#callers bane

[usedtobekrampus]

Ancient Sands Terralith

[whatsnewalycat]

RUTHLESS

Stepdad Joel Miller x Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY)

Word Count: 5.1k+

Warnings: DDDNE, literally just a fucked up stepdad/mom's bf fantasy, could read "mom" as tess but I don't name her or assign physical features to her or reader, post-outbreak, reader is def over 18 but not by much so yeah age gap, NON-CONSENSUAL, power imbalance, unethical d/s dynamic, slapping, spanking, punishment, orgasm delay/denial, humiliation, degradation, face fucking, anal sex, little to no aftercare

A/N: Category is "That old man would fucking never... but if he did..." Please be mindful of the warnings and don't read if it might trigger you. Sorry, mom. Sorry, God.

[ my masterlist ] [ taglist ] [ AO3 ]

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Within the secluded world of your big noise-canceling headphones, you scan through silence on the CB radio, pausing for a few seconds on each channel before moving on to the next. 

Channel 11: Nothing. 

Channel 12: Zilch. 

Channel 13: Nada. 

When you turn the dial to channel 14, though, you pick up chatter and start transcribing. 

Channel 14 7/17/22 19:56

—got a bundle of carrots today. Budaydas, onions, too. Want me to come by tomorrow and make some stew? Over. 

Got enough for the kids? Over. 

And leftovers. Over. 

I’ll be at Margie’s around supper time. Over and out. 

The air goes silent.

After a minute goes by with no follow up transmissions, you glance at the clock. 7:58. Almost time for check-in. 

You tune the radio to channel 32 and review your transcription. 

Many people speak in code, encrypting their messages in seemingly benign conversations. To the untrained ear, they’re normal exchanges, people making small talk about jobs and rations and kids. Goodnight calls and check-ins that use predictable inquiries to convey messages. 

—got a bundle of carrots today. Budaydas, onions, too. Want me to come by tomorrow and make some stew?

Most of it you can translate from memory. The drug traffickers that use channel 14 have frequented the same lingo for years. Likely because of the high turnover rate of personnel. There’s less confusion that way. Confusion in communication raises more alarm bells for eavesdroppers than using the same code words across the board. 

You flip through your cipher for channel 14, searching for budaydas, but find nothing. Scrunching your nose up, you say the word out loud, “Budaydas. Buh-day-das.” 

Carrots, onions, budaydas in a stew. 

“Oh,” you nod in understanding, then jot down your translation, muttering under your breath, “Fucking Boston accents.” 

(Someone) picked up tranquilizers, benzos (budaydas = potatoes), and opioids. The caller wants to meet up and trade as previously agreed. 

The rest of it is easy enough to interpret without the use of a cipher. You probably don’t need to write down the translation, but do it in case your mom or Joel need to reference the notes at a later date. 

There’s enough to distribute product across their network of dealers in Boston QZ, plus more to stockpile. They’ll meet at their hub in Area 1, Margaret St, at midnight. 

You exhale through slack lips, glancing at the clock as it ticks over to 8:00, then pick up the microphone and hold down the speak button. 

“Radio check.” 

A few seconds go by before you hear a familiar gruff voice crackle over the radio waves into your ears, “Loud and clear. Over.”

Your nostrils flare when you hear him. Joel Miller. The bane of your existence. Your de facto stepfather, only because you don’t really remember life without him by your mom’s side. 

This isn’t to say he’s a father figure to you by any means. The two of you never shared the kind of heartwarming paternal bonding moments you read about in books. That would require warmth and vulnerability, which he distinctly lacks. 

Once, when you were maybe 11 or 12, you made the mistake of calling him Dad. The way he looked at you made you feel like dirt. Fire burning behind his dark eyes, he corrected you with one stern syllable that taught you your place: “Joel.” 

You sit up straighter and take a moment to gather yourself before responding. 

“Did you get your message from Uncle Paul? Over.”

“I did. Over.” 

“How’s the weather in Kansas City? Over.” 

“Cloudy. Over.” 

Fuck. 

You swallow around nothing, then clear your throat and ask, “And Grandma, how’s she? Over.”

“Fine, just busy is all.”

You exhale a sigh of relief that melts the tension between your shoulders. Joel continues. 

“Anything new with you? Over.” 

Tapping your fingers on your notes, you answer, “Rumor has it the market is gonna be busy tomorrow. Harvesting time, I guess. Other than that, same old same old. What about you? Staying out of trouble? Over.”

It feels strange, having a casual conversation with him like this. Even if it’s just a data exchange dressed up as a casual conversation. 

There’s a long pause, then he says, “Fine, yeah. Well. See you soon. Over ‘n’ out.” 

Stiff as a board. Cold as ice. Joel Miller, everyone. Round of applause. 

You snort, rolling your eyes as you unplug the headphones and toss them on the table. It takes a moment for you to re-acclimate to your surroundings. 

The dingy two-bedroom apartment is quiet and still. Outside, the setting sun casts the world in a dark golden haze. A FEDRA patrol vehicle roars down the street, broadcasting the curfew alert from a loudspeaker. Faint shouting from a few units down momentarily piques your curiosity before you decide it’s none of your business. 

You stand from the chair and reach your hands above your head, lungs expanding in a powerful yawn, then take a lap around the apartment to stretch your legs. 

Something catches your eye when you walk by the entry. A note slipped under the doorframe. On the outer fold, your name is written in a familiar scrawl. 

Your heart skips a beat. 

You pick it up and unfold the paper, revealing an invitation. 

I miss you. Come over when you’re done surfing the airwaves. XO, Bert. 

Warmth trickles down between your thighs. A smile spreads across your face. You glance up at the door, then to the CB radio and scanner on the desk. 

Indecision churns in your belly. 

You are explicitly forbidden from leaving the apartment while your mom and Joel are out on runs. A safety precaution you’ve protested dozens of times to no avail. They expect you to stay put and warn them if you notice any signs of potential danger. In return, you receive a cut of the profit and a roof over your head. Security, in short. Which is more than most could say. 

That being said… You break this rule from time to time, when the circumstances allow. 

Like when the Fireflies and FEDRA have been quiet for weeks and there are no smoke signals in sight. Like when you’re five nights into a seven day seclusion and think you might die of boredom if you don’t get the fuck out of here. Like when your boyfriend slips a note under the door and asks you to come over. 

You look down at the paper in your hands, re-reading the words I miss you. 

Fuck it, what’s the worst that could happen? 

—

Just before midnight, you wander down the hallway to your unit, jelly knees wobbling with each step. As you absentmindedly trace your tingling lips, still puffy from kissing, you unlock the door and push it open, then frown. 

The lights are on. 

They were off when you left, you’re sure of it. When you step further into the apartment, your foot catches on something. A backpack. This faint buzzing starts behind your ears as you blink at it, wishing it would go away.

Motherfu—

“Where the fuck have you been?” 

Your stomach plummets to the floor when you hear his voice. A thick knot of panic tightens around your windpipe as you look up to find Joel standing just a few paces away in the living room. 

He stares you down, dark eyes glowing with fury, and questions you again, “Where were you?” 

“N-nowhere.” 

The blatant lie sits sour on your tongue. His lips purse, so you fumble out another, “I went for a walk.” 

“A walk,” he repeats, tone disbelieving, “You went on a walk after curfew wearing that?” 

You look down at your clothing. A short skirt and tank top. Your throat bobs in a guilty gulp, then you meet his eyes again and nod. 

“And when did you leave on this ‘walk?’”

Your mind whirs as you try to come up with an answer. It feels like a trap. You try to calculate an answer that will provide minimal blowback. 

“I don’t know, maybe twenty minutes ago?” 

“Try again.” 

The electricity humming through you takes on a red, frustrated edge, and you snip, “I don’t fucking know, dude. It was a while ago, I wasn’t paying attention. Where’s my mom?” 

“Your mom sent me here to make sure you were alive,” he says pointedly, taking slow, deliberate steps towards you, “We’ve been tryin’a reach you for three hours. I got here an hour ago. That’s a helluva lot longer than twenty minutes, ain’t it?” 

Shrinking into yourself, you search his face. Jaw set, eyes boring into yours. Waves of anger roll off him as he approaches, and you remember all those rumors you heard about him on the radio. The fear you heard in grown men’s voices when they recounted run-ins with that bitch and her guard dog. 

You remember what Bert said about him: He’s fucking ruthless.

“You aren’t supposed to leave the apartment when we’re outside the QZ.” 

“I know.” 

“Then why did you?” 

Your heart thuds against your ribcage. 

Joel has never directed this kind of outright anger towards you. Sternness, sure. Contempt, maybe. But this is different. You’re in fucking trouble. 

There has to be a way out of this conversation.

You drop your gaze to the floor and ask, “Is my mom ok? Did something happen to her?”

“Don’t change the subject.” 

Righteous indignation straightens your spine and wills you to meet his eyes again, “I’m not saying shit until you tell me what happened to her.” 

“She sprained her ankle, but she’s fine. She’s safe,” he tells you, then takes another step forward, “Why did you leave?” 

You respond by rolling your eyes. 

“Answer the question.” 

With an irritated sigh, you search his face, then tell him, “You don’t know what it’s like to be here. Isolated for days or weeks at a time. I fucking hate it. It’s so lonely and boring, I feel like I’m losing my mind—”

“Oh, cry me a goddamn river.” 

You scowl at him, staring him down, “Fuck you.” 

“Watch your fucking mouth, you disrespectful little shit.” 

Red flashes through your field of vision, hot and angry and defiant. You gather the moisture in your mouth on your tongue and spit at him. It splats on his cheek. 

His face twists up with fury for one second before he charges, closing the distance between you. The impact pushes your back to the door with a thud. 

He grabs your jaw, fingers digging hard into the soft flesh of your cheeks. His eyes are hot coals, burning into you. The muscles in his jaw twitch, nostrils flaring, breath shaky. 

When he speaks, it’s through gritted teeth, “You don’t know what it’s like out there.” 

“No, because you won’t let me fucking leave—”

“You should be fucking grateful, you know that? Being here is a fucking cake walk. Your mom ‘n’ I have seen things, done things—horrible things you couldn’t even imagine,” he husks, searching your face, grip tightening so hard it makes you whine. “We keep you safe, and all we ask is that you stay put and keep a lookout for us when we’re gone.” 

Even if you wanted to respond, you can’t. The vice grip he has on your face renders your mouth immobile. 

All you can do is stare back at him, studying his furrowed brow and clenched jaw. Full lips pinched thin as he glowers at you. 

You notice how close his broad body is to yours. The heat radiating off his tightly-wound muscles onto your skin. His ragged breath scatters across your face and wafts into your open mouth. You taste the bootleg whiskey on his breath and your pulse jumps. 

Warmth drips down your spine and pools at the center of you, a horrifying sensation that makes you squirm.

“Were you with your little boyfriend? Hmm?” he asks, eyes darting around your face, trailing down to your body for a moment before returning, “That boy downstairs? Figure you musta been, on account of how you’re dressed.” 

You don’t say anything. You can’t. But it doesn’t matter, because it’s not really a question. 

“Abandoning your post to go out and get fucked, is that it?” 

A whimper slips from your throat as heat swells beneath your skin. 

He wouldn’t be treating you like this if your mom was here. He wouldn’t say these things or be this close to you. Knowing this, you understand that whatever is happening right now is wrong. 

You also understand that you like it. 

You hate that you like it, and hate him for making you like it, but you like it all the same. 

Letting go of your face, he demands, “Answer me.” 

“Fuck you.” 

Before you even realize what’s happening, you feel a sharp, hot sting on your cheek and yelp.

He fucking slapped you. 

“Wrong answer.” 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you retort, bringing your hand to the welt forming on your cheek, “I’m gonna tell her.” 

“Yeah? You gonna tell her I found you sneaking in at midnight, too? That you compromised our safety to go out ‘n’ get dicked down?” 

You harden your gaze on him, lips pressing together with disdain. 

“She wouldn’t like that, would she?” he asks, the smallest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, “She’d probably kick you out on your ass.” 

“She wouldn’t. You guys need me.” 

“And you need us,” he counters, searching your face, “So what do we do to make sure this doesn’t happen again? Hmm?” 

A dozen inappropriate images flash through your head, each more lurid than the last. An electric, tingling feeling shoots out from the base of your spine and works through your extremities. 

You swallow hard and shake your head, “I won’t do it again.” 

“If I don’t punish you, you will. You’re fucking disrespectful. Selfish. You need discipline.” 

Again, a flash of frustration taints the world red. Crossing your arms over your chest, you scoff, “Just because you’re fucking my mom doesn’t mean you’re my dad. I am an adult and you are not the boss of me.” 

He sighs and takes a step back, planting his hands on his hips. His gaze drifts around the empty apartment, jaw gnashing back and forth for a moment before he returns to twist the deadbolt closed and grab your arm. 

“What the f—” you swat at him and dig your heels into the floor, but it does nothing as he drags you by his steel grip, pulling you stumbling along behind him into the living room. 

He sits on the couch and forces you to lay over his bent knees, one big hand securing your wrists behind your back while the other flattens against the swell of your ass cheek. As soon his touch leaves, it returns, a sharp snap tingling across your skin. 

Shocked doesn’t even begin to describe the chaos throbbing through you. 

“You’re right, you’re an adult. And I’m not your dad,” he asserts, lifting his hand. Your whole body clenches in anticipation. “But as long as you live here, I am the fucking boss of you,” he slaps your ass again, “Do you understand me?” 

It surprises you when you hear yourself sob, “I’m sorry—”

He does it again and again, hissing, “Yeah, you’re fucking sorry now, aren’t you?” 

Each firm slap he lays down is firm, unflinching. Ruthless. 

It overwhelms your senses and becomes the only thing you feel. The universe world narrows down to just his palm on your skin. The reliable and exquisite pain ringing through you. Smack. Smack. Smack. 

Every time he draws his hand back, you don’t think you can handle it again. But you do. 

Soon, you start to crave the impact. His skin on your skin. You can’t feel the start or end of it. It’s just him and you. Pain and pleasure. Sobs and moans, all blended together. 

Far away, you hear him chide you for not wearing underwear beneath your skirt. Then he asks, “Are you fucking enjoying this?” 

Too ashamed to admit it, all you do is whimper in response.

Smack. 

He sucks in breath through his teeth, then grabs the meat of your ass and rumbles, “You do, don’t you?” 

When his grasp on your wrists releases, you pull your elbows beneath you and look over your shoulder at him, watching as he spreads your cheeks apart and stares down between your legs. You’re probably shiny and wet with the evidence of your desire. 

His lips form an ‘o’ when he kneads you back together and spreads you apart again. The motion teases all your hungry nerves and makes you moan. It feels so fucking good. 

You realize then that he’s grown stiff against your belly, hard cock leaving no mistake. 

“You fucking like it, too, don’t you?” you ask him, your voice breathy and amused, “I can feel how turned on you are.” 

Slipping a hand between your bodies, you press against his strained zipper. His cock jumps at the contact, and he groans, dragging his fingers through your slick lips. 

“Oh my god,” you gasp, eyes fluttering closed as you nod in approval. He works your clit in steady, firm circles while you smooth your hand along the big bulge in his pants, letting out a string of whines at the bubbling pleasure inside you. 

You lose yourselves here, both of you squirming and panting and petting the other. So wrapped up with how fucking good it feels that you forget to feel ashamed. 

When he smacks your ass now, you croak through clenched teeth, “Fuck yes.”

He likes that you like it. You can tell by the way he groans and throbs beneath you. This knowledge inspires your pulse to pound and your muscles to tense. 

“Joel,“ you whimper, opening your eyes to meet his heavy-lidded gaze, “I’m gonna fucking come, don’t stop—”

“Did I give you permission to do that?” he asks, slowing his touch to a torturous rhythm, “Did I say you could come?” 

You shake your head and whine, “Please, Joel, please—”

“Are you sorry for what you did?” 

“I’m sorry—”

“Are you gonna do it again?”

“No no no, I won’t, I promise, I’ll be a good girl—”

He groans, tossing his head back as you frantically rub at the bulge in his pants. Your palm chafes against the stiff denim, but you don’t stop. You would do this for eternity if it meant he’d let you find your release. 

“Oh yeah, you’ll be a good fucking girl for me?” he asks, touching you just soft and slow enough to twist your nerves ragged, but keep your orgasm out of reach. 

“I will, I promise. Please, Joel,” you whisper, holding his gaze as your face gets all hot, “Please make me come, please please—”

“Show me you mean it.” 

He doesn’t need to explain what he means. While he takes off his jeans, you scramble off his lap and kneel between his spread knees. His eyes stay glued to yours as you slide your hands up his thighs. 

Batting your lashes at him, you wrap your lips around his swollen cock. He fills your mouth. He feels smooth but hard against your tongue. He tastes salty and heady and when you inhale the musk of him, you moan around his girth. 

Nodding, he anchors his grip behind your head and bucks his hips, forcing his dick down your throat. When you gag, he doesn’t let up, but thrusts into the sensation, grunting, “Fuck. Yes,” before letting you pull off, gasping for air.

You wrap your hands around him, all shiny and slick with drool, and pump his length for a moment while you catch your breath, then take him in your mouth again. 

This time, you sit up taller. You relish the stretch of your lips as you bob up and down. Savor the tug of his fingers curled tight in your hair. Memorize the sound of his huffs and grunts as he fucks your face. The wet squelching gurgle of his cock squeezing down your windpipe. 

“Look at me,” he orders, so you do. 

He’s all blurred from your watering eyes, but you can make out the dark irises and stay locked onto them while relaxing the muscles of your throat to take him easier. When you make an enthusiastic humming noise, he groans. It’s wanton and lusty and lights a fire in your belly. 

Joel has never treated you this hard or soft. His regard for you has always been callous. Closed-off. Indifferent. With your assistance on the radio, he treated you like a tool for survival. Before that, or even in-between smuggling runs, he treated you like some kind of a household pet he had little regard for. Your mom’s responsibility, never his. 

For years and years, you ached for more. 

When you were younger, you used to sit up nights and wonder if he’d ever consider you his daughter. He wouldn’t, though. He won’t. 

But this is something. 

Distinctly, you want to please him. Be the best he ever had. You want to sink your claws into his brain and leave your mark for years to come. You want him to look at you after this and feel a flicker of desire and self-loathing. You want him to think of you when he fucks your mom. You want him to hate how you made him feel. 

When you pull off him and start to work his soaked length with your hands, you pant, “Does that feel good? Am I doing a good job sucking your cock?” 

“It’s good,” he nods, lets out a groan that pinches his eyes shut, then meets your gaze again, “So fucking good, Jesus Christ. Is this what you were out doing tonight? Sucking cock?” 

“Not tonight.” 

“But he fucked you, didn’t he? That boy?” 

You nod, stroking him slower. His eyelids flutter. 

“Did he fuck your pussy or your ass?” 

The question sends a jolt through your middle. You recall the sex you had with Bert. Barely an hour has gone by since he pulled out of your cunt to shoot his load on the mattress, but it feels like a lifetime ago. 

“My pussy,” you answer, then gather a thick, hot wad of saliva on your tongue and spit on his cock. You spread it with a slow churning motion, watching Joel’s face twist up with pleasure. 

“Were you bein’ smart about it at least?” he asks, studying you, “We don’t need you getting knocked up.” 

“He pulled out,” you shrug. 

He grunts in acknowledgment, then sits up and pulls on your arm to join him on the couch, “C’mere.” 

You follow his guidance, lying back on the cushions as he strips off his shirt. 

The only times you’ve seen him shirtless were accidental and slightly embarrassing for both of you. But now, you notice how his smooth chest glows in the dim light. Now, when you drink in the sight of his big arms and broad shoulders, heat bubbles up your spine.

While you pull your tank top off over your head, he tugs your skirt down your thighs, asking, “You ever taken it up the ass?” 

You shake your head. 

His eyebrows jump a little like he’s surprised. A sadistic kind of smirk plays across his lips as he pushes your knees up to your chest, then spreads you apart, the head of him nudging at your backdoor. 

He doesn’t ask for permission. He doesn’t ask if you want it this way, or if you want him to be the first. He doesn’t even warn you about the initial shock and pain you experience when he rocks his hips forward and breaches the tight hole. 

You yelp and try to lurch away from the sharp pain, but he grabs you and holds you there. 

Sitting up on your elbows, you cry, “That fucking hurts, Joel.”

“Wouldn’t be much of a punishment if it didn’t hurt a little, would it?” he murmurs, disinterested, watching your asshole stretch to accommodate the head of his cock. 

The sensation is overwhelming. Like being stabbed or split open. At first, you hate it. You sputter and gasp and shake your head as he pushes himself in further and further. 

Then he pauses the invasion, releasing his steel grip on you to tilt your chin up and meet his gaze, “Just relax.”

His eyes burn into yours, making your pulse jump. You bear witness to his heaving chest and parted lips and feel him twitch inside you. Sparks sizzle across your body, but you still scowl at him. 

“It hurts, I don’t like it.“ 

“It’ll get better, you just gotta relax,” he coaches.

“Why can’t we just have normal sex?”

He grunts, thinks about it for a moment, then tells you, “First off, this is not normal sex,” he points between your chest and his, “This will not be a normal thing, you understand?” 

It stings a little, if you’re being honest. But you nod, “I understand.” 

Nodding, he licks his lips. He throbs inside you, hips jerking a little in reaction. This time, the friction feels good enough to make you whimper. 

“Second, we don’t need another mouth to feed around here,” he says, searching your face, “We’re stretched thin enough as is. You know what I mean?”

“But if you—”

“Pulling out can still stick. This way’s tried and true, trust me.” 

“Trust you,” you scoff under your breath and roll your eyes. 

“What’s that?” 

You meet his hardened gaze, feeling emboldened enough to ask, “Do you fuck my mom in the ass?” 

“That’s none of your business,” he warns. 

“So, what, you can interrogate me about my sex life, but I can’t do the same?” 

“That’s right,” he barks, “Know why?” 

In response, you glare at him. 

He takes this moment of bitter silence to drag his knuckles up your slick, swollen lips. The light touch branches out beneath your skin and makes your heart pound. You gasp a little, but try to hide it. He clocks it immediately. 

“There we go,” he murmurs under his breath, almost as an aside, smoothing the pad of his thumb in soft circles on your clit. Pleasure churns beneath the touch, hot and hungry for more. When you whimper, Joel’s eyes go wild for a second, then he says, “I am the fucking boss of you, understand?” 

You swallow a moan as he arches forward and starts to roll his hips. It feels better now. Good. Fucking amazing, almost. Electric and gooey. He fills you so completely with each thrust, you wonder how you can even breathe. 

“So if I tell you to be home, that’s where you’ll be. If I ask you where you’ve been, who you were with, what you were doing—you tell me the truth. Understand?” 

Nodding, you gasp, “I understand.” 

“You don’t get to ask me about your mom. You don’t tell your mom. You don’t sneak out to go get fucked by some boy who doesn’t even know what to do with you—”

“Holy shit, Joel I’m gonna—” you gasp at the pressure building at the base of your spine, spreading thick and hot and delicious across your body. 

“And you don’t come without my fucking permission. Understand?” 

“I understand I understand,” you cry, literal tears burning behind your eyes at the ache of trying to keep the ecstasy at bay, “Please can I come, please please please—”

“Are you sorry?” 

“I’m sorry, I’ll never do it again—”

“That’s right, you’ll never fucking do it again. Why’s that?”

“You’re the boss,” you beg, your voice so raw and pleading it sounds foreign. He pounds into you now, a wet slap that echoes off the apartment walls. It takes all your concentration to keep your pleasure contained, to not spill over the edges, but you hear yourself babble somewhere far away. 

“You’re the fucking boss. I’m sorry I’m sorry I won’t disobey you again I’ll be a good girl I’ll do anything just please give me permission to come daddy please please please—”

When he moans, loud and depraved, it just about breaks you, but you manage to keep your resolve long enough for him to pant, “Go ahead, let it go.” 

With a choked sob, you untether your pleasure and allow it to expand, growing hot and wide and unlike anything you’ve ever felt. Every muscle in your body tenses up as the sensation swallows you whole, then spits you back up, sending wave after wave across your body.

“That’s it, that’s a good girl,” he grunts, taking his hand from your clit to hold your knees down and fuck your ass hard and fast and ruthless.

It surprises you when heat starts stretching out from the middle of you again. Your heart starts to race as the feeling grows. 

“Ffffuuuuck,” you whimper, “That feels so fucking good—”

“I told you, didn’t I?” 

“You did you did holy shit,” you meet his eyes and nod frantically, “I love it I love it—please can you come in my ass?” 

“Is that what you want? Want me to come in your tight little asshole?” 

A feral noise escapes you, and you sob, “Yes—”

“Do you wanna come too?”

“Yes—oh my god, yes, please please please daddy—”

“Come with me, baby.”

You let the feeling overtake you again, gasping out, “thank you thank you thank you,” as it takes you strong and fast. Pleasure pulses through your body, causing you to convulse and strain against Joel’s grip spreading you open. He releases a moan from his belly and gives you a hard, deep thrust that he holds for a shuddering moment. After emptying himself inside you, he pulls out, falling back to his seat on the couch. 

Chest heaving, you prop yourself up on your elbows and study him. He pinches his eyes shut and catches his breath before meeting your gaze again. 

His expression goes soft long enough for something dangerous to flicker between you. 

Then he turns away and starts getting dressed. 

“Get yourself together, I’m gonna go get your mom.” 

As you sit up, you fold your legs into your body and watch him button his shirt. 

“Joel—”

He looks at you, searching your face expectantly, but your brain goes static and you’re not even sure what you were going to say. 

“This stays between us, understand?” 

His tone is firm but gentle. You swallow hard and nod, “I understand.” 

Nodding, he glances down at your lips, then back to your eyes. He rises to his feet to leave, but before he does, he leans down to press a kiss into your forehead. 

“Good girl.” 

[ NEXT PART ]

[irisintheafterglow]

coparenting!megumi with satoru where one of you gets lost after school supply shopping it's not the actual child that gets lost

"megs, where's satoru?"

"i thought he was with you."

"that's a problem, then, because he hasn't been with me for the past ten minutes." you plop down next to him, sliding your sunglasses to the top of your head and taking in the busy park in front of you. the weather was comfortable today, cool enough that you weren't sweating but warm enough to have megumi's ice cream dripping down the cone toward his little fingers. you wordlessly hand him a napkin and he takes it without looking at you, continuing to observe the people throwing around a frisbee or having a picnic in the sunshine. there was a playground on the other side of the field and you could vaguely make out the blurry forms of children running about. "you can go play, if you want. i can stay and watch the stuff."

"i don't really want to," he replies. "i like sitting here with you." the corner of your mouth turns up into a smile. he was barely big enough for his legs to touch the ground and he absentmindedly kicked his feet back and forth under the bench. "do we need to go anywhere else today?"

"i don't think so, no. i think we got everything that you'll need for next week." he nods in assent and the toes of his shoes brush against the plastic grocery bags holding his new school supplies.

you could tell megumi was excited, in his own quiet way, when the car pulled into the parking lot of the store. as much as he acted as the bane of satoru's existence, you knew he liked spending time with both of you. you stopped satoru with a gentle hand on his shoulder when his lanky legs ran for a cart, gesturing toward megumi heading down the first aisle, basket in hand. you barely had to do anything for most of the trip; at most, you'd remind the boy of a specific type of pencil or notebook he needed and provide feedback if he was split between two different designs. any additions by satoru were pointedly ignored by the boy unless they were reiterated by you. "if you need anything else, just let satoru know and he'll bring it to your school."

"you can't drop it off instead?"

"i know i usually do, but i have an assignment that's sending me out of town. you'll have to make do with your esteemed mentor for a bit." you smirk and nudge his shoulder with your elbow, chuckling softly when he frowns. it was a little funny, seeing a child have the expression of a businessman desperately waiting for retirement. "what is it, megs?"

"he scares all my teachers." you choke on the sip you take from your bottle, jolting forward and laugh-coughing your way to normal breathing again. it didn't surprise you, what megumi said; it was the incredibly straightforward, slightly amused note in his voice that had water going down the wrong pipes. "i'm serious. whenever you're visiting, people always gush about how well you take care of me."

"and when satoru comes around?"

"they hide." a prideful noise escapes your throat and the two of you have identical smirks as you sit on the bench. your eyes carefreely scan the field for any bright white hair or screams of commotion that could indicate your boyfriend's presence, but there are no such things. nonetheless, you're not worried. he always found his way back to you somehow.

at least, that's what you think.

you feel the telltale buzz-buzz-buzz of your phone in your back pocket and roll your eyes when you see the caller id.

"hello?"

"i'm lost."

"mmm, poor baby," you deadpan, glancing at megumi to see a small smile on his face.

"aren't you going to come find me?" his voice is teasingly playful, implying that he disappeared on purpose just for the hell of it.

"i'm not playing hide and seek with you, satoru. just come back to the ice cream cart."

"but it's so much more fun if you come get me instead," he argues, his voice slightly too insistent for you to think that he's joking. he better be kidding.

"satoru."

"okay, fine. i actually don't know where the hell i am." he is not kidding.

you sigh, standing and taking megumi's hand. "just retrace your steps, sweetheart." you stand and walk a random direction in hopes that your navigationally-challenged boyfriend would find his way to you. the plastic handle of the store bag digs into the crook of your elbow as you continue to hold the phone up to your ear. "can you describe your surroundings?"

"uh, trees."

"those are everywhere, satoru. we're in a park." you can't help the giggle that escapes your lips towards the tail end of your sentence. the irony of the most powerful human on earth being lost in a park was priceless. "any specific monuments or something that i can head to?"

"there's a big field-"

"again, baby, this is a park. look, i'm just gonna do the thing. if you can't find us from that, you might need to rethink your career choice." megumi stifles a snicker from next to you and you abruptly hang up, cutting off the distorted protests blaring from your phone. you have a seat on the grass and megumi mirrors your position, taking your hand when you offer it to him. "just like we practiced, okay?" he sighs impatiently, but you knew it wasn't you he was irritated with. "alright, i'll go first and then you add on to me, yeah?"

stretching your neck from side to side, you close your eyes and slowly channel more cursed energy until it engulfs your entire body. soon, you feel megumi's faint but determined aura bump against yours. after less than a minute, instinct tells you that satoru received your beacon and you look over your shoulder to see him strolling casually across the lawn. he's tall enough that, when he finally stands above you and megumi, he blocks out most of the sun. you can barely see his eyes, but you know he can see the exasperation on your face. he merely beams at you like you produced the oxygen he was breathing.

"found you."

"took you long enough." he effortlessly pulls you up from the ground and you stumble, nearly slamming into his chest. "where did you end up going, anyway?"

"there's an old daycare center towards the back of the park. sensed something there and wanted to kill it before it bothered us," he explains, humming when you brush your fingers over the fabric covering his eyes. he delicately takes your hand and presses light kisses to your knuckles, so dotingly you'd think either of you had just come back from war. you're about to kiss him properly when a small voice clears its throat some ways below you. your face heats, suddenly remembering megumi is still there.

"are we ready to go, or should i give you two a few minutes?" satoru's jaw drops in indignancy.

"watch it, megs, or i'm gonna have satoru be the one dropping off all of your things during the school year." your hand ruffles the black spikes of his hair and he pouts.

"please don't."

"wait, what's wrong with me bringing your things?" megumi exhales tiredly like he'd clocked out of his 9-5 and walks ahead to the parking lot. you and satoru lag behind, his arm wrapped around your waist and matching his steps with yours.

"i'll explain in the car. will you be able to find it okay, lost child?" you raise your eyebrows patronizingly, putting on your best doe-eyed gaze. he scoffs, but you're not done making fun of him just yet. "whatever shall i do if you were to suddenly disappear? i may be forced to find another...suitor." you bat your eyelashes dramatically and you can see his eyes rolling behind his blindfold.

"ha, ha. very funny." his hands ever so slightly squeeze the flesh around your hip and you jump. "now i know how it feels when i start reciting shakespeare over minor inconveniences." you laugh and melt a little when his thumb draws apologetic little circles on your waist. god, he's so in love with you.

"i'm surprised you didn't start monologuing on the phone. it worried me."

"you don't ever need to worry about finding me because i'll always come back."

"you promise?"

"on the moon and the stars."

prompt is from @youneedsomeprompts because coparenting megumi inspiration comes and goes from my mind like an endangered species :))

hope you enjoyed ! likes, reblogs, and feedback are always appreciated <3

[cyberl33ch]

Excuse Me, Miss? Chapter 1

masterlist, part two, part three, part four

summary: Neighbor turned business partner, romantic or conflict of interest?

tw: angst, eventual smut, conflict of interest, alcohol consumption, & hopeless feeling.

pairing: Neighbor/BusinessPartner!Abby x NepoBaby!Reader

Graduating university for some people is freeing but for you it was just another thing on your checklist. Being a multi billionaire's daughter with a happy childhood doesn’t really leave you wanting anything but the newest Hermes or Birkin handbag. So as your fathers daughter you drown your issues at the local bar (which your dad happens to own).

You were perfectly fine talking to one of the random girls who had swarmed over to you as soon as you sat down at the bar. Starting to get sweaty and overwhelmed with all the chitter chatter around you, you walk outside for a quick smoke.

As you destress on one of the benches outside your phone starts vibrating in your pocket. Quickly taking it out of your pocket you identify the caller. “Ughhh” You slur out rolling your eyes, before picking up the phone. If there was one thing your father knew how to do it was kill a buzz immediately.

“Get in the car.” Your father says demanding. Standing up you take a look around the street and spot the white limo with the company logo spread across it. Picking up your purse off the bench you walk towards the limo and get inside.

Closing the door you look at the bane of your existence. “I need you to do something.” He says not even sparing a glance. “It better be worth it.” You sit back in the seat slowly relaxing. Your father knocks twice on the roof and the car starts to pull off.

“I hope those…” He pauses to squint at his computer ”5 shots of tequila were worth it.” Making you roll your eyes, it was typical of your father or anyone at the company to monitor you and your intake.

This is why you have always been hounded about who you date, never why because they already know. You’ve always said that if you had complete control over your life you would’ve never been in such a lose-lose situation with life.

“What do you want?” You say groaning out rubbing your temples. “You’re going to pick up Marissa's job for a month.” He blankly says following it with a sigh. “See that’s the thing you never make it an option- Wait, did you fire her?” You remark with a raised eyebrow. “Wouldn’t dream of that.” This is the first time he dares to lock eyes with you, even though he immediately looks back down at his computer.

“Your shift starts on Monday…see you there.” You step out of the limo in front of the lobby of your penthouse. Closing the door you walk through the doors of the lobby sighing in relief that the interaction ended. Walking past the front desk you choose the elevator with only one person in it, stepping in you go to click your floor button but see it’s already clicked.

Since you’ve only just passed the 12th floor you finally realize you’ve stepped into an elevator full of boxes. “Oh, are you moving?” You said stepping out of the way. “Yeah sorry, all the other elevators were full of people…my name’s Abby.” She extends her hand out to give yours a FIRM shake.

After getting through the casualties, somewhere along the line you ended up agreeing to help her move some boxes to her place. I mean it couldn’t hurt right she’s just across the hallway, literally your doors are peephole to peephole. What the hell, it's just a couple of boxes, they’re not gonna hurt anybody.

Putting down the box you exhaustingly wipe the sweat on your forehead plopping down on the stairs next to you. “You’re trying to kill me.” You mumble in between breaths, making Abby chuckle while putting a bigger box like a pillow. “Would you like something to drink? At Least my kitchen is put together.” She motions towards the bar stools in the kitchen getting something out of the fridge.

You take a seat on one of the barstools hoping that something cold might help you catch your breath. This is the first time you take in how warmly decorated Abby’s place is, in comparison to yours less marble more wood. Well you didn’t have control over the decorations in your condo, hell you didn’t even have control of where you lived.

Your thoughts are once again interrupted by Abby slipping a glass full of lemonade into your open hand. “You space out a lot.” Abby says truthfully. “I have a lot to think about.” You say while taking a sip from your cup, eyeing her physical response over the top of your cup.

You might’ve been a functioning alcoholic that night but if there was one thing that was for sure it was that Abby was quite the woman. Not just from a physical standpoint but from a personality one, you two had so much in common.

Same music taste, you guys both loved journaling, not to mention the most romantic of them all…you both love the exact same authors. But being the awkward person you were, you didn’t know if this meant that the energy you put out was getting reciprocated or even noticed at all.

After all it was a long night and your shift starts in a few days, and you really feel the urge to call and tell your father off. “Hey Abs I think I’m going to call it a night.” You speak to Abby who is seemingly in her own world as well. “Yeah, I’m getting a little tired myself.” Abby knows she's lying, her life was lonely, it was nice to have a new personality in her space, refreshing even.

After finishing your nightly routine you plop down on the bed with an exhausted sigh, you wish you could sulk over your life. But after years and years the tears stopped coming and the situation never got better so what was the point?

What was the point when you could just drown your sorrows in the nearest bar wishing you were drowning yourself instead.

Waking up in your bed that was clearly too big for just you is always comforting, like a big hug you’ve never had. You get up to take a shower and do your morning routine when you get a call from your dads secretary.

You don’t really have a problem with her, she's just always…there and that can get really annoying. “How can I help you Karla.” You say rubbing your temples. “You’re late.” You can hear her teeth grinding through the phone. “Jeez Kar don’t rip all your hair follicles out like last time.” You remark letting a chuckle slip.

Karla clears her throat regaining her composure before speaking “You're taking over Marissa’s shift right?” She questions. “Yes..” You respond vaguely, rushing to check the calendar on your fridge. “Wait…it’s Monday.” You screech audibly it was just like you to forget what day it was but for the hangover to get to you the next day. “I’ll be on my way.” You say briefly before ending the call and rushing to put on business attire. You know for a fact that Karla is on her way to laugh with your dad about your slip up.

Walking into the building with slightly messier hair than you would like, attracting unwanted glances before reaching your desk. Finally something you can hide behind, gosh don’t people know what hard times look like.

Before you have the chance to do anything someone taps you on the shoulder. “Yes?” You turn around with a raised eyebrow meeting gazes with a very sculpted facial structure.

“Hello I’m Kev, your assistant here to help you with anything you need during your time here.” He says robot like. “Well Kev I like your tie but you can relax around me.” You say slightly nudging his shoulder with your fist. Kev lets out a sigh and starts listing off the duties he’s going to help you with, this is going to be a very long month.

You have 30 minutes left of your shift meaning you weren’t even doing your work, you were watching youtube on your computer. Completely swallowed by the drama showing on the screen.

The office phone on your desk starts ringing, letting out the biggest exhale ever when you pick up the phone “Front Desk.” You say with fake enthusiasm. “Bring those papers you printed out to my office.” You hear your father on the other side.

Hanging up the phone without any further explanation you snatch the papers out of the printer and practically stomp towards the executive elevator. Getting out of the elevator you step into your fathers office to find it empty, you just leave the papers neatly on his desk before departing you see pictures of you when you were younger.

Of course they’re among his new wife but you’re just surprised he didn’t burn a hole in your mothers face. “Excuse me, Miss?” Your reminiscing is interrupted by a familiar voice. You turn around to lock eyes with none other than…Abby?

my masterlist

(tell me in my ask my anything's if you have a request!)

(divider by @gigittamic)

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Love Song for a Vampire Pt.20

Pairing(s): Edward Cullen x Wolf!Reader, Edward Cullen x Bella Swan Warnings: none Words: 3348 Summary: You meet Carmen and Eleazor. Part 1    Part 2    Part 3    Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7  Part 8  Part 9  Part 10  Part 11  Part 12  Part 13  Part 14  Part 15  Part 16  Part 17  Part 18  Part 19  Part 21  Part 22  Part 23  Part 24  Part 25  Part 26  Part 27  Part 28  Part 29  Part 30  Part 31  Part 32  Part 33  Part 34  Part 35  Part 36  Part 37  Part 38  Part 39

Your summer school homework was the bane of your existence, tapping your pencil incessantly against your bottom lip as you stared at the jumble of letters and numbers. Whose idea was it to put letters in math anyway? Perhaps you would have known had you paid more attention in your classes instead of falling asleep or thinking of your wolf life. A life no one else in your class was aware of.

There was a small school on the La Push reservation that must have had the smallest classes in the state. Only a hand few of other students attended. A smaller class should have been better for your scholastic life right? Not when you part-timed as a wolf at night. Such an essential part to both the safety of La Push and Forks yet no one else was to know except for your fellow school going pack members who found lessons to be just as tedious. Well, excluding Quil. None of you knew how he did it, but he had passed all of his classes with a strong C across the board. You refused to accept that Quil, the same kid who used to eat sand when he was younger, was actually smarter than you.

Rubbing your fingers against your forehead, you lean back in your chair and close your eyes if just for a moment. Your body ached to run. To shed your useless human skin and take the powerful form of your wolf. Unfortunately your mom and dad had put their foot down on you at least finishing one homework assignment before you left to gallivant with the rest of your pack. By all means it was fair, but that was of little consolation now that you were faced with actually doing the work. You could take down newborn vampires but math was another battle that you were ill-equipped to handle.

You were all too eager to answer your phone when it started to ring. The caller ID had every cell in your body leaping for joy. Edward was calling. How long had it been since you heard his voice? 

Feeling guilty at how excited you were at the prospect of talking to him, you squash down those damnable butterfly flutters and pick up your phone. Did Bella tell him of the lunch you two spent together? It didn’t seem like they were speaking with one another. 

With great trepidation and elation, you press your thumb on the green answer button.

**

Rude to stare at people, you were unable to prevent your eyes from gawking at the two new vampires that stood before you. Their gold eyes told you have the identical vegetarian lifestyle that the Cullens had.

“Carmen, Eleazor, this is (y/n).” Edward introduces you with a hint of pride that you caught onto quickly. You needed to act cool. Show them that his presence didn’t affect you as much as it actually did. If they were close to Edward, he must have told them everything including that you had essentially deemed him to be your soulmate. “(Y/n), these are two members of the Denali coven. Eleazor used to be in the Volturi a long time ago. They wanted to meet both you and Bella. Get acquainted with you if we are to fight alongside each other in the future.”

So it was certain then, another battle loomed in the distance. Whether it happens a week from now or a month, Edward was already preparing for when the Volturi discovered that Bella had changed her mind about becoming a vampire and would remain human. You would have to fight for her safety once again. This time though it was different. Like you understood her better. Not that you ever resented her.

After your only real interaction with her though, you came to the conclusion that she was a good person who didn’t want any of this chaos either. In fact it seemed she resented herself a little bit for not being able to protect herself, let alone being able to protect Edward.

During your time in that diner, Bella had told you in detail what had happened in Italy when she first encountered the Volturi. All about why Edward went there in the first place and the underlying cruelty that lay underneath their put together facade. They were vampires that didn’t believe in drinking animal blood. Preferring the richness of that blood that flowed through humans instead.

She had been unable to protect him from a certain Volturi member’s power that caused invisible pain to grip its victim. Surprisingly though it hadn’t done anything to her. Bella seemed immune to this Jane’s power.

Pulling your lips into an easy grin, you held out your hand to the both of them. “Nice to meet you. It’s refreshing to meet a vampire that isn’t trying to kill me.”

Both Carmen and Eleazor smile at your little joke. Carmen shakes your hand first, her palm and fingers are like ice as they press against your warm hand. She didn’t recoil from your wolf scent, showed no sign like some of the other Cullen members had displayed when you first met them.

“This is the first time either of us have met anyone like you. Our world never ceases to amaze me. I wonder what other creatures could be thriving among us.” Eleazor comments after taking his turn to shake your hand.

That twisted face of Xiomara was like an incessant phantom in the back of your mind. Rearing it’s head up every so often to remind you of what real monsters existed. Monsters that shouldn’t be real and should stay in fairytales.

“I’m sure my alpha will want to meet the two of you as well. Show you the proof of our alliances with the Cullens.” Sam would be interested once you told him. A safe idea for you to come meet the new vampires first as you now seemed to be some sort of ambassador between the wolves and vampires. “How long will the two of you be staying here?”

“As long as it takes for us to come up with a decision and proposition for the other members of our coven.” Carmen sighs. “Three of them are still not so sure. Especially about working with your kind.”

Yeah, some members would have a problem with accepting two more so soon. Many were finally warming up to the members of the Cullen family. This new camaraderie was delicate. New and uncertain.

“We’re hoping this visit will make them come around.” Says Edward. “Depending on what Carmen and Eleazor say. They will respect their words far more than mine.”

“Not by any default of your’s.” Eleazor reassures Edward. The other three members decision was nothing of the personal nature against Edward, but surely he would be biased.

“Irina will be the real issue.” Honey gold eyes glance at you. “A male she was very interested in was killed by one of your kind.”

Wincing, you remembered the incident. The panic that had ensued because that vampire had tried to attack Bella in the woods of wolf territory. The Denali couple wave off your change in facial features, wanting you not to worry about it.

Carmen proceeds “It was a fairly new romance. We hadn’t known him for too long. Regardless, Irina feels jilted.”

You wanted to proceed carefully, choose your words with the utmost care. To not offend these newcomers since you didn't know how volatile they could be. A reassuring nod from Edward gave you the courage to speak up. "It was a regrettable action but we did what we were sworn to do: to protect the defenseless humans of Forks. That is all my pack wants, what we were made for." Compared to these immortal beings, you must have been but an infant. Hell, you hadn't even been anywhere outside of Washington before. Experiencing little of what the world had to offer you.

Both observe you with those once eerie gold eyes that you had grown so comfortable around. As if gauging your character, your inner soul. Would they deem you worthy to fight alongside with? You hoped you weren't setting a bad example for your pack. Maybe someone else should have been called rather than you. You were young and so inexperienced with giving empowering speeches. You felt so small compared to the other members. Paul or Jared were old enough to be delegates too, although a lot more short tempered than you.

The first one to break the quiet was Carmen who offered you a soft smile. "Well, I hope the others of your ilk are well mannered like you."

"Unfortunately, well mannered wolves are in short supply." You comment with a bit of a teasing lilt in your voice to inspire Carmen's smile to widen. Enough to make your body sag with relief. These were potential allies. Allies who, while they can be serious, also have a gentle side to them. Gentle and friendly. Just like the Cullens. Hope that the rest of your pack would warm up to them bloomed inside of you and you catch Edward's eyes on you. You shoot him a success filled smile. You would have a good report to give to the others.

***

When (y/n) bid farewell, promising of Sam getting into contact with them later that day, the three vampires lounge around in the living room. Everyone felt more relieved after the introduction. (y/n) had that effect on people: making them feel at ease.

"So. . . That's the wolf girl who. . . what was the word. . . imprinted on you?" Carmen asked Edward with a sly grin that made the corners of her lips curl in an impish way.

Thankfully his perpetual pale pallor prevented him from blushing. "Yes. (y/n)."

She knew she hit home with her comment as she witnessed Edward shift a little bit in his seat. "I like her. She's a cute little thing. The smell, I'm sure, I will get used to in time. It's very. . ."

"Earthy." Edward says before she was even able to finish. That's what he smelled anyway whenever he was around her. Earth and life itself.

"Is she aware of the attraction you feel toward her?" Eleazor speaks up.

He forgot how observant these two were. Of course his attentiveness toward (y/n) revealed it's true meaning to them. Indeed he himself couldn't ignore how excited he had been to see her and that (y/n) seemed like she was doing well. The dark circles under her eyes had lessened and she seemed. . . happy.

Longing was evident on both ends. So close they were but they consciously put a safe distance between themselves. That invisible wall known as Bella. She had broken things off with Edward yet neither of the fated pair were willing to take that first step to be together. Still respective of the fresh breakup and the love Edward still had for the human girl because each knew that he was willing to wage another battle, possibly a war, to protect her.

Edward couldn't think of a proper reply. Did (y/n) know? Could she smell a difference in Edward's scent whenever they were together? He didn't think so.

Putting a hand on her mate's shoulder, Carmen shook her head as if to say that the topic should be dropped for a later time. "And when can we meet Ms. Swan?"

Grateful for the change, Edward relaxed his back against the cushions. "That one will be a little bit more tricky. At the moment, none of my family are allowed to speak to her. We'd have to go through her father. He's the local police chief. After all that happened, he wants us to keep our distance."

Eleazor raised a brow. "He knows the truth?"

"All of it. Including the truth about the wolves." Edward nods.

The Volturi would not be happy that a second human knew of the secret existence of vampires. That would cause even more problems if it were to get back to them in Italy.

"I'm hoping," Edward starts "that once the wolves give their okay, Charlie will ease up a bit to at least let the two of you meet her. I'm sure Bella would like to meet the two of you as well. She hasn't really met a lot of vampires like us. Most of them have tried to kill her."

Charlie didn't keep it a secret that he preferred the wolves over the Cullens. At least they were still semi-human. And he had always been on friendly terms with Billy, Jacob's father. Something that had previously irked Edward when he had been dating Bella. It was obvious that Charlie wanted Bella to be with Jacob. That probably hadn't changed. Must have been enhanced since learning the truth of everyone. If Bella chose Jacob, then she could keep her humanity and not become a monster to be with him.

(y/n) also had Charlie's favor since she had saved him not too long ago from one of Victoria's stray newborns. Defended him without a second thought nor had she been worried of the repercussions of him learning the Quileute tribe's secret. Selfless, she had only been concerned about Charlie's safety and went up to bat for him in a heartbeat. Another attribute of the wolf girl that made Edward admire her so much. At a young mortal age, (y/n) owned the heart of someone leagues older than her. That was what drew Edward in, like a vacuum her genuine heart pulled him in and kept him there. With each interaction he had with her, the further Edward was pulled into her orbit. He wanted to stay there. Never had he felt so comfortable, so carefree. If he could dream, they would be filled with images of the lush woods with he and (y/n) spending endless hours together. If he could capture her scent in a bottle, he would. Bella may have been his singer, her blood so opulent and alluring that anyone of his kind would want to taste her, but it was (y/n)'s essence that made him feel human again. Made him feel alive.

Catching that Edward was getting lost in his own thoughts, Eleazor quietly cleared his throat to bring Edward back to their conversation. Embarrassed, Edward tucked away his musings for when he would later be alone. "I think (y/n) can convince her pack mates to meet you. Even without their consent, I'm sure she can go to Charlie and convince him too to let Bella meet you."

“You hold a lot of faith in (y/n).” Eleazor couldn’t resist the tease. Chuckling at her mate’s antics, Carmen playfully elbows him in the side. Also a slight warning to not tease Edward too much.

“She deserves my faith.” Edward told them with a whisper of softness in his eyes. Was this his fate in life? To be drawn to women that he shouldn’t be. First a human then a wolf. It would have been easier had he been attracted to Tanya. Even Rosalie when Carlisle first brought her as a potential partner for Edward. None of them had been able to bring forth such feelings within Edward though. Only Bella and (y/n) had sparked such affections in him.

**

“That’s what that strange scent was.” Jared murmurs to Paul after you told Sam of the Cullens’ two guests. They had already been in the area when you arrived at Sam’s. He called them in from the woods where they had been patrolling.

Arms folded across his chest, Sam mulls over what you had divulged about Carmen and Eleazor. More vegetarian vampires. Even had the gold tinted eyes.

“They seem like good people. Er- good vampires.” You had to correct yourself. “I didn’t sense any sort of hostility coming from them. Even when Laurent popped up in the conversation.”

It was still debated who exactly had killed Laurent when he trespassed on Quileute territory. You hadn’t been there when it happened. Only the older members of the pack had been in attendance in the forest that day. Perhaps fortunate for the younger members would not have had much experience.

“They want to meet the rest of the pack. And Bella.” Sam reiterates back to you what you had finished on.

Three pairs of eyes land on you. Trying not to feel intimidated in front of them, you straighten your back a little to feel more confident. “I think it’s natural that they want to meet everyone involved. How can we ask them to help us if they don’t really know us? We’re strangers to them. They won’t be willing to risk their lives against the Volturi, even if they are long time friends with the Cullens.” You look to Sam in particular. “For what it’s worth, I would be honored to calm them my comrades.”

A cool, impassive statue is Sam’s face until he pushes of the wall of his living room and goes over to pat your head. Confused, you, Jared and Paul watch Sam wordlessly step out of his house with a soft click of the door.

Mouth open, you direct your questioning over to Paul who was the one sitting closest to you. But he was just smiling. “What’s going on? Am I missing something?”

“Of course you are, (y/n).” Jared crows with a tilt of his head. “Couldn’t you tell?”

“Tell what?” They were beginning to annoy you with their aloofness.

Paul shakes his head. “He’s proud of you. You’ve really stepped up. Madam Ambassador.”

Jared confesses “I’m a bit jealous! And here I thought I would be considered to be his second in command.”

“Well her wolf is bigger than both of our’s. Almost the size of Sam’s.” Argued Paul as he smiles at the even more perplexed expression you had. “He takes what you think into consideration. Sam trusts you and your judgement.”

Your face heats up and you look anywhere but at them. “You guys-“

The front door opens once again and it’s Sam returning from wherever he had been. “Make some room. I’ve called another pack meeting.”

Your trio groans. And here you thought the tedious pack meetings were all but over after Victoria.

Tomorrow, everyone would meet at the borderline, meeting in the middle of their neighboring domains. A familiar grip of anxiety twisted inside of you. Thinking of another battle both terrified and. . . And thrilled you. Your wolf raged in delight of the idea. Snapping more vampire necks. So easy you had done it with your strong jaws. Your heart raced at the memories.

Violence you had never known before. . .

Puffing out a sigh into the night, you walk the quiet road by yourself back to your house. Out here there were no street lights to guide you home. That was okay. Even before you had phased, you had never been afraid to walk alone in the dark.You had always felt safe with the stars as your guardians.

Nights in La Push were beautiful and you enjoyed the solitary walk home. Gentle and caressing, a small gust of wind curls around your arms and tickles at your hair. Odd though, in that breeze you picked up the pungent scent of cinnamon and other spices that tickled your sensitive nose.

Then you heard it. Feet scuffling against the dirt behind you.

Jerking around, a cloaked figure of a woman is standing behind you. “Your blood led me here.” She rips off her hood and you see her face. Young, but not as young as you were, her green eyes contrast greatly with her tanned skin. “Found it in my sister’s home. Along with the corpse of that damn lechuza.”

Every muscle in your body was taut and ready to explode into your fur. “What do you want?”

“I am Letizia’s sister, Evita. She was killed by the lechuza, that abomination with a face of an owl.” Evita stops a few feet away from you. “I came to thank you.”

——————————

TAGLIST: @saltedcoffeescotch , @dangerouslittlefairy , @burn-crash-rqmance , @casedoina , @avadakadabra93 , @daryldixonstorm , @blue-aconite , @xanniestired666 , @esposadomd, @godinho11 , @arin-swear-rose , @alexizodd , @melaninsugarbaby , @lyeatoalinatoheaven  , @ronwownsme , @itsmytimetoodream , @afro-hispwriter , @mutandis-extremis993 , @hxgemxscles , @nightly-polaris , @corrodedcoffins-slut , @ellesalazar , @itgetzweird08 , @crybabyatthediscooffandoms , @sassyandclassyx , @scarlet2007 , @theroyalbrownbarbie , @jennyamanda8 , @stevenandmarcslove , @biancaindaeyo , @loversjoy , @turningtoclown , @vixorell , @xxthackerybinxxx , @daredevilonmyheels

[leiawritesstories]

WHO Is This?

Just a fun little something based off @thegreyj talking about being on the phone with a famous person hehe. There may be more parts in the future...👀

Word count:

Warnings: bit of language, naughty thoughts

Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The obnoxiously upbeat chorus to the Spice Girls’ “Wannabe,” Aelin’s default ringtone, interrupted her just as she was about to head out the door for the eight o’clock barre class she taught at the local fitness studio. Grumbling, she picked up the call, swiping to answer. 

“Aelin Galathynius.” 

“Hi Aelin, this is Rowan, I just wanted to know if you have a minute?” 

Aelin blinked. "Who?" 

"Rowan Whitethorn," the smooth, deep voice on the other end of the phone repeated. "I...uh, I'm co-hosting the student athletes dinner with you?" 

"Of course," she returned quickly, pinching herself. 

Rowan Whitethorn, the chairman of the alumni board. Who happened to be an unfairly talented athlete who'd graduated in her class. Rowan Whitethorn, the youngest ever alternate captain of the Bane, Terrasen's NHL team. Was on the phone. With her. 

She shouldn't be this, erm, flustered. “Right! Rowan.” She cleared her throat. “Actually, I’m on my way out the door, I teach a class at eight.” 

“No worries!” he returned, the half-grin in his voice evident over the phone. “Just call me back when you have a chance, yeah?” 

“Oh, absolutely. Now that I have your number and everything.” She locked her door behind her, making sure her apartment was secured before she headed for the stairs. “Gods, I totally sounded like a creep there, I’m sorry.” 

He actually laughed this time, the deep rumble a sound she knew would feature in her dreams for gods only knew how long. “Hey, I’m the one who showed up as Unknown Caller; if anyone was being a creep, it was me.” 

She chuckled. “Fair enough. I really have to run, though.” 

“Of course! Just call whenever you have time, I’ve actually got a free evening.” 

“Sure! Talk to you later, Rowan.” She waited for his polite goodbye before hanging up and hurrying out to her car, speeding a little bit as she went to the studio. 

After teaching her class, she left the studio grinning, energized, as always after she taught a class. The serotonin rush she got from teaching her fitness classes never failed to leave her with a grin on her face, even after nine o’clock at night. 

She made a quick stop at the bubble tea shop on the ground floor of her building to pick up her favorite boba drink before heading upstairs, scrolling through her phone to find Rowan’s number from earlier. And hoped he’d really meant it when he said she could call him whenever she was free. 

Gods, why couldn’t she shake those damn lingering effects of her ex?

Her phone only rang a couple of times before Rowan picked up. “Rowan Whitethorn.” 

“Hey, it’s Aelin.” 

“Hey!” She heard the faint rustling sounds of him sitting down. “How was your class?” 

“Really great!” She beamed. “I always love when new people show up, it gives me a chance to make sure I’m not making the workouts too difficult or anything.” 

“Oh, you teach a fitness class?” He sounded…intrigued? That was new. 

Her ex–dammit, why was she still thinking of that prick?–had never been even remotely interested in the fitness classes she taught. 

“Yeah.” She found her response a little more subdued than she’d prefer. So she tried again. “Yeah, I teach Pilates and barre over at Caraverre in downtown.” 

“Oh, really?” Rowan perked up. “My cousin goes there pretty often; she says it’s a phenomenal place.” 

“Tell her thank you,” Aelin all but gushed, blushing a little from the praise. “One of my best friends owns the place, she offered me an evening class time. Apparently I needed some time away from my soul-sucking corporate job. Her words, not mine.” 

Rowan laughed again, the deep, decadent sound thrumming in her veins. Yep, she’d definitely be dreaming of that man’s laugh. 

Probably with her vibrator, if she was being honest. 

“I’ll pass it along. Hey, if Sellene’s so pleased, I just might have to check the place out. The physical therapy team’s always on our asses to get us to do something that makes us stretch, not just keep pushing.” 

“They’re right,” Aelin chuckled. “Pilates is always a good option. You don’t need any kind of experience to start it, and it’s a lot slower and more focused on stability and muscle recovery than the more intense workouts.” 

“Would you mind sending me the studio’s schedule?” He coughed quietly, a little awkwardly. “If you do drop-ins, I’d love to come and try out a class.”

“Of course!” She switched the call to speaker for a moment. “Let me just text it to you real quick.” 

“Got it!” he declared a moment later. “Thanks, Aelin.”

“Of course!” 

He cleared his throat. “So, about the dinner…”

“Right.” She flipped open her notebook to a blank page. “University sent us the date and time, they had to schedule that on their end, but we have to do basically everything else.” 

“Unfortunately,” he agreed, mumbling something that sounded like a curse. “I think we can do catering through the university, since they have that option.” 

“Okay…” Aelin scribbled down a note. “Who’s the contact for that?” Rowan gave her a name, which she noted. “You sound like you’re familiar with that process, do you want to handle the catering?” 

“Sure.” Pen scratched on paper as he wrote something down. “I can also let my team know about this, there’s a bunch of UTerr alumni either playing or on the training team.” 

“Perfect.” Aelin tapped her chin. “I’ll throw together something to put on their social media, I know the lady who manages the university’s accounts.” 

“Great!” He paused for a second. “Okay, and what do we want the dress code and all of that to be?” 

“Well,” Aelin mused, thinking back to the dinners when she was a student. “It was always formal or semi-formal while I was there, so we probably shouldn’t break from that.” 

“Right,” he chuckled. “Not a good look for a couple of alums.” 

“Seriously,” she laughed. “So, semi-formal dress code?” 

“Sounds like a plan.” 

“Great.” She scribbled it down. “It’s for student athletes and their friends and family, so we shouldn’t try doing any kind of elaborate theme. Plus that costs a lot anyway, and we don’t want to be spending a ton of money on this one event.” 

“True.” He thought for a moment. “Should we just make it like an elegant evening kind of atmosphere, then? You know, like going to a nice restaurant? As nice as you can get while being in an event hall on a college campus, at least.” 

She snickered. “Now don’t go bashing your alma mater like that, Whitethorn…” 

“We both know exactly how much UTerr cares about its precious students, Galathynius,” he deadpanned, hiding the smirk in his voice. 

“Enough to go on and on about the famous Rowan Whitethorn,” she teased. “Rising star in the world of pro hockey and all that.”

“Ugh,” Rowan grunted, “not that again!” She heard his huffed sigh. “Damn university’s been all over me ever since I got the A on my jersey. All of a sudden they care about my career.” 

Aelin snorted. “Must be nice being the golden boy. Or should I say silver boy?” 

“Shut up,” he groaned, playfully. “I’m twenty-seven, Galathynius.” 

“Bit young for a silver fox,” she snickered. “You sure you didn’t get the digits backwards, old man?” 

“You watch who you’re calling old, young one.” Gods burn her, but she really damn wished they were having this conversation face to face. In her apartment. With minimal clothing on. 

Gods above, she needed to relieve some of that pent-up sexual tension. 

“All right, all right, I won’t say anything else about you being a geriatric.” She snickered, enjoying his growl of mock rage a little too much. “Anything else specific you were thinking for the dinner?” 

“Mmm, not really?” He considered. “If and when anything else pops into my mind, I’ll let you know.”

“Great.” She closed her notebook. “See you at the next meeting, then?” 

“Yep!” he agreed. “Or maybe before then, if I end up coming to Caraverre.” 

She grinned. “Well, if you do stop in, do pass along your cousin’s thanks to Lysandra. She’s the owner, you’ll know her when you see her.” 

“Will do.” She could hear the smile in his voice. “G’night, Aelin.” 

“Good night, Rowan.” A little grin tugged at her lips after she’d hung up, something about that conversation settling in her heart. 

Mentally, she smacked herself. Pull yourself together, Galathynius! You’re as bad as the puck bunnies! Even so, even as she collected her wits–somewhat–and headed off to shower, she knew precisely what was going to happen that night. 

Gods, how the hell was she supposed to look Rowan in the eye at the next alumni board meeting?

~~~

TAGS:

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[diggingsuns]

I remember how my thoughts raged, like maelstroms strong swirling, hard tugging, pulling, intent in dragging I, the ship stuck, swept away by my own My sails ripped and torn, done shredded, soul bare, sharp with splinters

I remember how I was the ocean, the destroyer of ships, storm-caller, home to debts of thoughts, doom, bane, Consumer of memories, I was, Too swift I claimed, bottled love savoured, 'til I ate too much, then memory I became,

And now when I feed on memory, Or memory upon me feeds, It satiates me not,

and I hunger still

[carelessflower]

PART 2

Streets were busy, as Magnus looked around trying to find his dad. His phone rang, as he noticed an unknown caller.

"Im at the Cafe, at the end of the road." He mentally cursed himself, as he pushed past the crowds of people. People cursing at him, as he got to the cafe.

Magnus stormed over to the table, and dragged the chair which scrapped against the tiled floor, some people looked up, and gave him an annoyed look.

"Im here, so let her go." He responded, which caused the older man to laugh, as he typed

"Let her go." He showed his phone to Magnus.

Magnus quickly rang Catarina.

"Cat are you okay? Did they hurt you?"

"Im fine Magnus, just a few bruises, but i'll live, Magnus where are you?" The phone was cut of as Asmodeus took the phone and hung up. Giving the phone back, Magnus was about to speak but was intruptes by the waiter.

"Can I get you gentlemen anything?"

"Just black coffee no sugar and milk." Magnus rubbed his temple, this was his sixth drink today.

"Can I get an late and some toast."

The waiter scribbled that down and walked back to the kitchen.

"Why are you here? You could have left, Why now?" Magnus clenched his fists again, he needed to hold something, his legs were shakey.

"I would have come later, but something has occured that needed my attention." Asmoseus smiled, as the waiter brought their coffes over, and walked to another table.

"Fuck you dad. I lied to the court for you. I liee to your - "

"Your slut of a fiance?"

Magnus growled, he wanted to punch this man so hard.

"Dont call him that, okay! Do you want me to join you?"

"Join me? You?" He laughed.

"Your work is sloppy, remember that kid you killed, you were a wreck, I cant have that."

"Fuck of dad! You come near my friends again and Ill go to the police and ill tell them everything ." Magnus abrutly stood up, letting the chair fall backwards. Which caught the attention of some people, Magnus turned around, as a hand gripped his wrist.

"Sit the fuck down Bane. Im not done talking." Asmodeus said, picking up the chair from the floor.

"Everything okay?" A guy said.

"Yeah its fine." Magnus responded, as he sat down, arms crossed.

"Do you really think the police will listen? Really? Anyway, Ive got something you will be intrested - "

(AT THE LIGHTWOODS)

Alec was in his room, putting Max to sleep, reading a bedtime story, Max was fast asleep, clutching his T-rex shaped bear in his small fist.

A soft knock as Alec turned around to see his mother.

"Come downstairs, Robert will keep an eye on him." His dad gave him a small smile, their relationship was slowly getting better. Robert sat where Alec was sitting, and was gently rubbing Max's back, as he started to read the news headlines.

Alec rolles his eyes, as he followed his mother to the kitchen, where both Jace and Izzy sat.

"What happened? Did Magnus hurt you? Is it Camille? Is that bitch back?" Both Isabelle and Jace spoke aloud.

"Shush..no he didnt, and its not Camille, she lives in Paris now. Magnus just- he said some things, about something, and that something made me worry?"

"Were you worried for him?" Maryse said, as she warmed up some milk.

"Yes, but I was thinking about Max, and my family. And I was angry, shocked, upset, sick...so many emotions and I stormed out."

"What did he say?" Isabelle said.

"Its nothing, dont do anything guys please...I need to talk to him but not now." Alec said, both Jace and Isabelle both shared worried look, as Alec left the kitchen, and headed towards the libarary.

Maryse followed him, as Alec sat on his couch, and started to play with his sleeves.

"Alexander your scaring me." His mother was worried, and rightfully so,she never seen him this upset since Magnus broke up with him, but this felt a different.

"Im sorry..its just that Magnus told me something about someone, and he told me this person was always away..and he lied..he lied to me. I dont know what to do?" Alec whispered.

"Maybe Magnus didnt know how to tell you the truth about this person, maybe he thought he was protecting you and himself from the truth."

"Yeah..but he said some other stuff, and im worried, I shouldnt have left him."

"You were thinking about your child, Magnus will understand that, he is a father also. Look go to his appartment in the morning, get some rest, cuz Max will wake up at 5, and its already 11."

--------

(BACK AT MAGNUS APPARTMENT)

"Where the fuck is he?" Ragnor said, pacing between Raphael and Cat.

As soon as he was about to ring Magnus, the door opened, and in came Magnus.

"Where were you?"

"Walking and thinking." Magnus was pale, as Raphael gave him a cup of hot choclate.

"we were so preocupado. tu idiota." Raphael said, as Magnus just chuckled.

"Why did you go alone to see your dad."

"Cat..he are you okay." He stood up to hug Cat, as she hugged him back.

"Raf is right, your cold." Cat went to his bedroom and grabbed some blankets.

"What did he want?" Ragnor said, as Magnus took a sip from the hot chocolate.

"He has my step dad."

His friends just stared him.

"Your what?? He died didnt he? You killed him?"

"Well apparently not. He showed me proof, and Im going to head to his place in the morning. But now, i need to go meet someone." Magnus stood up and headed towards the door.

"Hang on a second, you just came back, and its almost midnight." Ragnor said.

"I need to see Johnathan."

"Well let us come with you?" Catarina smiled

"Okay..but one of you needs to housecat."

"Ill stay, its late and im tired." Raphael said, as the others went out.

PART 2 OVER

The hard part was the Asmodeus scenes, but got help with friends

WAIT HOLD ON THE KID-

[leafyfoots]

Fallen Angel

Been awhile, so here's what my now defunct champion is wearing for Harvestmath. Aiming to emphasize the various different silvery trims and textures throughout the outfit :>

Head: Mask of the Autumn Wanderer - navy Shoulder: Storm Caller's Mantle of the Abyss - black Chest: Ornate Winter Dress - black Glove: Dextrous Gauges of the Wyrm - black Leg: -- Boot: Boots of the Reminiscing Dragon - default Back: Cosmetic Raven Wings - default

Main-Hand: Reforged Championi's Sword of the Second Age (lvl 100) Off-hand: -- Ranged: --

Halter: Head-piece of Ungwetari's Bane Caparison: Caparison of Ungwetari's Bane Saddle: Saddle of Ungwetari's Bane Accessory: Trophies of Ungwetari's Bane Hooves: -- Tail: Simple Tail Pelt: Solid War-steed

[darling2411]

Days like these

Not my gif

Mick Schumacher x reader

summary: On summer break you visit Mick's family in Switzerland with him.

warnings: none

word count: 3.3k

The wheels of the plane smoothly connect with the ground and at the same time your heart begins beating frantically. The whole flight over you had nervously nibbled on your bottom lip and squeezed your boyfriend's hand to literal death.

“Love, calm down. There’s nothing you need to worry about.” Mick sends you a reassuring smile.

You grimace “ Mick, what if I behave like a complete idiot? What if your mom doesn’t like me and wants you to break up with me? What if your sister despises me? What if I make a complete fool out of myself because I know absolutely nothing about Switzerland or Germany's culture and language and stuff?!” You are so concerned that Mick's family will not like you and once again are trapped inside your mind who has officially entered overthinking modus.

“They are going to love you.” He responds calmly. “How do you know?” You ask, catching his gaze. Your eyes are filled with worries and confusion.

“Because I love you simply as that.“

Mick couldn’t understand how someone as wonderful as you could think that there's someone who wouldn’t like you. When he looks at you his heart overflows with love. His veins get filled with sunshine and happiness and his eyes start to shine like the stars he would gift you if he could. He often tells you that you are the bane of his existence. With all that has happened and everything that is going on is his life you’re his saviour.

You sigh. His word may have given you some peace but the doubts are still raising hell in your mind. You try to take a deep breath and draw a mental door where you shove them behind and shut it close with force. You imagine that you lock the door and only you have the power to open it again. The thoughts and nagging doubts have no power over you.

You smile at the silence in your head and turn to Mick who’s already looking at you.

“Ready to go, Schatz?“

“Will you ever tell me what this word means?” You lean closer to him, a wicked grin playing on your lips.

“No. It’s my little secret.” He winks and you’re allowed to be at the receiving end of his dazzling smile.

Grasping your chin, he tilts your head up and presses his soft lips against yours. The kiss ended far to soon and when you break apart you are already craving for more.

“ Come on, we gotta go. My mums probably already waiting.” He trails of.

The whole process of getting out of the plane and receiving your bags you hold onto his hand, never letting him go. You’re in a new country, a place you've never been before and a country where you don’t speak the language. You will not lose the one person you know and who will save you if something happens.

Mick is the perfect gentleman. He carries your luggage for you, opens the car door for you and is always asking if everything is okay. You just need to love him. And when some guys recognized him and ran over to ask him for pictures and autographs he never let go of you and made sure you weren’t shoved aside or treated rudely.

As much as you’re his saviour, he’s your hero.

You never feel like you’re somewhat of a burden to him.

The drive to his family’s house is short and filled with him pointing out places where he grew up and made memories with his family and friends.

On the radio the people speak German and you only understand little pieces.

Words like ’gut’ good or ’wunderbar’ wonderful.

Mick often chuckles at some things that the moderator or callers tell but when you look at him expectantly he grimaces and points out that if he tried to translate it, the joke would be lost and it wouldn’t be funny anymore. “M’ sorry, Liebling.” He squeezes your hand lovingly but you smile at him and say that he doesn’t have to worry about it. And he doesn’t. Yes it’s a little inconvenient that you don’t understand his native language, but you make it work.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The peace you felt just moments prior is replaced with nervousness and you fiddle with the arrow necklace you got as a one year anniversary gift from Mick as soons as he pulled into his parents driveway. The thought behind the necklace is that an arrow can only be shot by pulling it backwards. So when life is dragging you back with difficulties, it means it's going to launch you into something great.

Anyway we digress.

You arrived at his parents house. It is beautiful.

Before Mick could ring the doorbell, the entree is being pulled open by a woman seeming to be not much older than the pair of you. His sister Gina-Maria.

“Awww Hallo großer.” ( großer is a term of endearment that mostly mothers use for their sons in the German language, literally translates to big one.) she greets him before pulling him into a bone crushing hug. “Ich habe dich vermisst.“ I missed you she murmurs.

When they part Mick tries to introduce you but before he could even get one word out his sister is already all over you.

“Oh und wer bist du?“ Oh and who are you? Mick beat you to answering her question “Das ist meine Freundin [y/n].” That’s my girlfriend [y/n] He says proudly, smiling at you widely. You smile and wave shyly. “ Hi”

“Sie spricht kein Deutsch.“ she doesn’t speak German he quickly adds.

“Ah no problem,” Gina-Maria announces,” all of us speak English so there should be no language barriers.”

You feel something heavy lifting off your chest and relief replaces the feeling of nervousness.

“That’s great. “ You smile genuinely.

“We’ll let’s get inside, Mama wants to meet you really bad. She’s going to be so excited.”

“Yeah I feared that that would be the case.” Mick leans toward you, whispering in your ear. “ I just want to apologize beforehand, my mum is going to talk your ear off.” He chuckles. The sound of his chuckle and wave of air hitting the sensitive skin of your neck and ear make you shiver and close your eyes in pleasure.

“No problem.” You whisper,” I’m prepared.”

He takes your hand and leads you into the living room. Everything is held in warm comforting colours and you immediately feel at home.

“Hello dear.” His mum greets you.” Wow, you really are beautiful. My son didn’t exaggerate when he told me you are the most beautiful woman he has ever laid his eyes on.” With that she pulls you into a loving hug. You laugh heartily.

What you don’t see is that Mick is blushing furiously behind your back and sends his mom a glare.

“Oh Mick Ich bin doch nur ehrlich.“ I’m only being honest she laughs.

“Mmh ” he responds, rolling his eyes.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

The first encounter with his family went over smoothly and you not once felt uncomfortable.

His mother and sister had taken you to the little town to buy groceries for dinner and ran into a lot of people they know. It was nice getting to know people Mick grew up around and you felt welcome at all times.

When Gina-Maria saw the look of confusion on your face she always translated the conversation for you as good as possible and you were really thankful for what she did. You even learned a new word. ’Grüezi‘ ( A greeting In Switzerland).

In the store the three of you bought a lot of food and wine and you were looking forward to trying the Swiss cheese and chocolate Mick was always gushing about.

When you got back Corinna suggested that she could start preparing dinner and you ‘kids’ could relax and make yourself comfortable.

“Oh no we can help.” You offered.

”Ja Mama, wir werden nicht faul rumsitzen.” She turns toward you,”Can you get Mick? He will also help, before we left he said he was getting your room set up . “ yes mom, we will not sit around lazily.

You nod and make your way upstairs into yours and Mick's room for the days you’re staying.

You silently open the door and find him sitting on his bed.

“Mick?” You ask, “ your sister asked me to get you, we’re all gonna help your mom in the kitchen.” You hear him sniffing.

“Love? Is everything alright.” You ask again concern lazing your voice, while making your way over to him.

When you get a clearer look at him, you see him clutching a picture frame tightly in his hands and single tears sliding down his face. You crouch in front of him and ask him what’s wrong.

“I- I’m sorry. I don’t want to ruin everyone’s mood, but on days like these I really miss my dad.”He looks down at what you assume must be a picture of him and his dad and then he takes your hand in his,” he would have really liked you.” He smiles a sad smile and your heart breaks for him.

“Oh Mick.” You stand up and take his face into your hands, stroking his cheeks lovingly. “I can’t imagine how hard this is for you, but please know that I'm always here for you. ”As you lean down and kiss him on the forehead he breaks. He pulls you in close by your waist and buried his face in your chest. His sobs almost make you cry. His body is shaking in agony and you try to calm him down by stroking his hair and whispering that everything is going to be alright and that you love him.

After a while he stops sobbing but his body is still shaking.

You pull his hands from your waist and push him back a little until you can sit in his lap. His face is pressed against your neck now and you can feel tears wetting your skin, but you don’t complain. How could you?

After another five minutes, Mick detaches himself from you and kisses you gratefully.

“Thank you” he says silently.

“Nothing to thank me for.” You kiss him again, deeper this time. He groans and presses closer. His tongue traces the seam of your bottom lip and you open your mouth for him. His tongue invades your mouth and you moan. He tastes salty like the tears he cried and desperate to forget his sorrows.

His hands wander to your bum and squeeze while one of your hands is tugging on his hair and the other holds onto his shirt.

Soon you're moving your hips on top of his and he moans in pleasure. “You feel so good grinding on my dick.” He voices.

You can only moan , the pleasure making you dizzy and unable to form words.

But before your little make out session can devolve into something you two definitely shouldn’t be doing with his mother and sister in the house, the door opens and his sister barges in.

You gasp in shock and Mick lifts his head from where he was just sucking your skin mere seconds ago.

“Aha, that’s what’s been keeping you from coming back downstairs. Mick you horny bastard.”, she scowls,” Get your hands off her and come down to help Mama.”

Mick huffs and gives his sister an annoyed look before kissing you again, telling you he’s sorry without words. Then he lifts you from his lap and stands up himself.

“Ugh you’re disgusting.” Gina groans. “Before you face Mama you should take care of your problem.” She fake gags before turning around and leaving.

You’re as red as a tomato and turn to look at Mick mortified. He’s adjusting himself and says, sounding more questioning than sure ” well at least it wasn’t my mother?” You chuckle embarrassed before shaking your head and leaving the room.

Mick on the other hand needs to take two more minutes before he can follow you.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You and Mick's mother are in the kitchen and the soft music in the background paints a sweet, domestic picture.

While you’re chopping vegetables for the salad Mick gets the grill going and his sister is setting up the table.

“Does he treat you well?” Mick's mother asks you out of the blue and disrupts the comfortable silence.

You stop cutting a cucumber and look up. “Yes, he’s the best.” You smile at the thought of your sweet,loving boyfriend.

“You raised him well.” You chuckle.

“I better have.” Corunna laughs with you.

“Schatz? Can you pass me everything that needs to be grilled?” Mick asks when he steps into the kitchen.

“Course” you hand him two plates and follow him outside with another one.

When you come back inside you are met with Corinna looking at you with teary eyes.

Your eyes widen and you immediately ask what’s wrong.

”The nickname.” she stutters.

You frown and she explains “His Dad, uhm he he always called me that. Mick always grinned when he did. In English you’d probably say darling. The literal translation is treasure, because you're his most prized possession. “

You gulp and clear your throat,” That’s uhm that’s really beautiful.” You try hard not to let a tear fall.

“He’s so much like his dad.” Corinna smiles.

“Well I wouldn’t know that, but I know that he’s as strong as his mother.” You give her a hug and she tells you that Mick’s really lucky to have you.

I’m lucky to have him, you think.

“Well that’s enough sentimental stuff for today, let’s enjoy our time together.” She tries to sound upbeat, but you can hear that she's still reminiscing about the times with Michael. You decide not to say anything. When you two are finished you join the Schumacher siblings outside who are again bickering. Corinna scowls” Kinder, hört auf euch zu streiten und kümmert euch lieber darum, dass wir etwas zu essen auf den Tisch bekommen.” Kids , come on, stop arguing. You should rather make sure that we get some food on the table soon. “Ja Mama.” They both say in usion and you chuckle. “What are you laughing at babe?” Mick questions you, a grin playing on his lips. He loves having you home with him. Yes he may be sad that his dad cannot meet you, but he loves that you’re comfortable with his family and that they really like you, not that he has ever thought differently.

He wanted this with you. A family. He’s possibly going too fast because you're only together for a year and a half. But he makes his money by driving too fast, so why should he slow down with you? His job is dangerous and he knows that there are risks with everything but he doesn’t want to waste any time with you. He loves you and you love him, so what is stopping him from taking what he wants?

“Oh you and your sister are just,” you sigh,” I always wanted that. “ you pull him from his thoughts.

“I know, Liebling.” He pulls you into his side and kisses the top of your head. You look at him with hearts in your eyes and he swears he wants to fall on his knees for you.You look at him as if he gives you the world, and if he could he would. “God, baby, you gotta stop looking at me like that.” He mumbles into your hair.

“What do you mean?” You ask innocently.

He pulls you closer to his body.

“You look at me like I’m the center of your world.”

You laugh” Yeah, because you are.”

“I want to kiss you so bad right now, but I can’t. Because if my mom sees how I kiss you, she knows what unholy things I’m going to do to you when we’re alone later. “ You whimper silently. Goosebumps coating your skin and your body’s aching for him. He wants you so badly, but he can’t have you. Not here. Not now. Later he promises himself and you through a look he sends you. Later he will take whatever he wants and you're going to willingly give him everything.

“Mickilein stop flirting with your girlfriend and come and put some meat on the table.”

“I don’t need to flirt with her, she’s already my girlfriend.” He smirks at you and gives you a chaste kiss. He mutters something like “Nervensäge” ( A word to describe someone who’s a pain in your ass) into the direction of his sister before walking over to the barbecue and starting to put the finished food on a plate.

You take a deep breath and sit down opposite his mom who gives you a knowing look. “You can’t resist their charm.” She states and you shake your head. “We’re defenseless.”you announce dramatically before breaking out into a fit of giggles. Corinna following suit.

Dinners fantastic and you four have a great time. Corinna and Gina-Maria take turns telling embarrassing stories about Mick and sometimes throw in some stories of him and his dad too. Your boyfriend hides his face in his head many times to not show he’s blushing but you know and takes his hands away from his beautiful face to kiss his red cheeks. “ I love you.” At some point his mother and sister even pulled out one of the photo albums from Mick's childhood and you’re swooning over the cute images of him.

“That’s my favourite picture of him and his dad.” Corinna admits wistfully. In the photograph, Mick is sitting on his fathers lap in a kart,wears his helmet and smiles brightly.Mick and Gina look at their mum and they share a pained look. Gina hugs her mother from the side and Mick kisses the top of her head. “Wir habe dich lieb Mama.“ we love you mom

Corinna turns to the next page and ends the sad moment with a laugh at the next photo of Mick and his sister throwing mud at each other.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“Thank you for the beautiful day.” You spoke to Corinna and Gina-Maria before telling them good night and joining Mick in bed. You snuggle close to him, your head on his chest and one of your legs thrown over his. He smiles into the darkness of his childhood bedroom and kisses the top of your head. Loving how you always wanted to be close to him when you slept.

“I love your family.” You murmur and his smile grows.

“And they love you. “ he can feel you grinning into his chest. “I hope you’re not disappointed but I’m really tired. Can we delay the hot sex to tomorrow?” you ask while trying to fight a yawn.

“Of course, Schatz. All the talks about my dad also kinda have the same effect as too much whiskey. No boners for us .” He chuckles.

“Well we will see about that in the morning, baby.” You laugh and he pinches your bottom in response.

“Oh, by the way your mom explained to me what Schatz means and why you call me that. I want you to know that I now love it even more than before.” You admit to him. He strokes your hair, takes a deep breath and out of the blue he whispers

“Marry me.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Here you go I guess.

Join my tag list if you want.

Reblogs and Feedback are appreciated :)

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

@ellabellabus07

@motylekrozi

(You two wanted to be tagged in works of other f1 guys when Mick wasn’t on my list , if you don’t want to be tagged in stories about him please tell me.)

[usedtobekrampus]

growing list of WIPs because

✿ ●--- - - ---● ✿

[acapelladitty]

❛ if you called just to get off on my voice, i’m hanging up. ❜ Dealer's choice?

Groggily checking the alarm which blinked to show the early hours of the morning, Bruce squinted at his vibrating phone as he checked the caller ID before bringing the small device to his ear.

"If you called just to get off on my voice, I'm hanging up."

As the sound of sputtering crackled down the phone, Bruce could almost picture the look of mortification on Clark's face as he was caught off-guard by the heated accusation.

The painkillers which coursed through his system, a necessary aid after his latest interaction with Bane quickly turned south, made his tongue feel just a little looser than usual and his lips curled into a genuine smile as he toyed with his lover.

"I was not!" Clark protested. "I was calling because Damian told Jon he was on patrol tonight with Dick because you had been laid out."

"That boy of yours makes Damian far too chatty." Grumbling lowly, Bruce extended his shoulder slightly to test the recent relocation of the joint. "Bane got lucky this time."

"But you're okay?"

"Yes. Alfred is taking good care of me."

"Good, I'm glad to hear it."

A short silence fell but it found itself quickly broken by an amused huff from Clark as he cleared his throat through the phone.

"So," his voice seemed to lower a notch as it asked, "what are you wearing?"

Rolling his eyes at the predictability, Bruce issued a low tut.

"Clark, you could be here and check for yourself faster than I could explain over the phone."

Not expecting that, Clark hesitated in his response.

"But you're not-"

"The kids are all either sleeping or on patrol." Running his hand along the bandages which has been wound around his torso to hug the skin firmly, Bruce allowed the knuckles of his fingers to trail across his cock as he inhaled slightly at the pleasant sensation. "The boss has given strict instructions that I've not to be disturbed."

"Maybe I shouldn't then," Clark replied quickly, his voice huskier than it had been a moment before, "because I wouldn't want to cause any Alfred any upset."

Growling into the handset as he dipped his hand fully within his boxers, Bruce fisted his cock with a low grunt as he pictured the other man doing the same.

"You have fifteen seconds to get here after I hang up or I'm locking the window."

Hanging up and dropping the phone back to the sheets, Bruce bit back a smirk as he rolled away from his room window; his half-hard cock twitching in anticipation of the visit which was sure to follow.

As dependable as ever, a slight woosh of cool air was Bruce's only warning before a thick heat enveloped him as Clark's body wrapped around his like a glove; providing a satisfying solidness which Bruce pressed against without hesitation as dark curls threatened the edges of his vision and soft lips tickled at his neck.

"I really am glad you're okay." Clark muttered, his soft hands ghosting along the bandages as Bruce's had earlier. "And I'm happy to come here and make you feel better."

"In that case," Bruce grunted back, pressing his ass into Clark's groin as he guided the reporters hand to his hardened cock, "you can start by taking care of this, farmboy."

[khaleesiofalicante]

The phone buzzes next to his pillow insistently. Alec groans as he picks up the damn thing to turn it off. But the moment he notices the caller ID, he answers it immediately. 

“Magnus?” Alec rasps, sitting up in bed. “Are you okay?”

“I think Rafael is going to move out,” Magnus says without preamble. 

“Are you drunk?” Alec asks. 

“I might have opened a bottle of red a couple of hours ago,” Magnus says and then there is a pause. “I shouldn't have called you. I’m sorry. I’ll just-”

“No. No. It’s fine,” Alec says. 

It’s not fine. He has to be up in three hours. 

“Did he tell you he is moving out?” Alec asks. 

“No,” Magnus replies. “But I overheard him talking to Anjali.”

“Well,” Alec says carefully, after a moment. “He is old enough, I guess.”

Magnus doesn’t say anything to that. 

“Are you there?” Alec asks. 

“Yes,” Magnus whispers. 

“It’ll be okay,” Alec says gently. 

“I don’t want him to move out, Alec,” Magnus sighs. 

Alec. Not Alexander. 

He hasn't been Alexander for a while now. 

“Then maybe you should talk to him about it,” Alec suggests. 

“I hate talking about things,” Magnus grumbles. 

“Don’t I know it,” Alec mutters before he can stop himself. 

There is a moment of silence. 

“Talk to Anjali then,” Alec breaks the silence. 

“Can you talk to her?” Magnus asks - sweetly. 

“Nope,” Alec says. 

Magnus groans dramatically. Alec smiles at that for some reason. 

“I love Anjali,” Magnus says seriously. “But if she tries to steal Rafael away from me, I am going to kidnap her.”

“How many bottles did you have again?” Alec chuckles. 

“Just one,” Magnus says. “And maybe a half of another one.”

“Kidnapping is illegal in the state of New York, Mr. Bane,” Alec points out. 

“Well,” Magnus says after a beat. “Then I guess it's a good thing I know the governor.”

“Is that so?” Alec asks. “What is he like?”

He should end the call now. They are moving into dangerous territory. 

“He is okay,” Magnus says. Another pause. “Kinda cute.”

“Kinda,” Alec echoes. “Wow.”

“You know damn well you are cute as a button,” the other man says and Alec knows Magnus is rolling his eyes. 

“Why a button though?” Alec wonders out loud. “I never understood that phrase.”

“Buttons are cute,” Magnus explains. 

“They are just buttons,” Alec says. 

And then somehow they end up debating about buttons vs zips at two in the morning. 

- Mandatory Sunday Divorce Au snippet

[daddywanken0bi]

Sick Day

word count: ~1k

author: Jess

summary: Cute lil one-shot in which Obi Wan takes care of you while you’re sick. SFW.

a/n: There can never be enough soft Obi Wan content out there, so please, have some more. Thank you for all the support on our latest posts, and welcome to all our new followers! We appreciate and love each and every one of you. MTFBWY! <3

______

Another cough racks your body and you groan, rolling over in your bed. You had woken up feeling like you had been run over by a Sandcrawler. It had taken all of your willpower to get out of bed earlier and retrieve some water to cool the burning sensation in your throat. Your head is pounding in time with your heartbeat. Thump thump. Thump thump. You wince and squint at the brightening sky outside your window. Have you really been up all night? Flopping back against the mattress, you rest a hand against your forehead. Your skin feels hot and clammy against your palm.

Of all nights to get sick, it had to be the night before your first mission assignment with Obi Wan Kenobi. You were supposed to go with him on a trip to the Outer Rim in order to hunt down Cad Bane, the notorious bounty hunter. You had been looking forward to this all week. It seemed the universe had a vendetta against you, because no matter how hard you had tried, the Force seemed to be useless in warding off this illness. You were supposed to meet the Jedi Master in the hangar at dawn, which had come faster than you expected. 

You should at least notify him of your illness, right? You gather up whatever strength you have left. You manage to get yourself into a seated position with considerable effort. You exhale. That wasn’t so bad. Suddenly, your stomach heaves, and you flop yourself back on the mattress with a sigh. Hopefully they won’t miss you too much.

A faint knock at your door startles you. You wait for the caller to open the door and enter of their own will, but they don’t. “Come in,” you croak, feeling out of breath. The door swings open and a handsome face with blue eyes and a beard appears. Obi Wan sees you curled in a blanket, looking miserable, and his brow immediately scrunches in concern.

“Y/N,” he says, closing the door behind him, “you were supposed to meet me at dawn. Are you alright?”

You open your mouth to respond, but a coughing fit overtakes you. 

“Oh dear,” you hear Obi Wan say, and then your mattress dips as he sits beside you. As the coughing subsides, you look up at him, and he silently offers you the glass of water that had been on your side table. With shaking hands, you bring it to your lips and he watches you with kind eyes as you sip slowly. After you drink all you can, he gently takes the glass from your hand and sets it back on the table. 

“I— I’m sorry Master,” you rasp out. “I’ve been ill all night. I was looking forward to the mission today.”

Obi Wan’s lips rise into a small smile, and he touches your shoulder gently. “Not to worry, little one. I understand. We will postpone the mission until you are well.”

Your eyebrows crinkle in confusion. “You won’t leave today?” you ask. “I thought this was of utter import—“ Another coughing fit racks your body, and Obi Wan rubs your shoulder soothingly. 

“What is more important,” he continues, “is that you get well.”

You look up into his blue eyes, and he gives you another gentle smile. 

“Have you eaten today?”

You shake your head slightly, and as if on cue, your stomach makes a loud gurgling sound. Your cheeks flush with embarrassment, but Obi Wan simply laughs. “I’ll take that as a no.” He rises from your bed, robes drifting gently to the floor. “I will fetch us some breakfast. Don’t go anywhere.” He winks and leaves, closing the door softly behind him.

A few minutes later, Obi Wan returns with a tray in his hands and a book tucked under his arm. “Good, you’re still here,” he jokes. He places the tray and book on the table beside you, and retrieves a chair from across the room. After pulling it up beside your bed, he hands you a slice of toast that was smeared with raspberry jam. A smile tugs at your lips. He remembered raspberry was your favorite. 

“Take small bites,” Obi Wan reminds you, munching on his own toast. 

You are both silent as you eat, just enjoying each other’s company. Once you get the toast down, you sip some orange juice, feeling some strength return to your body. You notice the book still sitting on the table, and gesture toward it.

“What’s the book for?” you ask, assuming he was just going to do some studying. To your surprise, his cheeks flush a bit.

“Well, my mother used to read to me when I was sick. She said it helped heal the soul.” He shakes his head, a smile creeping on his face. “I know that’s all false now, but I thought—“ he strokes his beard in embarrassment, “I thought perhaps you might like me to read to you.”

To your surprise, tears begin to cloud your vision. No one has ever been this caring toward you before. 

You nod in response. “That would be wonderful.”

The pages of the novel rustle as Obi Wan opens the book. You adjust your position in bed, curling the blanket tighter around yourself. He glances over at you, his eyes shining with happiness. You wonder how long it’s been since he has gotten to care for someone like this. 

Clearing his throat, Obi Wan begins to read to you. His voice is deep and gentle, the rhythm of the words calming your headache. Listening to the cadence of his speech, you finally feel the exhaustion of a sleepless night settling over you. You fall asleep for the first time all night to the lullaby of Obi Wan’s voice.

[dayscrazed]

Chain of Iron page 470:

Anna (to Hypatia): "Speaking of gentleman callers. There's something I brought to show you." *shows snuffbox with MB on it* "This belongs to our mutual friend Magnus Bane. He has been looking for it for quite some time."

Ariadne: "You stole Magnus Bane's snuffbox? Anna, that could not possibly be a good idea. He'll set you on fire. Magic fire.

Anna: Of course I didn't. As it happens, my boot maker- a fine gentleman, one of the Tanner family- once had a une liasion passionnee with Magnus. Boot makers are a surprisingly tempestuous bunch. When things ended badly between them, the boot maker pinched Magnus's snuffbox knowing he was fond of it. I thought you might like to give it back to him. I'm sure he would be most grateful.

Hypatia: "And how did you know that Mr. Bane was my gentleman caller? I thought we'd been rather discreet."

Anna: "I know everything."

[jungcity]

bane of the devil. | i

genre: vampire!jaehyun [ mature | angst | smut ]

pairings: jaehyun x female reader

note: bane of the devil deals with themes of physical, mental, and sexual abuse as well as toxic relationships. which may be upsetting for some readers. you are advised not to continue if you feel uncomfortable to these types of plots.

“father, i dreamt about a boy

his hands, bloodied

eyes like the shot of dawn

with the rebellion in his mouth

he tried to conquer

the moon

with the venom of his prayers

he tried to

search for a god

pray tell me father,

how do i love him

with no flesh, all blood

heaven help us,

how could he love me

if i am the sun?”

— jungcity, bane of the devil // i

Raindrops danced in the air as they fall from the clouds with the squalling winds intensifying the impact of it against the glass window panes. The murmurs and complaints filled the whole room, your classmates begging your professor to turn off the air conditioner. Your mechanical pencil lay forgotten above your table as you stare at the horizon from your seat beside the window. Oh, how you longed for your bed in this cozy weather.

Seven a.m. to seven p.m. class should be classified as a mortal sin— you could not, in the life of you, understand that type of abomination. It is cruel beyond reckoning. Especially when you sit on a room of thirty people, doing nothing as the heavy drops of rain and the cool atmosphere it provides slowly lulls you to slumber.

The only thing that prevented you from doing so was the loud slap of your professor’s hands on table, his voice echoing off the walls of the room. “Alright! Stop chattering!” He yelled as he raised a piece of paper in the air.

You slumped back in your seat. Here we go again. Every time your professors raise their hands while holding papers, you could not help but release a groan.

“Here is the plan for your next plate,” he started. “Photocopy it, take a picture of it, it’s up to you.” He then handed the papers to the student in front. You stared as your classmate’s face crumpled into a grimace while he skimmed the document. That— without a doubt— would also be your face once you get a hold of the plan.

“Just like the last time, bind your A3 papers with two fasteners. There must be a separate sheet for the front page. And please,” the professor exhaled, “Please don’t forget your names! How would I give you a failing grade if I don’t know who you are.” The groans rose up again from the students, your own commixing with the chaos of curses and prayers and the laugh of your professor.

“Hey, hey! Haechan!” You grabbed your friend’s shirt as he scurried off to your classmate in the front row. “Take a picture and send it to the group chat.”

He snatched his shirt away from your grasp while glaring at you, “I know! I know! Wait here.” Then he pulled out his phone, waving it onto your face before dashing to your classmate who has the plan.

You fished for your own phone inside your bag when a boy sat in front of you. He rested his arm on your table and propped his chin on his palm. “Damn, I’m surely gonna die before this semester ends.” Mark groaned, his eyes looking at your table.

You chuckled from your seat, “Three major plates to go, buddy.”

“I’m gonna sell my soul to Satan so I don’t have to do any of this bullcrap.” Haechan threw his phone on to the table. Luckily, you caught it before it slid down and shattered on the hard floors. He let out an infuriated sigh before grabbing one of the chairs and sitting on it beside your table.

“It’s that bad?” Mark grimaced as he pressed the power button of Haechan’s phone. The light of the screen illuminated his soft features in an instant, “Wow. Your phone’s brightness could blind a person,” Mark stated while blinking rapidly.

Haechan said nothing as he leaned his head on your table. You peek at the phone yourself, Mark slowing down his scrolling as you leaned closer.

“Five-storey residential? What?!” You exclaimed. Tons of plates are slowly piling up to you bedroom. Your drafting table could not even hold them anymore, they are littered all over the mattress and the whole place. As your eyes scrutinized the image of the plan, Mark let out a curse as he read the requirements of the residential building.

“Oh, no. The measurements are given,” Mark exchanged glances with you. “I won’t do this shit.” Then the phone toppled over the table again after Mark threw it. Haechan snatched his phone back with a special glare meant only for Mark before laying his head back on the table.

The rain continued to ravage the roof and the ground as the three of you rested your heads on your desk. Chatters and the shuffling of drafting materials once again dominated the whole room, with a few of your classmates cursing at the back as they play their online games.

“I had at least thirty-minutes of sleep today,” you declared. Your eyes feels heavy and your body seemed to be softening and turning into jelly by the sleep deprivation.

“Wow. I didn’t even have a blink of sleep myself.” Haechan mumbled, face still covered by his arms.

After your heavy nap, the three of you woke up with red-rimmed eyes. If you could continue sleeping in your room until tomorrow, you would. But of course, that is not possible.

Your classmates started to pack their things as the professor came back and dismissed the whole class. It has always been like that; your prof giving yet another plan and then dismissing the whole class two or three hours earlier than the scheduled time. You would have not attended today’s class if not for the other plates that needed to be submitted.

Despite the sullenness of your house because of your brother’s absence, you still wanted to go home and nap. It does not matter if you have mountains of plates to do, what truly matters is you, going home to the tranquility and safety of your house before midnight. It was a habit you’ve grown accustomed to since the untimely death of your parents.

Your path goes different ways from Mark and Haechan. That’s why you sat alone in the bus as they stand in the waiting shed while waiting for theirs. Both of them waved at you, mouthing the words ‘take care’. You answered them with a slight wave of your hand before putting on your earbuds.

The rain has calmed down already, leaving the stores drenched, the highway splotched with circles of rainwater. Yet the lightning still dominated the skies, white lights flashing like roots reflected in your irises as you stare at the bleakness of the heavens through the bus’ windows. The speed of the vehicle made everything blurry; from the blustery wind slapping against the trees to the lights from different stores. They filled your sight as the music continued to blast in your ear.

Your phone vibrated against your hand, stopping the music. You glanced at the screen and saw your brother’s caller ID. Johnny. Automatically, your brow shot up to your forehead. He has been away for two weeks now, doing God only knows what on the other side of the ocean. Of course, your big brother calls every night to check up on you. But tonight, he called earlier than usual.

You attempted to slide the green button when your cell phone flew away from your grasp, your head hitting the seat in front of you, eliciting a loud groan to escape from your lips. Loud protestations echoed from the students and elders alike, their own faces bedraggled as they recover themselves from the impact of the bus drawing to a halt.

“What happened?” An elderly woman asked, her hand on the middle of her chest while breathing heavily.

“There’s a person who crossed the road.” The conductor explained, but his words sounded unsure.

The woman’s eyes widened, “Is the person alright?” She stood up from her seat, one hand grabbing the railings in front of her.

“That’s what we’re confused about, Ma’am. The person is nowhere on the asphalt. He ran with a dashing speed… it’s impossible.” You didn’t know if it was amazement or fear that was laced with the conductor’s voice, but his statement caught your attention nonetheless.

The nagging curiosity inside your chest spreads like wild fire. If ever your intuition is right, you have to find that person or whatever that is. A speed like that could only be achieved by one creature. Your brother might call you a freak or a delusional little girl again, but it might be the only way to get answers. Answers that he did not bother to find when your parents died.

The truth is, years ago, your parents had their inopportune death. But the authorities has not yet to find the murderer. How could they? When there was no DNA in the crime scene but your parents’. How could they? If the murderer was not even a person to begin with.

Deep in your heart, you know. You know the world is enfolded with mysteries that a human mind would not be able to perceive. Cloak-and-dagger as it is, you understood that reality the moment you saw the two dots that were obviously from a penetration of fangs embedded in your parents’ necks.

‘Vampire! Vampire!’ was your unending scream at the morgue. Since you were only a little girl back then, no one paid attention to you. Not the policemen, not even your brother.

It did not surprise you when everyone called it a hopeless case. In their eyes, it was. But in yours, it’s not. Ever since your parents were murdered, you have been drinking the myths and lore of vampires. Day and night you devoured books, watched vampire sightings, studied their strengths as well as their weaknesses. It simply was a thirst you could not quench.

It was like that until you started college. You could not simply search for a free time to indulge yourself about those undead, blood-sucking creatures any longer. But every articles, every information, were still plastered to a blackboard inside your bedroom. A reminder of what you have been sleuthing for all your life.

Yellow lights illuminated the pool of waters on the asphalt road. You tiptoed as to prevent your shoes from getting soaked. Plastics, styrofoams, as well as vegetables skins from the uncollected drenched trash bins littered all over the street.

At long last, the shadow of your apartment appeared. Darkness invaded the vicinity, a quiet reminder that there isn’t any person present inside. You pulled out your phone from the back pocket of your jeans, ten missed calls from Johnny were displayed in the notifications. Frustrated from what happened inside the bus, you continued to ignore his calls earlier, despite your phone vibrating continuously.

Your phone’s flashlight casted a white light upon the dimness. Keys in your left hand, and your phone in your right, you struggled to jam the keys into the hole. When the gates finally opened, you sent Johnny a text that says you’re already home.

“At long fucking last.”

Your phone went flying to the grass yet again as you saw a figure looming in the shadows. A silent curse slid past your lips as you hurriedly picked it up, dead and wet grass sticking onto the screen. Once again, you pressed the flashlight button to see through the darkness.

And there, in the corner near the door, a man with a bloodied face stares at you with a cigar in between his lips. Spontaneously, your heart thudded frantically in your chest. You wanted to shout, but the scream bubbled out in your mouth and then nothing came out.

“Who are you?” You managed to ask.

The man didn’t answer. He pulled something out of his pockets. You took a step back. Only when he struggled to light his cigarette you realized it was only a lighter. His hands continued to shake, and you have no idea why haven’t you screamed for help yet. They say curiosity killed the cat. Right now, you do not doubt the saying as your curiosity ascended your fear.

“Care to light this for me, kitten?” He stretched out his hand to offer you the lighter. His endearment catching you like a deer in the headlights.

“Who are you and what are you doing here? All bloodied?”

The man sighed and started to light his cigar again. “The name’s Jaehyun. I’m friends with your brother, Johnny.” He offered you the lighter once more, “Now, will you light this up for me? As you can see, I’m shaking and bleeding.”

After his last word, you glanced up and down his body, the light of your phone following your action. And then you saw as blood poured out from a wound on his side. You hadn’t noticed it earlier because of his black shirt.

“What— I don’t— are you alright?” What stupid, stupid question. You shut your eyes and took a deep breath. Is this why your brother were so eager to call you? Because apparently, his friend stands bloodied in front of your doorstep.

“I feel like shit but I’m alright.” Smoke puffed out of his lips as he succeeded in lighting his cigarette after numerous attempts. “Won’t you open the door?” He nudged his head to the direction of the door. You blinked and felt the keys in your palms again.

“Tell me what’s happening first.”

It’s cruel, but if he manages to stay alive while blood gushes out of his stomach, you believed he could concisely explain to you what’s going on.

“Women are so fucking difficult,” he mumbled. “I will tell you everything once we’re inside and you’re stitching up my goddamned wound.”

“What?!” It was a scream more than a word. “Listen, I don’t know how to stitch up—”

He cut you off, “Well that’s a pity.” Then he threw away the bud of the cigarette to the ground. “Listen, I’m going to pass out anytime soon,” then he licked his lips, “Better open this door so we could get to business.”

“Promise me you won’t do anything to me.” It’s childish and you feel pathetic, but you said it anyways. Perhaps this man in front of you has a bottle of conscience in his system despite his unkempt look.

Jaehyun only looked at you, face impassive. “You’re not my type.”

You choked on your own saliva. “You’re unbelievable.” You ignored his smirk as you sauntered up to the door. Both of you were enveloped in a silence, the only noise coming from the keys jamming into the keyhole.

Another darkness greeted you as you opened the door, you searched for the switch with your sweaty hand. The metal tang the keys left on your palm wafted your nose, making you feel gross and dirty.

You wrenched the keys out of the hole as the light finally infiltrated the living room. Your brow shot up when Jaehyun made no move to enter the house.

“Invite me first,” he stated.

If you could raise your brow higher, you would. His question was unexpected for someone itching to enter your house mere minutes earlier.

“Come… in?” You reluctantly offered.

There was mischief and bad news in his eyes as he stepped inside the house. “So the authorities would say that you invited me willingly.”

“What the fuck do you mean?” You demanded, gripping the doorknob tightly.

He only winked at you. But you are not having any of it. It was a bad idea inviting this stranger inside.

“Get out.” You ordered. Jaehyun attempted to say something but you repeated the words with enough ferocity. “Get out!”

He held up his hand, his right pulling out something from his pockets again. A paper.

“Here.”

You stared at the paper for a good two minutes before you snatched it away from his hand.

This is to certify that the apartment owned by Johnny and Y/N Y/L/N has been sold and therefore owned by Mr. Jung Jaehyun.

No. No, no, no. The paper must be a trick. It’s probably a forged paper made by this man in front of you to take his advantage and trick you.

“This is forged.” You balled the paper and threw it his way. Jaehyun picked it up with bloodied fingers. His shirt was now saturated with his blood. But you could not bring yourself to care now that he poses a threat to your safety.

“Forged? Do you not recognize the lawyer who signed this paper?” He started to flatten out the paper again. “The best in town. You could go to his office right now to inquire about this. But I won’t waste money if I were you.”

For the second time that night, you snatched away the paper from him. It was completely crumpled, but the texts printed out were still glaring at you. You skimmed the printed letters with your head spinning, eyes only stopping when you see three signatures below. One for your brother, one for Jaehyun, one for the attorney. It was signed by a pen, that much you’re sure of. Being an architecture student familiarized you to different type of pens. You’re certain they had used a ballpoint pen to sign the contract.

Still, you went dumbfounded as you let the realization hit you. Your brother, Johnny, just sold your apartment for this blood soaked guy in front of you.

“Since when?” You asked through gritted teeth, not looking up from the papers.

Jaehyun let out a frustrated sigh, his hand clamping his wound. “Since last week.”

“Will you…” You sighed, it was so difficult to get the words come out, “… will you let me stay the night? I promise I’ll go first thing in the morning.” Your hand which is holding the paper shook. Mixed feelings of anger, shame, and confusion swirled in your head.

Jaehyun waved his hand before sitting on the sofa, his bloodied hands imprinting the arms of it red. You bit back the anger as you realized that you have no rights to be angry.

“You could stay the night, of course.” He reclined his head, “But stitch me up first before you go packing.”

How had he managed to stay alive with the loss of too much blood, you have no idea. But you shook your head and declined him again, “I don’t know how. You might get an infection.”

“Needle… I need a needle,” He breathed and shut his eyes, you panicked as you thought he passed out already. But then he opened his one eye and fixed it to you, “I’ll do it myself.”

“Why don’t we just go to the hospital?”

It was embarrassing that you only thought of the idea now. But Jaehyun only snorted, “Trust me, that’s the last resort you’d think of if you truly knew me.”

There is no point talking to him. His mouth pours metaphors you could not be bothered to comprehend. So you trudged the distance to the small drawer laying just below the television and grabbed the sewing kit inside.

You laid it on the table. Jaehyun groaned before grabbing the needle and the thread. He does not look pained. He looks more tired. And only when you were sitting beside him you noticed how pale he appeared to be. His lips looked wan, his face pallid.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to the hos—”

“No,” was his monosyllabic reply. You didn’t press any further.

Jaehyun started to insert the thread through the needle, but like his dreaded attempts to lit his cigarette earlier, his aim to get the thread through the little hole went in complete vain. “Fuck,” he muttered as the pin dropped on the floors.

“Let me.” You finally offered before picking up the needle and seizing the thread from his grasp. With your one eye shut close, you dampened the needle with your tongue before thrusting it through the hole. In a blink, you succeeded.

“Here—” You were cut off once again when Jaehyun’s body fell back on the sofa. His eyes closed. The nervous and shock kicked in your stomach as you leaned closer to him but felt nothing in his chest. He doesn’t look like he is breathing, too.

“Oh my God, don’t fucking die.” You repeated the words as you grabbed your phone and dialed nine-one-one. Sweats started to form in your forehead, your own heart beating in a panic-stricken rhythm.

The ringing stopped, and the voice of the person from the other side greeted you calmly.

“I— there’s— I—” Your words are incoherent from the panic that is vibrating from your head to your toes. The person tried to calm you down but to no avail. You inhaled and exhaled, mind blank. “I—” Then a hand grabbed your wrist. You jumped in your seat, only to see Jaehyun, wide-eyed looking at you.

“I told you, no doctors.”

“But— how— what?” How is he alive?

“I am fine. Just really need to stitch this up so I could recover easily.” Then his eyes started to lose their life again.

“Don’t! Don’t sleep! Stay awake!” You screamed at him. Jaehyun began to lose consciousness again. The forgotten thread and needle was back on your hands in an instant. Loud sets of profanities reverberated from your mouth as you lifted his shirt. You exhaled as you saw the long laceration starting from beside his navel to his waist.

“I can’t do this alone, I just can’t.” You swallowed, praying that his innards won’t slide out of his stomach. Where did he get this wound?

“You have no other choice, have you?” He whispered, voice straining. “Just close it and stitch it. I won’t scream,” he expressed.

“That’s not my problem! What if.. what if I’ll make it worse?”

“You won’t.” Jaehyun looked at you with hooded eyes.

This is not what you’ve expected to come home to. The schedule was to go home, eat, shower, and start your plates. Stitching up a long god-forsaken wound wasn’t on your to-do list.

You closed your eyes, trying to inhale and exhale. When you felt like your mind was clear of worries, you finally opened your eyes and started to hold Jaehyun’s skin. The tang of blood filled the whole room, your fingers sliding as it touched his bloodied skin. You let out a breath before clamping the open wound with your fingers, your other hand working its way to pierce the needle into his skin.

Goosebumps ran down your spine as you felt the needle pierced his flesh. White thread came out red as you pulled it to fasten his skin back together. You wiped your forehead with the back of your hand as you pushed on with your work. With each pierce and puncture, your tension and the shaking of your hands lessened.

“Are you okay?” You asked Jaehyun when you were finally in the middle of the wound. He did not utter a word ever since you started; not a protest nor a painful scream.

“Yes… it does not hurt.” His voice came out as a whisper that you doubted his answer.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“If I am in your position right now, I would’ve screamed like hell. Imagine, we didn’t use any anesthesia, but you still managed to look comfortable and calm,” you mumbled, trying to keep Jaehyun awake.

“Do you wanna know why?”

“Why?” A small chuckle resonated from your throat then. Jaehyun popped an eye open, and you waited for some dramatic lines like ‘I’m used to the pain’ to escape his lips, but his answer drew you to a sudden halt instead.

“Because I am a vampire.”

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