s ever had when Y/N spoke up.

“You can get out of me now.” She said flatly, thrusting Jungkook back into the real world. He murmured an apology and withdrew himself from her, watching her walk casually into one of the stalls without a word or a look in his direction. 

He just stood there with his cock out wondering what the hell just happened. He thought they made a connection. He agreed that it wouldn’t mean anything, but was she really that cold hearted to just ignore him after a passionate experience like that? Well, she is a mercenary, his conscience defended, they’re not meant to be caring. 

As he heard the stall start to open up he quickly turned around, discarded the condom and tucked himself back into his pants. He then watched as she came back out looking more put together than before. 

She washed her hands and began to touch up her appearance again. This time she actually needed it. The foundation on her neck was rubbed off by his fingers, revealing the tattoos that Jungkook missed,  her lipstick was smeared and her high ponytail drooped due to the pulling. Awkward silence took over the spacious restroom. Is she really not going to say anything?

He decided to just come out with it. “What was that?” 

“What are you talking about?” She requested, haphazardly while fixing her hair in the mirror.

“Well, you were just all over me and now you’re acting like I don’t exist.” He said plainly.

“It’s called sex, you don’t fuck like a virgin so I assume you know what I’m talking about. Besides, I’m not acting like anything.” Jungkook had a hard time believing that. He knew what deflecting looked like, had seen it in many interrogations. 

“Then why won't you look at me?” He challenged.

Her eyes widened in annoyance as she reached around to place another bobby pin in her hair. “I’m kinda busy here, Jeon.” 

He couldn’t help, but feel bothered that she dropped the sassy formality of calling him Mr., an indication that she was enjoying his company. “Look, will you just talk to me for a sec—”

She suddenly stops what she’s doing. Her breathing is long and deep before she calms down and begins speaking smoothly with her eyes closed. “Look, Jeon. We don’t know each other and I don't know what you think you know about me or what you made up in your head, but you might as well forget all of that ‘cause it’s not real.” She sighed, continuing to recover her foundation.

“That wasn’t real?” He finally commanded. He hated to admit it, but he was slightly bothered when she didn’t even offer him a glance. “That?” She responded, only interested in her reflection.

“That,” He clarified, gesturing to the counter sternly. “What we just did, what we...said.” He gulped nervously. This wasn’t like him, he didn’t get nervous or have passionate sex with strangers and let it effect him. This is only his second time meeting this woman and he let her get in his head. He’s been asking himself the same question since meeting her in the alley: what makes her so different?

She put down her foundation and just stared at it blankly. “And what part of what we said are you confused about, pray tell.”

“Um, ‘I need to be punished, Mr. Jeon.’” He quoted promptly. 

Honestly the only thing he was confused about was why she was suddenly being so cold to him. All of the words they shared were noteworthy and he wanted her to acknowledge that. The whole experience still shocked Jungkook and he never dreamed it would actually happen. He just brought up a snippet that he thought might get her attention and maybe evoke some emotion finally. He chose wisely.

Her head whipped in his direction. “And you liked it, didn’t you?” She sneered. “Or perhaps we could talk about how you like to call women, sluts, hm?” 

“I thought you liked it,” He tried to get in, but she wasn’t having it.

Jungkook thought her angry face looked nothing like it did five minutes ago or even out on the balcony. She suddenly let out a bitter laugh and Jungkook realized that this woman probably wears many faces. Perhaps to defend herself. Perhaps to survive. Maybe he misjudged her. 

“You know, I didn’t take you for a person who throws things that people say during sex back in their face.” She accused, sporting a dark smile.

“Well, I’m sorry, but I didn’t take you for a...a—”

“A submissive?” She shot, putting an end to his stuttering. He deflated, all signs of anger or disapproval gone from his stance. “Yes.” He copped out, not knowing what else to say. “I just wasn’t expecting that.” 

Y/N visibly calmed down as well, turning back to the mirror and continuing her work. “Are you surprised?” She muttered, raising her eyebrows. 

Jungkook thought for a second before responding, evenly: “No.” Thinking about how much Y/N might have gone through to be so successful as a trained killer, she must have had to be the strongest and smartest person in the room on any given day. There had to be a time where she wanted to take a break, not be the person in charge for once. Jungkook could relate. 

His response made her pause, but she only cleared her throat and continued applying foundation in silence. I can’t leave things like this, Jungkook decided. He just got an actual glimpse into her personality and not the same act she puts on for the rest of the world. He found out that they might even have some things in common. He didn’t want her to shut him out now. It may have been a moment of weakness for both of them, but he wanted to continue this.

“I could, you know, help...punish you, i-if you want.” He spluttered with his hands in his pockets, trying to make himself look as confident as possible since his voice had already betrayed him. 

Y/N stills and turns to him with a confounded expression, but didn’t say anything.

“I mean, unless you already have a…” Jungkook left out the last word for her to hopefully pick up on, suddenly shy about the world of BDSM. 

“No, I don’t.” She rushed out, looking down at the counter and creating an awkward silence between them. “I’ll think about it.” She added genuinely. She looked at him over her shoulder and offered a gentle nod, her expression completely blank. 

Jungkook nods back in acknowledgement. “Okay, then.”

“Now get out of here, I’m sure there are ladies that need this restroom.” She pulled on her signature playful smirk, nearly giving Jungkook whiplash. Many faces indeed.

“Yeah, okay.” He gathered himself and walked towards the door, but turned back when he realized something. “Wait, how do I contact you for the job?”

“I’ll call you, now go.” She said packing up her stuff. 

Jungkook nodded, unlocked the door and quickly darted out of the bathroom. As he sped by he saw Walter down the hall posted in front of the men’s room patiently waiting for his date. Thankfully his head was turned when Jungkook made his way out of there and to the exit. He smirked wickedly, knowing he got away with his ridiculous plan. “Dumbass.”

Two weeks had gone by since the bathroom incident and Jungkook worked tirelessly to distract himself from thoughts of the beautiful assassin to no avail. He realized there was no escaping her. He thought their rendezvous at the auction would help get her out of his system, but it only fueled his addiction for her and now he was trapped in a vicious cycle that he didn’t know if he wanted out of. 

They kept in contact and Deathstalker killed the enemies on Jungkook’s hit list, but this time she was being paid by the mafioso himself unbeknownst to his men. They found themselves in situations much like the first time they ran into Deathstalker more often than not. Only now she had to be more creative as Jungkook’s foot soldiers still thought she was a possible threat.

As Jungkook sat across from Collin Boardly, a corrupt CEO/gang leader, he wondered if this would be one of those situations. Boardly is a fellow criminal that Jungkook was on good terms with until he heard that Boardly’s men have been attacking and blackmailing store owners in his territory. Jungkook insisted that he pay those victims back and restore all damages. He even invited Mr. Boardly to a very private game of poker so that they could properly discuss matters. 

They sat in the dimly lit restaurant owned by one of Jungkook’s close friends with their respective security surrounding them. Boardly felt obligated to bring his men as he offended Jungkook and now he was on his turf. Jungkook’s men insisted on backing him up, but he had a strong feeling that none of that would be necessary. 

They had already made small talk while getting the game started and Jungkook got straight to business. 

“So, I hear you’ve been terrorizing my streets. What’s the story there?” Jungkook inquired calmly. Boardly huffed a nervous laugh at the mention of what his men did. “Personally I think terrorizing might be too strong a word.”

Jungkook’s brows raised and his expression turned serious. “Well, what would you call threatening multiple lives at gunpoint, roughin’ ‘em up and demanding cuts of their earnings then? Business?” He denounced. 

“As usual.” Boardly finished the adage with a large smile. Jungkook only looked at him with the same no nonsense expression and Boardly seemed to regret making the remark.

“Just a joke, Jungkook.” He muttered. “I am sorry that I allowed my guys to do that.” He doubled down. “We simply didn’t know how far your territory reached. We meant no disrespect.”

“I appreciate that.” Jungkook replied, anger stirring inside him as he fought not to rip this man’s head from his shoulders.They continued to play in near silence until Jungkook finally pressed him for answers. 

“So how do you intend to fix what your guys broke?”

Boardly looked up with a lost expression on his face. “Excuse me?” He grumbled.

“There was damage done to these stores, yes?” Jungkook assessed slowly. “And you’ve already collected cuts from some of the owners…” He can see Boardly’s eyes widen slightly in recognition. 

“Oh, you didn’t know I knew that.” The mob boss gathered. “Anyway, I assume you’re ready to pay for that. I was thinking fifty, thousand dollars would cover it.” He suggested calmly. 

Boardly tried to give an excuse, stuttering. “I’m-I don't think you understand—”

“I understood you can afford it, judging by those chips.” Jungkook chided, gesturing to the large bet Boardly made in the center of the poker table. Boardly sighed at a loss. 

“Kook, listen.” The CEO leaned forward, trying to reason with his opponent. “We’re friends. It was an accident, can’t we just forget this happened?”

“No.” Jungkook responded instantly, his arms crossed. “We were...associates, but now you’re just someone who fucked with my community. So are you gonna pay it back or not?” He seethed furiously.

Boardly swallowed and stared at Jungkook for a few moments, wondering how else to bargain with him. He had too much pride to go through with this deal, especially in front of his inferiors.

“No.” He finally answered.

Jungkook sighed disappointedly. The air in the room turned ominous and it was felt by all. Normally, Jungkook would be killing Boardly by now and he could feel all of his men tense behind him, ready to kill if need be, but he was doing things differently today. He just nodded understandingly, before gesturing with his left hand to get Taehyung’s attention.

“Taehyung. Will you get me a glass of water from the kitchen please?” He asked politely without looking at him. He hears his right hand man head to the kitchen and he turns back to the piece of shit in front of him.

“Why, Collin? Is there something wrong with doing right by those you fucked over?” Jungkook questioned, heatedly.

“No, Kook—”

“Don’t call me that.”

Boardly scoffed and continued. “I just don’t think we did anything wrong. We overstepped, we apologized, I think that should be enough.”

“Well, I don’t. So where does that leave us?”

“I’m not paying for shit.” The CEO shrugged. That really pissed Jungkook off. 

“Go to hell, Boardly.” He growled. I’m really gonna enjoy watching you bite it, Jungkook thought sinisterly. 

Taehyung placed the glass of water in front of his boss and made the decision to continue to stand at his side, ready if anything were to happen. 

“Fine.” Boardly responded bitterly. “So are we done here? Or are you gonna give me a hard time?” He asked, nodding at Taehyung for emphasis. Jungkook shook his head nonchalantly. “No, no. We’re done.” with a haunting smirk on his face. The look put Boardly slightly on edge, but he ignored it and stood up to corral his men. 

Jungkook watched him make his way to the door wondering what the fuck was taking so long? He already gave the signal. He started to reach for his own gun to do it himself when he noticed Boardly stop in his tracks and could hear him choking. 

Even Jungkook and his men wore looks of concern. The mafia leader got up to get a better view from where he stood and the others craned their necks behind him still ready to shoot first and ask questions later. 

Boardly’s men tried to help him as he clutched his throat, but it was no use as he convulsed and fell to the floor before ceasing to move altogether. They looked at each other for answers before turning to Jungkook. 

One of the guys who was wearing a blue suit, which Jungkook assumed to be Boardly’s right hand, pulled out a gun and walked towards him. Taehyung and Jungkook pulled theirs as well, causing everyone with a gun to point them at either side. 

“You do this?!” Boardly’s guy raged. “How?” Jungkook argued. “How would I do that to him? He probably had a heart attack or forgot to breathe or some shit.” He surmised, trying to place the blame elsewhere. 

“Bullshit! What did you do?” He demanded.

“Look, I’m sorry for your loss or whatever, but we had nothing to do with this. Now you all gotta do something with him.” He pointed his gun at the dead body briefly. Blue suit breathes heavily with a stumped expression, not wanting to let it go. No one in the room showing any signs of letting up either.

“How about we all put the guns down and you guys can take him home-or wherever. Yeah? Does that work?” Jungkook prompted gently. After a beat, blue suit nodded, looked back at the rest of Boardly’s men and nodded. Jungkook did the same and slowly, but surely the guns came down and were put away. 

Jungkook and his men watched as they dragged the body out of the restaurant and sped away from the large storefront windows. They’re finally able to breathe without stress. “What the fuck was that?” Namjoon blurted causing the rest of them to chuckle. 

“I don’t know, but I’m getting the fuck outta here before they come back. See you guys back at base.” They laughed and said their goodbyes. Jungkook walked in the light rain to the next block over and found his town car ready and waiting for him. 

He opened the passenger door, addressed his driver, then retrieved a large black duffle bag before opening the backdoor. There he found Deathstalker sitting cross legged in a black trench coat at the other window seat. He smiled fondly at her. She looked beautiful as always gazing out the window at the rain before she noticed him there. When she turned to face him he replaced the fond smile with a composed smirk. 

“Took you long enough.” She opined quietly once he sat down and closed the door. “We got held up, literally. I think this belongs to you.” He passed the duffle bag off to her. She received her present graciously, beaming down at the contents happily once she opened it. 

“Thank you Mr. Jeon.” Y/N crooned playfully, sporting that signature smirk that never failed to affect Jungkook. “No, thank you.” He responded after clearing his throat. “So you poisoned him?” 

She simply replied, “Yup.” while inspecting the cash that filled the duffle bag in her lap. 

“But he randomly started choking and shaking. And you say you controlled it with the push of a button?” He wondered with furrowed brows and pouted lips. 

“Well, poison, a small nanobot that I planted in his food to attack his lungs and cause internal bleeding, it’s all the same, you know.” She spoke aimlessly, moving on from the money to buff and inspect her manicure.  

“Wow.” Jungkook whispered, genuinely infatuated with the thought of that kind of technology and how he could get his hands on it. While he was lost in thought he didn’t notice Y/N scooching closer to him until they were side by side. He turned to find their noses were nearly touching and his heart rate sped up rapidly.  

“Now that, that’s over…” she drawled, grasping Jungkook’s hand. He watched unquestionably as she brought his hand to her mouth and inserted his middle and ring fingers all while looking into his eyes alluringly. At the same time, she easily brought her leg up to drape over both of Jungkook’s. He still sat frozen in place by her gaze while she lifted the bottom of her coat and placed his hand against her bare heat.

They both shuddered slightly when Jungkook instinctively began to rub circles into her already wet core, never taking their eyes off each other. 

“You wanna go somewhere?” She coaxed breathily. It almost infuriated Jungkook how she didn’t even have to try to get him to agree to anything. He was indeed trapped. 

“James,” He called up to the driver. “The Plaza Hotel please.” 

Currently, Jungkook was going through paperwork in his office, taking advantage of the slow week he’s had to take care of some business for his company. It’s been a while since he’s gotten to do this so he was pretty backed up and seemingly had a whole afternoon of this to look forward to. He sighed at the thought, but continued to read through the documents and sign them here and there when suddenly he felt something was...off. He put his pen down and looked around the room.

The room was silent as usual, but all of a sudden it was too silent? Jungkook didn’t know how and he couldn’t really make sense of it until he looked up at the ceiling vent. It was no longer producing the usual soft hum. There was nothing. He silently walked under the vent to inspect it when he saw a glint in between the slats. Immediately, he moved from under it and drew his gun, aiming it at the vent. 

“I see you motherfucker! Come out right now or I’ll put ten holes in you!” He shouted. The intruder heeded the warning and right away the vent was forced to the floor. Jungkook watched intently as two feminine hands holding a gun slowly dropped down and though it was upside down, it was perfectly aimed at him. 

He still had his gun trained on the vent as the trespasser entered through the hole in the ceiling to reveal the familiar face of Deathstalker herself. Only her upper body could be seen as her strong legs held her in place from inside the vent.

She smiled easily at Jungkook as if they weren’t in a stand-off right now. “Hello, Mr. Jeon.” Her tone was calm, but somewhat guarded, telling him what her face never would. Jungkook was stuck between being relieved to see that it was only Deathstalker and being concerned that she was pointing a gun at him. 

“Hello, Deathstalker. You wanna tell me why you broke into my office and have a gun in my face?” He queried with a tilt of his head. Y/N only reached up to grip the hole in the ceiling, somehow removing herself from the vent with one hand, her gun and her gaze still trained on Jungkook as she landed on her feet in front of him. More contradicting thoughts swirled in his mind at the sight.  

“You finally caught me. I’m proud.” She smirked, removing the hood of her catsuit from her head.

He fights the urge to roll his eyes. “Yeah, maybe you can congratulate me later. Why are you here? You finally turn on me? Did someone send you, huh?” 

“Don’t be so dramatic. You have something I need.” She explained with a determined look. Jungkook’s brows furrowed. “Is that so? And what might that be?” 

“You know what it is.” Y/N quipped, tilting her gun along with the inflection in her voice. He shakes his head assuredly. “No, No, I have no idea what you’re talking about, but if you wanna put the gun down I’d love to discuss it.” He entreated informally. 

“No.” She spoke firmly. A beat of silence passes before Jungkook has had enough. “Put the fucking gun down, Y/L/N.” He demanded gruffly. 

“You put the fucking gun down.” She spat right back at him. 

“I’m not doing this, just tell me what it is—” He reasoned.

“You know what it is—” Before she can fully respond, Jungkook rushed her, forcing her gun away from him and ripping it out of her hand. He quickly backed up and flung the gun across the room before pointing his back at her. They each caught their breath and Y/N bit her lip frustratedly. 

Jungkook gave a triumphant smile. “There, that’s better. You ready to talk now—”

Y/N’s leg swiftly came up to kick the gun right out of Jungkook's hand before he even realized what happened. He looked at the gun sliding away from them on the floor, then back at Deathstalker, who smirked and raised an arrogant brow.

“Okay.” Jungkook uttered right as Y/N charged at him. He panicked slightly at the thought of fighting her, but the instinct to fight back kicked in when she launched herself and wrapped her body around him like an anaconda. 

They struggled while Deathstalker tried to take Jungkook to the floor. Luckily for him, he wasn’t only a skilled shooter, but a trained and very skilled fighter as well. It wasn’t long before he freed himself from her vice grip and they were in a standoff once again, this time with their fist raised and ready to defend. 

“What the hell has gotten into you Y/L/N? I wish you would tell me what this is about.” Jungkook grumbled as they circled each other, waiting for the other to make a move.

Y/N chuckled mischievously. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” 

“Yes, actually!” He exploded. She took his emotional outburst as an opportunity and pounced once again. Jungkook was quicker to react this time and they were practically sparring in the middle of his office and only lord knows why. Jungkook found himself getting irritated because he was barely one step behind Deathstalker in her strikes and attacks. 

As they got more invested, Jungkook noticed that she didn’t intend on hurting him, but she did intend to win. Somewhere in the scuffle, he fell behind and let her right hook distract him from the leg that swept his feet from under him. She was on top of him in an instant, with a habitual flat hand at his jugular ready to stop him from breathing. They stare at each other, both of them breathing heavily. 

“Got you.” Y/N suddenly whispered smugly. “Now, are you gonna give me what I want?” She prompted provocatively, sliding her hand into the collar of his shirt slowly. The feel of her hot skin on his almost burned with their charged up bodies and wild emotions. He blinked in realization at her increasingly turned on form above him. 

“You. Crazy. Fucking. Bitch.” Jungkook fumed quietly, looking up at her in disapproval. She just giggled freely and though usually the sound would bring a smile to Jungkook’s face, it only pissed him off. 

He pushed her off of him and shoved her against the wall roughly, holding her there by the neck. “You’ve got some fucking nerve, breaking in here and waving a gun in my face.” He hissed in anger, their noses touching. “You know, if you wanted dick you could have just said so.” 

“Where’s the fun in that Mr. Jeon?” She crooned, leaning forward to kiss him and he denied her, coolly tilting his head back. He continued to hold her by the throat to the wall firmly, causing her to choke briefly, but if she was uncomfortable she didn’t let it show.

“No.” He shook his head, Y/N could see his gears turning as he did so. “No?” She echoed, curiously. 

“To answer your question. I’m not giving you what you want.” A devious smirk slowly appeared on his face that made Y/N’s body temperature rise. “No, you’re gonna do what I want now and you’re gonna like it.” He breathed, pressing himself against her and brushing her lips with his teasingly. She inhales audibly, trying not to look affected by his sudden behavior. 

“But, Mr. Jeon, I want what you want.” She encouraged him sweetly, reaching for him. He put a stop to that quickly by pinning her wrists above her with one hand and resuming his hold on her neck with the other. She grunted and squirmed before giving up, looking up a childish defeated expression, but Jungkook knew she loved it. 

He looked into her eyes with a strong dominance that had Y’N swallowing thickly in anticipation. “Are you talking back to me, Y/L/N?” His eyebrows furrowed intimidatingly. 

She bit her lip to suppress her giddy smile. She needed to play along and not mock Jungkook’s very real emotions. The dynamic has officially shifted and now Y/N’s main objective was to please him. “No, Mr. Jeon.” She assured in a register slightly higher than her natural voice. 

“Really, because you seem to have a lot to say for someone who’s at my mercy. I wonder if you’d still be as talkative with my dick in your mouth.” He growled hotly in her ear sending shivers down her spine.

She shuddered a hopeful response. “Can we find out, Mr. Jeon...please?” She implored when she felt him pull away. 

He looked her over, taking in her needy form. “Look at you, already begging for it.” He shook his head in amazement. “I should keep you here and see how long you can hold your breath for me before your face starts to change color.” He whispered while closing his hand tighter around her neck. Y/N hummed delightfully at the feeling, her eyes fluttering shut. 

“But you’d probably like that wouldn’t you?” He leaned back in, getting her attention. She opened her eyes and gave a pleasant smile. “You know that I do.” She choked out. He smiled back at her admirably before releasing most of the pressure on her throat. 

“No, I got something else planned for y—” He stopped abruptly, looking towards the door because he thought he heard the click of familiar shoes in the hall. His theory was proven correct when he heard them getting closer. He quickly looked to Y/N with wide eyes. 

“Get under the desk.” He ordered softly before they both scurry to the huge desk near the window. She easily fit herself under it on her knees facing out and Jungkook took the seat right in front of her. As soon as they were situated, there was a knock on his office door.

“Come in.” He called pretending to look over his files. Taehyung poked his head in with a concerned expression before he fully entered the room. “Hey boss. Everything okay here?” He questioned.

“Yes, fine. Why?”

“Nothing, we just thought we heard some...I don’t know, movement?” As Taehyung spoke, Jungkook could feel hands raking up his thighs and his eyes widened quickly. He tried to compose his expression, but he then felt the unbuttoning of his pants. 

No, no, no, no, he thought in a panic. He tries not to focus on just how Y/N got his zipper down as silently as she did and focuses on Taehyung’s lips as he talked. 

“Oh, no, yeah. That was just me. I was practicing...sh-shadow boxing.” He lied choppily as Y/N released his already hard dick from his pants. 

“In a suit?” Taehyung replied, confusedly. 

Jungkook jolted slightly and fought back a moan when the assassin took him in her warm, wet mouth. “Waauuuhh, yes. Yes, I was.” He cleared his throat to cover up more moans when she began to skillfully bob her head up and down on his length. 

“Oh, well okay.” Taehyung settled. “So if that’s all—” Jungkook attempted to see him off with no success. 

“Anyway, we got a lead on that Deathwalker chick.” He offered in a more chipper tone. Y/N paused her movements, intrigued by the information. What had they found out? Jungkook shamelessly rested his hand on the back of her head and pulled, encouraging her to keep going much to both of their disbelief. She obeys and continues the task eagerly, but careful not to have too much fun or she’ll risk getting caught. “Is that so?” the mob boss replied. 

“Yeah, it’s not much, but we assumed you wanted us to brief you on it as soon as possible.” His soldier nodded respectfully. 

“Ugh,” Jungkook moaned, half-way masking it as a noise of gratitude. “Thank you, Tae. I appreciate it. We’ll be sure to discuss thisssssss later.” He faltered. “Yes, sir.” Taehyung nodded again, making a face at Jungkook. 

“Hey, you okay boss?” He looked closer at his superior with genuine concern. “Never better Tae.” Jungkook forced out quickly. “Are you sure? Y—”

“Taehyung?” The gang leader addressed him firmly. “Yes?” 

“Get the fuck out of my office.” 

“Yes, sir.” Taehyung nodded, knowing when he was unwanted and without another word he was exiting the office. 

Jungkook pushed away from the desk immediately and grabbed a handful of Y/N’s hair as he stood both of them up. She only smiled at the manhandling and wiped the excess spit from her mouth. 

“You really want me to hurt you, don’t you?” He snarled at her. She fought back the strong urge to moan a yes and instead just stayed silent with a feigned guilty look on her face. “Take that off. Now. ” He commanded, gesturing to her catsuit. She shimmied it off of her arms and down her legs to reveal her naked body, leaving her heels on, all while Jungkook kept a tight grip on her hair. 

“How many do you think I should give you?” He asked, suddenly calmer than before. “How ever many you think is right sir.” She spoke in a small voice, but her innocent act didn’t fool him. He stared at her bare, unapologetically, beautiful body in wonderment before forcing her body to bend over his desk. 

He caressed her thighs and backside tenderly and then when she least expected it he delivered a delicious slap to it. Y/N yelped and then sighed with contentment. The wait was over, now the real fun could begin. 

“I told you.” Slap. “We weren't.” Slap. “Gonna do.” Slap. “What you wanted.” Slap. “To do.” Slap. “But you just don’t listen.” He accentuated his words with powerful smacks delivered to both of her cheeks and then rubbed at the tender flesh to soothe the sting. 

He ran his finger up her spine gently, making her shiver visibly. He smirked at his effect on her, bending his body over hers to whisper in her ear. “Tell me. Are you sorry?” He breathed heavily. 

“No, sir.” Y/N panted after a few moments. “I knew it…” He stands up straight, regarding her vulnerable yet durable body. 

“You disappoint me, Y/L/N.” He slaps her ass and massages again. Y/N hissed before replying. “I’ll do better sir.” she declared sincerely.

“You promise?” Jungkook lifts his hand and watches as Y/N braces for the impact, watched as her body tensed and her pussy clenched greedily around nothing in awe. He savored the moment, spanking her again.

She hummed graciously at the delicious pain she was receiving from him. “Yes, sir. I promise.”  

“But you’re not sorry.” He clarified. “No sir.” 

“Why?” His brows furrowed in curiosity, gearing up to spank her again. “Because I love sucking your cock sir.” Y/N whined. He stopped his movements, taken aback and released a soft laugh. “Is that so?” 

“Yes sir.” Slap. “Tell me more Y/L/N.” he requested as he moved his left hand to her cunt and kept the right one on her ass. 

She closed her eyes and smiled, envisioning herself doing the activity, even licking her lips at the luscious memory of it. “I love how heavy it feels on my tongue. How you force me down on it and it hits the back of my throat.” She mused longingly. Y/N stops speaking and her body tenses as he inserts his thumb into her. 

“Keep going Y/L/N.” Jungkook’s tone made it clear that he would stop if she didn’t keep talking so she continued. 

“I love how thick it is, oh fuck.” She moans, digging her nails into the wood of the desk as he rubs two fingers against her clit and picks up the pace. “What else Y/L/N?” He breathed.  

She gulped in a breath, the sudden pressure taking her breath away. “How you make me gag on it when I’ve been bad and— mmmm, how you coat the inside of my mouth with all your cum when you’re done with me...How you check to make sure I swallowed all of it.” She giggled that last bit breathlessly, grinding back on his hand. 

“You’re such a dirty girl Y/L/N.” He moves in and out of her quickly while rubbing her clit perfectly in sync, pulling lewd moans from her until he suddenly removes them, delivering another hard smack to her backside. “Ah, fuck.” She squealed.

“But you’re right, you need to do better. Now count with me.” He ordered sternly. 

To which she immediately responded, “Yes sir.” 

Y/N counts every hit Jungkook delivers to her extremely tender ass dutifully with her fingernails creating crescents in the mahogany wood below her. By the time they reach twenty, his hand is as red as a tomato and Y/N is quite literally dripping onto the floor in front of him. He watched as her slick dripped out of her cunt from in between her spread legs and onto the floor, creating a tiny puddle of her pleasure. 

Jungkook is incredibly turned on by the sight and doesn’t think twice before taking his hard cock and shoving right into the assassin without warning. He didn’t wait for her to adjust, not that she needed to as you could literally mop the floor with her arousal. He just continued to hammer into her with complete abandon. 

It felt as if Y/N had forgotten how to breathe and her head shot up from the desk at the abrupt intrusion. “Ohhhhh shhhhhhit.” She cursed choppily with Jungkook’s hips slapping against her, making her ass sting more, but she loved it. 

He reached up to push her head down against the desk forcefully and held it there as he fucked into her. “You love the pain don’t you my little cock slut?” He growled out.

“Yes, sir. I love it. Thank you, Mr. Jeon.” She babbled dazedly into the desk. 

He pulls out of her then, leaving her moving back in search of him and clenching around nothing. “Please put it back in, Mr. Jeon.” She whimpered, reaching back for him, but she didn’t dare sit up for fear that he might think she was disobeying him.

He smiles and sits down in his chair, grabbing the hands that searched for him and guiding them to it’s arm rests. “Why don’t you come sit down and do it yourself?” 

She moves right away and backs up onto him. Bracing herself on the armrests, she hovers above him still facing the desk, grabs his cock and engulfs it in her wetness. They both groan wildly when he is fully seated inside of her and she begins to move up and down.

“Just like that baby, keep bouncing on my cock.” He muttered huskily, placing his hands on her hips. Looking down, he finally noticed the mess Y/N’s juices made on his suit pants. He should have pulled them all the way down, but damn if that wasn’t one of the hottest things he’s ever seen. “Goddamn. Who made you this fucking wet baby?” He grunted, pulling her down on him with fervid force. 

“You did, Mr. Jeon.” Y/N breathed heavily with her eyes closed in ecstasy. She could feel her orgasm finally approaching and she was chasing it with every move she made.

“You gonna cum baby?” Jungkook’s voice rasped in her ear. Y/N mentally cursed, already knowing what was coming to her. “Yes, I’m so close, Mr. Jeon.” She whined, trying to plead her case. 

It was no use. He swiftly pushed her off of him roughly and forced her down against the table once more. “No, no, no, please, please.” She begged and squirmed.

He only bent down to her level, gripping her chin in his hand. “You should know by now not to fuck with me Y/L/N. Now you need to be punished.” He says whispering sadistically in her ear. “Come on now.”

Jungkook gripped her by her forearms, dragging her up from the table and keeping them in place behind her back like a criminal. He guided her to the expansive wall length bookshelf on the far left of his office. Y/N knew just where they were going and somehow it prompted more wetness to come cascading down her already damp and sticky legs. 

He finds the handle on the inside of one of the shelves and pulls on the hidden door to reveal his playroom. The ceiling was a deep red while the walls were painted black with several tools for causing pain hanging on them all around the room. Several large contraptions used for pleasure and pain were scattered along the sides. But Jungkook’s favorite part of the room was the alaska king size mattress against the back wall which had a mirror of the same size attached to the ceiling above it. He loved that he could see every facet of Y/N’s squirming body just by looking up. 

“Stand here.” He directs her after stopping under the pair of leather handcuffs that dangled from the ceiling. He lifted and secured both her arms before focusing on her wanton eyes. “You comfortable, sweetheart?” He asked, grasping her chin firmly in his hands. 

“Yes, sir.” She replied truthfully. “Good.” He pecked her lips and began removing her boot heels. This created more distance between her and the floor. She was now truly dangling from the ceiling, the balls of her feet barely touching the floor.

Jungkook marvelled at his work and how after a while Y/N struggled to hold her weight against the cuffs. He then undressed quickly and made his way back to her, placing his lips on hers in a rough and passionate kiss that left Y/N breathless and moaning. 

She feels a hand thread it’s fingers through her hair and massage her scalp before it’s yanking her back and gripping tightly. She opened her eyes to see Jungkook, lustful and giddy smiling back at her. His hand slipped out of her hair, down her neck, chest and around her torso as he slowly circled her body. 

“I wish I could touch every piece of you at once.” He expressed sofly once he was behind her. Y/N breathed heavily with anticipation as his large hands gluided up her raised arms, down her waist, over her hips and ghosted over her plump, raw ass making her hiss. He chuckled at the sound letting his hands wander to her front and administering feather light circles to her swollen clit. Y/N twitched causing her body to sway uncontrollably. Jungkook stilled her, but continued his teasing much to Y/N’s dismay. But she didn’t dare say anything about it, she knew better and she wanted to cum so she stayed silent. 

He comes back around to face her and really takes his time appreciating her body. He kisses her lips, along her neck and sucks on her nipples just enough to have her squirming with more want for him. Suddenly he presses down on each of her sensitive nipples with two fingers and she squeaks, painful electricity shooting through her. 

He looked her over keenly. “God you’re so fucking beautiful...and you’re all mine to play with.” He kisses her biting her lip. “Who do you belong to?” His fierce tone demanded an answer.

“You, Mr. Jeon.” Y/N avowed, increasingly turned on and desperate to cum. 

“Who else?” His hands moved haltingly towards her core, never breaking eye contact. Her eyes flashed knowingly at him. “No one. Only you, Mr. Jeon.” 

Jungkook smiled contentedly before it disappeared little by little. He knew the words weren’t true and that she only said them to please him, only said them when they were intimate. But he couldn’t help how much he yearned to hear it, how much he wanted her to truly be his. This room is where they both get what they want no matter what. 

Y/N gets someone to dominate her and take care of her needs and Jungkook gets to live out his fantasies of her truly belonging solely to him. But he knew she would never go for that and that he would continue to toture himself this way. 

He tucks the thought away as he suddenly plunges two fingers inside of her. “And who does this pussy belong to?” He growled.

Y/N immediately clenches around them and lets out a cracked moan. “You, sir! This pussy is all yours. Oh fuck, ugh!” She cried out. At least Jungkook can be sure of that, he thought as he began curling his fingers into her at lightning speed. He holds her hips in place as he goes to work and Y/N can’t even think about the pain in her arms anymore once she feels her orgasm approaching. 

She grunts fervently as the pressure in her core builds and builds until she can’t stand it. She gives no warning, just allowing the glorious, all-consuming feeling to ignite her insides without a single sound. The only noise to be heard in the room was the sloshing of Jungkook’s fingers moving rapidly inside of her and the slap of his palm against her wet mound. 

Jungkook was so enraptured by her eyes rolling back into her head that he didn’t notice the clear liquid escaping from her cunt, getting all over his hand and dripping onto the floor. He brought her drooping head up so he could kiss her eagerly as he removed his fingers and stroked her clit like a wild man, getting more of her juices all over him. 

She never told him to stop as she was struck silent by the amount of pleasure she just experienced, but he removed his hand and continued kissing her writhing body hungrily. She was out of breath as she twitched and mewled against him, audibly shuddering from time to time. 

“Holy fucking shit. You’re just full of surprises huh?” He praised her with her face in his hands. Her only reaction was to smile tiredly. Her body was absolutely spent and still experiencing aftershocks. 

“Now let’s see if we can make you do that again.” he says, lifting her legs to wrap around his waist, thankfully taking the weight off of her arms. 

She finally speaks in a disoriented voice with her eyes half closed. “Yes, please sir.” 

Jungkook pushes inside of her, her cunt was now extremely wet and extremely tight due to that first squirting orgasm and he could tell he wouldn’t last long. He began speedily fucking into her, his hips slapping against her bruised and aching ass over and over again. 

Y/N was in another realm of euphoria, this one being better than the last. She didn’t even know that was possible. Her head was tilted all the way back and her eyes were closed, but they were focused. She was too far gone to even remember her own name at this point. 

“Please…” She mumbled. “Please what?” Jungkook grunted, his vigorous hips never changing pace. 

“Please, please make me cum, Mr. Jeon.” She begged through gritted teeth. “I want it so bad. Please give me your cum.” 

“Oh fuck, baby.” He moaned, thrusting impossibly faster, both of them close to the edge. 

She felt herself growing slightly over stimulated, but she was so close, chasing that high that made her see stars. She was concentrated on the feeling of Jungkook’s dick pumping in and out of her and hitting just the right spot against her walls. Jungkook felt a force resisting him from inside of Y/N and before he could grasp it he was being pushed out along with Y/N’s cum. 

A full fledged scream escaped from her throat that was elongated by Jungkook who swiped at her clit wildly to prolong her orgasm. He watches her twitch and moan helplessly before sliding back in and picking up where he left off.

“No, p-please sir, I can’t.” She choked out, her chest heaving with exhaustion. 

He gripped her face roughly in his hand and brought it close to his. “No, you wanted this dick so you gonna take this dick.” He seethed. “That’s what you came here for right?” 

“Yes sir.” She cried. Jungkook thrusted up into her half a dozen more times before he came inside of her, ripping yet another orgasm from Y/N. She felt tears slide down her face at the sheer force of energy in her veins. She saw white behind her eyes and her body burned all over in the best of ways. 

“Argh!” Jungkook growled boisterously as he came, holding her hips rigidly against his as he came down. When he looked up he could see Y/N practically falling asleep against him, yet her body was shaking slightly. He pulled out of her and released her from her restraints.

“Let’s get you to bed, huh?” He grinned, holding her tight as he let her down because he didn’t expect her to be able to hold herself up. He was proven right as she immediately slumped over his shoulder once her arms were free. The mafia leader carried her to the bed and gently laid her on her back, taking a moment to clean both of them off before he laid down too. 

“Y/N? Are you okay?” He whispered sweetly. Initially, the assassin didn’t realize he was speaking to her as she was quickly drifting off to sleep, but after a moment she assured him, “I’m fine Jungkook.”

[wh6res]

“𝑰’𝑴 𝒀𝑶𝑼𝑹 𝑳𝑰𝑮𝑯𝑻, 𝒀𝑶𝑼𝑹 𝑶𝑵𝑳𝒀 𝑺𝑨𝑽𝑰𝑶𝑼𝑹.”

part of the 21 ways to kill your lover collab hosted by the lovely miss solange @du0tine

pairing. entity! xdj & f! reader | word count. 5.4k

synopsis. he wasn’t a god, he wasn’t a devil, and fuck, he’s surely not an angel, but he will be your saviour and your light ‘till kingdome come.

warnings. tread with caution. yandere/possesive themes, religious themes, violence, mentions of gore, swearing, mentions of ptsd, mentions of physical abuse, a lot of character deaths, manipulation, stalking, and implications of suicide

disclaimer. i do not condone whatever tf i wrote in this nor does it reflect my beliefs or values or morals and such. it is all pure fiction and i also dont think xiaojun from wayv would act like this in real life.

a soul’s vulnerability gives him strength. he has scourged far and wide and has yet to encounter a soul as interesting as yours. he never thought a heart filled with hatred and a fragile mentality can be such a sweet combination. xiaojun would be stupid not to latch his greedy talons onto you.

he hides in the darkest corners of your room at night, unseen and unheard, just watching over you like a predator to his poor unsuspecting gazelle before diving into the anticipated chase. 

he moves in with you into the cheap apartment you got for yourself here in the big city—which he thinks is an awful move because of how lonely it’ll be. but hey, it wasn’t anyone’s fault that you got chased out of your own home by your stepdad, your very own biological mom too scared to say a peep of defense to your name. 

your downfalls became xiaojun’s highlights. 

he would’ve felt sorry for you after finding out about that abusive old man. ugh, he scowls. your stepdad makes the entity’s blood boil and he doesn’t even have blood to begin with. the same man who holds the bible in his left hand when he preaches sermons for the people, is the same hand he uses to hit you across the face. 

the same hand he uses to pull at your hair. the same hand he uses to punch your gut. the same hand he uses to shove your mom down when she tries interfering. 

xiaojun may hate men of god but above all, he absolutely detests the kind your old man is—a faker, who thinks he can get away with the shit mess he’s making. xiaojun would never take that preacher’s murky soul even if he offered it to the entity voluntarily. fake. fake. fake. fake. fake. xiaojun should’ve killed him. xiaojun should’ve slit his throat. xiaojun should’ve torn his eyes out—

ah, ah, ah.

he can’t afford to make you any less vulnerable than you already are, now, can he? after all, he can be anything you want but he’s no angel. 

so he watched from the sidelines. 

watched you cry. watched you bleed. watched your scars form. watched the hate and resentment you have for your own family fester in your heart until it grew to a size you can’t hide within yourself anymore. 

and then you left home. 

xiaojun has to admit, for a second, maybe leaving home will make your soul unworthy, will break the mold he’s already had of you and will completely spoil his well-thought out plans.

so really, he can only scoff when he watches you walk around the apartment wearing that pretty dress on a sunday morning, darting around with calculated steps to shove everything inside your bag to go to church. the dress hangs nicely against your skin but he’d rather you stay and wear nothing. 

maybe you’d finally find contentment and happiness in this place, in this city, on your own. soaring high without a cage, without someone to hold you back—these things fill his thoughts like a plague until you come barging back into the door 30 minutes later. 

he’s been watching you long enough to know church service wouldn’t end for another 30 minutes or so. xiaojun’s eyebrows quirk up. why would his fragile little gazelle come back oh so early? but his question is immediately answered when he detects your shaky breaths and the unshed tears in your glistening eyes

you’re suffering the post-traumatic effects your shit stepdad has caused. seeing another preacher must’ve been a trigger, he thinks, eyeing you with a look on his face. xiaojun felt a little stupid. of course, swimming to the surface will be tough with all that trauma anchoring you down.

it’ll be tough, indeed… so why not sink you even deeper?

it didn’t take much energy for him to start manipulating your dreams. every nap, every deep sleep, he’d replay all the horrible things your stepdad has done to you and he realizes how dreams depicted from his perspective took a larger toll on you versus the ones from your own point of view—witnessing for yourself how weak and helpless you had been seemed to chip away bigger parts of you, he notices. your terrified screams when waking up in cold sweat getting louder and louder with every passing nightmare.

he pushed, and pushed, and pushed until you were standing right at the edge of sanity. until you start questioning your own self-worth and judgment, the invisible chains of the trauma too strong to break. until your radiant skin looked deathly, with gaunt cheeks and white lips. until you developed a fear of sleeping because no, you don’t want to witness those horrors again. no. no. no. no, please don’t hit me—

xiaojun can’t help but admire his handiwork but no, he doesn’t have time for that! 

the next time you fell asleep you had been desperately holding onto your 5th bottle of gatorade like it was a torch breaking through the darkness. you’ve intake so much of the energy drink that your body has grown used to it. you would’ve switched to caffeine, but from how much you drank it prior to the energy drinks, your blood is practically coffee at this point. 

“you’re living in my house now, young lady! i’d like to see some respect from your or i’ll fucking beat it into you!”

“stop! please. hit me instead, hit me!” 

“this is all your fault, bitch! how can you raise one daughter wrong? no wonder your husband left you!”

murky and black, you can’t even see the bottom at this point. it keeps pulling you down, and down, and down, until you couldn’t breathe. until your head feels light. until your heart beats erratically within your ribcage as you fought to the surface. 

with all the negative emotions surging through you in thunderous waves, it’s a wonder how no other lonesome, starving entity has latched onto you like xiaojun. although realistically, he was here first, as if he’ll let any other being like him go near you.

it took a greater amount of energy to twist and manipulate the plotline of certain events in a dream. if xiaojun hadn’t grown strong from all your negativity, he’d never be able to do it. 

he can never forget the day he first appeared to you in a dream. to have you cling onto him as you willingly took his hand—not that he was caught by surprise, anyway. every second of every hour of every day xiaojun spent plotting your demise has led to this fruitful day of “meeting” you for the first time. 

“i’m right here,” he said, shaking fingers tracing over your cheeks. a soft caress you have never experienced. 

the man in your dreams is someone you’ve never met before—you’re positive that you haven’t because you’d never forget a face as handsome as his. he appears like an angel casted over divine light, with a soft smile that can cure the plague as he offers his hands for you to take. it was beautiful, how your nightmares turned into dreams the moment the mysterious man arrived. 

how’d you ever know, that the hand you grabbed is the wolf in sheep’s clothing?

it’s sad really, how you’ve only managed to escape one horror only to jump into the next but xiaojun can’t find it in himself to feel bad. well, maybe a little, it’s a fleeting thought. something that disappeared as quickly as it had passed by.

it was only after a few weeks of constantly appearing in your dreams did his plan start to backfire. the change in your behavior isn’t subtle, either, and it angered him all the more. he didn’t see this coming, not even from lightyears away.

simple to say you’ve grown a little more… how can xiaojun put this into words? well, a little more outgoing. adventurous. meeting new people and going to new places and experiencing new things. he can see everything as clear as day—you were healing from your past, leaving the dark chapters in your life to write newer and brighter ones that revolved on having actual healthy relationships for once. 

his seething anger of his failed plans had made all the windows in your apartment burst into thousand little pieces. if you had fine china dishes displayed on your kitchen cabinets he would’ve broken those too. how can you go against him like this? look at you all happy and smiley even as the room turned ice cold because of xiaojun’s suffocating presence. you never even thought once about it—how naive. 

tormenting you through dreams isn’t working anymore. xiaojun has to up his game if he wants to break you down and revert you back to that paranoid, sensitive, and frail self that couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, and couldn’t talk to any other human being without feeling the ghost of your abusive step-father’s hands against your skin. 

who says he can only control you through mind games alone? after he’s done what needs to be done, grief and self-pity will go hand in hand. a combination so cruel and heavy on your shoulders that xiaojun can already savor the metallic tangy taste of victory. 

“no! yeji—!”

xiaojun watches unblinking when he makes one of your new friends walk out the sidewalk and right into an overspeeding car. 

tires skidding across the pavement, the breaks not working, glass shattering, bones cracking against the force of the hit—dead, right on the fucking spot.

he’s never heard you scream that loud and he shudders in pleasure as the vibrations of your shrill voice courses through his veins. 

he missed this, your complete and utter misery. 

but he wasn’t done yet. 

“don’t you think it’s a ‘lil chilly in here?” ryujin asks, looking over to your side before drinking the hot chocolate she prepared for both of you. 

grieving together with a friend can be good, hence why you’re now in her apartment a month later after yeji’s funeral. 

you answer after taking a sip. “no, not really.” 

xiaojun grins, giddy and a skip in his step while making his way towards you as he side-eyes your friend, who religiously drank her hot chocolate all the while bundling up next to you so you both can watch the movie together playing on the laptop. 

this one, well, he particularly doesn’t like this one. 

if your other friend was meant to be a casualty, a death borne from not one smidge of personal vendetta, this one, this ryujin is different. heck, he even remembers her fucking name.

no, no, no. xiaojun can feel his skin crawl as ryujin cuddles intimately closer as she stares at you from her peripheral, feeling out whether you’d react or not as she sneaks an arm around your waist. his anger turns a fever pitch, seeing you with someone else driving him up the wall. you were meant to be his sad and hopeless little gazelle and his alone.

xiaojun hoped the poison travels fast or so help him he’ll fucking rip her off of you—and he would’ve, when he saw you and ryujin slowly leaning into one another, head angled and obviously going in for a kiss. he would’ve, when one of ryujin’s hands come up to cup your face. he would’ve… until the poison reached its destination in her body, right when your lips were about to touch. 

ryujin’s lungs seized, breathing becoming an agent to her demise as the oxygen from her lungs disappear into nothingness. the last thing she saw is your horrified face, tears streaming. she swore you were shouting something, probably her name, but it’s overpowered by the incessant ring in her ears.

when her mouth foamed and she laid limp on the couch right next to you, you knew ryujin would never wake again to give you that kiss. 

xiaojun steps back to admire the havoc he wreaked. two of your friends dead, that should be enough to incapacitate you—whether it be permanent or not, he just wants to see you drown in misery. 

and as he slowly dissipates into the void, there’s a little smile on his face as he stares you down, burning the image of your histeria in his head, the echoes of your woeful cries music to his ears. 

you never dared step foot out of your apartment. 

groceries were delivered to your door, trash is slowly but surely building up, and the place was a whole mess. the entity haunting you has never seen you this… shattered, even when you left home. it was like your brain has stopped working and your body turned into nothing more but a cusp of who you used to be. 

it’s scary looking in the mirror and not recognizing the reflection—so, you painted all of them black. it was an in the heat of a moment kind of thing that took place the moment you came home from the police station, on the exact day she passed away before your eyes. 

xiaojun just has to “misplace” a few pints of paint you had used from when you renovated the apartment in the past, putting the cans where you can easily see them and think that the idea belonged to you when in reality, it’s the entity that put the idea in your head. 

there was a blanket over your shoulder when you came back from the station. it wasn’t yours, they gave it to you while you sat opposite to a stoic detective in a cold interrogation room, yet you made no move to shrug it off even after arriving at your apartment, fingers clutching the fabric like a lifeline and refusing to believe whatever that had transpired in ryujin’s apartment. 

eyes unseeing, stumbling with your steps, back hunched with the curse of the universe weighing down on your back—xiaojun couldn’t’ve been more proud of what he had done.

you were spiraling out of control. a self-destructive cycle you cannot seem to fight your way out of as your nightmares came back to haunt you. the tall waves of anxiety and paranoia drowning and pushing you under the surface. 

for once you don’t fight the current, you just let it pull you under. 

every time you close your eyes, you can hear the deafening screech of rubber tires against concrete before the car hits yeji. can vividly see the foams of the poison coming out of ryujin’s mouth as if it was caught on tape and is now playing on loop. 

your other friends have donned you as bad luck, cursed to have a fucked up life and will fuck up other people’s lives too if they get even as close as an arm length to you. too scared to lose any more people, you decided to completely push everyone away and had completely shut yourself out from the world beyond the four corners of your apartment. 

it’s like your trauma from before has come crawling back to you, only now, he brings himself a little friend called guilt. 

what are the odds that your two friends died after the other when the person they’ve each last spent time with was you? even the police found it too much a coincidence. if it wasn’t for the cctv cams in the corners of ryujin’s apartment, you’d be facing trial for a murder you didn’t commit. 

you eye the usb stuck in one of your laptop’s ports. it’s black, with an srj poisoning case written in red ink on the small patch of masking tape pasted onto the back of the plastic. 

after being stuck in an interrogation room for the last two hours, you had sneakily swiped it out of the detective's desk on your way out of the station. you remembered it was the usb with a copy of ryujin’s cctv cams, some underling busting into the interrogation room while in the middle of your questioning, holding the tiny usb between his fingers. 

your stomach churned when the detective looked at you spitefully, as if he couldn’t fucking care less of the evidence presented to him in a silver platter and would thoroughly take pleasure in throwing you in jail himself, guilty or not. the last look he shot you still sends shivers down your spine, the sharpness in his gaze as he regarded you. “you killed them. i know you did.”

a week of self-induced isolation later and you start to believe in it yourself. 

in the middle of screaming your lungs out and cursing the gods above for your sorry excuse of a life, you had thrown the usb somewhere in the apartment. not that you bothered to look for it right after, you were too busy wallowing in self pity before passing out on the living room floor. when you wake up, you’ve forgotten all about it. 

so it was interesting, seeing the usb again after days and days of wallowing in grief. you had fallen off the couch while in the middle of a slumber and you spotted the small piece of tech lying underneath it with the other empty coke cans. 

eyeing the laptop on the coffee table, you remember you haven’t taken a look at the evidence yourself—the detective had given you the stink eye when you tried shuffling closer to peep a look. carelessly, you shove all other objects off the table to pull the laptop closer. you plant yourself on the ground cross-legged, not batting an eyelash even when you feel the crumbs of chips against your skin. 

you boot the laptop on, thankful you’ve yet to forget its password, and plugged the usb in again. it was simple to navigate, to say the least, the folder popping up in a matter of seconds. you thought it stored a whole collection of her cctv footages but alas, it didn’t, saving you the time and energy scourging through unwanted boring files. 

hands shaking, you clicked on the video. 

and it was as if you’re thrown back into that event in your life that has now become a distant memory. the hug ryujin gave you when she opened the door, her words of comfort when you opened up about your deteriorating mental health after your friend passed away, and finally, the warm feel of the mug against the palm of your hand. 

wait a minute. 

you perk up from your seat, groaning aloud when your knee hits the underside of the coffee table at your haste, fingers darting around to press the back 10 seconds button. the sweat starts forming in your forehead and palms, making your hand feel clammy and disgusting but it was the last of your worries. 

did you see that correctly?

the quality is a bit low and the camera angle isn’t optimal. you can only see ryujin’s side profile but her glassy eyes are unmistakable and her actions look robotic at best. 

this is after she made your hot cocoa and had delivered it to your shivering, sniffling form on the couch, all bundled up snug and cozy in the blanket she provided. you remember ryujin winking as she walked back towards her kitchen after you thanked her. 

the way she poured poison in her own mug ruled her case as suicice. the evidence is right there in your face but the unease still sits heavy on your stomach and confusion clouds your brain like cannabis. 

this doesn’t make any sense. 

you knew her, ryujin. she’s never one to succumb to her negative emotions, always facing her problems with head held high. her overall mindset, in general, made her the last person you’d think would ever commit suicide. you’ve replayed the video a thousand times by now, still unable to wrap your head around the fact that she killed herself. 

having the sudden urge for another bottle of gatorade, you pressed the pause button as you try hauling yourself up with your arms. 

you pause. pushing your face closer to the laptop screen, rubbing at your eyes incredulously as you eye the corner of her kitchen. 

ryujin’s apartment isn’t that luxurious, nor is it too rundown, but there can be little exceptions here and there. 

like the cheap LED bulbs attached rather messily onto her ceiling, one of the six sources of light flickering on and off. you remember how many times you’ve told her to get it fixed yet she never really paid you any heed.

with shaking fingers, you replayed it one more time, hoping on everything you believe in that it wasn’t what it looks like. this can’t be it—how is that possible—

it’s him, the man who has appeared like an angel in your dream to sweep you away from evil. but standing in the corner, under the flickering lights of your friend’s kitchen, he looked anything but an angelic. 

your mind is going haywire, your body shook in confusion, and sweat started dribbling down your neck. you would’ve thought you made a mistake because how is this even possible? the angelic man in your dreams isn’t real—he can’t be real, he can’t appear like this when you aren’t even sleeping because he’s not real!

he can’t… right?

he doesn’t look too harmless, what with his hands crossed and leisurely leaning against the wall. but one look at his eyes and you know you’re wrong. even through the shit quality of the cctv footage you can still feel the fury and the absolute hate his eyes held as he stared her down menacingly, unblinking.

stared her down as she made her own cocoa, as she hunches down to open the sink cabinets to get that pesky rat poison, as she poured it on her mug, as she swirls the spoon around to mix the deadly concoction all together in a hauntingly robotic way that looked too much like ryujin was being told what to do.

and as you let the video play the rest of its content and felt like the tragedy was unfolding right before your very eyes again—you couldn’t breathe, panic gripping onto you like a vice, the sharp talons of fear sinking deep under your skin. 

you don’t register the coffee table toppling over in your haste to stand up. desperately putting a distance between you and the laptop as you turned and stumbled towards the hallway leading to your bedroom. 

you stop, pathetically landing on your knees before the open archway. if you hadn’t been shaking in fear before, then you surely were now. 

he’s here—can you even call it a he?

the man stands at the end of the hallway. in that similar, non-threatening stature with his arms crossed and body leaning against the wall. 

but the mischief in his eyes is enough of a warning. 

he’s come for you. 

he’s come to finish the job. 

“finally figured it out?”

you screamed, throwing the closest thing you can at him as you shuffle someplace else in your apartment. his laugh sounded pleasant in the ear when you were off in dreamland, but now? it sounded like nails grating against a chalkboard. 

your legs eventually led you to the front door. appearances be damned. you weren’t even wearing a bra and you haven’t showered for days but fuck no you’re not going to stay here with that—that—that monster!

“baby, don’t leave! the fun hasn’t even started yet!”

you grab the doorknob and twist, practically throwing yourself out into the hallway, eyes frantic as you stumble and land face first against—

sticky. the floor’s sticky and there was a smell you can’t seem to pinpoint. it’s tangy, metallic, and you can almost taste the scent yourself in your tongue and when you look down—you want to throw up. 

lying next to each other in pools of their own blood, lies yeji and ryujin side by side, faces towards each other. their eyes hauntingly empty and unseeing as they stared up at you. 

you shrieked, voice scratching against your dry throat as you threw yourself back into your apartment, the door slamming shut in itself. you didn’t care if there’s now a huge mess of blood staining the carpets on the foyer. you curl in on yourself, hair sticking to your face as you covered your ears and shut your eyes. 

“oh, my love…”

you felt his presence before you can hear him. 

a flashback plays in your head—hot chocolate, soft blankets, and a friend who you loved with all your heart. “don’t you think it’s a little chilly in here?"

you answered. “no, not really?”

the tears start streaming like waterfalls, mixing with the blood and sweat already caked in your face. ryujin knew, she felt it back at her apartment yet you disregarded her completely.

“it’s not your fault,” the entity’s hands are ice cold when he gently pulls at your wrist. “everything is as it should be. now, open your eyes. there’s nothing to be afraid of. i’m not going to hurt you.”

stubbornly, you shook your head as you squeezed your lids even tighter, refusing to look at the monster dead in the eye.

“don’t be like that, my love. if i wanted to hurt you, i would’ve done it a long time ago.”

you don’t listen, hunching and curling your knees even more against your torso as you try to block out his voice. it’s unfair how gentle it sounded but your blood ran cold when you realize this is how he got ryujin to poison herself, this is how he got yeji to walk in front of a speeding car—

“hail mary, full—full of grace,” you pray under your breath, shaking like a leaf. “the lord… the lord is with thee. blessed art thou among women…”

“you’re praying?” there’s an underlying mocking to e in his voice. “this is fucking hilarious!”

your incessant mumbling partnered with how you rocked your body back and forth, made something snap within xiaojun. he already stated he won’t hurt you! did he break you so much that now you’re unable to hear stuff properly, too?

“holy mary, mo—mother of god, pray for us sinners, now and—and at the hour of our death, amen. hail mary, full of grace…”

“stop.” his body twitches, having the sudden urge to pull all his hair out and burn this fucking building to the ground.

yet you continue. “the lord is with thee, blessed art thou among—among women and blessed is the… the fruit of thy womb, jesus…”

“i said stop, [name]. don’t fucking test me.”

“holy mary, mother of god—pray—pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our—”

you screeched in pain as your forehead comes in contact with a mirror, the sound of it shattering is deafening to the ears. his icy fingers let go of your nape, letting you fall hard to the ground. your ears perk up at the sound of streaming water. 

you weren’t in the foyer anymore, you feel cold tiles instead of the rough texture of the dirty carpet underneath you. eyes fluttering, you slowly pry them open, and the first thing you see is the faulty pipes found underneath your bathroom’s sink. patches of your clothes start getting wet. 

“you think a prayer of all things can stop me? i’m insulted!” you hiss when he grabs your face, hands so cold that it feels like you’re skin is burning off. “i was going to play nice.”

he pulls you towards him, hand encased around your throat. he shoves the open hair dryer into the half-filled bath tub as you feel him vibrate against you. “you don’t know how long i waited, how much energy i needed to appear to you like this.”

it’s with dread you realize that he’s actually giggling.

you whine, eyes feeling like it’ll pop out of their sockets when he squeezed your neck tighter. with a sudden rush of adrenaline, you anchor your wrists against his arm but it proves to be useless when he’s too strong. 

“please,” you wheezed. “i did… i did nothing wrong. let go—please.”

in the corner of your eyes, you stare at him from the mirror, stomach twisting in discomfort when you see him throwing his head back, eyes rolling up after taking a long whiff of your hair. “this—this fear you have, my love, only makes me stronger.”

“nothing… i did nothing wrong—please! please… let, let me go…” you’re starting to feel lightheaded, black spots floating around your vision. 

“nothing? are you sure about that?” 

you cringe when he licks up the tears in your face, toes curling at the sheer disgust you feel. but the words he spews next is far worse than the hand he’s wrapped around your throat. 

“didn’t you left your mom alone with that abusive asshole? didn’t you make yeji walk into that incoming car? didn’t you make ryujin drink that poison?”

he whispers them so softly, so gently that you almost mistook them as proclamations of love. 

“no…” your voice breaks. 

“yes. yes, you did,” he knew you like the back of his hand, knew what to say and how to say them for you to break in his arms. “you killed them, my love. you’re a murderer. you don’t even deserve to be alive after all of the things you’ve done.”

it’s almost pathetic how you shake your head, eyes closed, refusing to acknowledge the truth. 

“that’s… that’s not true…”

“you’re a curse to the people you love, the embodiment of they're suffering. don’t you see it?”

“stop lying!—”

“am i?” he retorts, maneuvering you around to face the mirror. you swore you covered the whole thing with black paint. “just look at yourself.”

oh, how badly he wants to shove your face against the mirror but he mustn't get ahead of himself. 

“did any of your friends even visit you to see how you’re doing?” no, they never did. he smiles like he knows what you’re thinking. “the answer is all before you now, my love. you need to see through the haze and accept it for what it really is. no one loves you. even the god you’re praying to didn’t answer. there’s nothing, no one, left.”

and for the first time since he has you in his tight hold, you stopped fighting. sobs wracking through your body as your shoulders slump and accept defeat. 

xiaojun automatically lets you go, cooing like a lover in your ear as he tucks you into his embrace. “you want this all to stop, don’t you? someone to save you?”

you nodded, unable to look at him as his hand came up to wipe away your tears. no one has ever done that for you in months ever since yeji and ryujin died.

“i’m here,” xiaojun says, running fingers through your hair comfortingly. “i’m your light, your only saviour. you want that, right, my love?” choice is a mere illusion but he likes keeping up with formalities. 

you fail to notice the steps he took towards the now overflowing bathtub, too lost in the new highs and lows of emotions you feel. 

“yes.”

it only took seconds to push you into the tub. its water buzzing with a live electric current brought by the hair dryer he dropped only minutes ago.

the effect is instantaneous. he watches your muscle spasm, your skin growing darker as the live water fries your body alive. quickly, xiaojun reaches down to lift your head out the water, not wanting to ruin your pretty face.

the last thing you feel is xiaojun’s cold lips pressing against your own, the gentle caress as he wiped your tears away… and the electricity finally passing through your heart. 

when the entity pulls away from your dead body, he only whispers three things—“mine, at last.”

[tanoraqui]

okay I have to do this today because even I wouldn’t do it after the godforsaken finale airs, and it’s basically my specialty and I did spend like an hour thinking about it last night while washing dishes. Definitely partly inspired by @words-writ-in-starlight​‘s insightful post on everything Supernatural did wrong, and apologies in advance to all the characters for dragging them into anything related to Christian mythology:

Wei Wuxian’s parents die in a house fire when he’s 6(? I refuse to look anything up) months old

Jiangs are a hunter family I guess? That whole disaster of a family dynamic, except WWX dips out at some point to be idk an environmental activist bc at the time, that seems like the larger threat to the whole world. “Mom and Dad went on a hunting trip and they haven’t come back”, “bitch” “jerk”, 2 brothers in a beat-up old car, you know the drill

Jins are also an old hunting family, but more Men of Letters energy - they have a fancy bunker and do research and avoid getting their actual hands dirty. Jiang Yanli ducked out of the active hunting life a few years ago to be happily married to her peacock and settled down with a baby and she’s fine. We’re not going to bother Yanli. She’s safe and happy and doesn’t need to involved in any of this

so, WWX is the demon blood child developing exciting new abilities like telekinesis, mind control, exorcising demons by sheer force of will...etc, and Jiang Cheng is the Righteous Man. Lucifer, Michael, etc.

s1-3 probably proceeds more or less as spn canon...which I more or less remember...by the time they find their parents at the end of s1, Jiang Fengmian is...ugh, we probably shouldn’t kill him offscreen, I mean, we should probably meet him before he dies. I guess. Madam Yu lasts longer because I’m way more interested in her. But we do know that both Jiang parents are totally inclined to fling the boys into a metaphorical or literal escape boat and go hold the line for as long as possible, so...that’s spn energy...

Xue Yang is the one who’s like “fuck yeah, demon powers” and opens the gates of Hell, because I want him to have nice* things

*nice for Xue Yang

from characterization rather than memory, I’m 90% sure that Dean tried to hide his crossroads deal from Sam, but Jiang Cheng does it...better. I think it does come out, though. Right before the hellhounds do.

here’s where it starts to go farther off from spn canon. Jiang Cheng crawls his way out of the grave, gets stalked by a menacing presence that explodes windows for an episode, incidentally can’t find WWX...*Lan Wangji voice* “I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from Perdition” (a baller line then and a baller line now)...and then the next episode starts with them all awkwardly standing around, and JC is like, “ok well let’s go find my brother then”, and you think there’s going to be an mdzs-riffing JC+LWJ Roadtrip To Find WWX...and they’re immediately attacked by like a dozen demons

in fact, the first time we see WWX in s4 is here, wherein he goes toe to toe with an angel and...holds his own. that’s new and terrifying! also is leading a squad of demons??

because here’s the thing: for the last 3(?) months, there’s been war in hell

because unlike Some People Mooses, upon finding out that his brother’s soul was legally nearly-owned by a crossroads demon, heir-apparent-to-Satan!WWX went, “actually fuck that” and kicked open the door of Hell (metaphorically, not loosing any demons this time) and was like, “who do I have to beat the shit out of to get a specific crossroads contract around here”

this did not work, obv. He didn’t know until it was too late, Lilith had already snapped up the contract, etc. etc.

obviously he also tried to offer himself instead, and got rejected for some reason

Since Jiang Cheng died, however, there’s been a war for control of Hell. Leading one side, Lilith, the Original Babe, who wants to break all 666(?) seals keeping Lucifer bound and in the meantime, break the Righteous Man so Heaven won’t even have Michael’s destined host ready for the Final Battle. Leading the other side, Wei Wuxian, infamous upstart, who wants to rescue the Righteous Man and restore him to life, tear Lilith’s guts out through her nose, and also stop her from doing the Lucifer thing because Wen Qing explained that yes, that’s a Thing, and it’s Bad.

Wen Qing! I’ve decided to combine Bela and Ruby’s roles and let WQ be both the cool badass example of how demon deals can go Bad and the demon deliberately leading our heroes astray for most of s3-4. Wen Qing is a very new demon; she used to be some sort of herbalist/witch but then she sold her soul in a crossroads deal to cure her brother of some lingering illness. 10 years of happiness and then boom, hellhounds. WQ is so obviously competent, though, that they (Lilith, I guess?) immediately offers her a job, with the promise threat that gee, that’s a nice brother you’ve got there, even with his Designated Chronic Health Condition getting all relapse-y. It’d be such a shame if something were to...happen to him...

we find this out at some point in last s3 I guess? some Monster of the Week case involves WN as a witness or something, or possible next victim, and WQ shows up to be A Normal Amount Of Invested In This, while desperately trying to avoid actually interacting with her brother (who thinks she’s dead). YES, the truth comes out; YES there’s a tearful reunion

now in s4, Wen Ning is fine actually, health-wise, bc he maybe made a crossroads deal with Wei Wuxian personally, and Wen Qing may or may not have admitted that she’s supposed to be working for Lilith to get WWX ready to host Lucifer? Or potentially that comes out later, idk. Either way, she’s 100% his top lieutenant in this exciting Hell War they’re waging

[insert whatever the hell (ha) happened plot-wise in s4 of supernatural]

we obviously mix up the relationships, too, bc it’s like, *LWJ internal monologue* I’m too young to remember my brother Lucifer as he was before he Fell, but surely Wei Wuxian is his Heir and Destined Vessel in truth, for he is Charismatic and Charming and Makes Me Feel Things, with his Clearly Feigned Righteous Drive and Compassion for All God’s Creatures and - why does heat keep pooling in the lower abdomen of my vessel when I look at his lips, which I am definitely doing a Normal and Not-Weird Amount - I’m just keeping an eye out for the famed Silver Tongue, and not in any way wondering how it would feel in my own mouth -

it’s actually DEFINITELY plausible for Lucifer to still be released even if our designated Heir Apparent is using his demon powers to his full potential and no one’s lying to each other about their motives. You just need to let Lilith be more scary too, and especially bc by “no one” I mostly mean Wen Qing; the angels are still totally hiding the fact that they, too, want to jumpstart the shit out of this apocalypse.  LWJ decides at the last minute that that’s a bad idea actually, gets himself discorporated to send JC to intercept WWX because he accidentally releases Lucifer, etc. etc. Oh yeah, the boys were def fighting before this, bc JC has actually fairly reasonable concerns about the sort of things WWX is getting up to in his quest to become King of Hell...

SO

...I neither know nor care what happens in s5

it does end with both Lucifer and Michael locked in the cage probably, bc I rather liked that solution. Fuck both of ‘em, basically.

I was toying with the idea that WWX also found Madam Yu in whatever hellish torment she was suffering after making a deal so her idiot son(s) would survive, and she was leading forces for him in the war against Lilith as well. If she came back to life somehow, body and all, it’d probably be compelling if she offered her own body to Michael - bc it’s her lineage! - and we’re all led to believe that she’s, uh, being a bitch and actually wants to risk destroying the world in order to destroy all demons...but then she seizes back control and flings herself/Michael and Lucifer into the Pit, because she’s just That Hardcore?

which means we’d actually have had her around and having characterization for most of s4-5, too, which would be fun

More importantly, it ends with newly crowned King of Hell Wei Wuxian appointing Wen Qing as Queen-Regent and ditching to go on an indefinite honeymoon with his new angel boyfriend (they’re going to fuck for like three weeks straight, then roll up their sleeves and go conquer Heaven in the name of free will), and Jiang Cheng gets to live out his hitherto-unknown-to-himself life’s ambition to be the sugar baby of the Queen of Hell. It’s very Hades/Persephone, except he goes back down to the underworld at least once a month. He gets his own demon squad whom he trains up in all the hunting techniques and it’s gr9. Wen Qing is reforming the crossroads deal process to make it more fair to the humans.

the end

Addenda:

it should go without saying but Jiang Yanli is definitely a recurring character, like, at least once a season there’s a filler episode where they go to Jiang Yanli’s for dinner and have to get along as a family, and also do the much easier job of defeating some sort of terrible demon that gets loose in the bunker and turns the evening into a horror movie. She’s their main research/emotional check-in person, a la Bobby, more often appearing in later seasons when there’s, uhhh, more to emotionally check in about.

Jin Zixuan is actually a perfectly competent hunter; he’s just a priss and we don’t Like him

we like Mianmian, though. Oh, I guess the official Hunter’s Guild or w/e tries to declare WWX a public enemy on account of the whole “King of Hell” thing and she’s like “actually what if you’re morons and assholes?” and joins hte team in s4 or 5? Yeah.

idk how the 3zun disaster happens in this ‘verse but I do encourage it to be happening in slow motion as a recurring subplot for several seasons. NMJ is a hunter, LXC is obv an angel, and JGY is...I wanna say one of the more human monsters, like a vampire? Or, you know, something that could be born from JGS sleeping with someone/something he shouldn’t have

[amaranthinedream]

do you have any other unpublished fics or wips? i'm curious as i'm also a writer but i have all these fics that i never post LOL what do you do with them when you're done!

I actually have a few WIPs! Its definitely a writer thing, I think we just can’t turn our brains off and it keeps imagining new ideas for how these two blorbos can fall in love and then you have to sit down with it and be like ‘we don’t have time for this, you’re already dedicated to [insert published wip fic here]’ and your brain just laughs and comes up with another coffee shop AU because it’s a bitch like that

That said, I’ve been meaning to make a list of my other fics I’ve been slowly working on (OEL takes up a lot of brainspace and time for me), so here’s my 3 most developed ideas (as in, I’ve actually written scenes/a good chunk of the fic)

1. [nameless fic 1]: I’m calling it the Uni AU in my docs, but it’s a modern day AU bdk friends-with-benefits break-up/make-up fic and it’s my favourite of the wips I’m working on. it’s very angsty. VERY angsty. I mean, I hoping to also make it quite lighthearted... until it isn’t.

Basically, bkdk are friends of friends. Katsuki’s a bit of a fuckboy, whereas Izuku is hung-up on someone. they have a one-off fling, which then continues into fwb, which low-key turns into dating just neither one of them want to admit it. Fed up of wondering if Katsuki is seeing other people, Izuku asks Katsuki to go steady and Katsuki says no. Heartbroken, Izuku breaks off their relationship and Katsuki spirals...

anyway, I really wanna talk about this one so have a snippet

“Deku, I don’t want to lose you.”

“You haven’t lost me. We agreed to stay friends,” Izuku reminds him. His eyes tell a different story though, sad and downcast. He doesn’t even believe his own words.

“That’s bullshit,” Katsuki says, and it’s only half on purpose. Izuku’s head snaps up to look at him and Katsuki makes the snap decision of committing to his word vomit. “That’s such bullshit. I haven’t seen you in weeks.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Don’t give me that crap.”

“What do you want me to say? I was heartbroken!” Izuku says with such force that Katsuki feels momentarily blown away. “I-” his strength leaves him, and Izuku’s chin ducks back towards his chest. “I am heartbroken, Kacchan. Present tense. And it - it hurts to see you.”

Katsuki doesn’t know what to say.

‘How long do you think it’ll take until that’s no longer the case?‘ Is insensitive at best, downright selfish at worst. ‘Your absence is upsetting me. Stop it. Come back.’

Selfish. Always so fucking selfish. He’s never really learnt how to stop, has he?

“We will still be friends?” Katsuki asks. “After … after it stops hurting so much?” There’s something obstructing his airways, and he swallows it down. His vision wavers. “We’ll still be friends.” He says it less like a question and more like a statement, like by saying it he can make it be true.

Deku isn’t looking at him; he’s staring out the window out on the parking lot, seemingly entranced by someone doing a shit job of parallel parking. Internally, Katsuki screams at him to just look at me. He’s right here, why isn’t Izuku looking at him?

Izuku doesn’t reply.

2. Well-Intended Love AU: this is inspired by a cDrama of the same name and plot, which I would diverge from after the initial set up.

Katsuki is a ridiculously rich and powerful CEO, while Izuku is a graduating student who has just found out he has leukaemia. To survive, Izuku needs a spinal fluid transplant, and he has one match in the system; however, that person has refused to be a donor to anyone (guess who it is). Izuku sneaks a look at his donors details while the doctor isn’t looking and basically bugs Katsuki until he gives in to be his donor in exchange for Izuku marrying him for 2 years to get his mother off his back. queue classic fake-relationship turns to real relationship montage (with sugar baby vibes). only, a few months later, Izuku starts feeling the same symptoms he had when he was diagnosed. He goes to his doctor who can find no record of his surgery on file, so Izuku starts looking around the house for his medical record. Opens the safe that Katsuki has never let him near and inside finds an initial blood report from when he first got hospitalised, which basically says he just had bad anaemia. In the same file are bunches of photos of him that he knows are from before he and Katsuki met, taken from a distance. it turns out Katsuki owns the hospital he was diagnosed at, and faked Izuku’s illness (it’s semi-yandere/obsessed Katsuki yall)

And this leads into wip 3, which I’m considering combining with number 2

3. Things Better Left Unsaid: A mostly written E-rated oneshot (it’s filthy). Following sugar baby omega Izuku and CEO alpha Katsuki (I am a woman of simple tastes okay?). I ... cannot say much about this one without the hand of god (tumblr moderators) coming down on me, killing me instantly, so I’m just going to put down a snippet to set the mood

“I’m taking you to the company dinner in two weeks time. You’ll need a new dress, at least.” Katsuki finally says, impatient. “Don’t argue with me on this.”

He’s sitting like a king on the sofa in the main boudoir of the fitting rooms. All black suit and dangerous elegance. One leg up with his calf on his other knee, and arm spreading across the back of the couch, taking up space in the dominating way he likes to do.

Izuku is standing on a pedestal set before the mirrors, but he still feels very small under Katsuki’s eyes. The room matches those eyes, red red red. Warm but ample lighting makes the room feel intimate and expensive. Katsuki’s eyes make Izuku feel even more so.

Izuku nods, and he takes on the dress the attendant hands to him. The last thing he sees before the dressing room door closes is Katsuki languidly watching him from the sofa as a bowing beta offers him refreshments. The girls shirt slips down her shoulder, seemingly on accident if her eyes hadn’t been so carefully watching for Katsuki’s reaction.

It doesn’t matter though. Katsuki had never looked away from Izuku; he didn’t see her.

Smirking, Izuku closes the curtain to the dressing room, tries on the dress, and gapes.

There’s no way this is right.

This is way too revealing for such a formal event. Katsuki doesn’t normally dress him like this.

He goes out, intending to make Katsuki get him the proper dress, but is stunned into silence by the way Katsuki’s entire body language turns predatory upon seeing him.

“Perfect. On the pedestal,” he orders, eyes dark. He takes a sip out of a crystal tumbler of whiskey, never looking away, before placing the glass down.

Legs feeling like jelly, he takes careful steps up onto the platform. Katsuki clicks for a male attendant, who comes running. The previous girl is nowhere to be seen. “The shoes.”

The attendant comes back with the shoes, and kneels at Izuku’s feet to help him into them. They’re high, and Izuku wobbles on one as he slips into the second one. The beta below him looking up at him, cheeks pink, as he holds out a hand for Izuku to hold as he catches his balance.

Thankful, Izuku takes it, ignoring Katsuki's warning growl as they work together to get him secure on both feet.

Izuku can feel Katsuki’s angry eyes burning a hole right through his back. Burning hotter when the attendant doesn’t leave once the shoes on, staying to work the clasps around Izuku’s ankle. He lingers a little longer than necessary, fingers whispering around the small clasp.

Katsuki snarls, threatening, and the attendant springs away from Izuku.

"I- I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean- I'll excuse myself."

"Wait," Katsuki says before the attendant can leave, black-smoke voice smooth. Izuku suddenly feels too warm, fever hot and rubbing his thighs together, feeling so empty.

Katsuki sounds dangerous, and Izuku knows what that means.

Flushed and embarrassed, the attendant ducks his head as he turns to wait for his instructions from Katsuki.

“Go and get the diamond decagon necklace and the matching earrings from the vaults,” Katsuki orders, a growl still in his voice. “Quickly.”

The attendant all but runs from the room. Izuku doesn’t notice, too busy staring down Katsuki in the mirrors.

“Deku, come here.”

I hope that answers your ask! tbh, I have a lot of little ideas that I write down but they don’t often develop into anything structured. there’s a few docs in my folder that could potentially be published as little drabbles... but idk, I write them and then I forget about them because they don’t feel finished but I’m also not that keen on working on them more. what about you?

[willddheartt]

24 Days | Wilbur Soot

30 days to fall in love with someone? Sounds easy right? It would be if that person wasn’t so unbelievably annoying in almost every sense.

You’re not sure how you found yourself in this situation, but you were positive there was no backing out now…

Series Warnings: Mostly fluff and angst, and a very poorly constructed enemies to lovers plot.

Word Count: 1685

Masterlist Series Masterlist

24 Days

It was Friday, you were in the middle of doing your two-hour-long stream that you did every Friday. Since you took weekends off from your own streams you did a long one every week. It worked out, you seemed to get a lot more views on Friday anyways.  All the donos seemed to ask about you and Wilbur, you forced a smile to tell everyone you guys were well and that you’re very happy together. The viewers seemed to be happy with your responses and didn't catch you falter.  You were on the DreamSMP cleaning up things and repairing things from any creeper explosions, as having holes in the walkways annoyed you to no end because it didn't look pleasing to the eye. Many ties you were passed by Fundy, Tubbo, and even Tommy.  The in-game chat stated to be spammed by Tommy, VC 2 VC 2 VC 2 over and over again. 

“Well chat, let’s see what Tommy wants,” You giggled and switched to discord.  “Hello Tommy,” You smiled, wondering what type of shenanigans he was up to today, you noticed he was also streaming so you knew it was something that was going to be very entertaining to the stream.  “Y/N!” He yelled  “Tommy!” You yelled back, matching his energy.  “How do you do?” His sudden calm tone almost made you burst into a fit of laughter.  “I do well, Thomas. What are you up to tonight?” You asked, smiling to yourself when using his full name.  “Well, you see, Y/N. See here’s the thing. I am out of supplies, I don’t even have iron to my name Y/N-” “Do you want me to help you get some?” You offered, cutting him off  “Well, actually I was hoping you could just give me some.”  “Tommy,” You laughed, “That’s- unfortunately, that not how it works my friend.” You paused, taking a sip of your water, “I am more than willing to help you go mining, I know a pretty good spot actually, but I’m not going to just give you stuff for nothing.”  “C’mon Y/N you could write it off your taxes as a charity donation,”  You had to give it to him, although Tommy could be annoying at times he was so effortlessly funny, you were almost certain that he didn't even have to try. 

“Ah yes, hang on let me see what I have to give to Tommy’s charity fund,” You laughed, looking through your inventory, pondering for a few moments, making it look like you were going to give him half your stack of iron only our stream before clicking to the three seeds you’d picked up some time ago and throwing them at his feet. His character's head went from looking at you to the seeds, then back to you and back to the seeds again, you pulled up his stream on your other monitor so you could see his face, trying so hard to not burst out into laughter when you saw his unamused look. 

Feeling bad you pulled up a donation, giving Tommy Five bucks so the text-to-speech would work, “Tommy Charity Fund.” You sent and waited for it to go through.  He paused, hearing the dono tts voice, before looking back up at you in the game.  “Fuck you,” He said running away. You couldn't suppress your laughter any longer and it all fell out at once, chat exploded into laughter and emotes, everyone found it hilarious.

A few seconds after you were still in the voice chat with Tommy, he had ventured off to go mining, I guess stealing from people wasn't going well. Since the last war, nobody has really been gathering supplies, taking a break from the lore to just get things done around the server. Tommy still bringing up the ‘charity fund’ you found it hilarious. 

“You’re a bitch you know that,” He mumbled, you knew he was only joking, with Tommy you never took anything to heart, if he had a true problem with you, you know he would message you privately.  “Tommy,” Wilbur's voice came over discord, making you jump slightly.  “Hi Wilbur,” He said, sounding like a little kid when their mom gets them in trouble.  “Apologize to Y/N.'' Wilbur's voice was playful, yet stern, sounding exactly like the older brother who was put in charge of his younger siblings. 

After a second, you could see Tommy bow his head on his stream that was still pulled up on your other monitor.  “Sorry, Y/N. You’re not a bitch.” He said  “It’s okay Tommy,” You chuckled  “Thank you.” Spoke Wilbur before leaving the voice chat. 

You and Tommy stayed on call until his stream ended. You were left alone, talking to your chat. Without anyone else there to keep a consistent conversation you started to daze off, forgetting you were on stream, yawning and leaning forward onto your desk. Your back hurt from how long you’d been sat in front of the monitor. 

Your discord made a noise again, but this time you didn’t bother tabbing out to see who had joined.  “Hey, Y/N,” Wilburs soft voice came across your headphones  “Will,” You smiled, sitting up  “You look tired, how long have you been up?” He asked 

You looked at the clock, it was only 11 PM but you could have sworn it was later.  “Since one,”  “AM or PM?” Will asked  You looked down, “AM,” You mumbled. “You should go to bed,” He said You sighed, knowing he could break you eventually, as your eyelids were drooping shut and your eyes were burning. “Its not even that long, Wil, I’m fine.” You argued 

“How long have you been streaming?” Wilbur asked  “I’m almost at my five hour mark, I’m like forty-five minutes away,”  “End your stream early and get ready for bed than we can chat,” His voice was soft and warm speaking over your stream, your chat exploded, loving Wilbur and you together.  “But I’m so close, just a few more minutes,” You sighed, tabbing out of your game and switching the stream to a full face cam. “I’m sure they wont mind if you end a little early, you've been streaming for a while, love.” He continued, slowly wearing you down. “I can even entertain your chat for a bit while you go get ready for bed, or even make yourself a cup of tea, then when you come back, it will be close enough that you can end the stream, how does that sound?”  You sighed, knowing he had won. You looked at chat and back to the timer of how long you've been on stream, “Okay.” You nodded. 

“Alright Chat, I’m sorry for ending early but you heard the man. Next week will be extra long to make up for this, I promise.” You said, looking at the chat, everyone was spamming ‘goodnight’ and ‘goodbye’  “It was nice spending this fine evening with you all, but I must go now, I will see everyone Monday. Bye!” You ended stream 

“Hi, Wilbur,” You smiled to yourself after ending stream  “I’m going to call your number now, and you can go get ready for bed, okay?” He said  “Alright, Wil,” you nodded, closing all the windows you had open on your pc. 

After shutting everything off you grabbed what you needed and went to the bathroom. Wilbur called you halfway through taking your makeup off, you had eyeliner smudged all around your eyes when you answered his facetime.  When his face popped up on your screen, he was wearing his glasses and a big smile, his hair was a mess and he was already in bed. 

“Getting ready for bed?” He asked, as if he didn't already know.  “Of course,” You shook your head, leaning closer to the mirror making sure you had all the bits of makeup taken off before washing your face with warm water  Picking up your phone you held up a peace sign, making Wil laugh and attempt to take a sneaky screenshot.  “Hey, no, delete that, I look terrible.” You quickly argued after hearing the noise.  “You do not.” He was fast to respond. “You look refreshed, you're glowing.” you shook your head at him as you walked back to your room through the dark house. 

Your roommate had already gone to bed, close to an hour ago. You were always the last person up, being an internet person with many American friends who are in a different time zone and a night owl at heart. You flopped down into your soft pillows, pulling your duvet over yourself and propping your phone up on your laptop so you could still see Wilbur and he could see you. You pulled the corner of the blanket up to hide your face. 

“Don't do that, I want to see your face,” Wilbur frowned.  “No you don’t,” You shook your head  “Yes,” He spoke, “I do.” You moved the blanket so it wasn't all the way covering your face but it was still pulled up enough that your shoulders were covered.  “You realize next week you’ll be here for your stream?” Wilbur said.  “I do now,” You pinched the bridge of your nose, “I’m sorry, I didn't think of that,”  “Its okay, you can stream from my computer,” He smiled. “It will surprise chat,”  “Oh my god, can you imagine, they're going to go crazy,” You chuckled  “They will,”

Wilbur continued to tell you about how he was truly getting excited to have you meet him in person, but his soft voice had been lulling you to sleep, your eyelids struggling to stay open and your warm bed weighing you down. Eventually you were out. Wilbur didn't notice until he asked you a question and did not respond. Your laptop screen was still shining light on you, and he saw you were asleep against the black screen, smiling at you. He snuck another screenshot, making sure the sound was off this time. 

“Goodnight, Y/N.” He said sweetly before getting comfortable in bed himself and slowly drifting off.