#it looks better it feels better i can run my hands through it

[tobesolonely]

untitled angsty but then sweet piece...

hello guys!! it's been like over a year lol. I was going through my google doc and found this and I feel like I never posted it? so now I am posting it. maybe this can be a part 1 but also we know I'm great at starting multipart stories and not finishing them so lets see

૮₍ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ₎ა

warnings: none (~1.2k words)

✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

“You're just gonna ignore me then, babe?”

Y/N continues silently puttering around in the kitchen, going out of her way to make sure her back remained turned on Harry. There weren't many ways to get under his skin, but throughout her years of being with him she learned that being on the receiving end of the silent treatment usually made him fold pretty quickly. She was annoyed with her husband and the fact that he seemed clueless as to why made her even more upset.  

“I take your silence as a yes?” 

More puttering. More re-wiping the already clean counters. Starting the tea kettle. Washing her hands. Anything to not acknowledge Harry, really.

“I can’t make it better if you don't tell me why you're so upset, love,” he takes a tentative step toward her. “I know we've been together for ages but I still can't read your mind. Think ‘m gettin’ real close, though.”

This is said jokingly, and she knows her husband is just trying to dissipate the tension that's thick in their kitchen, making the spacious room seem impossibly small. She doesn't acknowledge his joke, doesn't crack a smile because that would give him too much satisfaction. Nothing made Harry cockier than being the reason for Y/N’s laugh, a sound so sweet she’s pretty sure he’d forbid everyone on the planet except him from listening to it because he wanted it all to himself. He always told her it was music to his ears.

The fact that he doesn't even know what he did is what finally causes her to break, muttering about how fucking ridiculous he is under her breath. It's not lost on Harry. 

“Now you've moved on from ignoring me to cursing at me?” he sounds more curious than upset, taking another step toward her. She backs away, defensively crossing her arms over her chest and she doesn't miss the way Harry’s brow furrows at the action. “Can y’please tell me what I did, Y/N? Please?” When she looks down at the ground, ignoring his please, he begs some more. He’s not above groveling, really. 

“Please, angel? Lemme fix it,” his eyes are wide and wild as he wildly searches hers for some clue as to what he did wrong. “Tell me-”

“Am I always just gonna come second with you?” 

She can almost see the wheels in her husband’s head turning, knows he's choosing his words carefully before he speaks so as not to upset her any further. 

“Okay, love,” he runs a ringer hand through his hair. “Can you be a little bit more specific?”

“We had plans this afternoon, Harry. We were gonna try that new café that just opened. I was looking forward to it,” she doesn't care if this makes her sound selfish and childish. “I know you were working and I know you how much you love to do that, but sometimes I feel like-”

“Don’t even finish that thought,”  Harry cuts her off and his tone is sharp, calloused. “That’s not true.”

“You know, at first I was worried something happened when you didn't show,” Y/N continues like she didn't hear him. “But then I realized nope, you probably just forgot or couldn't get out of another meeting. Just like always.”

A look of sadness flashes across Harry’s face, which quickly transforms to indignant anger. “Don't throw this in my face, Y/N. You know how much I hate that.” 

“So I’m supposed to be mindful of the things you hate, but you can't be mindful of the things I hate?”

“You don't get it,” he mumbles under his breath, growing increasingly done with the conversation the longer it drags on. “You're not in the industry. I can't just always leave-” 

“Then blame it on me! Make me the bad guy, Harry,” she finally turns all the way around to face him completely. “The people you work with get to see you more than I do…the fans…” Y/N trails off, letting her unfinished thoughts hang limply in the air. 

It’s quiet between the couple for no more than thirty seconds, but it feels like a lifetime. Harry breaks it first - he always does. He inhaled a deep shaky breath, trying to call forward the breathing techniques his therapist taught him to use in high-stress situations. Right now counts as a high-stress situation. 

“You’re right, angel,” the pet name slips off his tongue easily which comforts Y/N. Harry’s not as upset as she thought he was. He’s still her Harry. “That’s not fair of me, is it?”

All Y/N can do is shake her head, lower lip jutted out. She knows if she tries speaking she’ll start crying, and she doesn't want to cry. All she wants is for Harry to understand. Harry however, knows her too well. He knows the look she gets on her face when she's trying really hard not to cry and he knows she goes silent because she doesn't trust her voice not to come out shakey. He decides to continue talking.

“I should've called you and let you know I’d be late- or told you we needed to reschedule. I’m sorry I left you hanging, darling.” He pauses, selecting his next words very wisely. Harry knows his wife is sensitive. The last thing he wants is for her to think he's blaming her for anything. “...but it seems like this is about more than me missing our lunch. Which, again, I'm very sorry about. I'm taking you wherever you want for dinner tonight and I'll make you dessert when we get home. Let's talk more about this though, yeah?”

“You also have to be in charge of picking up after Hershey for a month,” Y/N responds with a small smile on her face. Hershey was the couple’s tiny brown poodle who was the cutest puppy in the world. “Thank you.”

“Mmm,” Harry hums, knowing his wife was trying to keep the conversation lighthearted since she hated confrontation. Since being with Harry her communication skills have improved tremendously since he was so good at it and wanted to talk about everything, but healthy communication clearly still didn't come as easily to her. “Talk to me, angel. What’s this about?”

Harry’s in front of her now, arms wrapped limply around her waist. He walks her backward until the small of her back hits the counter then he tells her to, “jump” so he can lift her onto the counter. Once she's situated he settles himself in between her legs and places his arms back on their place on her waist. Harry looks intently into Y/N’s eyes and she knows she won’t be leaving that spot until she tells him what's bothering her, so she just says it.

“I want a baby.” 

Harry raises his eyebrows in quick surprise before breaking out in a wide grin- the kind that causes his nose to scrunch up and wrinkles to form around his eyes. 

“You want a baby? W’ me?”

Y/N doesn’t return his smile, which quickly makes Harry’s turn into a frown.

“Why don’t you look happy?”

Y/N sighs, her eyes avoiding Harry’s. He gently places his index finger under her chin and pushes it up, forcing her to look into his eyes. He’s desperately searching his wife’s eyes, trying to figure out why she isn’t more excited about coming to this big decision. Harry has been ready for years of course, but he never wanted her to feel pressured.

“You’re never here, Harry. I don’t want to feel like a single mom.” Y/N looks down again and Harry doesn’t lift her chin back up this time. In fact, he doesn’t say anything. It’s silent for what feels like a couple minutes but is actually maybe only twenty seconds, the faucet leaking being the only sound heard throughout the whole house.

“Y/N…love,” Harry inhales a shaky breath, removing one of his hands from her hip to run his fingers through his curls. “I never want to make you feel like you’re alone. Not just with this, but…with anything.” Harry gently knuckles away a stray tear falling down Y/N’s cheek. 

“I know you don’t mean to make me feel this way, H. I guess it’s just what I signed up for when I married a popstar, yeah?” Harry can tell Y/N is trying to lighten the mood, but he doesn’t like that he’s the reason for he feeling this way.

“You didn’t “sign up” for anything, love. I’m your husband and you’re my wife and we’re supposed to be there for each other through it all, good and bad.” Y/N opens her mouth to say something but Harry gently pinches her hip, muttering for her to let him finish. “I want a baby with you. I want everything with you, Y/N. I want to be here for everything. I’m going to be better about being here.”

“H…I love you and I know you’ll try, but you’ve said this before-”

“I’ll take a break, babe. Cancel everything,” Harry’s talking faster now, excitement about his plan evident in his voice. “We’ll focus on ourselves and start our family. Go out of the country and leave my bloody phone here, if you’d like.” Y/N giggles at that, which makes Harry give her a big, dimpled grin.

“Will it be okay? With Jeff and everyone?” Although Y/N’s sure people on Harry’s team won’t be happy with his sudden change in plans, she can’t deny how charming the idea sounds. She could already picture them at their favorite villa in Italy, the one Harry purchased as a wedding gift to her and where they spent their unforgettable honeymoon. In all honesty, she’s surprised they didn’t get a baby out of that trip.

“Let me worry about that. You just worry about buying yourself some new bikinis, yeah?” Harry places a lingering kiss to Y/N’s jawbone. “Perhaps a few things for me to rip off you too, hmm?”

✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

hooray for happy endings :')

[wcnderlnds]

fool for you | kang dae-ho

・❥・ summary: best friend dae-ho gets jealous when he sees you flirting with someone else ・❥・word count: 630 ・❥・warnings: angst, sad dae-ho ・❥・ authors note: im so sry i have so much angst in my soul this week. this was a request from this list. feel free to request any!

Dae-Ho’s fist clenched at his sides, the food on his lap long forgotten as his eyes focused on the only thing that could make him feel like this. His blood was boiling, his fingers flexing in his hands as he fought the urge to walk over there. It wasn’t like he had a say, it wasn’t like he could control who you spent your time with but, man, if it didn’t hurt. Why on Earth you had taken an interest in the eccentric, purple haired junkie was a mystery to him. Then again, it wasn’t like he had told you his feelings. No, he couldn’t. You were just friends. Best friends even if he had thought about you as more than that for a long time.

He tore his eyes away from you, unable to watch as you flirty patted Thanos on the arm. That was more than his stomach could handle. Picking the food up, he shoved it to the side on the floor. If he’d even had an appetite, it was long gone by now. The ache in his chest all but consumed him.

“Hey, you good?” Your cheerful voice sounded beside him. Huh, when had you even approached him? Must have been too lost in his thoughts to even realise.

“What? Me, yeah!” He plastered a fake smile on his face, shifting his body a little so he could look at you making sure to avoid direct eye contact. You knew him far too well that the second you looked into his eyes, you’d know something was up.

“Good because I need to talk to someone,” a near squeal passed your lips. “Thanos said when we get out of here he’ll take me for a drink and I swear my heart almost beat out of my chest. He’s just so handsome and funny and he ma-”

“Can you stop talking about him for one second?” Dae-Ho cut you off, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Frankly, I don’t give a damn about him or what he does to your poor little heart.”

His outburst took you aback. Curious eyes examined his face. You noticed the clenched jaw, the way his hair was a mess from how many times he’d been running his hand through it. Oh. “You’re jealous?”

Dae-ho almost protested but what was the point in lying now? You had figured him out and there was no denying it. Anyone with eyes could see he was acting like a jealous fool. Jealousy wasn’t something he had ever experienced this deep before but his feelings for you were so pure, the thought of you with anyone else hurt. It hurt a lot. 

“I - I… yeah, I am. I think you can do so much better than him,” he nodded his head in Thanos’ direction.

“He’s not that bad.”

“Just do me a favour and don’t talk about him in front of me anymore, okay? I can’t handle it. Please spare me. If you care about me in any way, just… don’t.”

He got up to walk away but you grabbed the sleeve of his jacket trying to pull him back down. “Dae-ho, wait. Please don’t walk away.”

“Sorry.” With a frown on his face and an ache in his heart, he walked away trying to put as much distance between you as he could while he got his feelings in check.

[thehoneybeestings]

Sevika w/ a Partner who has PMDD

Word count: 2.8k

Content/Warnings: afab reader (no pronouns used), descriptions of PMDD and its symptoms, sevika gets a gnarly wound but nothing graphic, slightly suggestive (for one sentence), acts of service is sooo sevika's love language, this ended up being way longer than your average headcanon i got carried away i'm sorry!

A/N: Naturally, my very first post is completely and utterly self-indulgent… I suffer from PMDD and decided one day amid my demise that I wanted some sevika comfort! So here you are, and I hope you enjoy and that this serves as a bit of escape from whatever may be giving you a hard time (and that if you're a fellow PMDD sufferer, you remember to be extra gentle with yourself when you're feeling low. You've got this! You're a superhero in my book!). 

Love, Bee ୨ৎ

୨ৎ Sevika knows that you have PMDD before you tell her

୨ৎ In fact, she knows before you two are even considered friends, nevertheless together

୨ৎ Sevika is extremely receptive; it's practically her job to be

୨ৎ Being Silco's second-hand puts her in charge of everyone out on the field, and she is constantly gauging the team's strengths and weaknesses so that she can ensure operations are always running as smoothly as possible

୨ৎSo it goes without saying that when you start working for Silco as an assassin, it doesn't take her long to familiarize herself with the way your disposition ebbs and flows, and seemingly, at the same time every month

୨ৎ This isn't to say that your performance suffers at all- certainly not; you're one of the team's most skilled assassins, and you've always made sure that your disorder doesn't impact your work

୨ৎ But again, it's Sevika's job to be receptive

୨ৎ She first puts together that around the 6th of every month, you come in looking particularly exhausted

୨ৎ Dark circles can be seen under your heavy eyes, and your feet never seem to stop dragging no matter how many cups of coffee you nurse; and during this time, it's an excessive amount

୨ৎ She also notices that during this time period- which usually lasts about 10 days- your fuse is extremely short

୨ৎ When Ran comes up to tease you at the coffee machine about how "you look like you haven't slept in five years", you turn to give them a look that even she can admit is terrifying

୨ৎ "Yeah?" you begin, cocking an eyebrow at them, “I've got boiling hot coffee in my fucking hand right now, Ran.”

୨ৎ They're quick to throw their hands up in surrender and back away, making the (correct) decision to quit poking the bear

୨ৎ Sevika can't help but crack an amused smile at the interaction from her place across the room

୨ৎ She also can't help but notice that for some reason, you stress to no end about missions that would otherwise be a cakewalk for you during those 10 days

୨ৎ Again, your work never suffers for it, but Sevika knows you're suffering for it

୨ৎ So, she decides that your skills would be better put to use elsewhere for that period of time; and she convinces herself that it isn't an act of kindness, but simply a necessity for the team to perform at its best.

୨ৎ One day, she pulls you into Silco's office to "discuss a change in your involvement on the field," and needless to say, you're shitting yourself

୨ৎ You stand across from her, your heart in your stomach and your hands tucked into your back pockets, because you know if you have access to them, you'll just start biting your fingernails off

୨ৎ "The 6th through the 16th of every month," she begins, sitting on the edge of Silco's desk, “I want you here instead of on the field. No special missions then either, got it?”

୨ৎ At first, your eyebrows knit together in confusion

୨ৎ "The 6th through the...?" You ponder- mostly to yourself- before it hits you like a ton of bricks what those dates are

୨ৎ "Shit, I-I'm so sorry, I can explain; it's just-"

୨ৎ "Woah, woah; slow down," Sevika interrupts, her hand shooting out to signal you to stop, “I didn't say you had anything to explain, and I certainly didn't say you had anything to apologize for.” 

୨ৎ A wave of relief washes over you, but the confusion remains. What was this about then, if not a decrease in performance?

୨ৎ Sevika reads the confusion on your face and begins to answer your unspoken question: “You're always great out there; but on those days, for whatever reason, I can tell it comes at a cost. So from now on, you won't be out there at all when those days roll around. Can't have my best assassin burnt out; it's not an option.”

୨ৎ She casually shrugs with the last part of her explanation as if she hadn't just demonstrated attentiveness and consideration unlike you'd ever experienced

୨ৎ And you're left speechless at the gesture

୨ৎ You only realize your jaw is on the floor when she clears her throat, an amused smirk playing on her lips

୨ৎ "U-Um, sorry," you stutter, shaking your head in an attempt to snap yourself out of the shock, "I, uh... yeah, I do have a harder time then. I didn't know you'd noticed..."

୨ৎ "Pfft," she scoffs, kicking off of the desk to make her way toward a stack of papers on the chaise next to Silco's desk, "When I have ever not noticed something?"

୨ৎ She should have put her foot in her mouth then and there, because she sure didn't notice the massive fucking crush you'd soon start to develop on her

୨ৎ And it sure would've made things a lot easier if she had, because she was falling for you just as quickly

୨ৎ In the coming months, Sevika had made a point to start checking in on you when the 6th rolled around, and you found that when she wasn't on the field, she was lingering near the desk she'd set up for you to take your place at during your hard weeks

୨ৎ You'd come in looking especially tired one morning- in fact, your eyes were swollen and red like you'd just been crying- and her eyes were on you like a hawk as you trudged over to the desk, slumped into the chair, and ran a hand through your hair before getting started on the paperwork Silco had assigned to you for the week.

୨ৎ "Rough morning?" She inquired, concern written all over her face

୨ৎ You let out a dry chuckle, recalling the 3 hours of sleep you'd gotten the night before, the orange juice you'd spilled all over your white shirt this morning, and the breakfast you couldn't eat because you were sure that any minute you were going to throw up

୨ৎ Rough morning didn't come close to cutting it

୨ৎ Your eyes began to prick with tears before you could help it

୨ৎ "I'm so sick of this shit," you mumble, burying your head in your heads and pressing your palms into your eyelids

୨ৎ You hear her rummaging around, but pay it no mind until she sets something down in front of you

୨ৎ You move your hands away from your face to see a hot drink in front of you; not coffee, but

୨ৎ "Tea?" You ask, your voice small

୨ৎ " 's better for you than coffee," Sevika shrugs, pulling up a chair to sit in front of the desk

୨ৎ She stares intently at you for a few moments, before finally asking the question she'd been mulling over" So, by this shit, you mean..."

୨ৎ "Oh," you chuckle, "Yeah, I guess I never did explain what my problem is..."

୨ৎ You then go on to explain to Sevika what PMDD is, and what a pain in the ass it can be. She listens attentively, her eyes trained on the paperwork in front of you as you explain the insomnia and the fatigue, the anxiety and the overwhelm, the insecurity and the hopelessness; everything that you have the pleasure of dealing with on a regular basis

୨ৎ "Janna," she replies, rubbing her temples. "And you deal with this shit every month?"

୨ৎ "Like clockwork," you reply.

୨ৎ "Yeah, you're a badass for that."

୨ৎ You let out a loud laugh, and a strange sense of relief floods her system

୨ৎ "Wish I felt more like one, but when something as small as spilling orange juice on my shirt makes me wanna jump out of the nearest window... the last thing I feel like is a badass."

୨ৎ Sevika chuckles at this before giving a nod towards your tea; "Should've gotten you coffee, huh?"

୨ৎ "Oh, no!" you're quick to correct, "Just super nauseous today... probably won't be able to stomach anything until dinner time, and that's if I'm lucky."

୨ৎ Sevika's eyes widen, and she would've demanded that you try your best to eat something before then if it weren't for Jinx barging in to announce that she needed Sevika's help "cleaning up a little mess."

୨ৎ (The "mess" was enforcers chasing her down because she'd decided they were the perfect target for testing out her new paintball gun. "you said I should try out less violent forms of self-expression!" she'd say to Sevika...)

୨ৎ She doesn't forget your conversation, though, and you're snapped out of your shitty reality tv binge-watching session by a knock on your apartment door later that evening

୨ৎ Much to your surprise, it's Sevika

୨ৎ With take-out in hand...?

୨ৎ "You can't go all day without eating," she says, sternly.

୨ৎ You laugh incredulously at the fact that she even remembered your offhand mention of not being able to eat, and at the fact that she'd taken it upon herself to show up to your place to do something about it, but open the door wider and step aside to let her in anyway

୨ৎ You don't miss the quick scan she does of your apartment- littered with trinkets and decorations you'd picked up here and there- and the way her face seems to soften in endearment; of course, only for a split second, before she's back to business

୨ৎ "This is the only thing I can keep down when I'm not feeling well," she deadpans, unpacking the plastic bag and placing a large styrofoam cup on your kitchen counter, "Figured it'd be worth a shot to drop some off if it meant you might be able to stomach something today."

୨ৎ "Sevika... you didn't have to go to all this trouble," you say, walking over to meet her at the counter

୨ৎ She just shrugs, of course. "I know. Where are your bowls?"

୨ৎ And so, here you both were, sharing a bowl of warm chicken noodle soup, trying to ignore how whipped you both were for each other

୨ৎ You'd managed to convince her to join you in your reality tv binge-watching session, and despite how annoyed she was pretending to be, you'd gone through three 45-minute episodes already and she still hadn't left

୨ৎ At one point, she'd even forgotten to keep up the disinterested act: "What? Why would she pick Sarah over Lily, they have zero chemistry!"

୨ৎ You'd just quirk an eyebrow at her exclamation, staring her down with a smirk until she finally admitted, "Yeah, yeah, whatever- you got me."

୨ৎ And you'd giggle, and her heart would clench, and she'd get way freaked out, and suddenly,

୨ৎ “Shit. I've gotta go. No doubt the kid has already gotten herself into something else…"

୨ৎ You'd just nod, trying your best to conceal the disappointment you felt as you sent her off.

୨ৎ "Hey," you'd call out softly, just as she was turning to leave, "Thank you. Seriously... this was really helpful. You made my night."

୨ৎ Don't say that, she'd think, not unless you want me to start coming home to you.

୨ৎ " 's no big deal. Just looking out. Night, Y/N."

୨ৎ "G'night, Sevika," you'd smile.

୨ৎ And it'd be another three months before either of you had the guts to confess your feelings

୨ৎ But one night, you're waiting for her to show up to your door, take-out in hand- like she'd taken to doing every month from the 6th to the 16th since the first time she came over; and when she doesn't, there's a pit in your stomach that tells you it isn't simply because she forgot

୨ৎ With emotions already high, you're quick to assume the worst as you throw on some sweatpants, a crewneck, and your sneakers before racing down to the only other place she'd be on a Friday night

୨ৎ You walk up to the bartender on duty at The Last Drop, not bothering to conceal the worry in your voice as you ask if he'd seen Sevika around tonight

୨ৎ "Just went upstairs to Silco's office. Rough mission, must've been. She'll have a pretty scar, that's for sure."

୨ৎ You don't respond; you just dash up the stairs with wide eyes, not bothering to knock before bursting into the office, and sighing in relief at the sight of the grey eyes shooting up to meet your own

୨ৎ But when your eyes catch the deep cut trailing down her tricep and the mess of bloody rags in front of her, you find that your relief is short-lived

୨ৎ "What the hell?!" you'd exclaim, rushing over to help, "Why didn't you call me? I was worried sick about you!"

୨ৎ You were worried about her? Her cheeks would flush, and she'd thank Janna you were too focused on bandaging her arm up to notice

୨ৎ "You don't gotta help me with this shit," she'd protest

୨ৎ "Says the one who feeds me every night my hormones are fucking raging. Like hell I don't have to help, and you fail to consider that maybe I want to."

୨ৎ You're stressed, your adrenaline is pumping, and you've had a killer headache all day, so your words come out harsher than you mean for them to. "I'm sorry," you'd sigh, "I'm not mad at you at all, I'm just-"

୨ৎ You look up to find her smiling down at you, and your heart skips a beat, and you thank your lucky stars she breaks the silence, because you'd completely forgotten what the rest of your sentence was going to be

୨ৎ "Really didn't like this being my first stop after work," she admits, and you don't know why she suddenly sounds so... timid

୨ৎ "I mean... yeah, having to patch yourself up after a mission is never any fun-"

୨ৎ "No, Y/N," she begins, and your eyes shoot up to meet her at the sound of your name on her lips, "I mean... I mean I didn't like that my first stop wasn't you."

୨ৎ And just like it was the last time you'd spoken to her in this office, your heart was in your stomach

୨ৎ "What, you mean you wanted to come home to me or something?" you chuckle nervously, because there's no way in hell that's what she meant

୨ৎ "Yeah, that is what I mean."

୨ৎ Oh.

୨ৎ "You opposed to that or somethin'?"

୨ৎ Absolutely fucking not, says the kiss that you plant on her lips

୨ৎ and the legs thrown over her shoulders later that night (oops)

୨ৎ And now, you thank Janna for the steady presence in your life that is Sevika; especially when you're feeling unsteady

୨ৎ Of course, your symptoms don't just disappear, but it's sure as hell nice to have the support when they make themselves known

୨ৎ When you wake up on the 6th, exhausted and with zero interest in doing anything but laying in bed all day, she'll get the shower running nice and warm, leave a comfy outfit on the counter, and promise that she'll have tea ready when you're done.

୨ৎ She puts herself in charge of meals for the next 10 days, because she knows that your lack of appetite plus your general lack of motivation and energy means you won't end up eating enough if she doesn't make you

୨ৎ When your emotions are high, she's your rock

୨ৎ if you're starting to tear up because you've tried on four outfits already and you "look too bloated in all of them," she'll take your face in her hands, ask you to take a deep breath, and place a kiss on your forehead, reminding you that everything feels a lot bigger than usual right now, and that the only thing you need to worry about is feeling comfortable

୨ৎ If you're getting frustrated because you can't find your damn coat, and your favorite food truck is only in town for another hour, and you snap at her because she dares to suggest that you do, in fact, have other coats, she'll look at you, take a deep breath of her own, and say,

୨ৎ "Okay, baby; what can I do to help?"

୨ৎ And your heart will break, because how is she so good?

୨ৎ You'll apologize-because you always do when you know your emotions got the better of you- and she'll wrap you in a bear hug, and you'll realize that was what you really needed; not your red coat

୨ৎ And you'll make it to the food truck in the nick of time, and you'll probably tear up when you take your first bite, because damn, this cheesesteak is the best thing I've ever tasted, and damn, I don't know what I did to deserve her.

End ୨ৎ

[zerocoded]

summary: you both share the past of being human experiments and when his nightmares start to become frequent again is the time you can comfort caleb the most.

authors note: guess who's back with another caleb work??? give me a man in a military uniform and i'll make it as my new personality for the next six months. so yeah, here is us comforting caleb then kissing him right after because he can't get enough of us hehe. CREDITS TO THE AMAZING ARTIST WHO MADE THIS DRAWING THAT I'M IN LOVE WITH (thank you who helped me find it!).

warnings: slightly suggestive • hurt/comfort • not much hurt actually • sfw content • ptsd symptoms

word count: 1.2k

the room was dim, lit only by the faint glow of the stars outside the ship's viewport. caleb sat on the edge of the narrow cot, his broad shoulders hunched, the pale light catching the contours of his bionic arm. his flesh hand, calloused and warm, trembled slightly as it rested on his knee. you sat beside him, the silence between you thick with unspoken words, heavy but not suffocating. it was the kind of silence that held space for both of you to breathe.

his breathing was uneven, shallow. he hadn’t spoken much since waking up in a cold sweat, jolted out of the nightmare that had gripped him. you knew better than to press him. instead, you let your presence speak for itself, your hand brushing lightly against his. a small gesture, but it was enough to draw his gaze to you.

“it was the lab again,” he murmured finally, his voice hoarse, as though the dream had clawed its way up his throat. he didn’t meet your eyes. instead, his gaze was fixed on the floor, on the faint scuff marks of boots against the metal. “the restraints, the lights…” his words trailed off, his jaw tightening.

“you don’t have to talk about it,” you said softly, though your heart ached to share the weight of his pain. “not if you’re not ready.”

he shook his head, his bionic fingers flexing involuntarily, the faint whirr of servos breaking the quiet. “it’s not… it’s not the memories. it’s what they make me feel. like i’m still there. like i’ll never really leave.” his voice broke on the last word, and he exhaled sharply, a frustrated sound, his flesh hand running through his sweat-dampened hair.

you shifted closer, the mattress dipping slightly under your combined weight. reaching out, you let your fingers graze the cool metal of his arm before moving to his human hand, your touch deliberate and steady. “you’re here now,” you said, your tone quiet but firm. “you’re here with me. that place doesn’t own you anymore.”

at times like these, you felt guilty for not having memories of the lab. your nightmares consisted of visions of people that suffered from guilt, not this. caleb suffered from nightmares almost every night, having to become dependent on drugs to keep his consciousness at bay at night.

he finally looked at you, his pale purple eyes glassy but searching, like he was looking for something to hold onto in the vast expanse of everything he’d been through. “i don’t deserve you,” he said after a moment, his voice barely audible. “not after… everything i’ve done. everything i—”

“stop,” you interrupted gently, your hand tightening around his. “we’ve both done things we’re not proud of. but that doesn’t change what’s here, now.” you raised your free hand to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing over the rough stubble along his jaw. “you don’t have to be perfect, caleb. you just have to let your mind rest for a bit.”

his eyes closed at your touch, his breath evening out, a small, shaky exhale escaping him as he leaned into your palm. “you’re too good at this,” he muttered, a faint, tired smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“someone has to be,” you replied softly, unable to resist a wry smile of your own. the thin blanket draped over your legs had slipped during the night, leaving your shoulders bare, your skin cool in the artificial air of the ship. your nightshirt—more for modesty than warmth—hung loosely on your frame, slipping off one shoulder, the hem barely grazing mid-thigh. the stark contrast between the unyielding metal floor and the intimacy of this moment made it feel all the more fragile, like a secret shared in the dark.

his gaze flickered downward as his smile faded into something more tender. his identification tag caught the dim light, the worn metal etched with his name and the faint outline of an apple painted in red. the words "when you come back" written in a hushed cursive. it dangled against his chest, just above where the soft fabric of his sleep shirt clung to his torso, slightly damp with sweat. the chain swayed faintly as he shifted, the sound faint but unmistakable in the quiet room.

“you’re freezing,” he murmured, his hand—flesh, warm, and calloused—skimming over your exposed shoulder. the touch was light at first, almost hesitant, before his fingers splayed, tracing a line down the curve of your arm. his bionic hand rested in his lap, motionless for now, but the faint hum of its servos was a constant reminder of his reality.

“i’m fine,” you assured him, though your body leaned instinctively into his touch. it wasn’t the cold that made you shiver, but the way his fingers lingered, reverent yet grounding, like he was memorizing the texture of your skin.

his thumb brushed the edge of your collarbone, following the faint rise and fall of your breaths. “you always say that,” he said, his voice low, a hint of vulnerability threading through it. “but what if you’re not?”

“then i have you,” you replied simply, your words so certain they made his chest tighten. his lips parted as if to respond, but whatever he was about to say dissolved in favor of something else entirely.

he leaned forward, his breath warm against your neck as his lips ghosted over your skin, pressing the softest of kisses there. it was tentative, almost unsure, as if testing the boundary between solace and something deeper. but when you didn’t pull away, when your hand moved to thread gently through his hair, his resolve seemed to shift.

the next kiss was firmer, placed just beneath your jawline, his lips brushing against the delicate pulse there. his hand had moved now, splayed across your back, pulling you closer. “you make every little mistake i made worth it,” he whispered against your skin, the words barely audible, as if saying them louder would shatter the moment.

your breath caught, your hand trailing down from his hair to rest against his chest, just above where the necklace rested. the cool metal was a stark contrast to the heat of his skin, the faint thrum of his heartbeat steady beneath your palm. “you are human, caleb,” you said softly, your voice laced with something between insistence and yearning. “we all make mistakes.”

he closed his eyes again, his forehead resting against yours now. his bionic arm moved, finally, the whirring sound almost imperceptible as the cool fingers brushed along the curve of your hip, grounding him further. the dichotomy of his touch—metal and flesh, strength and vulnerability—felt uniquely him.

as his lips found yours, the kiss was unhurried but no less consuming, a slow melding of need and comfort. it wasn’t about passion or urgency but connection, the quiet reminder that neither of you had to face the shadows alone. when he pulled back, his hand lingered on your waist, his thumb brushing idly against your skin as if afraid to let go.

“stay,” he murmured, though the word wasn’t a plea. it was a promise, one you’d already made and had no intention of breaking.

you pressed another kiss to his lips, softer this time, your fingers brushing the edge of his collarbone before settling over his heart. “always,” you whispered back, the word filling the small space between you, wrapping itself around the both of you like a second skin.

author's note: and the crowd went... silent? pls tell what you think about this post in your reblogs or comments, i love to read them all ♡ yes i have some more caleb content in my drafts and can't wait to post them. hope you enjoyed! xx. send me a request • my masterpost

[anakinstwinklebunny]

Hey bun bun, is it alright if I request something where reader is on her period and being comforted by dilf!anakin? Like her cramps are really painful and he’s panicking trying his best to help her.

Thank youu

Author's note: actual footage of me being called bun bun -> 😋🤭😌🙂‍↔️😏

ANAKIN SKYWALKER was never one to panic easily. He saw a lot of his in his life, so nothing really could surprise him. But seeing you curled up on the couch, clutching your stomach with a pained expression as if someone just digged a knife into your body, pressing deeper, deeper, twisting it back and forth, had him spiraling. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” voice laced with concern as he crouched down in front of you.

“Cramps,” you mumbled, grimacing as another wave of pain rippled through you.

“Cramps?” His brows furrowed, trying to process. Then it clicked. “Oh. Cramps.”

He darted into the kitchen like a man being chased by a lion, rummaging through drawers and cabinets. You heard him muttering to himself, something about how he “should’ve read up on this” and how he “didn’t remember it being this bad for Padmé,” which made you roll your eyes through the pain.

You nodded weakly, shifting to curl in on yourself even more. Thank you, Adam and Eve, thank you very much ~ the thought ran through your head once more before anakin stood up abruptly, running a hand through his already tousled hair. “Okay. Alright. I’ll--fix this... Just--stay right there.”

As if you were sooo ready to even stand up

A few minutes later, he returned, arms full of an electric heating pad, glass of water, and a box of chocolates he’d found in the pantry. He looked ridiculously proud of himself.

“Here,” he plugged in the heating pad and carefully placed it on your lower stomach. “This is supposed to help, right? And water--you’re probably dehydrated, which is bad, you have to drink.. And chocolate because, uh…” He paused, looking slightly sheepish. “I read somewhere it makes you feel better.” lips curling into his signature grin

despite the discomfort, you offered him a small smile “Thanks, Ani.”

But he wasn’t done. He sat down beside you, pulling your legs across his lap so slowly, so gently, and began massaging your calves. “Tell me what else I can do. Anything, angel. Just name it.”

"Gonna take those shitty cramps away, alright? You just redt here, do nothin'.." Large, gentle hands slid beneath your oversized sweatshirt to find your aching belly.

“Tell me if this is too much,” he whispered. Slowly, his hand began to rub soothing circles over your lower abdomen, the pressure being firm yet tender, in a way, as though he was trying to make the pain go away.

Sure, it wasn’t immediate relief, but the repeating motion started to dull the sharp edges of your cramps. You whimpered softly, the sound muffled as you buried your face in the pillow.

“I know, baby,” he murmured, voice low and comforting. “I know it hurts. But you’re so strong, sweetheart. My strong, brave girl.”

His free hand slid upwards, slipping under your shirt to gently cup your sore breast. Gosh.. Thumb traced soft, lazy strokes over the sensitive skin, careful not to press too hard. You winced at first, head falling to the side, tenderness making you flinch, but the touch was so unhurried, so careful, that it almost became soothing.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” he continued, his lips brushing against your hairline. “Going through this every month and still being the most incredible woman I’ve ever met. I don’t know how you do it, angel..”

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @deceptiive @ysrjune @anakinskwkler @bimbo-baggins17 @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @l1ttle-misssunsh1ne @anakinca

[nimuraz]

WORD COUNT — 1.7K

WARNINGS — riki asked sunoo to cover him as president of the fashion club, stressed sunoo comes complaining to you about how it went, unprotected sex (pls do not…), sub sunoo if u squint, bsf!sunoo + bsf! reader, p in v, light usage of pet names etc…

NOTES — first one shot on tumblr… yall pls cut me some slack i didn’t even proof read this so if it’s ass i am so sorry, i hope u guys enjoy nonetheless Muah xx

“that bad huh..?” you say back softly, a playful smile dancing on your lips.

“dude you don’t get it! all they did was talk about parties, drugs, and their sex lives, i’m never helping riki out ever again.” he visibly cringes as the words escape his mouth.

you let out a small chuckle before sitting closely to him in the bed, laying his head on your lap.

“sounds very typical… from my understanding most of the “popular” kids are in there hm?”

you and sunoo met at uni orientation. he looked very easy to talk to so you took the opportunity, you quickly came to the realization that you both were eerily alike. it was as if you’d found a mirror to your own soul.

you giggle softly after the air quotes.

“yea and then they had the audacity to ask about my nonexistent sex life!” he mumbles dramatically.

you laugh as his words slowly drift from his mouth, gently brushing against your thighs. Almost instinctively, your slender fingers weave through his auburn locks while he continues his playful rant.

“it was so embarrassing…” he mumbles again as he snuggles closer to your upright form.

embarrassing?

“i’m right there with you noo.”

“would be so much easier to deal with if i could just get one fuck in and be done with it. then i wouldn’t have to pretend im not a virgin.” he sits up and pouts.

you give his cheek a gentle squeeze before tidying his hair, which had fluffed up from your soft touches.

“you’re cute noo.” you tease with a grin.

“s’not cute… so embarrassing…”

“mm then let’s change that for the both of us…”

nothing could’ve prepared him for that.

“what?” he says breathlessly, his gaze wandering over every detail of your face, yet somehow still avoiding your eyes.

“cmon… who better to take your virginity than your best friend right?” a soft smirk plays on the corner of your lips.

he wasn’t sure whether to scream, cry, or maybe even laugh, but in that moment, he seriously considered all of the above. one thing was certain, though—he wasn’t about to sit there and pretend he hadn’t thought about fucking you once, twice, or maybe even more than that.

“are you serious?” sunoo asks as his gaze finally meets yours.

“only if you are…” you say sweetly.

god you have dreamt of this moment for years, the soft gently touches you give each other was starting to feel torturous plus all you ever wanted was to make sunoo feel good.

sunoo felt like he was suffocating. he sits up, his eyes studying your gaze.

you lean in slowly, eyeing his lips and glossy orbs.

“can i…? we really don’t have to sun.. i don’t wanna make you uncomfortable-“

sunoo completely cuts you off by pressing his soft pink lips onto yours. you feel your chest tighten because god yes you finally got to taste sunoo, and he was sweeter than you could’ve ever imagined.

he crawled over you, forcing your back to hit the mattress before gently placing his hands on your waist.

“not sure… where to go from here…” his breath fans out onto your skin, leaving goosebumps in return.

“it’s okay, we can go slow yea?”

scream, cry, throw up? all of it was running through his mind again. his eyes drank in the sight of you your flushed cheeks, dark hair framing your face, and those oh so pretty, irresistibly pink lips.

sunoo nods before leaning back down to kiss you again, his pace slower this time. you gently bite his bottom lip, seeking entrance, and the soft gasp that escapes him gives you the perfect opportunity to slip your tongue in.

his eyes shoot open at the feel. you notice his body tense, wanting him to feel relaxed you start rubbing his shoulders gently and per usual with that, he melts.

“s’just me sunoo…” you whispered against his swollen lips.

yea for gods sake it’s you. his best friend of two years but fuck this feels so different for him. for you on the other hand, you felt yourself slowly losing yourself to him.

“look at me, sunoo.”

so he does. he looks straight into your stupid perfect eyes.

“please.” was all he could say. his voice just barely above a whisper.

you don’t know why you nod but you do, and with that you pepper soft kisses all around his face earning a soft chuckle from him.

“it’ll be okay… it’s just us…” you whispered before pulling him down by his nape to press soft kisses to his jaw.

his eyes flutter at the feel, hands squeezing your waist gently. a soft pretty moan escaping his lips when you trail the kisses down lower to his neck.

“let me get on top.” you whispered and without a second thought he maneuvers you over and then on top of his.

back to trailing the kisses down his neck you go, however you started realizing the severity of the situation. wanting a distraction from the pit in your stomach you were feeling you finally tug on the hem of his shirt and with one swift motion its off leaving him half naked in front of you.

sure you’ve seen sunoo shirtless a handful of times but god does he look perfect as ever beneath you. you shift forward a bit, your clothed cores pressing perfectly against each other.

your lips make their way down to his chest sucking on the soft skin every now and then.

sunoo was a mess.

“fuck.. baby-“ his words are cut off by his own moan leaving his mouth.

baby?

you smirk softly against the skin of his hips.

“are you sensitive here?” you whispered.

he’s sensitive everywhere but yes especially right there and all he could do was nod because you weren’t even fucking yet and he already felt so so close.

that little nod was all the motivation you needed to suck on the skin harder. sunoo’s back arched at the sensation, his moans getting louder.

“please… fuck this isn’t enough.” he manages to breathe out.

you stop your actions before looking up at him.

“tell me what you want baby.” your smooth hands rub up his clothed thighs, you knew what he wanted.

you just like playing dumb every once in a while.

things escalated quickly, and now you both find yourselves exposed and vulnerable. still, the kissing and teasing were enough to leave sunoo completely stirred up.

“tell me if it hurts, i promise i’ll stop.” he whispered against your flushed cheek.

you lay there with your best friend, his body positioned above yours, and you could feel the connection between you both. in that moment, a sense of happiness washed over you like never before.

the stretch hurt but you felt so warm and so so full. his head buried into your neck all while bottoming out. he was trembling.

“baby…” he breathes out. “you okay?”

“sunoo, kiss me.” and again as if under a spell he listened to every single command you make.

he starts kissing you so achingly slow all while thrusting in and out of you in a gentle pace. your hands make it back to his nape and tug slowly when he bottoms out again.

“feels so good… you make me feel so good baby.” you blabbed out.

you were so utterly gone.

he’s panting, trembling, and holding back so so much. it takes everything in him to not ram into you.

“more.” was all he needed to hear.

he lifts your legs up higher and places them on his shoulder before thrusting in and out of you at a more rapid speed.

skin slapping, your whimpers, and his soft moans was all you could hear in the room. you were seeing colors, he’d pull out almost all the way just to fuck himself back in and by this point he was going so hard all you could do was clutch onto his shoulders.

“right— fuck yes sunoo right there!” you moan, he swore it was almost a scream.

he pulls out one last time before gazing down at your perfect hole. he felt so filthy, so nasty for being turned on by the way your arousal glistened.

“can… can i taste you?” sunoo faintly says.

the desperation made you crave anything, your hips buck as you feel his thumbs graze your inner thighs lightly. all you do is whimper and nod.

“fuck sunoo…” you moan, every other word leaving your mouth now incoherent as you feel his tongue lay flat on your clit. unbeknownst to you, sunoo is dirtier than he leads on to be. consistently watching porn in hopes when the time (now) comes, he’ll know how to pleasure his girl. in this case, you.

“how the fuck- nghh sunoo..”

it felt so perfect, perfect enough to have you almost reaching your peak.

“baby i’m close..” you breathlessly whispered before your moans spilled out of you.

then it stopped, the knot tightening in your stomach again. you groan softly.

“sorry, just really wanna be in you when you come…” sunoo whispered into the shell of your ear as he aligns himself with your entrance again. his pace frantic as he pounds into you.

“sunoo..” you call out softly. he looks down at you drinking in your appearance. you’ve never looked prettier, your eyes fluttering shut, your lips parted, your cheeks bright red.

“yea…?”

“i love you…” you babble.

‘what the fuck…’ you both simultaneously thought.

“you do…?” he asks, his release just right there so extremely close.

“sunoo- ah! fuck harder…” you whimper as he hits just the right spot.

“y/n… please…” he moans into your mouth before kissing you harshly. you did love him, and he loved you too. more than anything. he just had no idea how to tell it to you too.

he sat you upright as he kept thrusting into you before wrapping an arm beneath one of your under arms, pulling you flush against his chest.

“i… fuck…” he moans, entire body trembling.

“i love you too… i mean it…” he whispers as he goes impossibly faster. that was all it took for your pussy to clench so beautifully around his dick. your arousal connected between you both.

he pulls out and pumps himself before cumming on his fist and your inner thigh. both of you left panting, he collapsed next to you shortly after.

“you mean it…?” you whisper.

“we’ll talk about it later…”

[rose24207]

hiiiii!! i loved you normal lando mechanic story, can i request a part 2 where lando gets a taste of her lavish life, maybe like an expensive fundraising event or similar?

More than enough Pt.2

Summery: Lando experiences a whirlwind of love and luxury as you shower him with extravagant gifts, fine dining, and unwavering affection, helping him realize his worth beyond material things.

Genre: Normal!Lando, CEO!reader, fluff

TW: None!

A/N: I love normal!Lando!! I think I might do a few more parts based of this! What do you think? English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

P1

Masterlist

Lando leaned against the hood of his beat-up project car, wiping grease from his hands with a rag. It was another long day at the garage, but he didn’t mind. The work gave him purpose, and besides, he had something even better waiting for him at home: you.

The past few weeks had been a whirlwind. Ever since he’d discovered the truth about your wealth, life had taken on a surreal quality. It was a lot to process—going from a modest life to being immersed in the world of luxury—but the thing that amazed him the most was how little your status had changed the way you treated him. You were still the same person who laughed with him over cheap wine, danced barefoot in his tiny kitchen, and held his hand during late-night drives.

But lately, you’d made it your mission to spoil him in ways he never thought possible.

The first surprise came on a cloudy Saturday morning. Lando had been tinkering in the garage when you appeared, leaning against the doorframe with a playful smile.

“Hey, handsome,” you called, your voice cutting through the hum of the street outside.

“Hey,” he replied, wiping his hands on his overalls. “What’s up?”

“Come with me,” you said, holding out your hand.

Lando raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. You led him out to the driveway, where a sleek, black luxury car sat gleaming in the soft light. His steps faltered as his eyes widened, disbelief washing over him.

“What… what is this?” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.

“It’s yours,” you said casually, as if you hadn’t just turned his entire world upside down.

“Mine?” he repeated, staring at you like you’d just told him he’d won the lottery.

“Yes, yours.” You laughed at his expression, stepping closer to hand him the keys. “You’ve been working so hard, and I know how much you’ve wanted something reliable—and fun. So, here you go.”

Lando’s hands trembled as he took the keys, his heart pounding in his chest. He walked around the car, running his fingers over the polished surface, his reflection staring back at him.

“Babe,” he said, his voice thick with emotion, “this is… I don’t even know what to say. This is insane.”

“Say you like it,” you teased, leaning against the car.

“Like it?” He turned to you, a grin spreading across his face. “I love it.”

“Good,” you said, your smile matching his. “Now, how about a test drive?”

Lando didn’t need to be asked twice. Sliding into the driver’s seat, he marveled at the smooth leather interior and the advanced dashboard. Everything about the car screamed luxury, and for the first time, he allowed himself to feel like he belonged in it.

As he drove through the winding streets, the car purring beneath him, Lando couldn’t stop smiling. The way you looked at him, proud and happy, made his heart swell.

The car wasn’t the only surprise you had in store. A week later, you insisted on taking him shopping.

“Babe, you don’t need to buy me anything else,” he protested as you pulled him into a high-end boutique.

“Humor me,” you said, dragging him toward the watch display.

Lando glanced at the gleaming cases, his eyes widening as he took in the rows of intricately designed timepieces. Each one looked like it cost more than a month’s worth of his paychecks.

“Pick one,” you said, gesturing to the display.

“What?” He turned to you, his eyebrows shooting up. “No way. These are… I mean, look at the price tags!”

“Don’t worry about the price,” you said, your tone gentle but firm. “I want you to have something nice.”

Lando hesitated, his gaze flicking between you and the watches. Finally, he pointed to a classic design with a black leather strap and a gold bezel.

“That one,” he said, his voice almost timid.

You nodded, signaling the salesperson to take it out. When they handed it to Lando, he turned it over in his hands, marveling at the craftsmanship.

“It’s beautiful,” he murmured, slipping it onto his wrist.

“It suits you,” you said, your smile warm.

Lando pulled you into a hug, holding you tightly. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’m so glad you’re here.”

A few days later, you surprised him with reservations at a Michelin-starred restaurant. When you told him, Lando’s eyes went wide.

“Are you serious? Those places have, like, year-long waitlists!”

“I might have pulled a few strings,” you admitted with a wink.

That evening, as Lando stepped out of the car in his new suit, he looked around in awe. The restaurant was perched on a hill overlooking the city, its glass walls offering breathtaking views.

Inside, everything was immaculate—the soft glow of chandeliers, the quiet hum of conversation, the faint clink of glasses. Lando felt slightly out of place at first, but you squeezed his hand, grounding him.

“Relax,” you said, your voice soothing. “This is your night.”

The meal was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. Each course was a work of art, and Lando couldn’t stop raving about the flavors.

“This is insane,” he said between bites of the main course. “I didn’t even know food could taste like this.”

You laughed, your heart swelling at his joy. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”

“Enjoying it? This might be the best night of my life.”

Over the next few weeks, you continued to treat him to little luxuries—a weekend getaway to a private villa, a pair of custom leather driving gloves for his new car, and even a surprise visit to a racetrack where he got to test-drive some of the fastest cars in the world.

But what made it all worthwhile was the look on Lando’s face. Every smile, every laugh, every moment of pure, unfiltered happiness reminded you why you were doing this.

One evening, as the two of you lay tangled together on the couch, Lando turned to you with a thoughtful expression.

“You know,” he said, his voice soft, “when I first found out about… everything, I didn’t think I could handle it. I felt so out of my depth.”

“And now?” you asked, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead.

“Now I feel lucky,” he said, his eyes locking with yours. “Not because of the car or the watch or any of that. But because I have you. You make everything better.”

Tears pricked your eyes at his words, and you leaned in to kiss him. “You’re everything I could ever want, Lando. And I’ll never stop showing you how much I love you.”

As he pulled you closer, Lando realized something he hadn’t before: it wasn’t the material things that mattered. It was the love and care behind them, the way you made him feel like the most important person in the world.

And for the first time, he truly believed he deserved it.

Thank you for reading!

Taglist: @ipushhimback, @ladyoflynx, @lewishamiltonismybf, @cmleitora, @hxxi3, @same1995, @amatswimming

[cameronsprincess]

OK OK HEAR ME OUT NOW

can i pls request your thoughts/little prompt or blurb or wtvr on this idrc i just want to know your thoughts cuz you are so !!!

mean!dom!reader gagging sub!jj with your wet panties AND THEN making him and sub!rafe have the most desperate and pathetic makeout session while the panties are kept in jj’s mouth! and they are rutting against each other and jj is crying from pleasure and rafe is so needy the he’s now practically humping jj. but if either one of them stops kissing they aren’t allowed to cum and since they are both such good boys they don’t take their lips off of each other and the gag doesn’t fall out but it leads to them both getting very very overstimulated ☺️ ☺️ and you’re literally like recording

JESUS FUCK.. i’m hearing you out and i’m soooo normal about this (i’m losing my mind!)

CW: smut! 18+ only! mxm, sub!rafe, sub!jj, mean!dom!reader, reader records this interaction, gagging, praise.

the sight before you was unlike anything you’d ever seen. you’d always pushed both men to do whatever you wanted, and them being the good boys they were, they did anything you wanted. you sit back lazily in a chair, phone in your hands as you recorded rafe and jj.

“you’re doing so good for me boys, making mama so proud.”

jj whimpers against rafe’s lips, the sloppy sounds of them kissing and their heavy breathing filling the room. rafe lets out a low grunt, while jj whimpers pathetically, gagging and coughing around the soaked panties you’d stuffed in his mouth just minutes ago.

you stand from the chair you’re in, moving toward your mattress and holding the phones camera closer to their faces, capturing the way your panties fill jj’s mouth, the way their lips move fervently against each other, desperately grinding their clothed dicks together as they whimper and moan for you.

“fuck, you both look so hot like this… so pathetic and needy, you’d both do anything to please me, right?” you whisper, moving toward the middle of your mattress, your phone landing on their hips, zooming in on how desperately they both rut against each other.

“awww, you’re both so fucking hard, i bet you wanna cum huh?” you tease, running your nails up the length of rafe’s back. a shiver runs down rafe’s spine, but he never breaks his lips from jj’s, wanting nothing more than to make you happy and be able to cum.

tears stream down jj’s face, your panties choking him up, the way rafe’s body is pressed into him making it nearly impossible to breathe. you laugh softly, moving back up to their heads, reaching out a hand and swiping away the tears that had fallen down jj’s cheeks. “does it hurt, j? hmm? does my good boy need to cum?”

jj mumbles something through his gag, and you just laugh at his attempt at talking. “oops, didn’t quite catch that, can you repeat yourself?”

rafe and jj both sigh, never breaking their lips from one another. they continue to shamelessly rut into one another, only stopping when they feel their orgasm coming on. they knew better than to cum without your permission.

“you’re doing so good f’me boys, keep it up and i just might let you cum.”

and you stuck true to your word, finally allowing them release after hours of toying with them. they’d earned it though, proving to you that they would listen and do anything you asked, because they loved nothing more than pleasing you.

okay okay, this is my first time writing TRUE mxm… so please be kind 😭 i loved this fucking concept though!

[cosmowgyral]

Chaotic Night~ Halloween Night at the Mercy of the Cursed Fox

▪︎ Harrison Gray

This is a fan translation so please don't expect it to be 100% accurate. Creative liberties have been taken. All content belongs to Cybird. Reblogs are appreciated. Hope you enjoy!

Concerned about the influence of the curse in the moonlit night, it was decided that everyone would refrain from leaving their rooms until dawn.

Harrison: Damn you Roger. You shouldn’t be bringing anything dangerous to the party.

Harry was sitting on the bed, muttering to himself with a sour look on his face.

Strange phenomenon occurred, like the twitching of his fluffy ears and the flapping of his tail, as if wary of its surroundings.

(..Oh, how cute! The way it moves seem like it’s really a part of Harry’s body.)

(But now, Harry is both cool and cute, doesn’t that make him totally invincible…?)

The curse’s increased power had transformed Harry’s appearance, which inadvertently made him even more attractive.

As I sat next to Harry, I instinctively reached out to touch the fluffy fur.

Kate: Wow, it’s so fluffy and it feels so good.

(It really suits him and makes him looks cute.)

(But what if Harry doesn’t return to normal and the effects of the curse continue to grow stronger….)

(The one who is the most anxious right now must be Harry himself. I shouldn’t let myself worry too.)

(I have to act normally here.)

As I stroked the soft fur, lost in thoughts----

Harrison: Kate, you’ve been touching it too much.

Kate: Oh, I’m sorry! I just couldn’t resist myself because it was so cute.

I was so worried and lost in thought that before I knew it, my wrist, which I tried to pull back in a panic, was quickly grabbed.

Harrison: Just ‘cute’?

Kate: Eh? Y-yes, but….

Harrison: Yes, that’s a lie.

Kate: Ggh..

The mint green eyes that looked into my eyes seemed to have a piercing, sharp light.

(…Is this the result of his abilities being strengthened?)

I feel an inexplicable unease in my chest.

Ah, if his abilities are stronger, it must mean I can be seen through even more than usual.

Harrison: So, what were you actually thinking?

In Harry’s increasingly intense gaze, it felt as if my innermost thoughts were being laid bare.

Kate: D-don’t stare at me like that!

I quickly covered Harry’s eyes with my hands.

(If we don’t make eye contact, he shouldn’t be able to find out!)

Harrison: What are you doing?

Kate: Ummm….well, it’s just embarrassing?

Harrison: That’s not true.

Harry’s mouth turns up in a grin.

Kate: Nn, eh?

Harrison: Is there a lie you’re telling me that you don’t want me to see through?

(I’ve been found out! Even though I covered his eyes…That’s right, Harry has sharp instincts.)

(But if I keep his eyes covered like this, he won’t be able to see anymore.)

Harrison: Haha, that’s okay. If it makes you feel better, you can keep my eyes covered.

Harry remained unfazed by my precautions.

Harrison: So, what were you thinking while touching my ears and tail?

Kate: Well, the fluffy texture felt nice.

Harrison: Hmm, anything else?

Kate: Particularly that…

Harrison: That’s a lie.

Kate: I-It’s not a lie, you know?

I said that to further reinforce my point---.

Harrison: ….

Harrison: …Hey

Harrison: If you keep lying like that, I might start despising you.

Kate: Eh?

My heart made an unpleasant thud.

Harrison: It must be because my cursed blood is raging; I can’t even control my emotions anymore.

Harrison: If I lose interest in you like this…it might become irreversible.

The atmosphere in the room became tense once he calmly spoke his words.

(He must’ve run out of patience…)

Kate: I-I don’t want that!

I removed my hands from Harry’s eyes, and a wicked smile spread across his face.

Harrison: Now, was that a lie or the truth?

Kate: ……Huh?

Harrison: Pfft, haha, what kind of face are you making?

(Ngh, was he teasing me?!)

Kate: You’re despicable!

Frustrated, I hit on Harry’s chest.

Kate: I was worried back there!

Kate: I was thinking that Harry’s current appearance is cute and cool, but what if he never returned to normal?

Kate: If the power of the curse continues to run wild like this…….

Kate: But I knew you would have been the most worried about the situation, so I was trying my best for you to not find out about my feelings…!

Harrison: If it continues to run wild, what do you plan to do?

Kate: Ah

He grabbed me and my hand that was hitting him, and threw me onto the bed.

The eyes looking down on me are filled with an even more mysterious light.

It was swirling with the heat of rising desire.

Harrison: Maybe it’s because my abilities have gotten stronger, but now I seem to be able to tell if someone is lying or telling the truth by just listening to them speak.

Harrison: Well, that’s not all.

He buried his face in my neck and sniffed.

Harrison: The smell of a lie? I might have become more sensitive to things like that.

Kate: Th-there’s no way….ah!

A hot tongue crawls up my throat.

He licked up to my chin with a slow, savouring motion.

Harrison: You’re delicious…and your reaction too.

Kate: Mmm….

He gives me biting kisses and ravages my mouth violently.

(This is different from usual….it’s intense and wild.)

Stirred until pulpy, Harry showed off his dripping tongue, and wore an even more sadistic smile.

Harrison: Your taste is telling me….

Harrison: That you love it when I do this to you.

Kate: N-hah, th-that’s because you’re doing this, Harry.

Harrison: ….

Kate: Harry? Do you still love me?

Kate: Have you lost patience with me?

Harrison: ……

The silence felt incredibly long, but----

Harrison: ….That isn’t true.

Harrison: I wouldn’t want to do this if it weren’t you.

Harrison: You’re so honest that you’re screaming with your whole body that you love me.

Harrison: I feel really overwhelmed.

The passion in the mint-coloured eyes looking down at me grew hotter and hotter.

Kate: …Uh, aren’t you going to say ‘was that a lie’?

Harrison: Well, you already know if it’s true or not. And..

Harrison: I can’t wait any longer.

Kate: Haah…

He bit my earlobes and ran his tongue along it.

Harrison: …Not only have my abilities been strengthened, but my desires may have been unlocked as well.

Harrison: Kate, be prepared.

His voice mixed with hot breaths ruthlessly vibrates through my ears.

There’s no winning against Harry, who can see through with all his senses---

Together we fell into the darkness of Halloween.

[stevesgother]

Can you write some Steve angst please and thank you 🙏🏽 🙏🏽🙏🏽

Pairing - Steve Harrington x GN!Reader

WC - 869

Warnings - hurt/no comfort, ANGST, arguing, depictions of a breakup, Steve not knowing how to cope apparently, cursing,

this one is heavily inspired by ‘merry christmas, please don’t call’ by bleachers, a little shorter because i think i’m forgetting how to write angst?? This is y’alls fault for making me write so much cute fluff all the time

Maybe it was the lack of a healthy depiction of love in his childhood. Maybe it was the fact that his first and only relationship before you were tumultuous. Whatever the case, Steve Harrington couldn’t seem to get a grasp on how to love; how to be loved.

It wasn’t, however, for a lack of trying. Steve loved you– more than he loved Nancy, more than he loved himself, more than he’s ever loved anyone. Maybe that was the problem.

That’s how he ended up spending his first Christmas in two years alone on his couch in four-day old clothes with unwashed hair, drowning in a hell of his own creation. About three miles in the opposite direction, on the other side of town, you were doing not unlike him. In your shared bedroom– a space that once brought you tranquility and peace, surrounded by the remnants of the person you loved– you lay under copious layers of blankets and quilts where you had remained for a little under a week. Soaking your cotton pillowcase with salty tears.

–

“I don’t understand why you’re doing this, I mean if I– if I did something or– or there's someone else that’s fine but please, would you just tell me?” You plead, eyes watery, to a stone-faced Steve. You can’t understand, after everything, where this is all coming from.

“I just feel like this is the best decision for us right now,” he whispers, running a hand through limp hair– exasperated from telling you this exact thing for the fourth time in the last hour.

“Why, Steve?” You push.

That’s what finally breaks his resolve. He had tried to let you down slowly– to lay your heart on the ground with gentle hands that wouldn’t shatter it to pieces– but he didn’t know if he could stand to look at your face twisted with such sorrow anymore. Being stabbed would’ve felt easier.

“Because! All we do is fight! And I know it’s my fault, I know you deserve better. I’m– Christ– I’m doing this for you!” His hands tremble when they gesture at you.

“Bullshit, Steve! If you were doing this for me then you would stay and fight for us. You don’t give a fuck about how I feel– don’t I get to have some sort of say in this?!”

He shoots you a warning glance, “Don’t.”

Without another word or a single thing packed, Steve grabbed his keys from the top of the dresser and slammed the door behind him. There was no attempt to beg for him to stay– you knew hours ago that he wouldn’t. With your back against the wall, you sank slowly to your knees, sobbing into your hands.

That night and every night since, you lied in bed alone. The space where Steve used to be, cold and barren. You reach for him in the space between consciousness and sleep, always expecting him to be there– solid and warm– like he had been every night for the last two years.

–

Now four o’clock, your parents had brought you your gifts earlier in the morning. They sat stationary under the unlit tree you and Steve had decorated together, mere days before he tore your relationship apart. Leaving the safety of your bedroom felt like a death by a thousand cuts– there wasn’t an inch of space in your apartment that didn’t remind you of him.

Your gaze landed on the neatly wrapped box in the corner of your shared closet. Images of Steve– alone in his big, empty childhood home– conjured in your mind and left a sour taste in your mouth.

Despite the weather being below freezing, you didn’t bother letting your car run before closing yourself inside and throwing it in reverse. The gift sat beside you in the passenger seat like a chunk of lead the entire trek to Steve's house– heavy with things unsaid and loose ends.

His car was sitting idly in the driveway when you arrived, as you expected it would be. As quietly as possible, not even bothering to close the driver’s side door behind you, you approached his front door and set the gift down on the stone porch.

Standing in front of his fridge, staring blankly at the contents inside and trying to will himself to be able to stomach any of it, he hears the unmistakable sound of his doorbell ringing. His first thought is that it’s Robin, or one of the kids– but then unsure of how they would’ve gotten here. He trudges to the French doors, in no hurry to see who’s on the other side of them.

But when he opens the door, all that awaits is a small, festive box with a bow and a note placed carefully on top.

Steve recognizes the elegant stroke of your cursive handwriting immediately, and it hits him like a ton of bricks to the sternum.

‘Merry Christmas, please don’t call.’

divider credit @cafekitsune

[woozinhos]

hoshi make up sex pleaseee thankyou <3

You and Soonyoung had gotten into a huge argument earlier that day, the first one you'd had in a long time. It had been about something small, something that shouldn't have even been a big deal, but somehow it had escalated into a full-blown fight.

Now, you were both sitting on opposite sides of the couch, the tension in the room palpable. Neither of you spoke, the silence only broken by the occasional sigh or frustrated huff. After what felt like an eternity, Soonyoung finally spoke up. "Can we talk about this?" he said, his voice quiet but firm.

You nodded, still feeling a bit angry, but willing to listen. "Yeah, I guess we should," you replied, looking over at him.

Soonyoung started to speak, trying to explain his side of things, but the more he talked, the angrier he got.

"I just don't understand why you can't see things from my perspective," he said, his voice rising. "I'm trying to do what's best for us, and you're just shutting me down every time."

You bristled at his words, feeling your own anger flaring up again. "That's not fair," you snapped back. "You're not the only one with opinions here, you know."

The argument quickly devolved into a shouting match, both of you hurling accusations and insults at each other.

"Why can't you just admit that you were wrong?" Soonyoung yelled.

"Why can't you just listen to me for once?" you yelled back.

The argument continued to escalate, both of you becoming more and more frustrated as the minutes ticked by. Finally, Soonyoung stood up from the couch, pacing back and forth in front of you.

"This is ridiculous," he said, running a hand through his hair. "We're supposed to be partners, but it feels like we're just fighting all the time."

You felt a pang of guilt at his words, knowing that he was right. The constant arguing was taking a toll on both of you, and you missed the way things used to be between you.

"I know," you said quietly, looking down at your hands. "I miss us too."

Soonyoung stopped pacing and looked over at you, his expression softening. "I miss us too," he repeated, his voice quieter now. "I hate fighting with you."

He walked over to you and sat down beside you on the couch, his body tense but his eyes filled with remorse. "I'm sorry for yelling at you," he said, taking your hand in his. "I just...I get so frustrated sometimes, and I don't know how to handle it."

You squeezed his hand, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. "I'm sorry too," you said, looking up at him. "I shouldn't have yelled either."

Soonyoung pulled you into a tight hug, burying his face in your hair. "I don't want to fight with you anymore," he whispered, his arms wrapped tightly around you. "I just want us to be happy together."

You hugged him back, feeling a sense of comfort and security in his embrace. "I know," you said, your voice muffled against his chest. "I want that too."

You stayed like that for a few minutes, holding each other in silence, until Soonyoung pulled back slightly to look at you.

"Can we start over?" he asked, his eyes searching yours. "Can we try to work things out and communicate better from now on?"

You nodded, feeling a wave of affection wash over you. "Yes, let's start over," you said, reaching up to cup his face in your hands. "I love you, and I don't want to lose you over something stupid like this."

Soonyoung smiled, his eyes lighting up at your words. "I love you too," he said, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. "More than anything."

He leaned in again, this time capturing your lips in a soft, sweet kiss. The kiss was filled with apologies and promises, the two of you silently vowing to do better in the future. As you kissed him back, you felt a sense of hope and optimism for the future. You knew that it wouldn't be easy, but you were determined to work through any problems that came your way, together.

As the kiss deepened, you felt a surge of desire course through your body. Soonyoung's hands began to roam over your body, his touch sending shivers down your spine. He pulled you onto his lap, his arms wrapped tightly around you as he continued to kiss you passionately. You moaned into his mouth, feeling your body respond to his touch.

"I want you," he whispered against your lips, his hands slipping under your shirt to caress your skin. "I need you."

You whimpered at his words, feeling yourself grow wet with desire. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer as you kissed him hungrily. Soonyoung's hands roamed over your body, exploring every inch of you as he devoured your mouth. He nipped at your bottom lip, his hands tugging at the hem of your shirt.

"Off," he growled, his voice low and husky. "I need to see you."

You quickly pulled your shirt over your head, tossing it aside. Soonyoung groaned at the sight of you, his eyes dark with lust.

"You're so beautiful," he said, his hands coming up to cup your breasts. He gently rolled your nipples between his fingers, watching as they hardened under his touch.

You arched into his touch, moaning softly as pleasure coursed through your body. Soonyoung leaned in to kiss your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin there. Soonyoung continued to tease your neck and breasts, his hands and mouth driving you wild with desire. You could feel his hardness pressing against you through his pants, and you rocked your hips against him, desperate for more friction.

"Please," you whimpered, tangling your fingers in his hair again. "I need you inside me."

Soonyoung groaned at your words, his control slipping away. He stood up suddenly, scooping you up into his arms and carrying you to the bedroom. He laid you down on the bed, his eyes raking over your body hungrily. He quickly stripped off his own clothes, revealing his toned body to you. He climbed onto the bed, hovering over you as he leaned down to kiss you again. His hands trailed down your body, stopping at the waistband of your pants.

"May I?" he asked, his voice husky with desire.

You nodded eagerly, lifting your hips to allow him to remove your pants and underwear. Soonyoung groaned as he looked at you, completely naked beneath him.

"You're so perfect," he whispered, his hands roaming over your body again. "I can't believe you're mine."

He leaned down to kiss you again, his lips trailing a path down your neck and over your chest. He took one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking and licking at it until you were moaning and writhing beneath him. Soonyoung moved lower, his lips leaving a trail of kisses down your stomach until he reached your core. He looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire.

"I want to taste you," he said, his voice rough with need. "I want to make you feel good."

Without waiting for a response, he dipped his head between your legs, his tongue delving deep into your folds. You cried out at the sensation, your fingers tangling in his hair as he worked you with his mouth. Soonyoung ate you out with abandon, his tongue swirling around your clit and dipping inside you. He moaned against you, clearly enjoying the taste of you on his tongue. You arched your back, lost in the pleasure of his mouth. You could feel your orgasm building, your body tightening with tension as he brought you closer and closer to the edge.

"Soonyoung," you gasped out, your fingers tightening in his hair. "I'm so close."

Soonyoung hummed against you, his hands gripping your thighs tightly as he worked you towards your release. He knew your body so well, knew exactly what you needed to send you over the edge. He focused his attention on your clit, sucking and licking at it relentlessly until you were trembling beneath him.

"Come for me," he growled, looking up at you with dark eyes. "Let go, baby."

With a final flick of his tongue, you came undone, your body convulsing as you cried out his name. Soonyoung continued to lap at you, prolonging your orgasm as much as possible. When you finally came down from your high, he crawled up your body, pressing gentle kisses to your skin as he went. He looked down at you with a smirk, clearly pleased with himself.

"You taste so good," he said, his voice rough with desire. "I could do that all day."

You smiled up at him, still panting from your orgasm. "You're too good at that," you said, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair.

Soonyoung chuckled, leaning down to capture your lips in a slow, lazy kiss. You could taste yourself on his lips, and the thought sent a shiver down your spine.

"I love making you feel good," he murmured against your mouth. "But I think it's my turn now."

Soonyoung moved to kneel between your legs, his eyes roaming over your body hungrily. He reached down to take himself in hand, stroking himself a few times as he looked at you.

"You're so beautiful like this," he said, his voice rough with desire. "All spread out and ready for me."

He positioned himself at your entrance, teasing you with the head of his cock. You whimpered in frustration, wanting to feel him inside you already.

"Please," you begged, wrapping your legs around his waist. "I need you."

Soonyoung chuckled, clearly enjoying the way you were begging for him. "Patience, baby," he said, leaning down to nip at your earlobe. "I'll give you what you want, I promise."

Soonyoung slowly pushed into you, inch by inch, savoring the feeling of your tight heat around him. You moaned in pleasure, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he filled you completely.

"You feel so good," he groaned, his forehead resting against yours. "So tight and perfect."

He began to move, his hips thrusting against yours in a slow, steady rhythm. He captured your lips in a deep kiss, swallowing your moans as he drove into you. The room was filled with the sounds of your moans and gasps, the scent of sex heavy in the air. Soonyoung's hands roamed over your body, touching and caressing every inch of you as he continued to thrust into you.

"I love you," he murmured against your skin, his lips trailing a path down your neck. "You're mine, all mine."

You clung to him, your nails raking down his back as he continued to move inside you. The feeling of him inside you was incredible, his every thrust sending sparks of pleasure coursing through your body.

"Soonyoung," you moaned, your head thrown back in ecstasy. "I'm so close."

He reached down to rub your clit with his thumb, driving you even closer to the edge. "Come for me again," he growled. "I want to feel you come around me."

You cried out as your second orgasm crashed over you, your body clenching around Soonyoung's cock. He groaned at the sensation, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he chased his own release.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he panted, his hips snapping against yours. "I'm gonna come."

With a final deep thrust, he came inside you, spilling himself deep within you with a loud moan. He collapsed on top of you, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. Soonyoung nuzzled his face into your neck, pressing gentle kisses to your skin as he came down from his high. He rolled off of you, pulling you into his arms and holding you close.

"You're amazing," he said, his voice rough with satisfaction. "I love you so much."

You snuggled closer to him, basking in the afterglow of your lovemaking. You traced lazy patterns on his chest, feeling content and happy in his arms.

"I love you too," you murmured, looking up at him with a smile.

Soonyoung nodded, a small smile on his face. "I don't want to fight with you," he said, stroking your hair gently. "I hate it when we argue. I hate seeing you upset."

You nodded in agreement, feeling the same way. "I hate it too," you said, looking up at him. "We should try to talk things out instead of letting it fester."

[the-broken-pen]

Hi! I just watched Mulan and I think it was AMAZING (which inspired me to send this ask) and I love your writings too! If youre not too busy, can you write a male villain x female hero who disguises as a man but one day in their fight, the villain finds out! You can continue how you'd like the next part to be

Thank u, have a nice day <3

“Well,” the villain said, swallowing hard. “This certainly makes things regarding my sexuality a bit more confusing.”

Out of all the things she had expected him to say, it certainly hadn’t been that.

She dropped her hands down from where they had been protecting her face.

“I’m sorry?”

The villain waved a hand at her, brow furrowing.

“Yeah, you know, this complicates some stuff.”

“Stuff?”

“Stuff,” the villain agreed.

She rubbed a hand over her brow.

“So you’re not…mad?”

At first, it had been an accident. She had been undercover, and her disguise had apparently been better than she thought, because the villain had taken one look at her and decided she was a guy. Which she didn’t have a problem with. It for sure made her worry less about her secret identity. But at some point it had been too long for her to correct the villain, so he called her a him and she did her best to drop her voice an octave and failed so spectacularly she was surprised that hadn’t tipped him off in the first place.

“Why would I be mad?”

“I don’t know,” she said, voice wavering. “I’ve been lying to you? Apparently, this is causing a major upheaval in your understanding of your identity? There’s a lot of reasons!”

“Would you…” his brow furrowed. “Like me to be mad at you? Because I can do that if that’s something you need to get through this situation. I’ve been told I’m a good actor. Tree number four in my school play when I was six and all that. Talent you can’t teach, you know?”

She stared, slightly dumbfounded, because this was not what she had expected. This wasn’t even in the same realm, same dimension, as anything she had expected.

“You are being remarkably chill about this.”

The villain laughed, then gestured to himself.

“Oh, no. There’s a fair bit of internalized screaming going on at the moment. Like. Quite a lot to be honest.”

“Screaming,” she said faintly, and he nodded.

“Yeah, loads of it. Which is not your fault at all,” he blurted out, like he truly was incredibly worried about her taking it the wrong way. “I’m just. Grappling with the fact that I don’t like you any less as a woman than when I did when you were—well, when I thought you were—“ he amended, “a man.”

“Oh,” she said intelligently.

And if they were being honest in this acid trip of a conversation, she had a fair bit of internal screaming going on too.

He just stared at her with something like awe. “You’re just. So pretty. Like even as a guy you were pretty. You really can pull off masculinity. Or like. Androgyny. Just for future reference if you’re wondering. Just like. Damn.”

She furrowed her brow.

“Should I be feeling objectified right now?”

“I mean, I don’t think so, but I’m not really the one who should be telling you how you feel.”

He had a fair point with that.

“Okay,” she made a gesture that could have been interpreted as ‘spooked feral raccoon please don’t bite me’ but was mostly just to stop anything else from tumbling out of his mouth. “Can we just run this back before you say more stupid things in an effort to keep all your,” she gave him a dry look. “Internal screaming internalized?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “Go for it.”

She sighed. “You liked me as a guy. Apparently quite a bit. And now you know I’m a woman—which by the way, sorry for not telling you, that’s my bad—and you still like me quite a bit. And that’s…helping you discover some things about yourself?”

He thought for a second.

“Pretty much hit the nail on the head, I think.”

“Okay,” she managed. “Okay. In all of my bouts of anxiety surrounding this, this was never any of the scenarios my brain conjured. I’m not even sure the chemicals in my brain would have come up with this. They certainly don’t know how to handle it.”

He frowned, and it was too reminiscent of a kicked puppy for her to look at it for too long. Or directly at it, for that matter.

“What did you think would happen?”

“Murder,” she replied. “Like, an immediate attempt on my life. Very gruesome.”

His eyes snapped to meet hers, filled with so much immediate, panicked concern that she almost choked on it.

“I literally bought you a sandwich last week.”

“And you also threw me into a wall. Lots of mixed signals there so I feel justified in my own insane scenarios.”

“Ok but like. The wall throwing was in a nefarious way.”

“And the sandwich wasn’t?”

“It could have been poisoned. You don’t know. I’m nefarious like that.”

“You’re overusing that word—“

“You ate a potentially poisoned sandwich without thinking about it, which I think we should talk about—“

“It had the good cheese on it, did you think I would turn that down? That stuff is expensive—“

“It’s like seven dollars from Fred Meyer. What cheese are you eating—“

She slapped a hand over his mouth, and his eyes widened to something almost comical.

She was surprised.

He was surprised.

The universe itself was probably surprised.

“We are getting very off topic.”

He nodded behind her hand, but made no move to contribute further to the conversation. Which again. Was probably for the best.

“So.” She glanced over his face. “You like me.”

He paused. Then nodded once.

She blew out a breath. “Okay. Alright. Well, that complicates things for me. I did not calculate for this—“

He snatched her hand from his mouth, but his grip stayed gentle. 

“Wait. Did you think I wouldn’t like you if I knew you were a girl.”

She swallowed. Hard.

“Ok. Well. We can very gladly put that fear to bed.”

She nodded once, and he returned her hand back over his mouth.

She snatched it back before he did something stupid. Like lick her.

She wouldn’t put it past him.

The silence between them was awkward in a way it never had been. 

She kicked at a rock.

“So,” she said.

“So.”

“Haven’t they made a movie about this kind of thing before?”

She shrugged one shoulder.

“What haven’t they made a movie about?”

“Dogs that play basketball.”

“No, I think they got that one.”

His eyes lit up. “Will you—“

“I will not watch it with you,” she said sternly. “I don’t do well with CGI dogs.”

He deflated, morose.

She sighed.

“So gender doesn’t bother you then.”

“I’m beginning to realize gender is a construct,” he said slowly. He stopped for a second. “Unless you like gender! Then it’s very real. I am supportive of Schrödinger’s gender.”

She squinted at him.

“I fear they should have studied you.”

“They did. Didn’t figure anything out though.”

It startled a laugh out of her, and he grinned like it was the best thing in the world.

“You’re not going to go easy on me because I’m a woman, right?”

He looked insulted.

“If I go easy on you, it’s because I’m in love with you,” he corrected. “But then it’s not really fun if there isn’t the underlying threat of serious bodily harm, so unfortunately you’re going to have to deal with more fighting,” he said, very seriously.

She bit her lip to stop the next laugh.

“Oh darn.”

“I know,” he agreed, and she could hear the amusement on his tongue. “What a bummer.”

“Not exactly the word I would have used, but—“

“I know. You use all the serious words in correct circumstances, and I use all the stupid ones at the right times and the smart ones at the wrong ones.”

“I mean. At least you’re aware.”

“At least I’m aware!” He said it proudly.

He looked at her with a sort of extreme fondness she had never been on the receiving end of.

In the distance, something exploded.

She jerked around to look at it, then whirled back to him.

“I should,” she jerked a thumb over her shoulder, and he merely stepped back.

“Off you go,” he said, sweeping his arms out like a butler welcoming her into their house.

“You’re not worried I won’t come back?”

He grinned, a boyish thing.

“Oh, you always come back to me.”

She flushed bright red, then took off over the tops of the buildings.

He was right, though.

She always, always, came back.

[kattyfics]

Hidden Injury

summary: During your journey as the victor of the 68th Hunger games, you grew close to the darling Finnick Odair, with some unfamiliar feelings starting to bloom. What will happen to you two as you are thrust into the hell hole you thought you escaped from.

wc: 1k

warnings: blood, angst, gore?

“Let the 75th annual Hunger Games Commence”

The cannon blew and you immediately dove into the water. You never were the best swimmer, but you were good enough to get to dry land and reside there until your allies arrived. It was a smart move to avoid the blood bath, the only downside is you don’t have a weapon to defend yourself. Instead, you have to trust Finnick to get what you need.

A million thoughts race through your head. You decide to climb a dense tree close to shore so you can scan the area safely. What feels like hours pass till you can spot people coming back to the beach. While waiting, you counted 7 cannons, not bad, but you can’t help but worry that one of them was Finnick.

A few minutes later you spot Johanna approaching shore with Wiress and Beetee. You quietly hop down from your tree and slowly make your way towards them so as not to scare them. Johanna quickly spots you and runs toward me.

“Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” She exclaims as the married couple approaches.

“I was hiding in that tree. I left the bloodbath before I could get caught up, or get any weapons.” You sigh defeatedly, knowing now that you probably should have tried to get something from the cornucopia.

“It’s alright, I got a couple throwing knives here.” Joanna says as she hands a few over. “We should get going though, being out in the open like this can lead the career pack right to us. Nuts and Bolts are terrified of them.” She whispers the last part.

You guys make quick work heading into the forest, trying to sketch a layout of it along the way. Your main goal was to find the rest of your group. It was hard in the dense trees, but with the few weapons and physical capabilities we had, it was better this way.

It had been a few hours now with Johanna leading the four of you through the jungle. You were all dehydrated, after coming to the conclusion that the body of water in the center of the arena was salt, you were out of ideas. You suddenly feel a few drops of wetness in your hair. Apparently everyone else did too, as Johanna cheered at the thought of water and opened her mouth.

You look up and just as you were about to open your mouth for a taste, the color red flooded your vision. Blood rain.

You try to get the thick liquid out of your eyes. Wiping your face and failing, instead spreading the blood everywhere. Somewhere amongst the chaos, Johanna yells something and you all start running.

Still struggling from the persistent rain, you couldn’t see when a fallen tree branch appeared in your path. You sliced your leg open, stumbling a little and falling over as you do. You don’t register the pain, your adrenaline too high to think straight.

Johanna runs back and pulls you up to continue running.

After what feels like forever, you finally make it back to the beach. Able to wipe the blood out of your eyes, you notice a group a couple of feet away from you. It seems they’ve spotted you too, as they’re running towards you with worried expressions.

You don’t notice who the group is until Finnick is holding your face in his hands and checking for injuries.

“I’m ok Finn, I promise.” You say as you take his hands in your own.

His face seems to calm at that. “Let’s help you into the water, ok?” He takes your hand and starts to lead the way to the water.

A few steps in and you feel a burning sensation in your leg. A few more and you’re limping heavily. It’s not soon after you fall over, lightheaded and dizzy.

“Sweetheart, oh my god, are you ok?” Finnick panics and starts checking the rest of your body for injuries.

Your hearing fades in and out as everything becomes blurry. Finnick becomes quiet permanently as you black out.

——

There’s too much blood, they can’t figure out which is your and where it’s coming from.

Finnick picks you up in his arms and carries you into the water. He cleans off your arms and torso, looking for any wounds on the way. Then he reaches your legs. A long cut a few inches deep runs vertically across the calf of your right leg, leading to your lower thigh.

“I need medical supplies right now!” Finnick yells, “Bandages, alcohol, gauze whatever!”

You were gonna need stitches for sure. Finnick runs back to shore and Peeta meets him halfway, holding some bandages.

“Is this all?” Finnick observes the scarce supplies.

“I’m afraid so.” Peeta looks guilty, “Is she gonna need stitches.”

“Yeah…”

You were friendly with Peeta the few weeks you knew him. You grew close during training and were the first person he wanted to ally with. Growing as a mother figure to him, you meant a lot.

You start to stir in Finnick’s arms as he makes sure to set you on the blanket Katniss laid out.

“Hey honey, how are you feeling?” He speaks with a gentle voice, carefully ripping open your pants for easier access.

“It hurts..” You whimper. Johanna brings over the canteen Peeta had given her for water to disinfect your wound.

“I know, it’s ok it’ll be over in a minute.” Finnick first rinses his hands off, then pours the water over your wound, going in with the cleanest cloth he could find to rub the dirt and grime off.

You hiss in pain as your eyes tear up, clenching your jaw and digging your nails into the ground.

“The worst is over, time for bandages.” Finnick starts to slowly wrap the bandages around your leg, being careful not to directly touch it. “You’re gonna need stitches, but this is the best we can do until a sponsor sends something.”

Throughout this whole process Finnick has been so gentle and caring. Making sure not to cause as much pain as he has to.

“I love you.” You whisper teary eyed as he continues the bandages. He looks up into your eyes, still going.

“I love you too.”

𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹

[mommyownsmee]

scenario idea: you come home from a day out with your friends and you can tell by the look on my face i disobeyed you while you were gone and touched myself without permission, but when you ask if i was good i lie to you and say yes. what would you do?

can I be 🐻‍❄️

I step through the door, and the first thing I notice is the tension in the air. You’re sitting on the couch, pretending to be relaxed, but I can see right through you. The way your fingers fidget in your lap, the way you avoid meeting my eyes—it’s written all over your face. You’re guilty, and you’re trying so hard not to let it show. But you should know better by now. I always notice.

I let the silence hang as I walk toward you, the sound of my heels clicking softly against the floor. You’re squirming under my gaze already, trying to hold it together, but I can see the cracks forming. I stop in front of you, tilting your chin up with two fingers, forcing you to look at me. "Were you a good girl while I was gone?" I ask, my voice calm but heavy with authority.

"Yes, Mommy," you say quickly, but your voice wavers, your lips trembling slightly. I arch an eyebrow, studying you. Your answer came too fast, too rehearsed, and your eyes are darting just enough to tell me everything I need to know.

"Is that so?" I murmur, brushing my thumb over your bottom lip. "How good were you?" I watch you stumble for words, the panic flashing across your face as you try to keep up the lie.

"I… I didn’t do anything bad. I just waited for you," you stammer, your voice barely above a whisper. It’s pitiful, really. You’re not even convincing.

I smirk, stepping back and slipping off my coat, letting it drape over a chair. "Hmm," I hum, dragging out the sound as I take my time, letting the weight of my silence press down on you. You’re practically squirming in your seat now, and it’s almost too easy. "Stand up," I command sharply, and you scramble to obey, your knees trembling as you rise.

I circle you slowly, my fingers grazing over your arm, your waist, the back of your neck. "You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?" I ask, my voice dropping into something darker, more dangerous.

"No, Mommy," you whisper, but the shake in your voice betrays you. I can feel your pulse racing under my touch, and it only confirms what I already know.

I stop in front of you again, grabbing your chin roughly and tilting your head up so you have no choice but to meet my gaze. "You’re lying," I say coldly, my grip firm and unyielding. "Do you think I don’t know my whore? Do you think I can’t tell when you’ve been bad?" I watch as your face crumbles, your eyes welling up with tears as the truth starts to claw its way out of you.

"I’m sorry," you whisper, your voice barely audible, but it’s too late for apologies.

"Oh, you will be," I growl, grabbing your wrist and dragging you toward the bedroom. You stumble behind me, your pleas falling on deaf ears as I pull you inside and shove you down onto the bed. "You touched yourself without permission, didn’t you?" I snap, my voice sharp as I grab your face once again, forcing you to look at me.

"Yes," you admit, tears spilling over as you tremble beneath me.

"And then you lied to me about it," I hiss, my hand tightening on your jaw. "Do you have any idea how much worse you’ve made this for yourself?"

"I’m sorry, Mommy," you sob, but I cut you off with a slap to your thigh, hard enough to make you yelp.

"Sorry doesn’t cut it," I snap, reaching into the drawer beside the bed and pulling out the rope. "You’re going to learn what happens when you disobey me and lie to my face."

I tie your wrists to the headboard, the rope biting into your skin just enough to remind you of the control you’ve forfeited. My hands trail down your body, pulling your shirt over your head and sliding your shorts down your legs. I pause for a moment, taking in the sight of you—exposed, trembling, and already dripping. "Pathetic," I mutter, running my fingers lightly over the soaked fabric of your panties. "You couldn’t even keep your hands off yourself for one single day."

I press my hand against you, feeling the heat radiating from your core, and you gasp, your hips bucking instinctively. "Did it feel good?" I ask mockingly, sliding my fingers beneath the fabric to tease you directly. "Did you imagine it was me? Did you think about what I’d do to you if I found out?"

Your whimper is all the confirmation I need, and I pull my hand away, leaving you shaking and desperate. "You don’t deserve to come," I say coldly, standing up and crossing my arms as I look down at you. "You’ll stay here, just like this, and think about what you’ve done. Maybe if you’re lucky, I’ll decide to let you earn my forgiveness."

I turn away, taking a few steps towards the door, but I can hear your sobs, your body arching against the binds as you try to chase the relief I’ve denied you. "Stop whining," I snap, glancing back at you. "You brought this on yourself. You’ll learn to behave, or you’ll learn to suffer the consequences. Either way, you’re mine to deal with."

I let the silence hang for a while, heavy and oppressive, letting the weight of what’s coming settle over you.

"Do you regret it yet, baby?" I ask, my voice calm and dripping with condescension. Your frantic nodding makes me smirk, your chest heaving as you try to steady your breathing. "I don’t think you do," I continue, taking steps towards you with slow, deliberate movements, making you feel every second of my presence. "Not yet. But you will."

I approach you like a predator stalking prey, my heels clicking softly against the floor. You’re trembling, your eyes glassy with unshed tears, and I can see the conflict in your expression: fear mixed with arousal. When I stop beside the bed, towering over you, you look up at me with wide, pleading eyes. It’s pathetic, and it only makes me more certain of what I’m about to do.

My hand reaches out, brushing lightly over your cheek, my thumb tracing the tear streaks already beginning to form. "Such a pretty little thing," I murmur, my voice softening for just a moment, though the mockery in it is unmistakable. My thumb trails over your bottom lip, and I smirk as you tremble under my touch. "And yet, so fucking disobedient."

I let my fingers drift up to the ropes binding your wrists, tugging sharply enough to make you flinch. The rope bites into your skin, a silent reminder of who’s in charge. "You thought you could get away with it, didn’t you?" I say, my tone dark and unforgiving. "Touching yourself without permission, lying to me about it. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice?"

Your head shakes desperately, your voice cracking as you whisper, "No, Mommy."

I grip your jaw tightly, forcing you to look directly into my eyes. "Then why?" I snap, my fingers digging into your skin. "Why did you disobey me? Why did you lie?"

"I don’t know," you choke out, your voice breaking as tears spill down your cheeks.

"You don’t know?" I laugh coldly, shaking my head. "No, baby. That’s not good enough." My grip on your jaw tightens, and I lean in closer, my lips brushing against your ear as I growl, "You’re going to learn exactly what happens when you disappoint me."

I release your face abruptly, and you gasp, your head falling back onto the bed. You’re trembling, your body tense as you try to anticipate my next move. "Stay there," I command, my voice sharp and cutting. "Don’t move. Don’t speak. Don’t even think about trying to beg."

Your breath hitches, but you nod, your entire body frozen as I walk to the drawer. The sound of it sliding open makes you flinch, and when I pull out the vibrator and clamps, your eyes widen. I hold them up, letting you see exactly what’s coming, before stepping back toward the bed.

"Oh, you look scared," I mock, a wicked grin spreading across my face as I sit on the edge of the bed. "Good. You should be."

I start with the clamps, my movements slow and deliberate, savoring the way your body jolts with the sharp sting as I attach them to your sensitive nipples. You cry out softly, your back arching instinctively, but I ignore your reaction, giving the chain a little tug just to see you flinch again. "Feel that?" I taunt, my voice dripping with mockery. "That’s the price of disobedience."

I trail my hand down your body, pausing to run my fingers lightly over the soaked fabric of your panties. "Look at you," I murmur, shaking my head in mock disappointment. "So wet, so desperate, and yet you thought you could get away with being a bad girl. Pathetic."

I press the vibrator against you, letting it buzz to life, and your body jolts, a muffled moan escaping your lips as the vibrations hit just the right spot. I hold it in place, watching as your hips buck against the sensation, your need driving you to grind into the toy. "Oh, you like that, don’t you?" I murmur, pressing it harder against you. "You’re such a desperate little thing, already soaking, already shaking. But you don’t deserve this, do you?"

Just as you’re nearing the edge, your thighs trembling and your moans growing louder, I pull the vibrator away abruptly. Your head snaps up, your eyes wide with frustration, and I smirk at the way you’re already falling apart. "Oh, no," I say, shaking my head. "You don’t get to come. Not after what you’ve done." I toss the vibrator aside, leaning down until my face is inches from yours. You’re trembling as you try to hold yourself together.

I can feel the possessiveness bubbling up inside me, a deep, primal need to remind you exactly who you belong to. You’ve already started to fall apart, and I haven’t even begun to properly remind you who owns you.

"Did you really think I’d leave you like this?" I ask, my voice low and dripping with authority. "No, baby. You don’t get to misbehave and then be ignored. You’re mine. Every part of you is mine, and I’ll make damn sure you never forget it."

You’re a mess—trembling thighs, nipples aching under the clamps, your panties soaked through with your arousal. "Pathetic," I murmur after a short pause, shaking my head as I trail my fingers lightly over the chain connecting the clamps. "You’re pathetic. A dripping, desperate little mess. But that’s exactly how I want you."

I grab your face roughly, tilting your head back so you have no choice but to meet my gaze. "Do you understand who you belong to?" I growl, my grip firm and unyielding. "Every inch of you, every whimper, every fucking tear—it’s all mine."

You nod frantically, your lips trembling as you try to answer, but I don’t let you speak. My thumb presses against your lips, silencing you as I lean in closer, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "You don’t get to speak unless I tell you to. You don’t get to move unless I allow it. You don’t even get to fucking breathe without my permission. Do you understand me?"

Tears spill over as you nod again, your soft whimpers muffled against my thumb. I smirk, releasing your face abruptly and watching as your head falls back against the bed. "Good," I say, my tone sharp. "You’re starting to remember your place."

I move to the foot of the bed, grabbing your ankles and yanking you roughly toward me. You gasp, your body jolting as I spread your legs wide, exposing the slick mess between your thighs. "This," I growl, running a finger over your soaked panties, "is mine. This isn’t yours to touch, not without my permission. Speak. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mommy," you whisper, your voice shaking.

"Good," I snap, my fingers hooking under the waistband of your panties and pulling them down slowly, savoring the way you tremble under my touch. I toss them aside, letting my eyes roam over you as I take in the sight of your dripping cunt, glistening with arousal. "You’re fucking soaked," I taunt, running my fingers through your slick folds, but never giving you the satisfaction of more. "Answer. Did you get this wet thinking about me? Did you come without permission?"

You shake your head quickly, your voice trembling as you plead, "No, Mommy. I didn’t." I smirk, leaning down so my lips are inches from yours. "You’re lying again," I whisper, my breath hot against your skin. "And lying to me? That’s the biggest mistake you could make."

Without warning, I press two fingers inside you, hard and fast, making you cry out as your body arches off the bed. "You don’t deserve this," I growl, my pace unrelenting as I fuck you with my fingers, stretching you open. "But I’m going to take it anyway. Because you’re mine, and I’ll do whatever the fuck I want with you."

Your cries grow louder, your body trembling as I thrust into you, my thumb brushing over your clit just enough to tease you. "You think this is for you?" I taunt, my voice dripping with condescension. "No, baby. This is for me. To remind you exactly who you belong to."

I pull my fingers out abruptly, leaving you gasping and shaking, your cunt clenching desperately around nothing. "Look at you," I murmur, holding up my slick-covered fingers. "You’re such a filthy little thing. Dripping all over yourself. Answer. You love it, don’t you?"

You nod again, your voice trembling as you whisper, "Yes, Mommy. I love it."

"Of course you do," I snap, grabbing your jaw and forcing you to open your mouth. "Now, clean up your mess." I shove my fingers into your mouth, watching as your lips close around them, your tongue swirling eagerly. "That’s it," I murmur, smirking as I feel your desperation in every movement. "Good girl. Maybe you’re finally starting to learn."

I pull my fingers from your mouth with a soft pop, smacking your cheek lightly as I stand up. "But don’t think this means you’re off the hook," I warn, my tone sharp. "You’re going to stay here, tied up, until I decide you’ve earned my forgiveness."

I smirk as I watch your chest rise and fall, your body trembling beneath me. You're still spread wide and exposed. Your desperation radiates off of you, every inch of your body screaming for relief. But relief is not what you'll get. Not yet.

"Oh, baby," I murmur, brushing my fingers down your inner thigh, so close to where you need me, but deliberately avoiding it. "You think you deserve to come after disobeying me? After lying to me?" My fingers glide over your slick folds, teasing you, never giving you enough to satisfy that aching need. "No. You're going to earn it. Inch by inch."

I grab the vibrator from earlier, pressing it lightly against your clit without turning it on. You jolt, your body arching instinctively, and I chuckle softly. "So needy," I mock, pressing the tip down just enough for you to feel it. "Let's see how long you can last, shall we?"

I switch it on, the soft buzz filling the air as I press it firmly against your clit. Your body jerks violently, a desperate moan escaping your lips as the sensation washes over you. I keep it there, holding you down as your hips buck uncontrollably, your whimpers growing louder with every passing second.

"That's it," I murmur, watching as your thighs tremble. "Let me see you fall apart." But just as you're teetering on the edge, your body tightening and your breathing growing erratic, I pull it away. Your head snaps up, your eyes wide and pleading as a frustrated sob escapes your lips.

"No, no, no," you whimper, shaking your head desperately. "Please, Mommy. Please."

"Please?!" I repeat, smirking as I tilt my head. "Shut the fuck up, whore. Did I allow you to speak? You think begging will help you now? Oh, no, baby. You haven't earned it yet." I press the vibrator against you again, this time at a lower setting, just enough to tease you, to keep you desperate and aching. "You'll stay right here, on the edge, until I decide you're ready."

I repeat the cycle-bringing you to the brink, letting your body tremble and shake as you chase the release you so desperately crave, only to pull away at the last second. Each time, your cries grow louder, your pleas more frantic, but I remain unmoved, watching as you crumble beneath me. "You're so close, aren't you?" I taunt, dragging the vibrator over your swollen clit, keeping the pressure just light enough to drive you insane. "You can feel it, can't you? But you won't get it. Not until I say so."

Your thighs are trembling uncontrollably now, your body slick with sweat as you sob against the ropes. "Mommy, please," you choke out, your voice hoarse from crying. "I'll be good. I promise."

"Good?" I laugh, shaking my head. "Again you’re speaking without my permission. And you don't even know what that word means. But don't worry-I'll teach you." I turn the vibrator to its highest setting, pressing it hard against your clit, your body jerking violently as the overwhelming sensation rips through you. "Don't you dare come," I growl, my free hand gripping your thigh tightly. "Not until I tell you to."

You're a trembling, sobbing mess now, your body writhing against the ropes as you fight to hold yourself back. "What does my whore want to say, hm? " I mock, holding your legs down and in place. "Please, Mommy," you whisper as an answer, your voice broken. "I can't-"

"Yes, you can," I snap, pulling the vibrator away again, leaving you shaking and gasping for air. "You'll take it. You'll take everything I give you, and you won't come until l allow it." I press the vibrator against you again, repeating the process, each edge leaving you more broken than the last.

By the fourth time, you're completely undone, your body trembling violently, tears streaming down your face as you sob uncontrollably. "Mommy, please," you cry, your voice barely audible. "Please, let me come. I'll do anything."

I pause, leaning down so my lips are just inches from yours. "Anything?" I murmur, my voice low and dangerous. "How about keeping your flithy mouth shut when I tell you to? Other than that.. if you say "anything" then prove it. Beg for me." You nod frantically, trembling as you choke out, "Please, Mommy. I'm sorry. I'll be good. I'll do anything. Just let me come. Please."

I smirk, trailing my fingers lightly over your trembling body. "You're so pathetic," I murmur, pressing a soft kiss to your tear-streaked cheek. "But I like you like this-broken, desperate, completely mine."

I press the vibrator against you one final time, holding it in place as I growl, "Now, come for me. Show me exactly who you belong to."

Your body jerks violently as your orgasm crashes through you, raw and uncontrollable. Your scream is muffled only by the choked gasps spilling from your lips. I don’t let up. The vibrator stays pressed firmly against your clit, dragging your release out until your entire body trembles, your thighs twitching uncontrollably under the relentless stimulation.

"That’s it," I murmur, my voice low and possessive, leaning down until my lips brush against your ear. "Good girl. That’s how I want you—completely broken, completely mine." My words send a fresh wave of shudders through your body, your overstimulated nerves sparking under my control.

But I don’t pull the vibrator away. I press it harder against you, smirking as your head thrashes against the pillows, your cries turning desperate and hoarse. "Oh, you thought I was done with you?" I mock, my tone dripping with condescension. "No, baby. You haven’t even begun to pay for what you did. Don‘t you think?"

You shake your head frantically, your breath hitching as the overstimulation pushes you to your limits. "Mommy, please," you sob, your voice cracking under the weight of your desperation. "I can’t—I can’t take it."

"You can," I snap, gripping your thigh firmly to keep you in place. "And you will. You’ll take everything I give you because that’s what good sluts do, isn’t it? They take it. They take it for Mommy."

Your sobs grow louder, your body writhing against the ropes as I push you toward another orgasm. You’re trembling uncontrollably, your back arching as you cry out again, this time barely coherent, your voice cracking under the weight of another release that I force out of you. "That’s right," I growl, biting down hard on your inner thigh, leaving yet another mark on your trembling body. "Another one. You’ll keep coming for me until I’m done with you."

I finally pull the vibrator away, but it’s only for a moment. Just as you begin to catch your breath, your body twitching in the aftermath, I press it back against your swollen clit, the buzzing sensation immediately sending shockwaves through your oversensitive nerves. Your eyes widen, and a strangled scream rips from your throat as your body jerks violently, your legs trembling uncontrollably. "Oh, poor baby," I taunt, laughing softly as I watch you squirm. "Does it feel like too much? Good. That’s exactly what you deserve."

Your voice is raw now, your cries turning into incoherent whimpers as I drag you toward yet another orgasm. I can feel your body shaking, your muscles quivering as you try to fight the overwhelming sensations. "No," I growl, gripping your chin and forcing you to look at me through tear-streaked eyes. "Don’t fight it. Don’t you dare fucking fight it. You’ll come for me again, just like the desperate little whore you are."

Your body obeys, convulsing as yet another orgasm rips through you, leaving you a trembling, sobbing wreck. I finally switch off the vibrator, tossing it aside as I climb onto the bed, straddling you. My hand grips your jaw roughly, forcing your tear-streaked face to tilt up toward me. "Adorable," I murmur, shaking my head as I smirk. "Such a pathetic, broken little mess. Completely wrecked, completely at my mercy. Exactly how you should be."

I lean in close, my lips brushing against your ear as I growl, "Who do you belong to?"

"You, Mommy," you whisper hoarsely, your voice trembling as tears stream down your cheeks. "I’m yours. Completely yours."

"Good girl," I purr, my tone softening just slightly as I press a kiss to your forehead. "That’s all I wanted to hear."

[Yes you can be 🐻‍❄️]

[jackwolfes]

ooh i'd be interested in show!wesper and “You fucking lied to me and wasted my time, yet you have the audacity to cry about it and make it seem like it’s my fault things ended badly?”

oh I had FUN working this one out 👀

Their bedroom door swings shut with a thud just heavier than the silence it breaks. Jesper perches against their dresser, crossing his arms over his chest. Wylan refuses to look at him.

“So.”

Silently, Wylan peeks up at him. The ruddy flush that first started burning when Kaz spilled his little secret still lingers on his cheeks.

“I don't want to talk about it, Jesper.”

“What is there to talk about?”

Wylan's brow pinches. “Jesper…”

Jesper puts his hand on the dresser, fingers drumming over the wood. There's a knot at the centre of his chest, and whatever is hiding inside it feels ugly.

“I'm just saying, what's the point in talking to each other when I can just wait for Kaz to drop a bombshell bit of news about my own boyfriend?”

“I'm sorry, but—”

“Some things are better coming from Kaz fucking Brekker?”

Sharply, Wylan exhales. “Can you stop being so difficult about this, please?”

“Hey, you're the one who's been lying to me, merchling.”

Although Wylan doesn't acknowledge the derivative nickname verbally, Jesper sees the way it rankles him. “I didn't lie,” Wylan insists. “You never asked.”

“Yeah, well, is your father the richest man in Ketterdam isn't usually my go to method for picking up a one night stand.”

A hurt look dances across Wylan's face, and too late Jesper realises what he said. A one night stand. As if a man so brilliant can be reduced to something so paltry. He wavers.

“Wylan—”

“No, you're right. I wasted your time.” Wylan turns around again, digging through the mess their life has grown into in search of his things. He's already grabbed his rucksack, heaving it onto the bed like he means to take everything when he leaves.

Jesper's lungs squeeze, equal parts panic and an itch to run to a dice table. Only one thing has soothed that itch better than a gamble, and the distance between them grows like a wildfire.

“So, what, you're just going to run away from me like you ran away from your cushy life and your father?”

Wylan turns, chin raised and a petulant frown on his perfect lips. “The reason I left my father's home is not your concern.”

“Then what is, Wylan? I thought we had a good thing going—”

“And you don't think that'll change now that you know I'm a useless Geldstraat brat? I'm damaged goods, Jesper. That's why I left.”

Wylan tracks his gaze up and down Jesper’s frame, then shakes his head as if to clear a bad thought. Lifting his rucksack over his shoulder, he hunches into himself. It's obvious, the way he tries so hard to make himself small, and upsetting that he's so damn good at it.

“It doesn't matter,” he mutters, making for the door. “You'll figure it out for yourself soon enough and won't want me around once you do, so maybe it's better that I leave now.”

“Don't make it my fault that you're choosing to leave,” Jesper bites out. “You're running.”

“Maybe you just don't know when to walk away from a bad hand.”

Before he can stop himself Jesper shoots out a hand and grabs Wylan's wrist, grip tightening around the frail bone. Sharply, the boy inhales. Jesper feels the air dance between their faces; Wylan’s breath on his chin.

“You aren't a bad hand, Wylan. Believe it or not, you're the best damn thing that's ever happened to me.”

Jesper's voice is low, rippling with a thousand unsaid promises he'd been too scared to admit to before this very second. He's still scared, honestly, but more scared about a world where Wylan isn't here.

It was always too good to be true, what they had, but Jesper's a greedy, delusional fool and he wants Wylan so fucking badly.

“I'm not going to cry about it and make it your fault when this ends badly,” Wylan whispers.

Jesper swallows. “You want this to end?”

Whatever guarded fear Wylan had in his eyes melts, slowly but surely. “Ghezen, no.”

Carefully, Jesper squeezes Wylan's wrist. Tension leeches out from the boy’s joints and, slowly, he leans his weight into Jesper's body. Unsure how he could ever stop himself, Jesper ducks his head and presses a gentle kiss to the top of Wylan's head.

“Stay, merchling. I want you to.”

Wylan's voice cracks. “For how long?”

And there's nothing to say to that, really, that would soothe the hurt etched deep into either of their bones, but that's the Barrel.

Jesper shrugs, smiles, and is entirely satisfied by the soft smile Wylan gives him in return. “Long enough to take you out for waffles, at least.”

Softly, Wylan laughs. He lets his rucksack slide to the floor, laces his hand in Jesper's, and follows him out the door.

They have waffles to eat.

[msbigredmachine]

The Boy Next Door: Chapter Seven

MASTERLIST ✨ harmshake’s masterlist ✨ msbigredmachine’s masterlist

Word Count: 8k

💥TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter contains DARK THEMES. Please proceed with caution💥

Three Years Ago

The Connecticut air is crisp and tinged with the faint scent of freshly trimmed hedges and distant flowers. This place, with its wide driveways and pristine sidewalks, radiates stability, security, and the promise of a new beginning.

Ivy steps out of the moving truck, stretching her arms above her head as her eyes sweep over the house before her. The stately two-story colonial, with its pale gray siding, crisp white shutters and perfectly manicured lawn, exudes the quiet elegance of suburban wealth. Nestled in a neighborhood of tree-lined streets and sprawling properties, her new home looks like something out of a postcard—a far cry from the cramped apartments and relentless hustle of Newark, New Jersey.

For the first time in a long while, she feels like she’s standing on the threshold of something good. It’s exactly why she chose this place. She needed a fresh start. A quiet space to raise her daughter away from the ghosts that haunted her in the city.

As Ivy leans against the truck, her gaze drifts to Zaia, who is bounding up the porch steps with the boundless energy only a three-year-old could have. Ivy smiles faintly, but the weight in her chest doesn’t quite lift. This move is supposed to be about letting go, but some memories cling too tightly.

Her mother’s funeral flashes through her mind. She can still feel the damp chill of the cemetery, the weight of the rain-soaked soil she helped shovel onto the casket and bury her last remaining parent figure. It was one of the hardest days of her life, standing there alone, clutching Zaia to her chest as the little girl asked if Grandma was in Heaven now. Ivy could barely reply, overwhelmed by tears and an aching sense of loss. Her mother was her anchor, her rock, even when life felt impossible. Now, with her gone, Ivy had no safety net, no one to turn to.

But that loss wasn’t the only thing pushing her to leave. Every corner of Newark reminded her of the betrayal she suffered. Of Angelo—the man she once thought she’d spend forever with. The man who cheated on her. His infidelity was a punch to the gut, and each time she saw his face, it was a reminder of how broken she felt. Zaia’s father, the man who was supposed to love her, shattered the trust she built, and Ivy couldn’t stand the thought of raising her daughter in the same city that held such painful memories.

Without her mother and without Angelo, Newark felt hollow, suffocating. It was as if the city itself had turned against her, and she couldn’t breathe here anymore. So, she made the decision to move—to start fresh in a place where the past wouldn’t be able to reach her, where she can rebuild with Zaia by her side. Hartford offered her that chance to build something new. A new job, a newer, better life for her baby and for herself. 

Ivy straightens, pushing the memories down as best she can. She wipes her hands on her jeans and moves to grab the first box.

“Mama! Can I pick my room?” Zaia’s bright voice pulls her from her thoughts, and Ivy manages a real smile this time.

“Of course, baby. But let’s make sure the rooms are big enough for all your toys,” she says, teasing.

Zaia giggles, already racing into the house, her curls bouncing with each step. Ivy watches her go, and for a moment, the ache in her chest eases.

The first night is a whirlwind of unpacking boxes and chasing after Zaia, who insists on exploring every corner of their new home. The next morning, Ivy decides a grocery run is in order—her fridge is completely bare and living on only takeout meals won’t cut it.

By the time they reach the checkout line at the local store, Zaia is fully in hyperactive mode. She keeps trying to grab candy from the nearby display, giggling mischievously when Ivy places each item back.

“Zaia, put that down,” she scolds gently, glancing at the growing pile in the cart. She feels frazzled, her nerves frayed from the stress of moving and the unrelenting energy of her daughter.

“Looks like someone’s got their hands full,” a warm, lilting voice says behind her.

Ivy turns to see a curvy woman with deep golden skin and a radiant smile. She’s effortlessly stylish, wearing a flowing sundress and gold hoop earrings that sway as she tilts her head. The woman grins down at Zaia, who immediately abandons her rambunctiousness and retreats shyly behind Ivy’s legs.

“Hi there,” the woman coos at Zaia, crouching slightly. “You’ve got good taste in candy, I see.”

Ivy laughs, the tension in her shoulders easing a little. “She got too much taste, trust me. Sorry, we kinda a mess today.”

“Oh, don’t apologize. I’ve been there.” The woman extends her hand to Ivy, her smile widening. “I’m Gemini. Welcome to the neighborhood.” Her smile is bright, her tone warm and welcoming.

Ivy pauses, slightly taken aback. “How do you know that?”

Gemini giggles playfully, resting a hand on her hip. “Oh, I’ve got my ways. For one, I’m on the neighborhood watch, so I make it my business to know who’s coming and going. And, fun fact—one of the lawyers at my firm handled the paperwork for your house. When I saw the listing close, I figured I’d run into the new face eventually. Congratulations, by the way!”

Ivy’s lips part in surprise before curving into a tentative smile. “Thanks. And wow, you’re…thorough.”

Gemini laughs softly, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “It’s the attorney in me. But it’s not as creepy as it sounds, I swear. We’re just a close-knit community, and I like to make sure newcomers feel welcome. Besides,” she adds with a light shrug, “your place is just a ten-minute drive from mine. So if you ever need anything—or even just someone to share a bottle of wine—I’m your girl.”

Reaching into the candy display, Gemini picks out a lollipop and hands it to Zaia. The little girl tugs at her mother’s hand, her big brown eyes fixed on the piece of candy. “Can I, Mama? Pwease?”

“Sure, baby. What do you say to the nice lady?” Ivy prompts.

“Thank you!” Zaia chirps, grabbing the treat.

Gemini chuckles. “She’s adorable. And you’re gonna love it here, Ivy. I can tell we’re gonna be friends.”

Ivy smiles, feeling a warmth she hadn’t expected. She’d been worried about starting over in a new place, but Gemini’s easy kindness makes her feel like she’s already found an anchor.

“Yeah,” Ivy says softly, glancing at Zaia, who is now happily unwrapping her lollipop. “I think we will.”

The cold concrete floor bit into Ivy’s skin as she shifted uncomfortably, her body stiffening from being tied up for so many hours. Every muscle ached, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the anguish clawing at her chest. Her thoughts were consumed by Zaia. The thought of her sweet baby girl returning home from her friend’s house to find her own house empty, scared and alone, with no one to tell her where her mother was, brought tears to her eyes.

Those tears quickly spilled down her cheeks, hot and relentless, soaking into the coarse cloth gag Roman had forced over her mouth. She wanted to scream, to wail, to beg for someone—anyone—to help her, but the basement walls swallowed every sound. Roman had thought of everything. The thick, soundproof barriers cocooned her in suffocating silence, cutting her off from the world above.

She strained her ears, desperate for even the faintest noise—Roman’s footsteps, the creak of the basement door—but all she heard was an oppressive, deafening quiet. The stillness made her despair heavier, pressing down on her chest until she felt she might suffocate from it alone. She was utterly and completely alone.

But even the crushing silence wasn’t enough to drown out the image burned into her mind. Gemini’s lifeless body, her face barely recognizable, beaten so savagely that Ivy had to look twice to confirm it was her. It was a sight that would haunt her forever.

It wasn’t the first dead body Ivy had seen. Of course not. In her line of work, she’d dealt with death more times than she cared to remember. But this… This was Gemini. Her best friend. The one person who had always made her feel safe. And now, because of her, she was gone.

Gemini had probably come to warn her. With all those documents and printouts, to show her proof. Gemini was the best lawyer this side of Hartford. Now all that promise and potential, gone because of Ivy.

Because she hadn’t listened.

She was the reason Gemini was dead.

Ivy thought she was smart. She was a nurse. Years and years of studying medicine. She was a boss in her place of work, respected and admired. She’d always believed she could read people, that her instincts were sharp. So how she had let Roman bamboozle her for as long as he did, was beyond her. It didn’t sit right with her. It was as if he’d cast a spell, weaving his charm around her so tightly she hadn’t noticed the suffocating noose until it was too late. Now, every smile, every touch, every sweet word felt like a lie dipped in poison. She’d let her guard down, and it was about to cost her everything.

Angelo. Gemini. Maybe Zaia.

All of a sudden, the door flew open, and Ivy flinched. Roman descended the stairs, carrying a tray with food and water. He moved with an unnerving calm, as if he were tending to a guest rather than his prisoner. He crouched in front of her, his handsome face softened with what almost seemed like concern. 

“You have to eat,” he murmured, setting the tray down.

Ivy glared at him, her defiance blazing through the tears in her eyes. Roman’s jaw tightened, his dark eyes narrowing at her reaction, but he held his temper in check. Slowly, he reached for the cloth gag, his movements deliberate and calculated.

“This basement may be soundproof,” he said, his tone cold and edged with menace, “but if you so much as think about screaming, you won’t like the outcome.” His tone was quiet, almost calm, but the hand that brushed the hilt of the knife strapped to his side spoke volumes. It was a silent, chilling warning—a promise of what he was capable of.

“Do you understand me?” he asked, his eyes locking onto hers, daring her to test him.

Ivy’s eyes widened at his threat, and she nodded quickly, her fear eclipsing her defiance.  Roman studied her for a moment longer, then reached down and untied the cloth gag from her mouth. The cool air hit her damp, chapped lips, and she inhaled deeply, grateful for the freedom, however temporary it was.

Without a word, he moved behind her, loosening the bonds on her wrists. Her hands trembled as the blood flow returned, sharp tingles shooting up her arms. Roman grabbed the tray of food and pushed it towards her with deliberate care.

“Your favorite,” he said, his voice soft but unsettling, as if he was doing her a favor. “Garlic butter steak bites and mashed potatoes. I remember you saying it was your comfort meal.”

Her stomach growled in protest, but her appetite was dulled by fear and the knot of despair tightening in her chest. Reluctantly, she picked at the food, the familiar, mouthwatering smells of the southern dishes only deepening her sense of loss.

She hesitated, her voice small as she broke the heavy silence. “What...about Duchess?” she asked, daring to look up at him. Her insides churned with dread. "Is she..."

Roman’s face darkened slightly, and the corner of his mouth twitched. “She’s fine,” he confirmed after a moment, his tone sharp with finality. “I took care of her injuries. She’s upstairs in a cage, sedated and muzzled.”

Ivy’s chest tightened, and she fought the tears that welled up again. Duchess was more than a dog; she was her family. “Please…don’t hurt her again,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

Roman’s dark gaze bore into her, unblinking. “That depends on you, Ivy.”

Her mind raced, the next words leaving her throat before she could stop them. “Roman, please,” she begged, her voice cracking, “You have to let me go. Zaia—my baby needs me. She needs me and Duchess. She’s just a little girl! She doesn’t have anyone now—her daddy is gone, Gemini’s gone. She needs her mommy!”

Roman tilted his head, watching her intently. His lips curved into a faint smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes. “I can bring her here,” he offered, as though he were suggesting a reasonable solution. “She can stay with us. Be a family.”

“No!” Ivy screamed, her voice raw, pained. “Don’t you dare go near her! I swear, Roman, if you touch her—” She broke down again, and her chest heaved with the effort to hold back a full-blown breakdown. “I would rather die than let you near her!”

Roman’s expression darkened, and for a moment, Ivy thought she’d gone too far. His jaw clenched, and his gaze burned into her with an intensity that made her feel like prey. He leaned closer, his face inches from hers. “You’d rather die?” he echoed, his voice dangerously soft. “You think that’s what Zaia wants? To lose her mother too? Or would she rather have you safe here, with me?”

Ivy shook her head violently, tears spilling down her cheeks. “Safe?! This isn’t safe,” she choked out. “This is hell. You’re a monster!”

Roman sighed, shaking his head as though disappointed. “You still don’t understand,” he said, almost tenderly. “But you will.”

“You’re sick, Roman. You need help.”

Roman gazed at her, his expression sincere. “I only need you, baby girl. You make me want to be better, Ivy. Better than I ever was in my last life. I’ll never hurt you or Zaia. I love you.”

The mere sound of her baby’s name on his tongue made her physically ill. “You’re insane,” she spat, her tears streaming.

“No, I’m in love,” he corrected, his voice firm yet tender. “And I know you love me too.”

Ivy forced herself to stay still, stay calm, but inside, panic clawed at her chest. She didn’t see love in his eyes. She saw obsession. And she knew she had to find a way out before it was too late.

She swallowed hard, trying to keep her voice steady. “You think killing people proves you love me?”

Roman tilted his head, his dark eyes narrowing. “I told you. I didn’t do it for them, Ivy. I did it for us. Everything I’ve done is so we can be together, so no one can come between us.”

Ivy’s chest tightened as she stared at the man looming over her, his shadow stretching across the dim basement walls like a predator poised to strike. Her hands, bound and trembling, fidgeted against the ropes as she tried to keep her voice steady.

She drew in a shaky breath, her mind scrambling for any way to stall him, to appeal to whatever humanity he had left. “If you love me,” she began softly, her voice cracking under the weight of her desperation, “you’ll let me go back to Zaia. Please, Roman. I’m all she has left. She needs me.”

For a fleeting moment, she thought she saw something flicker in his dark eyes—hesitation, maybe even a trace of guilt. But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by a look so cold it sent a shiver down her spine.

Roman leaned in closer, his face unreadable, his words sharp and deliberate. “But I need you more.”

Ivy froze, her breath caught in her throat. His voice was calm, almost tender, but his expression was anything but. The chilling conviction in his gaze told her everything she needed to know; there would be no reasoning with him.

“You might be all she has left,” he continued, his lips twisting into a sinister smile, “but you’re mine, Ivy. You belong to me now, just like you promised.”

His words hung over her like a death sentence, a noose, strangling any hope she’d clung to. Her heart pounded in her chest, her pulse roaring in her ears. Roman didn’t just see her as someone to love—he saw her as something to own.

Instinctively, she backed up, her heel scraping against the edge of the trapdoor. Her stomach lurched at the thought of falling into the pit where Gemini’s broken, lifeless body had lain before Roman had dragged it out and literally folded her into that barrel.

Roman caught her tensed movement and frowned. “Don’t be scared, baby. I’ll protect you from everything. From everyone.”

“Even from you?” she shot back, her voice rising despite her fear.

His jaw tightened, and again, she was sure she’d crossed the line. But then he exhaled, stepping away as he ran a hand through his long, raven-black hair.

“I didn’t want it to come to this,” he said softly, almost to himself. “I thought you’d understand. You’re different, baby girl. You see the real me.”

Her stomach dropped as she realized he wasn’t just delusional—he was utterly convinced of his twisted logic.

“Do I?” she questioned, “I thought I did, thought I saw the real you. But I don’t. I don’t, Roman, because you weren’t honest with me. I won’t understand you if you don’t tell me the truth,” she said, her voice trembling. “Everyone has a story. So…so talk to me, Roman. Tell me yours. How did you get here? How did it start?”

He blinked, caught off guard by the question. For a moment, the tension in the room shifted.

“You really want to know?” he asked cautiously.

His dark eyes pinned her in place, a predator watching his prey. She nodded, swallowing her revulsion. “Why don’t you tell me about yourself?” she asked softly, keeping her voice even. It was a dangerous game, but she needed to buy time, to unravel something—anything—that might help her. “The real you.”

Roman paused. His lips quirked upward in a bitter smile. “The real me?” he echoed, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “You already know the basics. Mateo Hobbs.”

“Is that your real name?”

Roman raised an eyebrow. “Yes.”

Ivy nodded cautiously, her heart hammering. “Okay. So...talk to me. How did you end up this way?”

He leaned back on his heels, dragging a hand through his long hair. His voice dropped, a low rumble that made the basement feel even smaller. “I didn’t just wake up one day and decide to be like this. Life made me this way.”

She treaded lightly, sensing his tension. “What happened?”

Roman let out a bitter laugh, the sound dry and hollow, filled with the weight of memories he could never escape. His jaw clenched as he spoke, each word dripping with cold disdain. “My father? He wasn’t a man who loved. He was a man who demanded. Loyalty, obedience, power—those were his gods. He didn’t give a fuck about my mother, at least not in the way husbands are supposed to. She was just another piece of his empire, another symbol of control. And when she slipped out of that control, when she took lovers behind his back, he made sure everyone paid the price.”

He paused, his eyes distant, as if he were staring at a scene only he could see. “There were two of them—her lovers. He found them both. He always found what he was looking for. And when he did, he had them dragged into the basement of our house. I was fifteen. He didn’t hide it from me; he wanted me to learn. He wanted me to understand what happens to people who betray the family.”

Roman’s voice turned colder, his words sharper, as if cutting through the air. “He oversaw everything. No detail was too small, no punishment too extreme. They screamed, begged, pleaded for mercy, but my father didn’t flinch. He just watched, stone-faced, as they were torn apart in front of him, piece by piece. And my mother?” He let out another hollow laugh. “She didn’t flinch either. She sat there in her chair, perfectly still, watching her fuck toys die like it was some kind of TV show. She didn't give a fuck about either of them.”

How Ivy kept the bile down her system should have been commended. 

Roman scoffed as he continued his spiel, his face twisted in disgust. “Her reaction taught me what women are capable of. Manipulation. Lies. Disrespect.” His tone darkened, the bitterness palpable. “She taught me that love isn't real. It’s nothing but a game, and everyone cheats in the end.”

Ivy shifted, her breath coming in shallow gasps as her mind raced. “And…your wife?” Her voice faltered, but she pushed on. “Did she even exist? Was anything you told me about her true?” The images flashed before her eyes—the photographs Roman had shown her months ago, displayed proudly in the foyer upstairs. He’d spoken of her with such reverence, his words painting a picture of love and devotion. But now, as she replayed those moments in her mind, something shifted. The woman in those photos—she looked strikingly similar to Ivy herself. A slow, creeping realization coiled in her chest, her body tensing with the unshakable feeling that she had been manipulated, trapped in a lie that had been spun so intricately she hadn’t even seen it until now.

Roman’s eyes darkened as he shifted his weight, leaning against the wall. His posture was deceptively calm, but the tension in his clenched fists and sharp jaw betrayed the storm brewing beneath the surface.

“She existed, yes,” he began, his voice low and measured, as though he were recounting a story from another lifetime. “But not in the way I told you. Elesha…she was the one who made me think it could all be different. That I didn’t have to see the world through the lens of betrayal and lies anymore.”

Ivy didn’t dare interrupt. She could see his jaw twitching, his mind running through memories too heavy to contain.

“When she came into my life, I was a cleaner,” he asked, though he didn’t wait for her response. “My father’s empire…his messes didn’t handle themselves. That was my contribution to the family. Did it for years and years and I was damn good at it. Made me millions and millions. Elesha made me think I could leave all that behind. That I could live a normal life. Have a family. That I could love and be loved, no matter what I’d done in the past.”

Ivy’s stomach churned. She could almost picture him, a younger, still handsome man with literal blood on his hands, trying to carve out something decent for himself. Something better.

It obviously didn't work.

“I walked away from everything for her,” Roman continued, his voice hardening. “The power, the connections—gone. Because I wanted to be enough for her. And for a while, I thought I was.”

He laughed bitterly, his gaze fixed somewhere in the distance. “I stopped killing. I fought those urges for her. But it wasn’t enough. It’s never enough. She cheated on me, Ivy. With my own blood. Tama wasn’t just my cousin—he was part of the life I left behind. The life I sacrificed for her.” His voice broke off, the rage simmering beneath his words enough to send a chill down Ivy’s spine.

Roman’s lips twisted into a bitter sneer, his voice rising with each word, raw and laced with venom. “And you know the worst fucking part?” He turned his piercing gaze on Ivy, his eyes burning with fury, pinning her in place as if daring her to look away. “That bitch got pregnant. Not by me—by him! She knew I always wanted a family, and she did that to me! She had the nerve to look me in the eye and tell me she was leaving me to be with him. That I was the problem. That I was too erratic, too unstable. Can you believe that shit? After everything I fucking sacrificed for her!”

Ivy’s chest tightened, her breathing shallow as she tried to process his words. Her voice came out barely above a whisper. “What...what did you do?”

Roman’s eyes darkened, a glint of something unrecognizable flickering in their depths. Slowly, a cruel smile played on his lips, cold and devoid of any trace of humanity. He leaned in slightly, the room seeming to close in around them.

“I took care of them,” he said, his voice low and deliberate, each word dripping with sinister finality.

Ivy’s breath hitched, the weight of his words hitting her like a blow. She wanted to ask more, to press for details, but the way he stared at her, daring her to dig deeper, silenced her. Whatever he had done, the truth hung heavy between them, too horrifying to speak aloud.

She was startled when he crouched down in front of her again, his voice softening, almost tender. “When I first saw you, I was afraid you'd be like here. But you’re nothing like her, Ivy. You’re different.”

Ivy tensed. “Different?”

His eyes flickered with something almost vulnerable. “I watched you for days before we met. Watched the way you care for Zaia. The way you dealt with everything life threw at you, even Angelo. That punk bitch didn’t deserve you. He didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as you.”

Ivy’s heart raced as he continued, his voice dripping with conviction.

“I knew you and Zaia would be the perfect family. I could see it—how happy we’d be together. But Angelo? He was in the way. He was stressing you out, disrespecting you, holding you back. And I couldn’t let that happen anymore. I needed to protect you. Protect us.”

A sick realization dawned on Ivy, her voice trembling as she forced herself to ask. “So…what? You followed him to that bar and took out his brakes? Was that what you did?”

Roman smiled, his expression serene yet chilling. “Mm-hmm. Genius, wasn't it? I took care of him too. And now, baby, we’re one step closer to the life we’re supposed to have. Just the three of us—me, you, and Zaia. A real family.”

Terror coursed through Ivy, a cold, unrelenting wave that threatened to drag her under, but she kept her expression neutral, her breaths shallow and measured. She prayed Roman couldn’t see the panic flashing behind her eyes like a beacon. Every instinct screamed at her to run, but there was nowhere to go—not yet. Roman’s obsession was far darker, far more consuming, than she had ever imagined. He wasn’t just dangerous. He was unstoppable.

Her voice trembled despite her efforts. “And G…Gemini?”

Roman’s eyes narrowed, his lips curling into a smirk that made her stomach churn. “Gemini wasn’t supposed to die,” he said, his tone almost apologetic, though his words were anything but. “But she kept poking around, asking too many damn questions about Angelo… about me. She thought she was smarter than me, Ivy.” He stepped closer, his shadow looming over her like a predator sizing up its prey. “I had to put surveillance on her so I could keep an eye on her. She was gonna go to the cops. I couldn’t let her ruin us.”

He tilted his head, studying her like she was a fragile, breakable thing. “She didn’t care about you, baby. Not the way I do. Not like me.”

Ivy’s heart thudded painfully against her ribs as he leaned in, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “I’m glad she’s dead. It was fun stomping her face in. You should’ve seen it, Ivy. She didn’t stand a chance.” He grinned, his straight white teeth flashing in the dim light. “And you…” His hand reached out, his fingers grazing her cheek. “You’re free now. Free of her bitching and meddling.”

She flinched at his touch, her skin crawling as if his fingertips were laced with cyanide. But she didn’t pull away. Instead, she forced herself to meet his gaze, masking the disgust that roiled inside her.

“You think you freed me,” she whispered, her voice cracking under the weight of her fear. “But all you’ve done is make me a prisoner.”

His hand fell, his handsome features darkening as a shadow passed over his face. “Baby, don’t say that,” he murmured, the words more a command than a plea.

“I’m not your baby!” she screamed, her voice trembling as fear and rage bled through. Her hands shook at her sides, but she refused to back down. “You’re sick, Roman! This isn’t love. It’s control. Obsession! You need help—real help!”

Roman’s expression twisted, his face a battlefield of emotions. The muscles in his jaw tensed, his lips curling into a snarl. But there was something else behind the rage—hurt, maybe, or disbelief. “You’re wrong,” he said, his voice low and sharp, slicing through the suffocating silence. “I love you, Ivy. I loved you the moment I saw you.”

Her heart raced, each beat pounding in her ears as she fought to keep her composure. She had to think fast, to say anything that might keep him from spiraling further. “If you really love me,” she said, her tone softening into a desperate plea, “then prove it. Let me go, Roman. Please.”

He froze for a moment, his dark eyes narrowing as if her words were some impossible riddle. Then he shot to his feet and began to pace, his hands clawing through his hair as incoherent mutters escaped his lips. His movements were erratic, unpredictable, and every step made Ivy’s pulse quicken. Her eyes darted toward the door. She didn't see him lock it. Could she make it? Could she outrun him?

“I can’t lose you,” he whispered at last, his voice trembling with something that might have been pain. He stopped pacing, turning to her, and for a fleeting moment, she thought she saw something crack in his armor. His shoulders sagged, his expression almost human. Almost.

“You don’t have to lose me,” she said, keeping her voice steady even as her legs threatened to give out beneath her. “Let me go, and we can figure this out together. I won’t tell anyone—about any of this. I swear, Roman. You said I make you want to be better. Let me help you.”

For a breathless second, Ivy thought she had reached him. His eyes softened, his posture slackening as if her words had begun to chip away at whatever dark force consumed him.

But then, just as quickly, his features hardened again, his face a cold mask of fury and distrust.

“You’re lying,” he said, his tone flat, devoid of any emotion.

Before she could react, he lunged at her. His hand closed around her arm with crushing force, yanking her toward him. She gasped, her eyes falling on the barely eaten plate of food where a steel spoon lay. It wasn’t a weapon, but it was something—anything.

She felt his grip falter for a split second as he reached for the ropes on the floor. Ivy seized the moment. Her hand shot out, grabbing the spoon, and with a feral cry, she jabbed it into his face. The dull edge scraped across his cheek, drawing blood.

Roman roared in pain, staggering back as his hands flew to his face. Ivy didn’t wait. Adrenaline surged through her veins as she bolted past him, her bare feet slapping against the cold floor. She dashed out the door and stumbled her way up to the top of the stairs, towards one more door that surely led to her freedom. Her breaths were panicked bursts, her fingers, slick with sweat and trembling with desperation, as they fumbled with the doorknob. Relief flooded her when the knob turned.

But before she could open it, an arm locked around her waist. Roman yanked her back with such force that the air was knocked from her lungs. He spun her around, his face inches from hers, twisted into a horrifying mask of blood and fury.

“You think you can leave me?” he snarled, his voice low and menacing. “You think you can run from me?”

His eyes burned with something primal, something unhinged. He carried her back down the stairs like a man possessed, her screams echoing uselessly off the walls. Ivy clawed at his arms, kicked at his legs, but it was like fighting against solid stone. It was then she understood what Gemini had suffered, the terror and pain she had endured in her final moments.

“Roman, please!” Ivy sobbed, her voice breaking as tears streamed down her face. “I’ll do whatever you want—just don’t hurt me!”

He didn’t respond, his silence more terrifying than words. Reaching the center of the room, he dropped her roughly onto the cold floor. She landed awkwardly, her knees scraping against the concrete. He loomed over her, his chest heaving as his shadow swallowed her whole. The tension in the dimly lit basement had reached a breaking point, the walls seeming to close in around Ivy as she faced the man who had turned her life into a living nightmare. 

“Why the fuck did you do that?!” he bellowed, his voice shaking the room. She flinched, curling into herself as she sobbed uncontrollably.

“I’m sorry!” she cried. “I’m sorry, Roman—I was scared! Please, I didn’t mean to hurt you!”

His expression darkened, anger melting into something far more sinister. His eyes softened, but there was no warmth in them—only the eerie calm of a predator circling its prey. Slowly, he crouched down, his looming presence suffocating. His hand reached out, brushing her tear-streaked cheek with a gentleness that felt all the more terrifying.

“But you did,” he said, his voice soft now, dripping with false tenderness. “I told you, Ivy, I would never hurt you…unless you make me.”

His fingers trailed down her face, lingering too long, brushing over her trembling shoulder before creeping lower. Ivy’s stomach plummeted, dread clawing at her throat as his hand closed over her breast. Her body went rigid, her mind screaming in complete horror.

“Roman, don’t—” she pleaded, on the verge of more tears, but he silenced her with a disarming smile, one that made her skin crawl.

“You asked me to prove my love to you,” he whispered, his tone intimate, almost conspiratorial. “I should’ve killed you the second you tried to run, but I didn’t. That’s how much I love you, Ivy.”

The words sent ice flooding through her veins. Panic surged, an overwhelming tide of terror that left her breathless as the full realization of what was about to happen slammed into her like a freight train.

“Please,” she gasped, her voice trembling. “Roman, you don’t have to do this—please don’t do this.”

Her words were met with silence. Instead, he pressed his lips against hers. The blood on his face smeared against her cheek, a twisted mockery of intimacy. She thrashed against him, her hands pushing at his chest, but it was like trying to move a mountain. It always was. His much larger body bore down on hers, smothering her attempts to fight back.

“No!” she cried, and again, she tried…to push him away, to twist out from under him, but he was too strong, his much bigger body crushing hers as he forced her down onto the cold, unforgiving floor.

“Roman, no! Please!” she pleaded, her voice breaking, but he didn’t stop. He pinned her arms above her head, his weight suffocating, immobilizing her completely.

“You’re mine,” he growled, his voice a guttural snarl. “You belong to me, Ivy. Forever. You promised me. You promised me!”

He managed to pull down her leggings, forcibly yanking them down her legs. Her panties followed next. By the time he pushed his pants low enough to set himself free, Ivy was in tears of hysteria.

“Roman, stop! Stop it!” she begged desperately. She thrashed beneath him, tears streaming down her face. “Roman, stop! Please stop!” she begged, her voice breaking from sheer terror.

But he silenced her with another brutal, tasteless kiss, his lips crushing hers with a force that made her feel more trapped than ever. When he pulled back, his eyes burned with a dangerous mix of rage and control, and he leaned closer, his breath hot against her ear.

“Baby, I need you to relax,” he commanded, his voice deadly calm, each word slicing into her like a blade. “I can’t be with you like this. Stop fighting me and relax. Now.”

Her body shook violently, every instinct screaming at her to keep fighting, to resist. But the cold realization hit her like a freight train—no matter how he tried to convince her, he would kill her if she didn’t obey, just like he killed Gemini and Angelo. The thought left her breathless, her terror paralyzing.

Slowly, painfully, she forced herself to go still. Her muscles ached from the tension, her hands trembling as she surrendered to the inevitable. A sob escaped her lips, and she clenched her teeth to keep the rest from spilling out.

“There we go,” Roman cooed, his tone unnervingly tender, as though this twisted moment was some sort of victory for him. “That’s my good girl.” He leaned down, his lips brushing against her tear-streaked cheeks, the press of his mouth disturbingly soft. He kissed her tears, one by one, as though offering some grotesque semblance of comfort. Ivy’s heart pounded in her chest, her mind racing, trapped in a nightmare she couldn’t escape.

The tears couldn't stop falling as he pushed himself inside her, his movements relentless and unyielding. Her anguished sobs pierced the oppressive silence of the basement, mingling with the horrifying sounds of his pleasure and her desecration.

Detective Cody Rhodes was hunched over his desk, the desk lamp casting harsh shadows over the files and photos scattered before him. The walls of his office were a collage of red strings and pinned notes, a chaotic shrine to the case that had consumed him for over a year. 

Mateo Hobbs. 

The name was etched into his thoughts with a branding iron, a relentless drumbeat that followed him everywhere. No leads, no sightings. Just a trail of devastation that had gone cold far too many times.

With his tie loosened and sleeves rolled up, he perused the thick manila folder marked Mateo Hobbs—Fugitive. The case had grown cold since Hobbs escaped his custody and vanished into thin air, but Rhodes wasn’t letting it go. He couldn’t. Not after all the effort he had put so far into searching for him. Not after the atrocities the man had committed. Mateo Hobbs’s actions spoke louder than anything Rhodes could ignore. 

Cody flipped the pages, his sharp blue eyes scanning the psychological evaluations and criminal reports as though doing so for the first time. The man was a ghost who left nothing behind but devastation—a trail of dead lovers, shattered families, and unanswered questions.

The first file was Elesha Hobbs. Mateo’s pregnant wife. Cody’s sharp jawline clenched as he reread the details of her death. Thirty stab wounds. Sixteen to the abdomen. Overkill. Her boyfriend got it worse—the other victim, Tama Tonga. Mateo’s own cousin and the alleged father of Elesha's unborn baby. Stabbed multiple times in his groin area. Castrated. A double murder as personal as it was brutal. The rage in the killings was palpable, a bloodthirsty man out for revenge.

There was another case, this time from fifteen years ago, in the heart of Atlanta—one that had long been buried under the weight of time and flawed conclusions. Antonia Arnold, a bright and ambitious student at Georgia Tech, had been Mateo’s college girlfriend. Her death was ruled a suicide back then, a tragic story of a young woman found hanging from the ceiling of her dorm room. But new evidence, unearthed after years of silence, told a far more sinister tale.

The bruising around her neck did not match the marks left by the rope that had supposedly ended her life. The pattern of those bruises revealed something far more violent—a struggle, a pair of hands that had pressed down hard enough to steal her final breath.

The case unraveled further when a close friend of Antonia’s came forward with damning testimony. Just days before her death, Antonia and Mateo had an argument loud enough for half the dormitory to hear. The source of their fight was scandalous: Mateo had found Antonia's profile on an escort service website, all while having an affair with their married psychology professor, Dr. Lashley.

To his chagrin, Dr. Lashley himself became a key witness in the reopened investigation. Pleading for anonymity he never got, he spoke of Mateo’s volatile nature, describing him as “unpredictable, like a bomb waiting to go off.” The professor admitted he feared Mateo’s temper but never imagined he would cross such a line.

Yet it was that very temper, that unrelenting fury, that betrayed him. In his rage, Mateo had left behind subtle, incriminating traces at the scene—fingerprints smudged on the underside of a chair used to stage the hanging, tiny fibers of his clothing clinging to Antonia’s body, and, most damning of all, scratches on his forearms that matched the pattern of her nails. 

Antonia Arnold hadn’t taken her own life. She had fought for it, clawed for it, in those final moments against the man she once trusted. And now, after years of silence, the truth was clawing its way into the light, casting a new, unforgiving shadow over Mateo’s past. 

Of course, Mateo had not stuck around for more questioning, disappearing from campus without a trace as the authorities began to close in on him.

It wasn’t just the murders; it was the man’s past that fascinated—and terrified—Rhodes. Mateo Hobbs had grown up in the weighty shadow of the Samoan Sons, a powerful California-based crime family led by his father and uncle. From an early age, he was groomed as an assassin, tasked with erasing the messes his father’s empire left behind. By all accounts, he was brutally efficient, ruthless, but eventually, his psychological issues forced him out of the family. He was the perfect predator until the cracks in his armor started to show.

The psychiatric evaluation Mateo underwent before being ousted from the mafia was another vital piece of information. Cody had read it a thousand times and the words didn’t get less chilling:

“Subject exhibits clear signs of borderline personality disorder. Emotional instability and an intense fear of betrayal dominate his psyche, often resulting in extreme acts of violence. He forms deeply dependent relationships but is prone to lashing out if he perceives disloyalty.”

There was more. Antisocial personality traits, an ability to compartmentalize guilt, and a narcissistic streak that allowed Mateo to justify his actions as necessary for his own survival or vengeance. The report was damning but also revealing. Cody could almost hear Mateo’s voice through the words in the document, justifying every brutal act as if he were a victim of circumstance, as if loyalty and love were owed to him at all costs.

Loyalty and love that were never afforded him growing up.

Cody flipped to the final assessment. Psychopathy. Mateo had learned how to mimic charm, how to love and manipulate in equal measure. But underneath it all, there was no remorse, no capacity for empathy—just a cold, calculating need to maintain control, no matter who he hurt.

The file on his exit from the mafia revealed a man who had become too unstable even for a criminal empire. Paranoia. Compulsive lies. Delusions of grandeur. Violent outbursts. Mateo’s father and uncle had tried to cover it all up, but the Samoan Sons couldn’t afford to keep a ticking time bomb in their ranks. Mateo was cast out, and that rejection seemed to be the final crack in his already fractured psyche.

Mateo Hobbs wasn’t just a killer. He was a product of his environment—a powder keg built by betrayal, violence, and psychological disorder. 

Cody leaned back in his chair, staring at the mugshot clipped to the folder. Mateo’s dark eyes stared back at him, calm and piercing, the kind of gaze that sent a chill down Cody’s spine. He wasn’t just hunting a murderer. He was hunting a man who had become a monster long before he ever took a life.

The door to his office burst open, and Lieutenant Jade Cargill strode in, her energy electric and urgent. Jade was the kind of leader who commanded attention the moment she stepped into a room—tall, muscled, physically and mentally, and always immaculately put together. She had been with Cody in the trenches on the Hobbs case from the beginning, though her involvement had slowed as she juggled overseeing the precinct and tackling other high-profile cases. Still, Cody knew she never stopped keeping tabs on it, even if she had to step back. Right now, it was clear she had something big.

“Rhodes,” Jade said, her voice sharp, her dark eyes gleaming with something Cody hadn’t seen in months: hope. “I think we’ve got something.”

Cody’s head snapped up, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten. He leaned back in his chair, gesturing for her to continue. “Don’t tease me, Cargill. What’chu got?”

She slammed a folder onto his desk, the faint scent of coffee and cigarettes trailing her as she pulled a chair over. “Remember my old academy buddy, Phil Brooks? He’s a P.I. now, residing in Fairfield, Connecticut. He called me last night about two cold cases from a couple of months ago—one body found in Fairfield, the other in a nearby county called Middlesex. Both women. Both murdered in ways that sound a hell of a lot like our guy. Stalked, isolated, methodical.”

Cody sat up straighter, his pulse quickening. “Details?”

Jade opened the folder, pulling out grainy crime scene photos. “Fairfield victim: strangled, dumped in an alley. Middlesex victim: same M.O., but this one was left in her own apartment. No sign of forced entry—he knew her well enough to get in clean. Sound familiar?”

“It always does,” Cody muttered, his jaw tightening. 

“But wait, there’s more.”

Shit. “What else?”

Jade flipped to another page, her voice dropping to a more serious tone. “There’s this girl. Rhea. Found in some neighborhood in Hartford. Her throat slit and dumped in a ditch. She was pregnant.”

Cody’s eyes widened. “Fuck.”

Jade flipped another page and pointed at the picture of Bianca Belair. “This one’s been missing for two weeks. Same neighborhood. Brooks sent me a report of a neighbor who swears they saw Bianca arguing with a man matching Hobbs’ description the night she disappeared. Both Rhea and Bianca were escorts.”

Cody’s blood ran cold. “You think Hobbs is up there?”

“I know he’s up there,” Jade said, her voice filled with conviction. “Brooks also sent me this.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a crisp photo ID. It was a Connecticut driver’s license. 

Cody froze as he saw the name: Roman Reigns. But the photo…it was unmistakable.

Holy shit.

“It’s him,” he whispered, his breath catching in his throat. “It’s Hobbs.”

Jade nodded, her excitement tempered by the gravity of what they’d just discovered. “We finally have a lead, Rhodes. A real, tangible lead. It’s the first time in over a year we’ve been this close. If we can get over there on time and find him, we might have a shot at finding this Bianca girl and stopping him.”

Cody’s mind raced, connecting dots and mapping out the next steps. He looked up at Cargill, his eyes filled with determination. “We gotta go now then. If he’s already killed this many, he’s not gonna stop. He’s in the middle of a fucking spree.”

Jade gave him a tight nod. “I’ll reach out to Brooks, see if he can get this case in the hands of Hartford PD,” she said. “Pack your bags, Detective. We’re heading to Connecticut.”

As he stood, Cody Rhodes felt the first spark of hope he’d had in over a year. They had a name. A new name, but a name regardless. They had a location. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, they had a chance to finally catch Mateo Hobbs before he disappeared again.

Whew.

Fun fact: Elesha is Marian (harmshake)’s middle name and Antonia is my middle name 🤣 We said, ain't no way we’re not putting ourselves in this somehow, we worked too hard on this story.

Your replies and reblogs are so much appreciated! Please keep your Asks coming, we’re loving all the theories!

Please remember that this is FICTION and nothing more. Thank you so much for understanding!

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