#maybe the landlord evicted them for this. god knows

[fingertipsmp3]

Also I have managed to sunburn one arm and both knees 👍🏻

[cator99]

ISO advice.

I've written up some notes on how I want my discussion with my landlord to go. I have two options.

1) for the sake of keeping things as stable as possible, I've made a plan that relies on lying to cover my own ass and maintain the state of the home as it is, ie, to tell her that the reason I initially contacted her last month hoping to plan a phone call between us (things were too busy for both of us until now) was out of concern for several issues in the home directly relating to [Pins Girl] but thankfully the issue has resolved itself. I think it would be in my best interest to vouch for the new girl, and to pretend that she hasn't been living here off the record for over 6 months. However, I must confess: I am a terrible liar. It causes me discomfort. My speech becomes stilted unless I convince myself that a lie is the truth, or I simply choose the path of omission. I can do that with enough preparation. I certainly have had the the time to do so and have been preparing myself. That's easy. However my landlord is a lawyer. I have a great deal of respect for lawyers and women in general– and when it comes to her concerns irt this house, and the people who live here... I understand completely. Does that mean I'm prepared to screw them all over? Absolutely not. But I have to think of what's best in this situation. I intend to go into this with the explicit intention of, most of all, establishing a positive rapport– that's my primary goal, because i sense a growing animosity between those in this home and her (and I don't want to be put on the losing side....... which..... would almost inevitably be that which currently has zero lawyers on it)... I've been on the observing side and the recieving end of this animosity here... and I know that their issues have little to do with her, or this house, and are ideological in nature. They all perceive hostility where there is none. The unemployed FTM has mentioned 3 times (at least that I've managed to overhear) that he takes offense to her contacting us via her work email because he sees it as an "intimidation tactic". "Are you insane. That's literally just her email you god damn goof. "She loves to just FLAUNT that she has this big swanky lawyer job, and she wants us be afraid"– of what? Oh maybe of evicting us because you've put yourself in a position where that's possible. Amazing. I dont perceive a woman with an education and a JOB as a threat but I could see how that might hit hard to a lazy misogynistic NEET. This woman has stated in her most recent email that she would as much as possible like to prevent the adding and removing people from the lease willy nilly so as to avoid this place becoming a revolving door for just whoever feels like being here since that's a situation that she reasonably knows could lead to a goddamn nightmare housing scenario.

Option 2) If I say Hey [PG] put us in some real hot water and is now jumping out of the pot and leaving us to deal with it, and now we're all in a position where we now have to choose between getting this unbelievably messy person (true and it wasnt an issue to anyone but the hazbin hotel cokehead basement dweller but this girl is planning on moving into the room next to mine as soon as PG vacates..... hellish.) put on the lease, OR, having here here off the record and potentially putting us at risk of eviction and totally screwing all of us over. Since I am of the understanding that while what they are doing here with the new roommate is technically legal, according to ontario tenancy law, that despite it going against the lease, she has no grounds to evict us over this. My understanding of this is very little but the upstairs people are very intelligent and seem certain that nothing will come of her pursuing any legal action based on us having an additional roommate here that isn't on lease. I doubt how true this claim is. I could propose that since the true Problem Tenant is moving out in 3 days, that in exchange for having me on the inside to update her on quite literally anything and everything she needs to know, she consider..... idk. Not adding the new girl, for starters, since she is a certified Problems Tenant. And then, if she really wants to find something to evict over... she would have me on her side to get that done and over with so long as she agrees to keep me out of hot water when all is said and done.

So yes I could either lie my ass off and chit chat as though I always intended it for this conversation to not be more than me establishing a line of communication for the good of both parties– or I could propose a sort of covert deal with the landlord. And if she does choose to pursue evicting the others--- maybe, at the very least, she will trust me enough to let me keep living in peace in my little bedroom sanctuary. Maybe I'd even get to have some sort of input on who else gets to move in. My god. We could get rid of all the horrific bullshit decor. Make this place look nice for once. Holy fuck. Yeah fuck these people think about the long term gains. Is it selfish? Yes. But think of the beautiful possibilites. This is a gorgeous home. I could even fill her head with the idea of my tradie dad doing some pro-bono renos and tell her all about how he built an entire basement in my parents house out of what had initially been a bug infested yearly-flooding concrete tomb. Sure it took him until 3 years ago to even start doing all that and it just kinda sat there in its shit state for 15+ years but I mean... he didnt have the money til he got a good job. Then dude just went and built an entire bathroom out of scratch. The place looks fantastic. Well.... that's a thought. He'd do it too. Dude loves a project. BUT I'm getting ahead of myself. LOL.........

In about 2 hours, I'll have to make the right call. So. Advice? Am I crazy? AITA?? Ontologically Evil? These people will be utterly fine if they have to vacate. That's just the reality of the situation. And yes. The landlord has pre-emptively agreed that this conversation will stay between us. Hehe

[trickstarbrave]

conservatives are STILL pushing the "well if you dont like living in [x] place then LEAVE! its super easy to move all you need is a JOB and to SAVE MONEY. cancel your subscriptions and actually SAVE MONEY"

it actually isnt fucking easy to just up and move anymore. i would know. i recently moved across the country. i was lucky to have a remote job that let me move. most other people dont have that luxury where a job refuses to operate in the state they want to move to or they insist on being a fucking "hybrid model" (meaning you are basically remote but they want to have you on standby to come into the office for any god forsaken reason they make up on the fly, even if they never call you in you deciding to not be within a certain limit of the office means you are no longer fulfilling your job requirements and they can fire you)

"oh well just get a job at the new place!! many companies will pay for you to move!!!" in what fucking world is this still the norm. really. my wife worked for a very nice hospital and spent MONTHS up to our move looking for new jobs in our new location. none of them would even consider an interview until he was in the state. NONE. none of them wanted to bother as they were either not rly looking for someone to fill that position that seriously, or could ask someone that was there right now for an in person interview and to start right away. even the couple of months leading up to it none of them really bothered because GETTING A JOB IS ANNOYING HARD RIGHT NOW. have you tried looking for a job lately? you will apply to hundreds and get maybe 1-4 fucking interviews only for them to tell you they don't want you. if you are nice enough to get a rejection email in the first place.

"well then save up money and move and look for a job then!" MANY APARTMENTS WILL NOT LET YOU SIGN A LEASE UNTIL YOU CAN PROVE YOU HAVE AN INCOME. period. they will not let you. it doesn't matter if you have fucking 20k saved up. they dont know and dont care. what they want is proof that you have a job nearby, will keep this job, and be making a certain amount of money per month so they can ensure you can pay rent on time. and they wanna KNOW. it used to be many places just ask for credit score and shit because making enough to pay rent was the norm and assumed you wouldn't live in a place if you couldnt pay rent. but now they make sure you are making 3 times the fucking rent because oh yeah the economy is shit right now. its expensive to fucking evict people too and a massive legal hassle and during the lockdown there was a pause on evictions and landlords not getting fucking paid so they have made it everyone else's problem

so no. you cannot save up money to get an apartment and just look for a job then. i know that is how it was 10-20 years ago. it would make sense that it would continue to be the case. but its not anymore because we live in hell. you need to have a job before you can rent a place. you can't get a job UNTIL you are renting a place either. meaning you have to find someone else in the area you want to move to to bum off of for potentially several months, AND you have to save up the money to actually do so. it can be cheap if you just wanna get a greyhound and have no pets and have only like a suitcase for your belongings. or it can be as expensive as several thousand to ship it. or you can spend, depending on distance, a good several hundred dollars to rent and drive a uhaul across several states or potentially the country, staying in hotels when you can or sleeping in the truck or something depending on weather (miserable). "just sell all your belongings" isn't really a good, sensible solution because god fucking dammit some people own clothes and mementos or have pets or computers. some people dont wanna just sit in an apartment with no furniture for months, potentially years on end while they save up to have a fucking chair and mattress (because FURNITURE ALSO COSTS MONEY TO REPLACE!!!!!!!)

you do not have someone to move in with in the new location? too bad. you arent moving there. you have to wait and get lucky that the opportunity presents itself another way while you try to save money (AND SAVING MONEY SUCKS BC THE PRICE OF FOOD AND RENT IS OUTRAGEROUS) or you move there anyways and decide to be homeless.

[gottawhump]

Enough

Moth

CWTW: BBU/WRU, with all attendant warnings. Financial stress, food insecurity, housing insecurity. Caretaker is stressed by capitalist hellsxape. (Emotional whump?) implied sex work.

There’s never enough.

Not enough time. Not enough energy. Not enough money. Not enough food. Not enough room.

Moth doesn’t know how their landlord’s managed to overlook the extra three people and two cats this long, but they’re grateful for that. Maybe it’s because, except for Bagel, they don’t make much noise.

She keeps the apartment spotless. Somehow she turns the ingredients in their pantry into delicious food, stretching it into enough for everyone.

It’s amazing. It’s unnerving. She never used to cook, or clean beyond a minimum. And Moth worries that one day she’ll just…disappear. Again.

Moth is pretty sure she only stays because Jonas wants to.

And maybe it would be better for everyone if they sent them on to an actual safehouse, with an experienced manager and real resources. Not that it’s easy to place a Romantic and a Guard Dog, who don’t want to be separated, but it’s possible.

Working eight or more hours a day, there’s not enough time. Moth is physically and emotionally exhausted after work. It’s alarmingly easy to just let them do what they’re used to, what they’re trained to do, instead of encouraging independence and individuality.

Moth doesn’t want to be their new master.

“I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this,” they confide to Mercy, late at night. “Something’s going to break.”

They can almost feel the lives of the people, of their friends, falling through their hands.

“You’ll manage. We’ll manage.”

“Thank you for that. I just don’t know how. I keep coming up a couple hundred dollars short every paycheck.” At some point the landlord will take notice. Eviction might be the best option. People arrested for harboring runaway Pets tend to disappear in the legal system.

“You’re not making it any easer by stressing yourself out, Moth. Stay here, I’ll make you some chamomile tea.”

After she leaves, they hear the low murmur of voices through the thin walls. Mercy. Jonas. Her. The words blurred and broken into indistinguishable sounds by the opening and closing of cupboards, water running, the kettle starting to boil.

How am I going to take care of all of them?

Mercy rubs their shoulders while they drink the tea she brings. Always the medic.

Falling asleep, they hear the door open, then close.

They wake up alone, smelling fresh coffee. There’s a small stack of $100 bills, next to their phone.

The first feeling is relief. Oh thank God I can pay the bills and feed everyone this month.

It doesn’t last all the way to the coffee. Mercy smiles, but Jonas and 932 don’t meet their eyes.

Don’t shame them for doing what they were trained to do. Moth isn’t awake enough for this conversation. After work, they decide. “Thank you for helping.”

Forgive and Forget taglist: @whumpsday @painful-pooch @whumpinggrounds @justplainwhump @bluetheautisticrat @i-eat-worlds @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump

[thisbravegirl]

A couple weeks ago, I was evicted from my apartment. I had been having issues with the landlords and (especially) the property manager there. God had been warning me about them for a while, but I continuously prayed for them to be convicted about what they were doing and repent and turn. I waited for a really long time for God to move and to move them to confession and repentance.

Unfortunately, they never repented for being dishonest with me and my money or for harassing me about money I did not owe.

When it was getting closer and closer to them finally evicting me, I started feeling this darkness in the house that just would not lift. I prayer walked that house day and night. Prayed as I would cross the threshold. Prayed over every entrance and exit of the house. Blasted worship music as loud as I could stand it. Sang over the house. Anointed the house with oil.

The darkness just never lifted.

That whole time I was dealing with that situation, I thought God was either going to allow me to buy the condo out from under the landlords or that He would give me new landlords. I waited for that for months. The eviction was a total ugly surprise as I thought the possibility of that had come and gone and that I would be staying there for a while longer.

Now, I've had a couple weeks to think and process, and I am wondering if the property manager and/or landlords put some sort of curse or hex or spell on the apartment and that's why things felt so dark.

I had also suspected that they were coming in the house while I wasn't there and messing with things so they wouldn't work right.

I don't have proof of any of it really, but I know things were breaking and changing and I would come in and it would just feel like someone had been in there.

I'd had an issue with the AC last summer that seemed to have gotten fixed sometime in January, and then when things started getting really bad, the problem returned. Of course, there could be other reasons for why that happened, but since I was getting ugly messages and texts and couldn't trust these people, it just made me wonder if they were messing with the house and trying to mess with me.

While I am dealing with a lot of disappointment and confusion and heartbreak and anger, I do feel like God allowed the eviction to happen to deliver me from evil. He gave those people a very long time to admit to their dishonest and unprofessional actions and to repent and turn, and they didn't. A close friend was telling me it could be like a Sodom and Gamorrha situation and that God was going to let that place be destroyed and He got me out just in time so that I would be spared.

With that in mind, I have been wondering if there were dark practices occurring there and God was rescuing me by allowing me to be evicted. It doesn't all totally make sense, and I really am dealing with a lot of heaviness and sadness and anger that God would let it come to that. It's hard to see the whole picture or fully understand why it all happened. I'm not at all 100% okay, but I know there is a purpose to all of it.

And I am getting ready to go on a mission trip to a place where there are people living in spiritual darkness or possession or messing with witchcraft, and I am trying to break down a lot of things about the "powers and principalities" in our dark world, and I was just thinking that maybe that house was covered in darkness by the time I left and that's why the darkness wasn't lifting.

I've been wanting to talk about it for a while because I really do need prayers over my spiritual health after living there, and I need miracles and breakthrough in my finances and favor in looking for a place to live when I get back from my mission trip in August.

I just haven't known exactly how to talk about this, and I was just reading out spiritual warfare and that just clicked and I just needed to get it out of my head.

[dunnswrld]

hey hey hey!! i love your writing and just wanted to request something cute and sweet with my love, chris pontius <333 I’ll give you creative freedom, because I’m not good at ideas haha. she/her pronouns please, and just make it fluffy! i’m not picky lol

i love your work and hope you’re doing well!! :))

Bad Day

a/n: Thank you! I'm so sorry that this is so short and not the best..

prompt: You haven't had the best day on the set of Wildboyz, and when something happens that causes you to finally snap Chris is the first to try and help you feel better!

warnings: Just fluff, fem!reader

Today just didn't seem to be your day on the set of Wildboyz. Firstly your camera settings were fucked up which was something you didn't realize till after the boys shot their whole opener, earning a rather mean talk from Rick.

Secondly you dropped your morning coffee and were already to far out in the forest to go back and grab another which meant zero energy due to your lack of sleep last night.

Thirdly Jeff thought it would be funny to dump a bucket of water on you, on any other day you probably would've laugh but today it was the last thing you needed.

And for the cherry on top your landlord is evicting you because he said it's "suspicious" that your never home, even after you explained your job to him he didn't budge.

You didn't know why you were having such a bad day today, maybe you were about to start your period? Or you simply just woke up on the wrong side of the bed?

But either way you couldn't wait till your watch hit 6:30pm so you could return back to your hotel room and order room service cause you thought you deserved it.

You walked in the crew that followed Jeff, Chris, and Steve-o going to lead everyone god knows where. Usually you might've been right up front talking to the three boys but today just didn't feel like the day.

As you walked you checked the buttons on your camera, making sure all the settings were right so you didn't get called a "fucking amateur" by Rick again.

But while you focused on the many buttons on your camera your left foot hit something hard causing the left side of your body to freeze as the right kept moving causing your body to fall forward. Your camera seemed to fly out of your own hands as your body hit the ground hard.

The whole crew in front of you stopped walking when they heard the sound of something hitting the ground, when they turned they saw you pushing yourself up off the ground. The whole front of your body covered in mud as you sat on your knees.

You looked at everyone looking at you then down at your body and saw yourself covered in mud. It was silent as you looked down at yourself covered in mud until various crew members began to laugh.

"Please tell me someone got that!" Jeff laughed. You looked up at the crew seeing them all laughing. Tears built up in your eyes as you tried looking away from the crew to focus on something else but what you happened to focus on was your camera that was sat almost too perfectly in a puddle of mud.

Your eyes widened as you reached over and snagged it off the ground, the mic at the top of your camera completely falling off when you did so.

As you held the now broken camera in your hands as you and the camera were covered in mud you couldn't help but finally burst into tears after holding them in all day.

The laughing of your crew members seemed to go silent as they all realized you were now sobbing. None of them moved, no one until Chris pushed through them and placed a hand out for you to grab as he gently placed a hand on your back. You took his hand, holding your broken camera in the other as you rose to your feet.

"Don't cry it's ok, lets go back to the van and clean you up ok?" Chris said gently. "Bu-but you have to sh-shoot." You said while crying. "It's fine Steve can do it on his own." Chris said as he wrapped an arm around you. Chris turned his head and looked at Jeff.

"I'm gonna take her back to the van, Steve-o can do this on his own right?" Chris spoke. "Yeah dude I can do this on my own it's fine." Steve-o said as he waved Chris and you off seeing how upset you were. Chris mouthed a thank you to his best friend and began walking you in the direction of the van, trying his best to avoid any possible tripping hazards.

"I'm sorry." You said while you still cried. "Hey don't apologize we all trip, you're ok no one's mad." "But I broke my camera." Your own sentence made you cry even harder as you said allowed what you did, it was like pouring salt in an open wound. "Like MTV can't buy a new one for you, don't stress about it." "But Rick-"

"Who gives a flying fuck what Rick has to say?" Chris spoke quickly. You looked up at Chris who was looking head on down the trail. You didn't reply to him instead just kept walking with his arm around your shoulders.

You two completed the walk back to the van in silence, nothing uncomfortable though. Once you two hit the van Chris unwrapped his arm from your shoulders and walked towards the back of the van where he opened the two back doors.

"Take a seat here yeah?" Chris said as he tapped the edge of the van. You nodded as you walked to the edge of the van and sat down, your legs dangling off the edge. Chris jumped into the van once you sat down and began digging through bags.

Chris found some water, a towel and one of his clean shirts so you didn't have to sit in a muddy shirt for the rest of the time you were here. Chris held everything in his arms as he took a seat next to you, setting everything in his lap.

"Here let me see that camera." You handed your now broken camera to him and watched as he turned and threw it in the van. "Chris!" You said as you turned your back to try and find your camera he just threw. "What? It's already broken." Chris said with a light laugh. You smiled and chuckled at his joke before turning forward again.

"Ok so I got you a towel, some water and one of my shirts so you don't have to be muddy anymore." Chris handed you the towel and shirt and set the water down next to you. You took the towel and the shirt with a soft smile. "Thanks Chris." All Chris did was nod at your words.

You set the shirt he gave you on your lap and used the towel and wiped your face off of any mud that might've been on your face still. Once you were done with the towel you threw it behind you in the van, you turned around and lift your shirt above half your stomach to only pause and turn your head towards Chris.

"Cover those eyes Pontius." You said with a small laughed. Chris's eyes widened as he placed his hands over his eyes, "Sorry." You only chuckled at his response and lifted your shirt fully over your head, dropping it to the side of you and picking up the new shirt Chris gave you and throwing it over your body.

"You can look now." Chris took his hands off his eyes and looked at you. "No more mud." He chuckled. "Oh shut up. I really hope no one got me falling." You nervously chuckled. "If they did I'll break their camera." Chris smiled, causing you to laugh.

As your laughter died down you and Chris sat next to one another in silence. Chris's head filled with possible things that could be effecting your mood, he wanted to help you but he just didn't know how to help you.

"You know you can talk to me, right?" You turned your head towards Chris bring your full attention to the boy. "Well of course I do." You responded. "Then talk to me, what's been bugging you?" You sighed as you rubbed your hand down your face. "Well today just isn't my day and it doesn't help that when I get back home I'm going to be evicted from my apartment." "Evicted? You out of everyone here is getting evicted?"

"Yep. My landlord said it's suspicious how I'm never home even though I told him I film for a TV show." "Isn't that a good thing? Like you won't be causing problems like Steve-o if you aren't there. See this is exactly why I just live in my car." You laughed at Chris's words. "Yeah maybe I should just live in my car." You chuckled.

"How about you just try and not think of that till you get home? I'll help you figure it out when we get back and even help you pack your stuff and whatever but for now just enjoy being on basically a vacation you didn't have to pay for."

"Thanks Chris." You smiled softly. Chris nodded at you with a smile, both of you gently looking at one another in silence until you quickly leaned forward and pecked his cheek. Chris's cheeks began to heat up with a shade of pink.

"Are you blushing Pontius?" You teased with a smile. "No I don't know what you're talking about." He laughed. You smiled and rested your head on his shoulder, Chris hesitantly wrapped a arm around your waist to pull you closer.

You two both looked at the sky that was changing color from the sun that was only just beginning to set, and for the first time today you felt calm and relaxed. Not worried about anything even getting evicted.

"Thanks again, Chris."

"It's what I'm here for."

[toofull]

As a continuation of my last ask:

I do go overdue, as you predicted. Far overdue. At 47 weeks with god knows how many babies, I look like I’ve swallowed a yoga ball or two. Miraculously, I can still waddle, but chairs and doorframes become harder and harder as the weeks go by. Every time I move through a door, the way the frame squeezes my belly gets tighter and tighter. You know one day, I’ll get stuck.~

On the first day of my 48th week, it finally happens. I try to waddle heavily into the bathroom to the bath you’ve prepared me, I’ve been having contractions all day and this may be it. As I push against the door, grunting as I try to shove my massive belly through, I stop with a scared look on my face. I push and shove and wiggle, but I’m firmly wedged in the door, the sides of my belly pushing hard into the doorframe.

You’d come to my rescue when I start to panic, but we both know there’s nothing we can do. We have two options: Cut holes in the walls, or let my labor progress until I can push a baby or two out to shrink my belly. As much as I beg for option A, you know we’re renting this space, we can’t just cut the walls up without a lawsuit. As my water breaks into my sweatpants, you can only pat my enormous belly and comfort me from the front, watching as I scream and moan our massive babies out.~

Oh, poor boy...I can't imagine how hard it must be to be this incredibly pregnant. You continue to amaze me each time you waddle somewhere or squeeze yourself through a doorframe. I keep thinking I should look into widening the doorframes, seeing as you've shown little signs of going into labor, but I know our landlord wouldn't approve of that. He's never been the most understanding kind of guy and he definitely wouldn't be understanding of any renovations, even if they were becoming necessary.

With each passing day, I pamper you more and more. I run warm baths with relaxing soaks and light lovely candles. I give you full body massages, making sure to give extra attention to your burdened back and legs. And of course your belly. I apply oil and lotion to your bump daily. I really want you to know how much I love and appreciate you, and I want to make you feel better. That's why when you tell me that you're having contractions and you think it might finally be time, I offer to run a bath.

I'm testing the heat of the water when I hear a little gasp from you and lift my head. I expect that you're maybe having a contraction or muscle spasm, but I'm met with the image of you stuck in the door. Your belly is pushing incredibly hard against the doorframe and bulging out around it. Before I even get close to you I realize there's no way in hell we can get you wiggled out of there.

Our landlord would never let us hear the end of it if we cut into the walls, assuming he wouldn't evict us on the spot. As much as I want to help you get free from the door, I know we have to just wait it out until some babies are here and your belly isn't so full. I

manage to work your sweatpants off and toss them to the side, that way you won't be restricted when it's time to push. I rub and pat your belly, giving you the most encouragement and praise possible. I guide your hands to my shoulders, giving you something to squeeze. I rub your belly and move down to gently palpate your pelvis as you begin to push. None of this is going to be easy, but I plan to encourage you the whole time~

[princehrry-writings]

Y/n is broke and Harry just wants to help.

i've had this in my drafts for months and forgot about it so i kind of just threw an ending on it and said fuck it lol.

warnings: swearing? shitty friends, money problems, not eating (bc she's broke), problems in the workplace

wordcount: 2288

masterlist

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It didn’t happen often, but every once in a while- Y/n called Harry, telling him her water is out and asking if she could shower at his place until it comes back on. She lets him think it’s because she lives in a shitty building and not because she couldn’t pay the bill this month. It was either eat or have water and she figured eating was more important…

Harry never said no, even offering her to just come stay at his until it comes back on but she always says thank you, but no. “I don’t want to be in your way anymore than I already am!”

“You’re never in my way,” He always says back, pulling her into a big hug, rubbing up and down her back because he can tell something is wrong, he just doesn’t know what.

Y/n was on her own most of the time- her parents hadn’t bothered talking to her since she moved to college and what little friends she had weren’t really what she would call friends but they didn’t ask questions about her life when things didn’t seem to add up and they took her out to eat a few times a month. She worked a dead end, good for nothing job that sometimes cut money out of her paychecks when she got a little too mouthy to her boss’s son (who was a right prick), which is what had been happening the last few months hence why she was behind on rent.

How she met Harry, she has absolutely no idea. One moment she was at a bar spending the last $30 bucks in her bank account, next thing she knows, they’re on the roof having a heart to heart about feeling alone in crowded places. She never told him about her money struggles, she didn’t feel the need to. What was he supposed to do? Give her money? She would rather sell her own organs than take money from him.

Y/n couldn’t bear the thought of him thinking she was only around him for the money. She rarely ever let him pay for her food when they went out, she hated when he bought her things, she didn’t even want him getting her coffee. He never understood why she was the way she was about money, but he never really paid any mind to it.

Until one day when he went to her apartment unannounced and saw an overdue rent notice taped to her door, coupled with a note that said if she didn’t pay her dues by the end of this month, she would be evicted. His heart dropped when he read the note, not understanding how she could be this deep in trouble and not have come to him. It suddenly made sense why everytime he wanted to go out to eat she made up an excuse about why she couldn’t go, and why she looked a little thinner. She probably hadn’t eaten in god knows how long, probably putting money away to pay these god awful bills.

The man surged into her apartment, actually on the verge of tears, looking for the girl he’d grown so fond of over these past few years. Looking for some kind of explanation, hoping maybe her landlord was just playing a really sick joke on her.

“Y/n!” She comes walking out of her bedroom, hearing the commotion and sees Harry in her kitchen, a stack of papers in his hand, ravaging through her cupboards, looking for food that wasn’t there. He sees the stack of unopened bills beside the empty fruit basket and a few bank statements she had hanging up on her fridge. Tears spring to her eyes immediately and she’s storming up to him, ripping the papers (that she knows is the overdue rent statement and eviction warning that were on her door) out of his hand and stuffing them in a drawer filled with others that look just like it.

He sees her trembling and he can’t tell if it’s because she’s crying or because she’s hungry (she shakes when she hasn’t eaten in a while, that much he knows) and can’t help the pained sound that leaves his throat.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” He whispers, fighting the urge to scold her for not asking him for help.

“What was I supposed to say, Harry?” Her voice shakes and he can tell she’s trying to keep herself together despite the crocodile tears streaming down her cheeks like raindrops from a storm cloud.

“I can help you, Y/n. This is something I can help with!” He pleads but she shakes her head.

“What, I’m just supposed to ask you for money when I need it? I can’t do that Harry.” She breaks, letting the sobs she’s been holding back for a lot longer than he’s been standing here burst through her. Harry springs forward and scoops her into his arms, sinks to the floor with her, and just lets her cry into his chest. Let’s her get everything she’s been holding onto out into the open, rocking her back and forth just like his mom used to do to him when he would break down to her when things got too heavy.

He coos sweet nothings into her ear and runs his fingers through her hair, pressing kisses to her temple and does his best not to cry with her because that’s not what she needs right now (he usually cries when other people cry, he’s never been able to help it).

“Baby, you mean more to me than any amount of money. You know I have more than I'll ever be able to spend or know what to do with…” He voices once her cries have calmed down enough.

“I didn’t want you to think I was using you for money, that’s why I never let you buy me things or pay for things when we’re together. I just-”

“And I appreciate that sweet girl, but I don’t think that. You need help, baby, and it’s ok to ask for it.” He cuts her off and she looks up at him, her big doe eyes bloodshot and red rimmed.

“I don’t want you to give me money,” She whispers, not able to speak any louder.

“Then you’ll come stay with me so you can put money away,” He says with a certain finality to his tone. She started to shake her head but he wasn’t having it. He just pulled her head back to his chest, tucking her into the crook of his neck, rocking again and shushing her.

“Worry about it later. I’m gonna order food and we’re gonna watch some movies. I’m gonna take care of you darling, everything is gonna be ok.” He reassured her and felt her physically relax at his words.

She felt like she could breathe for the first time in months.

. . * .

Unknowingly to Y/n, Harry had settled her bills when he went home the next day. Telling them to just say it was an anonymous donor or something (even though he knew she would probably put it together that it was him).

After she had eaten (poor thing wouldn’t say anything but she was so hungry), she had spilled about all the trouble she’d been having at work and how she couldn’t find another job that would work with her school schedule. Harry had done his best to keep his fuming rage at bay (after he’d settled her bills, he’d also called in a few favors with some people he knew and was having the company she worked at investigated because there were laws being broken. You can’t just take away a part of someone's paycheck).

He’d called Jeff up and told him to add Y/n to his payroll and that he would find a position for her somewhere on his team. She was going to school to be a media marketer so maybe he’d put her on his marketing team or have her run HSHQ’s social media accounts. She would have a place on his team so she could make an actual living instead of having to scrape pennies together just to eat every month.

God it made him so mad that she had been living like this for the entirety of the time he’d known her. He wishes he’d fought harder to pay for her meals when they ate together and asked more questions when she said things like “My water is out again,” or “We should make dinner at your place tonight.” He always sent her home with the leftovers because he knew he wouldn’t eat it but he wishes he’d known.

She had told him she didn’t want his pity though and he respected that. She was just falling on hard times and needed help getting back on her feet, no shame in that and no need for pity. He just couldn’t help himself because he cared about her so much, he didn’t like to see her struggle.

He promised himself she wouldn't have to anymore.

. . * .

When Y/n received an email from HSHQ, telling her she’d been hired for a job she never even applied for, she knew Harry had been up to something. Walking out of the bedroom she now called her own at his house (that he also wanted her to call her own), she made her way into the studio where he was messing around at the piano but not deep into anything and stared at him, eyebrows raised, phone held out in front of her, reading out what the email said to him.

“Dear Ms. Y/l/n, we are excited to inform you that you have received a spot on our marketing team as HSHQ’s Official Social Media Coordinator. We look forward to working with you! Thank you, have a wonderful day and as always- Treat People With Kindness. Harry, what the fuck is this?” She sighed, rubbing her palm over her eyes.

“I found you a job that works around your school schedule.” He said with a shrug, “And you have a really awesome boss! Super charming and handsome, you’ll love him!”

She giggled at his antics but shook her head.

“I told you I didn’t want you to give me money!”

“I’m not giving you anything! You have an official spot on my payroll. You're an employee working for a paycheck. No charity, no pity, just honest hard work with a fair wage!” He explained. her gaze softened, looking at him like he hung the stars and moon just for her and at this point he might as well have because nobody in her life had ever gone so far out for her. Nobody had ever cared this much about her, not even her own parents. She’s sure they would have neglected her if there was no chance of them going to jail.

“Oh, sweet girl, no tears! I didn’t mean to make you cry!” He said, springing up from the piano and wrapping her in his arms.

“I guess I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop…” She said, trying not to get mascara on his white t-shirt (but he really didn’t care if he was being honest).

“There’s no other shoe, darling. You can breathe easily. And you can tell your old boss to go fuck himself, because you never have to step foot in that place aain if you don’t want to!”

“Thank you, H!” She sighed, sniffling and wiping her face, giving him a big old kiss on the cheek.

Things started looking up for Y/n once she started working at HSHQ. Her first day she was briefed on everything she needed to know about the company. She made quick friends with everyone and they all loved the ideas she brought with her, praising her for coming prepared (unlike some of the other people at the company who showed up the first day with no portfolio and were surprised when it came back to bite them in the ass). She had never worked in the field before, but her motivation made up for her lack of experience.

Her professors all applauded her for finding a job in the field she was studying before she even graduated and said that they could work with her to incorporate her work projects into her school projects so that she wouldn’t be quite as swamped with work.

For the first time in years, it felt like Y/n could breathe freely and not have to worry about choosing between having heat in her apartment or being able to eat for the next.

Harry had made her life so much easier and she truly had no idea how to thank him.

There was one night where she shuffled into his room, crawled into bed with him, and just laid her head on his chest. Wrapped him in her arms so tight he giggled about not being able to breathe, but she still held on.

“What’s this for, pet? Not that I’m not loving it.” He whispered, petting her hair back from her face.

“Just love you... s’all.” She whispered back, before falling asleep.

Harry laid awake that night trying to convince himself that she meant as a friend and not as more, because there was no way she loved him the way he wanted her too.

But she did. She did love him that way, more than she could even describe.

Waking up to little pecks on his cheeks and eventually his lips confirmed that for him.

Harry loves her too.

He thinks he always has.

[arrowflier]

Thank you for brightening my day with your stories. I always look forward to checking out your blog. Here's a prompt for you: S10 and 11, but Fiona is there and never left Chicago. How does the story change? Does she calm things down or cause more chaos? How does she get along with newer characters Tami (who she only knew a little) and Sandy? How does she react to Frank's dementia and death? Does she use her landlord skills and make Lip sign a damn lease before renting on a handshake deal?!

There's so much potential with this, but I just picked a few short scenes from season 11 to try and get a vibe!

--

“He can’t just kick you guys out,” Fiona insisted, following Lip through the house. He skirted the edge of the sofa on his way to the kitchen, and she almost ran into it. Only years of muscle memory and navigating her home in the dark—unpaid electric bills, drunken stupors, trying not to wake up the kids—kept her from banging her hip against the arm.

“He can,” Lip argued, passing through to the next room, “and he did.” He opened the fridge, looked at the beer cans inside. Closed it again, and got a glass of water from the tap instead.

“Sold it right out from under us,” he said bitterly into the glass. “New owners want us out before they close.

Fiona watched him take a sip, make a face and swallow it. Then she slapped the back of his head, hard, and grabbed the water before he could drop it.

“Listen to me,” she ordered as he scowled, rubbing the injury. She leaned down to get on the same level, face to disgruntled face. “I was a landlord, remember?”

“Not a very good one,” Lip muttered, and flinched back when she raised her hand again. She lowered it when he put his own up in surrender.

“I was a landlord,” she repeated, then paused, lips twisting. “And one of the reasons I’m not anymore is cause of a family of squatters I couldn’t get rid of.”

“And?” Lip asked, eyebrows raised. “The fuck’s that got to do with anything?”

Fiona rolled her eyes.

“Thought you were supposed to be the smart one,” she said dryly, then, “If it was that easy to kick somebody out, don’t you think I would’ve done it?”

Lip frowned.

“I mean, sure,” he said slowly, working through the thought. “But we don’t even have a lease.”

“Neither did they, that’s for damn sure,” Fiona grumbled. She turned to lean back against the counter next to him, shoulder to broad shoulder. Both had held enough wait for a lifetime.

“Doesn’t matter,” she told him. “That you don’t have a lease, I mean.”

She turned her head, looked at him.

“The eviction process isn’t as quick as people think.”

Lip’s brow furrowed as he glanced up at her.

“Are you…” Lip trailed off, started again. “Are you telling me to make him take us to court?”

Fiona smiled.

I’m telling you you might as well fight for it,” she said. “You’re broke anyway; what have you got to lose?”

---

“Can you believe her?” Debbie spit out, slamming the cabinet door shut. She stood, holding a box of cake mix, and set it down so hard on the counter that Fiona’s drink almost tipped over.

“Believe what?” Fiona asked, scooting back just in case. “That she left?”

Debbie glared.

“No, not that,” she said. “I told her to leave, remember?”

“What then?” Fiona took a sip of her beer, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the counter once she deemed it safe again.

“That she just abandoned her kid,” Debbie said. “Left him all alone, no mother, no nothing, just so she could go live a little.”

Oh. Fiona frowned.

“Debs…” she stared, swirling the dregs of beer left in the bottom of the bottle. She looked back up at her sister, down again to shield herself from the heat Debbie let off.

“I don’t think that’s what happened.”

“How can you say that?” Debbie asked, loud, angry. “You of all people know what it’s like to be…to be abandoned!”

Debbie bent down to grab a heavy metal bowl, slammed that down, too. The sound echoed, ringing through the quiet room. By the time it faded, she had too.

“It’s not the same, is it?” Debbie asked quietly, and Fiona shook her head.

“No,” she answered, just as soft. “No, it’s not.”

“Guess I should talk to her,” Debbie whispered, flat. Defeated.

“Probably,” Fiona agreed, then stood.

“Spend some time with Franny, first,” she suggested on her way toward the stairs, looking back in time to meet Debbie’s eyes as she lifted them.

“You’ve done a good job with her, you know,” Fiona said, and smiled. “I’m really proud of you”

And then she walked up the steps, and left Debbie to her thoughts.

---

“What—Mickey?” Fiona asked, passing her brother’s husband in the doorway. He was scowling, shoulders squared, stomping through the door and outside.

“You’re brother’s an asshole,” he answered shortly, and then he was gone.

Fiona watched him go. Then she went straight through the house, and out the back door, to where she knew Ian waited.

Sure enough, the door opened onto his stiff back, and she slipped out without a word. Sat down next to him, there on the stairs, and stole the cigarette from his hand.

“Thought you were trying to be healthier,” she asked, taking a long drag.

He reached for it, and she passed it back, their fingers brushing.

“Yeah, well,” he said, just staring at the glowing end of the stick. “Not much point in that if I can’t even afford to pay the bills next month.”

That again. Fiona sighed.

“We’ll be okay, you know,” she tried, but Ian waved her off before she could finish.

“We’d be better if he’d get a damn job.”

Fiona nodded.

“Sure,” she said, “we might be.” The filter of the cigarette was burning low, close to Ian’s fingers, so she took it again and threw it under her shoe.

“But are you willing to give everything up on a maybe?”

Ian looked at her.

“What do you mean?”

She shrugged, leaned into him. He was as tall as her, now, and her head slotted perfectly onto his shoulder.

“You’ve got the closest thing to happiness any of us have ever seen,” she said, looking out over the yard. She picked absently at the step she sat on, prying up thin splinters and smoothing them back down again.

“Maybe you should just let yourself have it, for a while.”

Ian was silent. But he reached an arm up around her back, let her in closer. Rested his chin on her head.

“You think so?” he finally asked, so quiet she barely heard it.

She rested a hand on his knee, squeezed it. Breathed out.

“I really do.”

---

“Oh my god, Liam, where have you been?”

Fiona was on him the moment he got through the door, long arms scooping him into a hug so tight she grunted with the effort.

“I was so worried,” she said, pulling back, hands gently but firm as they found his face. “You can’t just disappear like that, Liam, I sent everyone out to look for you hours ago!”

“You noticed?” Liam asked, his young face scrunched, and Fiona shook him, then folded him back into her arms.

“Of course I noticed, you little asshole,” she muttered into his hair, pressing her cheek against springy strands. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Liam shrugged, his shoulders barely moving in her tight embrace.

“Everybody is so busy,” he said. “Trying to figure stuff out.”

“So?” Fiona asked, still holding him, hands smoothing down the back of his hand-me-down shirt. “Why does that mean you get to wander off without telling me?”

“Gotta figure out my stuff too, don’t I?” he answered, quiet, sad, and Fiona let go of him to crouch down. She looked him in the eyes, brushing a hand over his soft hair, and forced him to meet her gaze.

“You’re a kid,” she said firmly. “What do you need to figure out that you can’t come to me for?”

“Where to live, for one,” Liam said, looking away, and Fiona frowned.

“What do you mean?” she asked. “You’ll come live with me.”

His eyes widened, and she hesitated.

“Do you…” She paused, swallowed. “Do you not want that?”

Liam just blinked. Then smiled, bright and relieved, and buried his head down on her shoulder in all the answer she needed.

---

“Hey, You okay?” Fiona asked, coming up behind Carl where he stood staring at Frank’s ashes on the mantel. She put a hand up on his shoulder, rubbed once, twice.

“Course I am,” Carl answered, all swagger and false confidence. “Frank was an asshole.”

Fiona hummed.

“He was,” she agreed. “But he was our asshole. And I know you two used to be close.”

“Nobody was close to Frank,” Carl muttered bitterly. “They just thought they were.”

A beat passed, tense, quiet. Then Carl’s shoulders sagged.

“Not like he was the same Frank anymore, anyway,” he said softly.

Fiona stepped closer, a warm presence at his side.

“Does that make it easier?” she asked. “Or harder?”

Carl shrugged.

“Neither, I don’t think,” he answered, then his face scrunched, the way it used to when his brothers made him think to hard. “Just feel like it’s wrong to still be mad at him, you know? He didn’t even remember all the shit he did, at the end.”

Fiona looked at him, and smiled sadly.

“That’s okay,” she said simply. “I’m still mad, too.”

After another moment, she leaned in, kissed the side of his head.

“Time to get to work though,” she said, “we can be as maudlin as you like when you get back.”

“What’s that mean?” Carl asked, following her into the kitchen, and she laughed as she dug his packed lunch out from the back of the fridge.

“I’ll tell you later,” she said, “but right now, work mister!”

Carl accepted the answer, and his lunch. Then, as Fiona grabbed her keys off the counter, the ones to her new SUV, he said, “I’m thinking of quitting, you know.”

Fiona didn’t hesitate, shoving him toward the door.

“That’s fine,” she said, slamming it shut behind them. “But until them, no brother of mine is going to be late!”

[joestarwhore]

NSFW Yandere Josuke (18+) x Female reader

his little darling managed to escape her obsessive and derange boyfriend house while he was gone.

She trys to get help and does but the good samaritan is Jotaro who leads her back to Josuke thinking she was over reacting.

Josuke angry she escape he takes her back home and has idea to keep her safe and home by finally putting a ring on her

Like The Ocean Finds The Shore (NSFW 18+)

Authors Note: 18+ ONLY. if you’re a minor please find another blog, this writings and scripts are not written for your audience. thank you bb!

You didn’t know what made it worse. The tears in your eyes? Or maybe it was the pouring rain in the pitch black night; never the less, you were barely able to make out where you were, much less which direction you were going. The muscles in your body screamed for relief, the gashes angrily stinging against the rain, pushing you to run far, far away from the house that became your personal Hell.

Anywhere was better than being with him.

Your legs burned as you pushed yourself down the hill, gaining as much distance as you could away from Josuke. You couldn’t help to think of the events that led to this; gaining a stand from Keijo, meeting Koichi in odd circumstances, all the tiny little interactions that led to you accidentally tripping over a brick. Right into Josuke’s unmoving backside.

The thunder was incredibly deafening, lighting up the city of Morioh below you. You didn’t know if Josuke had discovered your absence yet, but you knew you had to be far away from him when he did. You knew it was just a matter of time.

Suddenly the grass became concrete, and concrete became asphalt. Relief flooded through you as you realized that you had finally made it into city limits. You looked around for any sign of safety you could take, your sights finally landing on the Grand Morioh Hotel.

‘Oh my god, Jotaro!’ You started sprinting towards the doors, bypassing any on looker or someone saying any comment to you, all you cared about was finding the receptionist and finding Jotaro. You ran down the hall to the Plaza, seeing the nice attendant lady who always seemed to be the one working for the desk. As soon as she saw you approach, her smile went from one of welcome to a grimace of worry. “Oh my word sweetie, are you okay?? Do you need any help??”

You leaned on the desk for a second to catch your breath. “Actually.. yes there is something.. you could do..”, you took a deep breath, “can you tell me what room Jotaro Kujo is in? We’re related & we have a family member in the hospital and it’s imperative that I fill him in on what’s going on.” Not the best lie you’ve ever told but at this point, you couldn’t afford to be precise. The desk attendant nodded with assured hums, “Yes honey of course, give me just one second.”

You breathed in relief. Thank God. Josuke definitely knew by now that you were gone, & would absolutely be searching for you. Finding Jotaro gave you a little hope for safety but even still; Josuke was relentless.

“Okay darlin, 8th floor, 6th suite, it’ll be the one at the very end!!” Relief swept over you as you quickly expressed your thanks, sprinting up the stairs towards your destination. ‘This is utterly insane’ you thought to yourself; you were running from your deranged boyfriend to his nephew that’s a decade older than he is. Your clothes were torn, wet, your skin was bruised and bleeding out, a state of being you weren’t familiar with.

The raw emotion you felt as you reach Jotaro’s door can only be described as a broken hallelujah. You banged on his door as hard as you can, not stopping until Jotaros towering frame swung the door open.

“(Y/N)? What are you doing here?” His stone cold expression seemed to always be unwavering, but at the sight of you his eyes betrayed him. “What the hell happened to you?” You tried to speak, but no words came out, simply emotion ridden gasps between sobs. Jotaro took your arm and led you in, showing you to a seat by the fireplace & brought you a hot mug of coffee. You gave him a grateful look as you took the cup, Jotaro taking the seat in front of you with a first aid kit. “What happened to you?? Is this from an enemy stand user?”

You couldn’t help but give a lifeless giggle. Certainly felt like it, didn’t it?

Jotaro let you sit in silence for a second while he cleaned the wounds gracing your arms & face, carefully watching your facial expression for any sign of emotion, anything to hint at what might be going on. You didn’t even know where to start in explaining it, or even a way to explain how this happened.

Jotaro took your chin in his hand and turned your face towards his. “(Y/N), who did this to you?” The concern in his eyes made you feel the most cared about you’ve been in months. If you could tell anyone, it’d be Jotaro.. right?”

“It.. it’s Josuke.. When we started dating he was so good to me, he was charming & caring, he’d take time out of his day to spend time with me & would make sure i felt his love; but his actions just.. escalated. He was everywhere. He would text me throughout the day about what i was doing, saying certain comments about my outfits or what stores i was in, he ALWAYS knew.” Jotaro listened intently as he wrapped your forearm in gauze, giving you a nod it was okay to keep proceeding with what you were saying. “All of a sudden one day my land lord calls me to let me know that I was being evicted out of nowhere and i had 24 hours to leave. The same day, Josuke signed the deed to his Mom’s house & told me I could live with him. I just thought it was a crazy coincidence, I didn’t think Josuke would actually ever get me evicted. Then i found my land lords phone number in his pocket book. When I asked him about it he pretended like he didn’t know, and when i kept asking he..” The memory of him holding you against the wall, his knee putting pressure onto your slit, made you visibly cringe. The way he touched you.. it was so possessive, so needy, his eyes portraying one visible message. ‘I own you.’

Jotaro closed the first aid kit & put it under the seat he was at, a pack of pills in his hand. Jotaro silently put the two pills in your hand & got you a glass of water. “I’m sorry you’re going through this & I’m sorry you’ve been hurt so badly. The pills are a sleeping pill & a pain relief supplement, take those and you can sleep in my bed. I’ll handle everything in the morning.” You looked at the two white pills in your hand & threw them to the back of your throat, quickly chasing them with the glass of water he gave you. Jotaro gave you a pair of pajama pants and a t shirt, and helped you lay in the bed. “Goodnight, (Y/N). I’ll see you in the morning.”

You don’t remember anything past that.

__________________________________

When you woke in the morning, you were blinded by direct sunlight. You squinted your eyes as tight as you could, noticing that you were being held up my two arms that were walking at a brisk pace. Gently adjusting your eyes to open, you looked up to see Jotaro, a determined glare in his eyes.

“J..Jotaro where are we?” you whispered the best you could manage. Jotaro gave you a glance down before returning his eyes to the path.

“I called Josuke.”, Your heart drops into your stomach. He wouldn’t.. he couldn’t.. “He says you lost your apartment because your anti psychotics put you out of a job, & he had your landlords number to pay your moving out fees for you.”

You shook your head in disbelief, “No, no no no Jotaro that’s a lie, i’m not on anti-psychotics, I don’t have any sort of med like that, he’s fucking lying to you!!”

Jotaro gave you an expectant look. “That’s the other thing Josuke said. You’ve been flushing them down the drain instead of taking them like you’re supposed to. Josuke only wants to take care of you, (Y/N). There’s nothing to fear of him.”

“JOTARO, I HAVE NEVER TAKEN THOSE PILLS IN MY LIFE AND YOU FUCKING KNOW”- You saw a giant purple hand come over your face and cover your mouth, restraining you from saying anymore. “I’m sorry (Y/N), but this is what’s best for you.”

You heard a door in the distance open, and Jotaro looking up and locking eyes with someone. The voice you heard next made your spine freeze, and dread pierce your soul.

“Jotaro!! Thank you SO much for bringing (Y/N) back!!”

No.. Not again..

“Not a problem Josuke, i’d rather have assurance of (Y/N)‘s safety myself then just send her back here on a bus.”

You slowly looked over, finally catching sight of your boyfriend. His tall, muscular form loomed dangerously in the door way of his house, his pompadour reminding you of so many events, so many violations of your body..

God its sick that it was making you wet.

Jotaro set you on your feet in front of josuke, letting Star Platinums hand uncover your mouth.

You couldn’t look at him.

Josukes hand ran through your hair, “(Y/N) is all okay now that she’s here with me.” He put his other hand under your chin, lifting to meet you eye to eye. It was everything you remembered. Lust, anger, relief, and above all else: obsession.

Jotaro and Josuke bid their farewells. Hands on your hips steered you into the living room, Josuke gently closing the door behind you. You could feel his eyes bore into the back of your skull, your mind erratic with anxiety. God, what’s he gonna do??

“Y’know, you didnt have to run away. You didn’t have to leave me. You didn’t have to be SO FUCKING UNGRATEFUL.” Josuke threw a chair at the wall in front of you, the force of it making you fall backwards onto your back. You gasped as your back collided with the floor, seeing Josukes towering frame turning towards you. He kneels down straddling you, the obsession of his eyes terrifying as he wrapped his long fingers around your throat. Adrenaline went straight between your legs.

“I do everything for you, (Y/N). I house you. I feed you. I FUCKING TAKE CARE OF YOU.” Josuke ripped apart your shirt, shoving his knee on your hot slit, making you gasp in surprise. Josukes delicate features possess a hunger that you remember all too well. “I also make you feel good don’t i??” He removed one of his hands from your throat to attack your nipple with, making you arch your back & moan. Josuke bit his lip in ecstasy as he shoved his middle finger down your slit, swirling it around in your hot heat. Josukes mouth rested against your temple as you gasped in pleasure, sickly wanting him to just take you then & there.

Josuke slowed down his finger, gently massaging your clit at a comfortable pace. “I’m sorry if it was because you felt unloved. If that’s the case, I really promise to be better. Because you can’t leave me, (Y/N). You’re mine, my little princess, my sweet baby girl,” His fingers started to assault you again. You heard a zipper get tugged town, and Josukes hips sweetly grind against yours. “My little fucking slut.”

You started to panic as you felt the tip of his rock hard cock press against your heat, your adrenaline skyrocketing. He’s delirious. “JoJo honey please, d-dont make me do this i’m so fucking sc-“

Josukes hand slapped your cheek, making you yelp in pain, quickly resulting in your moth being covered once again. “No, you don’t get a say. You were a bad girl, baby. And bad girls-“

Your scream was strained as he bottomed out his 8 inch cock inside you. “-they get punished.”

Josuke rammed inside of you, yourself being pummeled into the floor as he chanted “Mine, mine, mine, -FUCK-, MINE!!” His dick assaults your G-Spot as you felt an orgasm start to build in your stomach.

“Are you gonna cum baby? Does my little fuckinf slut want to cum??” Josuke slapped your clit. “TELL ME WHO OWNS YOU.”

Pleasure overruled the mine on this one. “It’s you baby! It’s always been you and it always will, I promise I’ll never leave you again just-“ you squealed as you felt your build up about to break. “PLEASE LET ME CUM JOSUKE PLEASE!!”

“Uggh FUCK, cum on my fucking cock (Y/N) show me who OWNS you.” Josukes duet of lust and rage amplified as you exploded all over him, your moans and screams sounding like siren calls to himself. Josuke rutted into you, filling you to the brim with himself. He laid himself by you, wrapping his arms around your overstimulated frame. You laid there for a couple of minutes trying to catch your breath, your heart rate soaring. You could hear Josukes soft giggles beside you as you felt a hand caress your cheek. You looked him into his eyes, seeing the unconditional love and obsession. The never ending love and obsession.

Josuke sweetly kisses your cheek, holding you in his arms as he gently picks up your left hand. You felt a cold circle of metal grace your ring finger, slipping on perfectly. Fear gripped your heart as you realized what it was.

“My pretty baby.. my gorgeous doll,” Josuke rolled ontop of you and held your face in his hands. “This will make sure we’re always together. You & me, husband and wife!! My perfect, beautiful, fuckable wife..”

Tears started to slide down your face.

So, this was defeat.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N), will you be my wife?”

You looked at the alabaster ceiling. This wasn’t possible for you. This couldn’t be happening. But you knew it was.

“Yes.. Josuke. I’ll marry you.”

Josuke gleamed as he smothered you with kisses and sweet nothings, giving you gentle touches as his lips grazed over your ears to say the only thing that comes out of his mouth: poison.

“I’ll always find you, baby doll.”

“Like the ocean meets the shore- I will always find you.”

——————————-

I REALLY HOPE YOU LIKE IT & KEEP REQUESTING ALL YALL WANT!! TYSM!! 🤍🌿✨🌸👄🍌🌩

[wildernessuntothemselves]

Prey for You | Part 4

Genre: Smut, angst, and some fluff this time

Word Count: 4.4k

Summary:  It has come to this. After your landlord kicks you out, you’re at Chan’s mercy. Turns out, he might not be as bad as you thought he was.

Warnings: enemies to lovers, switch!reader, switch!chan, wolf!hybrid chan, fox!hybrid reader, thigh riding, really unheathly dynamics

A/N: this part is like the opposite of a tootsie roll soft on the outside hard on the inside

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 Part 5, Part 6

“This is just for a short while.” You say, swallowing the bile that has risen up in your throat as you look at the smug wolf sitting in front of you on his couch.

“Sure.” He shrugs nonchalant, but the cocky arch of his brow says otherwise and you have to squash down your pride with everything you’ve got not to jump on him. Like it or not, you’re at his mercy now that your landlord has officially evicted you. Without his gracious help, you’d now be on the streets. “I’ll find another place as soon as I can.”

“You can take all the time you need.” He opens his arms wide, going for a welcoming vibe but the stupid grin on his face counteracts it.

“No. I’ll be out of here soon.” You deadpan, not wanting to owe him more than you already do. God knows he’ll hold his over your head forever.  "And I don't feel comfortable living here for free so from now on until I leave, I'll be taking care of things around the house."

“Oh, how domestic.” He chirps sweetly.

"More like a live-in maid." You mutter under your breath but he easily hears it, the stupid grin finally dropping from his face as he sits forward and looks at you sincerely. "Don't say that. I meant what I said. You’re here as a friend."

"Yeah, sure." You snort. “You’re basically high from gloating.”

A smile tickles his lips again as he leans back. “I always enjoy the chance to one-up you, but that doesn’t mean I’m lying.”

“Wow, you really are a saint.” You jeer, grabbing your bag and heading towards the room that is to be yours.  

_________________

To your great surprise, living with Chan was actually kind of nice. Aside from the obvious perk of living in such a comfortable, beautiful house that had everything you could ever need. Chan himself was proving himself to be a quiet congenial roommate. Most importantly, he left you the hell alone for the most part, staying cooped up in his studio the majority of the day so that you barely even saw him. And despite your agreement that you’d take care of things around the house, he still did most of his things himself, picking up after himself and washing his clothes before you got the chance to. He fed himself too as indicated by the boxes of takeout from every possible fast food place filling out the trash. So you were barely wasting any time on taking care of the house, and spending most of your days following up on your studies like you so sorely needed. 

All in all, this whole arrangement was working out positively in your favor. Too positively, that you have to wonder what he was getting out of this. He can’t possibly really be doing this out of the goodness of his heart, especially since no one is even aware of this kind deed for him to gain any morality points off of it. He hasn’t even made a move on you for the whole three weeks you’d been here, seeming content to just coexist with you that you were starting to feel like you were taking advantage of him somehow. Even though this whole thing was his idea. 

Maybe that, your momentary self-doubt, is what prompted you to do what you did next. 

“Hmm, something smells nice.” Chan remarks, walking into the kitchen where you were making yourself some food. He stands behind you to take a look at what you were cooking, and you feel your heart skipping a beat at the now familiar scent of him filling your nostrils and his body being so close to you. And when he speaks, his voice deep and calm next to your ear, it makes your skin tingle. “Looks tasty too.” 

And like a teenager who had the great fortune of being noticed by the popular jock, you twist your head around to look at him, dewy-eyed as the words stumble out of your mouth before you can think them over. “Would you like to have dinner with me today?”

He pauses, looking at you curiously and you turn back to the food and continue nervously, “I mean, that junk food you eat everyday can’t be good for you.” 

“Aw, are you worried about me?” He asks cheekily, and your shoulders tense. “Never mind.” 

“No, no, I’ll have dinner with you.” He rushes to say, plopping down on a seat resolutely. “No take backsies.”

“Idiot.” You mutter, finding yourself wearing an involuntary smile because of him once again.

__________________________________ 

You’re not the best cook, you’ll be the first to admit it, but Chan praises your food like you are a world class chef. 

“Fuck off, Chan. It’s not that good.” You protest awkwardly, not really used to being complimented. But he insists, mouth full of food, “It is! It’s sublime.” 

You look down at your food to avoid eye contact with him and put on your best snooty voice. “Poor thing. Your habit of eating exclusively junk food must’ve ruined your palate to the point where you think my cooking is anything but decent.” 

“You sell yourself short. These hands--” He suddenly grabs your hands suddenly, startling you as he kisses them. “They’re magic.” 

You yank them back to your lap, flustered, the adrenaline pushing your poor fluttering heart into overdrive and making you panic. You quickly grab your fork and shove some food into your mouth trying to distract yourself from the conflicting emotions clashing in your chest, and regretting it almost immediately as your nausea swells up. 

“Is that how you woo prey?” You snark, taking a big gulp of your wine to wash down the piece of food you barely chewed. “Blatantly lie to them about their cooking skills?” 

The atmosphere fully changes as Chan drops his cheery attitude.  “Can we not talk about… that? It’s just you and me here. We don’t have to let the outside world in, do we?”

You still, your sense of danger rising up exponentially at his suggestion, and once again you find yourself wondering why he was doing this. What was his endgame here? Was he just messing with you? He puts on an honorable performance but you’ve seen him slip before. It must get tiring for him. Maybe he wants to see you hurt; it’s in his nature and he’s been repressing it for so long. You’d be the perfect victim too. No one even knows you’re here, and even if they did, they’d never believe your word over his. 

Or he could be genuine. Maybe he’s as nice as he tries to be. But that just scares you more, because how do you deal with that? You’ve never had a relationship with someone that was open and trusting. You’ve always hid behind your games. They kept you safe. No one has ever truly hurt you because you’ve never allowed someone to get close enough. But if you trust Chan, if you let him in and he betrays you… you don’t know how you’d even recover from that. 

You want to believe though. Everyone always says how much of a good person he is, how loyal, how selfless, how supportive. They can’t all be blind, right? And you’ve seen it too, in the way he always strived to protect his friends from you. He wanted the best for them. Maybe he could want the best for you too.

“Okay.” You answer in a small voice, heart pounding. 

His answering smile is bright and big, but it does nothing to assuage your fears so you settle for taking another sip of your wine. That’s what it’s made for, right?

“So, what do you actually do? I never asked.” Chan makes conversation as he gets back to his food.

You clear your throat. “I’m a waitress.” 

“Oh, and… um, is that what you want to be doing?” He asks unsurely. 

You roll your eyes at him, feeling a little at ease at his naivety. “No. Nobody wants to work in the service industry. It’s basically slavery and all your costumers are either rude or crazy. I hate it.” 

He pauses, looking like he’s thinking very hard for a moment, before he asks, perplexed. “So why do you do it?”

“To eat?” 

“Oh. Right. Of course.” His ears turn red and it’s his turn to take a big gulp of his drink. “I’m, uh, apparently an idiot. Yes, people work to afford living. Of course.” 

“I guess you’ve never had to think about that.” You note, surprised that you don’t feel any bitterness as you say it. 

“No.” He stares at the food on his plate. “I’m sorry.” 

“What are you sorry for? It’s not your fault.”

“Yeah but--”

“But I don’t have money so you feel sorry having money in front of me?” You grin, tone light, and he smiles back, face flushed as he obviously chastises himself in his head. 

“So…” He starts again, and it’s a little endearing how nervous he is. “What do you really wanna do?” 

You regard him for a second, wondering if you should really cross that line and let him in. Well, here goes nothing. 

“I’m studying to be a doctor.” 

His jaw drops to the floor. “You?”

“Yeah, shocking right?” You quip, taking another sip from your glass.

“I mean, yeah.” You would take offense at his words if it weren’t for the--you begrudgingly admit--endearing confused frown on his face. “Isn’t that a traditionally prey profession? Don’t you get, like, weird looks or something?”

“Yeah.” You snort, feeling the bitterness rise to the surface. “I get more than just weird looks. People feel the need to tell me every moment of every day how I’ll never be a good doctor. How no one will trust a fox with their life. How I should just quit and get into business or law or whatever other profession that can use my no-doubt nefarious skills.”

“That sucks.” He says then immediately cringes at his lame comment.

“Yeah, no shit. And guess who says it the most? Prey hybrids.” 

A light bulb suddenly clicks above his head. “Is that why you dislike them? They’re really not all like that--”

You interrupt him sharply, already knowing where he was going with this. “They’re not like that to you because you’re powerful and rich and you could do whatever you want, but they’re ruthless to me. They’ve always been. So yeah excuse me if I don’t care too much for your prey apologism. It’s pretty infuriating actually.”

“I really think you should--”

“What about you?” You ask pointedly, clearly wanting to change the subject. “I mean, I know that you’re a producer. I suppose this is what you’ve always wanted to be doing.” 

“Ah, yes.” He coughs, straightening in his seat as he reels back from the change of topic. “I’ve loved it since I was an angsty teen listening to hip hop and pretending like I’m so cool and gangsta.” 

The thought of little rich boy Chan swearing it up and down and acting like a thug brings an involuntary and sincere laugh out of you. It doesn’t bother Chan though. If anything, he looks content to have made you laugh. 

“Did you…” He begins after your laughter dies down, fiddling with the stem of his glass as he looks at you from under his lashes, “Have you ever listened to any of my tracks?”

“No.” You scoff, the word coming out automatically. I mean, why would you? It’s not like you like the guy. 

His face falls at your flippant answer. “Ah. Of course.” He says flatly, bringing his glass to his mouth. 

You feel a pang of guilt in your chest. Logically, you know you have no reason to feel bad. You two were never on the best of terms and you have no obligation to listen to his songs. And yet, as you look at his crestfallen face, the guilt still eats at you. 

“How about you show me some after dinner?” You find yourself suggesting and his face immediately brightens up. “Yeah! I mean… you don’t have to if you don’t want to.” He interjects quickly, even though he clearly wants you to. 

“I want to.” You say firmly, and he smiles. ___________________________________

“I’m a nice guy who just has a lot of money?” You wheeze, cracking up and face flushed from the intoxication. You were somehow on Chan’s lap as the night progressed from him showing you his proudest works to his most regrettable ones.

“I know. I know. What was I thinking, right?” He laughs along with you despite his obvious embarrassment. 

You lean in close to his face, humming, "I think it's endearing." You kiss him. 

"You just like embarrassing me." He protests weakly, mouth opening against your lips. 

“Guilty.” You pull away to take his shirt off. Caressing his exposed muscles, you grin, “Hmm...yummy.” 

He bursts out laughing, “You like it?”

You shrug, “It’s not what I usually go for but I can get used to it.” 

He scoffs at that, and pulls your own shirt over your head. Tugging your bra over your breasts, he cups them in his hands and murmurs against your skin, “Well, I don’t need to get used to these.” before his mouth latches onto them. He sucks marks onto the sensitive flesh while his hands grope and knead your breasts. 

Looking up at you, he pushes your breasts together and laps his tongue over the nipples. Your arousal spikes as your gaze locks with his challenging one, and you start rocking yourself over his thigh. 

"Fuck that's hot." He mumbles, lightly tugging on your nipple with his teeth as he pulls away, making you moan out and your hips swivel down to push your core harder against his thigh. 

"Wait, wait," He pulls you to your feet, and you whine, protesting the loss. 

“Hush, baby girl.” He soothes, yanking your pants down your legs along with your underwear before he slips his hand between your legs to drag a finger up your slit, hissing when he feels your wetness. "That's what I want." He groans, pulling you back down on his thigh and using his grip on your hips to make you move over his thigh again. "Want you to ruin my pants with your cum, baby girl. Show me how much you need me."

"But I don't need you." You retort, though your hips don’t slow down. 

“Are you sure about that, my little fox?” He flexes his thigh under you, pushing it up more against your core. 

“Uh-huh.” You breathe, squeezing your eyes shut and throwing your head back. He takes the opportunity to get back to sucking on your breasts, which only makes your movements more frantic. 

“Come on, baby, tell me how good I am and I’ll help you.” He gasps between kisses. You tug on his hair, almost bouncing on his thigh now. “Why don’t you beg for it, pup?”

“Unbelievable.” He growls, pulling your head down. “You’re still so prideful even as you hump my leg like bitch.” 

Whatever stinging remark you would’ve hurled at him is muffled against his lips as he pulls you into a hungry kiss. You let him push his tongue into your mouth, taking him in and caressing it with your own before you put your hands to his chest and push him back. 

“You really want it? Want me to say how good you are for me? How wet you make me?"

He nods eagerly. 

“What a sweet pup.” You praise, “Striving so hard to please me. You’re doing so well, baby. You’ll make me cum real soon.” 

“Do it, please. I wanna see what you look like cumming up close.” 

“Keep tensing your leg like that and you’ll have me cumming in no time, puppy.” You bite your lip, small but needy moans flowing out of you. “What a good boy you are, so good.” 

“Please,” He whispers, his hands helping you move faster on his thigh. “Please, please.”

“So close---ah---oh god, so close...baby!” You gasp, grabbing onto him tightly as you finally cum, the orgasm surprisingly potent. He beams up at you, soaking up every little moan and shudder you let out. “So pretty.”

Gradually, your panting breaths turn into airy giggles as you get down from your high. You give his lips a peck before your hands fall between you and starts pulling his dick out from his sweatpants. You grin against his lips, feeling giddy. "I can’t believe I’m gonna let you fuck me in your studio. How cliche.”

His answering chuckles are punctuated with little moans as you glide your hand up and down his hard dick. “If it--ahh-- makes you feel any better, t-this is the--ahh, yeah like that, baby-- the first time I fuck anyone here.” 

You giggles increase in pitch, “You’re so full of shit, Chan.”

“I’m serious.” He whines, leaning up into your touch as you swipe your palm over the leaking head of his cock. “This is kind of a... sacred place for me."

“Yeah, right.” You roll your eyes, “It can’t be that special if you’re here with me now.”

“It is.” He insists with a pout, and continues casually as if it was nothing, “Because you’re special.” 

Your hand stills on his cock, your face turning to stone as you try and make sense of what he just said.  He's messing with you. He has to be.

Fear and uncertainty makes your stomach churn and your skin loses all color, your face getting cold and sweaty as the bile rises up in your throat. You thought you could handle this but you can’t. You’re too much of a coward to risk it and your sense of self-preservation rears its deformed head once again. 

Standing up abruptly, you croak through your suddenly dry mouth,  "I think I’m gonna go. I need to lie down" 

Chan gets up too, not letting you go. "Oh, is everything okay? Are you sick?". 

"I’m fine. I’m just..." You explain weakly, wriggling yourself out of his grip as quickly as you can in your intoxicated state. "I gotta go."

“Hey, wait!” Chan calls after you, but doesn’t try to stop you. You hear him curse out just before you get out of earshot.

____________________

You wake up with a huge headache and an even bigger feeling of dread. The events of last night coming back like a bullet shot through your chest, and you’re even more confused now with the hangover shattering any hope of a coherent thought forming in your head. 

You stumble out of bed and head to the door, resolving to get some water and some painkiller so you’d maybe start to feel like your head wasn’t likely to explode at any moment. But as you slide the door open, you hear bickering voices just outside in the living room.

"Chan, what the hell are you doing man?" You hear a familiar voice ask but your brain is too scattered to pinpoint the owner of it right now. Luckily, you don’t need to as Chan speaks up in reply, "It's fine, Jisung. It’s all under control."

"No, it's not. Isn’t that what you used to tell me? That no matter how much she makes it seem like she cares, she could flip the table on me at any moment and that I shouldn’t trust her. That’s what you said!”

You quickly pick up that they’re talking about you despite how much you don’t want to believe it. But that’s the kind of language that has always been directed at you, there is no mistaking it. Yet, against all reason, you hope it’s not true. Or at least, you hope Chan would deny it. 

He doesn’t, of course. They never do.

“I know what I said!” 

“And? Do you trust her now?” Jisung asks incredulously. 

“Of course not.” Chan vehemently denies, the resoluteness in his voice piercing straight through your heart. 

Of course not. Of course he doesn’t trust you. What a ridiculous question.  

“Jisung is right, Chan.” A new voice adds and you focus on the sound of it, trying not to break down just yet. “You’re letting her sleep under your roof, man, and you didn’t even think to tell us. Has she been messing with your head?”

They are talking about you like you are some kind of monster, some wild beast that would pounce on you the second you turned your back to it. You’d find it amusing coming from anyone else, but not from Chan, because for once in your life you wanted to believe that someone could see you as something other than what the world thought you were. You blame yourself for this one. 

“My head is fine.” Chan retorts angrily, letting out a forced sigh. “I’m just.... She was in trouble and I had to help her.” 

“Oh, you had to?” The new guy interjects mockingly, “Tell me, would she have helped you if you were in her position?”

“That’s irrelevant.” Chan protests. 

“No, it’s not. She would’ve let you suffer and laughed about it. She’s bad news, man.” 

“I think you guys are being a little harsh.” Another voice speaks up, deeper than the rest. “Maybe she’s not as bad as you think. I’m sure Chan has a good reason for trusting her.” 

“Yeah, I’m sure his dick does.” Jisung scoffs, “You know, I can’t believe you’d do this after preaching to me for hours about how I need to stay away from her and how stupid I am for letting her get to me. But hey, I’m just a stupid squirrel hybrid, right?” 

You’ve heard enough. Pushing the door the rest of the way open, you plaster a smile on your face and step into the living room, the four boys’ head snapping around to look at you. 

“Chan, you didn’t tell me we had guests.” You ponder theatrically, ignoring Chan’s dismayed exclamation of your name. "Oh hey, Sungie. I knew you'd be back for more." You wink at him and he immediately ducks behind the dark-haired stranger. 

“Please go back to your room.” Chan asks, equal measure pale and tense.

“But aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends?” Your eyes flit over the three guys, stopping when you get to the blonde, freckled one. “Especially this one. What’s your name, pretty boy?”

The boy blushes at the unexpected flirtation but extends his hand out to you nonetheless. "I'm Felix." He greets you unexpectedly cheerily, and you’re even more surprised to find out that he’s the one with the deep voice.

But before you can take his hand, Chan steps between the two of you. 

"I need to talk to you." He grits, pulling you to your room and shutting the door behind you. “What are you doing?”

You shrug, feigning ignorance. “Saying hi to the guests?” 

“Now is not the time for your games.” Chan rakes his hand through his hair, stressed out, but you keep up your innocent facade and he sighs in defeat. “You know what? Just stay in your room until they leave and then we’ll talk.”

“No, we’ll talk now. Are you ashamed of me or something?" You wonder, cocking your head to the side. “I thought you said I was special to you? But apparently you say a lot of things.”

“Baby--”

“Why, Chan?” You finally let your facade drop, letting the full extent of your disappointment and sadness break through. “If you don’t want me here then why did you offer in the first place?”

“I do want you here. I just wasn’t planning on anyone finding out about this.”

You laugh in disdain, “How do you always know what to say, Chan?” 

“I’m sorry but you have to realize how bad this looks for me. I worked fucking hard to get to where I am today. There are so many people waiting for me to make the slightest mistake so they can watch me fall. And here you are… well, you don’t exactly have the best reputation. If people find out about us then--”

“Wow, you really are an angel, aren’t you?” You bite, venom lacing your every word.

He laughs cruelly. “Oh, yes, and the judgement comes out. You’re such a fucking hypocrite. You can judge everyone and treat them like shit, but as soon as someone does the same to you you’re suddenly the poor misunderstood victim that everyone bullies.”

You reel back at the harshness of his tone and words. He’s never spoken to you like that before, no matter how much he was upset at you. It was jarring. “Stop it.”  

“Why? It’s what you’re best at, darling.” He sneers, continuing to ruthlessly attack you. “You judged me before you even knew me and went about treating me like a feeble predator because that’s what you decided that I am. And now you want me to take responsibility for your actions and stand up for you when other people treat you the way you’ve been treating them? But here’s the thing, baby; maybe if you had actually been a decent person and treated others with respect, you wouldn’t be in this situation right now. Hell if you'd been a decent person, you wouldn't be having such a hard time anywhere, not with me, not with school, not--" 

"No, fuck you, chan. Don't you dare tell me this is all my fault. You know nothing about my life! I can't believe I actually--never mind.”

“No say it. You actually what? Liked me? Cared for me? Don’t make me laugh, fox. You don't give a shit about me. Every time I try to get close to you, you pull back like I make you sick. If it weren’t for me offering you a place to stay, you wouldn’t even be talking to me right now. You only care now because I have something to give you, but the second you’re done with me, you’ll throw me in the trash like you do everyone else. And I’m not going to sacrifice all that I’ve worked for to entertain you until you’re bored.”  

“You may be right. I may be as awful as you all say I am.” You smile, tears falling down your face. “But at least I'm honest with myself. You on the other hand? Under all your pretense, you're just as fucked up as I am. And one day, everyone will see you for how ugly you really are. ” 

_______________________________

A/N: sorry guys she (me) had to do it to you. leave your feedback uwu

[luulapants]

Stories We Tell

When I was eight years old, my parents split up, and my dad, as divorced dads are wont to do, got a shitty apartment in a weird neighborhood.

The building was two stories with sixteen units. There was an in-ground pool out back, unheated in the shade, so the temperature hovered just above arctic. Half the time, instead of swimming, you ended up fishing a dead squirrel out and changing your mind. The laundry room in the basement flooded every time it rained. The appliances were junk, constantly breaking. The doors and locks, too. The landlord never fixed anything.

I didn’t give much thought to the neighbors until I was fourteen, when my dad got full custody. Someone broke into our ground floor apartment around the same time (and by “broke in,” I mean waltzed through a door with a broken lock) so we moved to the second floor, where it was a little safer. Our new balcony looked out over the rodent graveyard pool.

Over the next few years, I developed a colorful picture of our neighbors:

--

Across the hall was Doris, a madam and a raging alcoholic. She was in her fifties or sixties, but there were always astoundingly attractive young women coming and going from her apartment. She threw parties where she was the oldest woman by about three decades.

On quieter nights, Doris would sit on her balcony and get wine-drunk. If my friends and I were walking past, she would lean over the railing and shout super appropriate things at us like, “Izzat yer boyfriend, honey? R’you two using protection?!”

One time, my dad did some legal work for Doris. She paid him with two cases of wine.

(My dad doesn’t drink wine, but somehow, it was still gone by the end of the summer. I dunno, Dad, it’s a mystery to me. Couldn’t tell ya.)

--

Next to Doris was a big old dude that used to stand on his balcony in whitey tighties and watch me and the other kids while we waited for the bus. I never learned much about him, except he was creepy with a capital “Eeeugh.”

--

Across the hall from Captain Underpants were the Five to Eight Guys. So called because there were at least five of them living in that two-bedroom apartment, but no more than eight. They all looked vaguely the same: twenty-something stoners with a lot of tattoos and piercings and a fashion sense that hovered somewhere between Hot Topic and PacSun, while somehow managing to be worse than either.

I don’t think all of them were drug dealers. But at least some of them were. Absolutely. People would go into the apartment and re-emerge thirty minutes later in a veritable cloud of smoke. Our coat closet shared a wall with them, and my coats always reeked of pot. I mostly started smoking because people assumed anyway.

The summer after my Freshman year, they hung blankets up around their balcony to create an extra room. I told my dad, “That’s smart – there’s so many of them living in there, so they made an extra bedroom.”

My dad looked up at the tell-tale red glow of a grow lamp peeking out through the cracks of the blankets and told me, “Kiddo, I don’t think it’s a bedroom.”

--

Below the Five to Eight Guys were two elderly nuns.

Yes, really.

They never had a mean word for anyone: not the madam, not the drug dealers, not the creepy old man standing outside in his briefs. That wasn’t to say they had a kind word for them. Their go-to was smiling and minding their own fucking business.

I liked to think of them as our building security. Because, sure, we had no real security to speak of. The doors were always propped open, and I don’t think there was a functional smoke alarm in the entire building.

But surely God wasn’t going to let anything too bad happen to a building with nuns living in it, right?

--

Next door to the nuns was the strangest of the whole lot: Crazy Cat Man. He was Russian, in his seventies, and had lived in the building since before the landlord added the ‘no pets’ rule to the lease. And I’m pretty sure Crazy Cat Man was reasons A through Z for that rule.

I never got a real count on the cats, but it was somewhere in the ballpark of ten. But ten cats wasn’t enough to sate Crazy Cat Man’s love for animals. Oh, no.

One winter, he decided to feed the geese, and hangry geese laid siege to the building for weeks.

Another time, I heard the landlord’s voice downstairs. He was screaming, “What the fuck is the matter with you!”

And Crazy Cat Man was yelling back, “I no let squirrel in the apartment! I never!”

He had. He had spent weeks feeding the squirrels, getting friendly with them. Then he started cracking the patio door to lure them inside.

Crazy Cat Man was married. His wife had albinism and was photo-sensitive, so I only ever saw her outside once.

See, once a year, Crazy Cat man delivered phone books. It was his only job. He spent the rest of the year trying to fix his van up so it would run well enough to deliver the phone books. He was constantly working on it. Every part he put in, the van attacked and destroyed like a body rejecting a donor organ.

One day, he hadn’t pulled the van quite far enough into his garage, so when he lowered the garage door, it hit the back bumper and got stuck. That day, I learned that his wife’s absolute favorite thing in the world was watching her husband be incompetent, because she came out of the apartment for once. He couldn’t get the door back up, so he had to try to crawl under it to get inside the garage, and she was standing there shouting, “My husband is an idiot! My husband is an idiot!”

My dad and I stopped to watch this seventy year old man crawl under a mechanically compromised garage door. My dad said to her, “If he’s not careful, he’s going to be a dead idiot.”

The albino wife turned to him and hissed, “I should be so lucky.”

--

My senior year of high school, the recession hit, and my dad’s law practice went under, and my older brother died of a brain aneurysm. A week after I graduated, my dad told me we were going to be evicted, and I’d have to find somewhere else to stay until I went to college.

We moved everything out of the apartment, so nothing would be trashed when they evicted us. My dad ran off to the mountains to contemplate suicide (as one does), and, for about a month, I had this big, empty apartment to myself. My friends and I threw parties, got drunk. Hot boxed the bathroom.

And I slept in a sleeping bag on the floor in the living room, because it felt too weird to sleep in my old room with none of my things in it.

Late one of those nights, alone in my empty apartment, I heard screaming outside. I went on the balcony. All the neighbors were coming outside to see what the noise was.

On the property behind ours, across from the squirrel-killing pool, there was a huge cottonwood tree, maybe fifty feet tall. On the end of this long branch near the top, there was a raccoon. Closer to the trunk were two more. I don’t know if you’ve ever heard a raccoon scream, but it’s almost human sounding.

One of the two at the trunk rushed at the third, and forced it farther to the end of the branch. Then the two raccoons started bouncing the branch. The one at the end screamed.

I think we all realized what was happening at the same time, because I heard someone downstairs say, “What the fuck,” at the same time I thought it.

It took a long time. Pushing the raccoon back, then bouncing the branch, then pushing it back again. By the end, the one raccoon was hanging from the end of the branch, which was pointing straight down. It was screaming continuously.

When it finally fell, you could hear the thud.

I heard the same person say, “What the fuck,” and I had no idea who it was.

--

If found out years later that the rumor in the complex about my dad was that he’d been a lawyer for the mob, and he got on someone’s shit list, and that’s how he ended up so broke. And it’s why he had to disappear so suddenly.

The truth was, my dad was a good lawyer, but a terrible businessman. His clients were mostly small businesses and everyday people. When they didn’t pay him, he assumed it was because they didn’t have the money, and he didn’t want to rub it in by asking.

When I heard that theory, it occurred to me that I had created characters out of our neighbors with no real regard for what was true or logical, only what was interesting. I think that night with the raccoons was the closest I ever got to any of them, as real people. Standing in the dark, faceless, watching something horrible that we had no control over.

I’m not sure what the rumors about me were, but here’s the truth: by all logic, I should have been a pretty miserable kid. My dad had untreated depression, and sometimes he stayed in bed for days. When there was no food in the fridge, I assumed it was because we didn’t have the money, and I didn’t want to rub it in by asking. I went to friends’ houses to eat. That guy that broke into our apartment when I was fourteen? He had a brain tumor, and he thought I was his girlfriend. And I should have been scared shitless that a forty-something year old man had tried to get in bed with me before my dad woke up and beat the bajezus out of him in front of me.

But instead, I started making these stories about the weirdos we lived with. I loved them. I was obsessed with them. I talked about them all the time.

“Say, Julia, how are things at home?”

“Well, you’ll never guess what the Five to Eight Guys were up to yesterday, let me tell you!”

--

I saw Crazy Cat Man two years ago. He’s still delivering phone books, and he looks nothing like I remember him.

[enigma-im]

Third Day of Christmas...

Trope: Enemies to Lovers (NSFW) Relationship: Minotaur x Human Word Count: 4,025

It all started with a note on the door.

Imani didn't expect to find a letter taped to her door that morning, or any morning for that matter. For a good couple of seconds she feared it was from her landlord, an eviction notice of some kind. That went right out the window as she read the chicken scratched handwriting.

Dear apartment 23 resident,

I'd appreciate it if you would keep the noises to a minimum after 10 pm. The singing has kept me up well past midnight. The stomping at all hours has been less than appreciated. Also, I hate to point out that your dog hasn't been a saint either, barking every morning at 7 am. So if you would please, muzzle the dog and stop the late-night parties.

                                 Signed, apartment 15 resident.

Imani is confused for a moment, walking back into her apartment while rereading the letter. All of it is not true, starting with the singing. She does not sing, especially that late in the day. The neighbor on the other hand has a daughter who doesn't understand her own volume, blaring out BTS songs at odd hours. The stomping is a ridiculous accusation, almost typical in these situations. The only time she can admit that her walking would be loud is when she first gets home and hasn't gotten to removing her shoes. Besides then, she is as quiet as a church mouse. An hour after she gets home she spends most of her time lounging in the living room. so how can she be making noises if she isn't moving?

The woman drops the note onto her kitchen table, put off by the audacity. She looks over to her little dog, shaking her head as she thinks back on the next line. Her dog doesn't bark! He is as silent as can be, never even growling. The most this 'resident' can accuse her pooch over is his nails scratching at the floor. Even then that shouldn't even register through the floors.

With the morning turned sour, Imani quickly organizes her things and heads out for work. The whole day is spent thinking hard on her letter, thinking about what needs to be done. Should she ignore it? Pretend she never got it and go on with her life? That would be the easy approach, even kinder one, but she ain't that kind of bitch.

When she got home late that day she storms into the kitchen, making sure to stop with her shoes still on, and grabs a notebook. She jots down a little message for 'resident 15' with as much passive aggression as she can put into words.

Dear resident 15,

The bold claims you have taped to my door have been read. I'd like to take the time to inform you of your misguided claims. I, for one, am not the local American Idol star. That award goes to Tiny Tina in apartment 22. I don't know why you have such an issue with her music, BTS songs are a bop.

Next on the list is my 'stomping'. Excuse me for correcting you again, but I do not 'stomp' around my apartment. The minute I get home from work I am sitting on my ass watching television till it's time for bed. So I ask you, how can I be stomping around if my feet do not move off the couch?

Finally, my dog. My dog is a saint, for your information, he is the quietest animal I have ever owned. I haven't heard so much as a peep from him since he was a puppy. Maybe check around for other noisy pooches because mine isn't the problem.

With this all said, I hope you find a solution to your problem because bugging me was not it.

                                       Sincerely, resident 23

Signed, sealed, and ready to be delivered. The next morning on the way to work she tapes the little note to the numbers on unit 15. smug, she walks out of there with her head held high.

Feeling proud of herself even further into the day she isn't ready for the speedy reply taped to her door, along with a missing doormat. With a huff, she snatches the note and heads inside. She unfolds the sheet, reading:

Dear 23,

I am not mistaken, and I'm taking your welcome mat until you know how to be a proper upstairs neighbor.

                                         -15

She gawks at the letter, put off by the blatant admission of theft. Are they a child, taking away things as a punishment? This is completely idiotic! She should march downstairs and confront the fool who thinks this is a proper course of action. Well, she would if she didn't also want to get back at them.

Throwing the paper onto the coffee table she flops down on the couch to think. What is the best way to get back at them?

A floor below rests Church the Minotaur. He is getting ready to go on a run, sliding on his sneakers as he opens the door. Glance to the side he catches sight of a gaudy plethora of stickers and glitter, his door dressed to the 9s with rainbows. He is taken aback, looking at the decorations with ire. Above it all sits a folded up piece of paper taped to the door. He quickly snatches it, reading it.

15,

Return the doormat and I'll clean your door.

                                    -23

Church chuffs, grinding his teeth as he looks to the door again. He didn't think he was being unfair when he first gave them a letter. It was a polite way to ask them to shut up. He just wanted some sleep, was that too much to ask? He looks to the door again, apparently, it was.

Imani opens the door fully expecting the letter. With a bit of a pep in her step, she grabs it, reading it as she walks to her car. She snorts, crumpling the paper and tossing it in the trash.

23,

This means war

                           -15

The next few weeks are filled with pranks of varying variety. The two start small, Imani stomping around upstairs with her heaviest pairs of boots, Church banging his hand against the ceiling during the quiet hours of the night. Next with more glitter courtesy of Church, a well-timed package that exploded in Imani's kitchen. He swears he could hear her surprised scream from below. Imani gets him back with a similar package, one with a jump scare card.

It's a back forth of one-upping the other. Church orders Imani eight pizzas, forcing her to reluctantly pay for it when seeing the nervous kid trying to deal with the mix-up. Imani manages to hook her phone to his Bluetooth speakers, playing random screams at all hours of the night. Church gets her back by attaching an alarm to her door so when walked out that morning she was startled by a firetruck worthy honk.

It seems it’s the last straw for Church when he receives his own glitter bomb of confetti cocks. It gets caught on the carpet, sneaking into the couch cushions, and sticking to his clothes. Quickly dusting himself off he charges upstairs, reaching her door and banging on it. He taps his foot frustrated and angry.

The door clicks open, Church already ready with his rant. Imani is equally prepared, excited with the chance to chew him a new one. When the two see each other they stumble on the words, looking one another over with confusion. Neither of them expected the other to be anything but some angry middle-aged person looking for a fight. They hardly assumed that the other would be so…attractive.

"I, uh," church shakes his head," You! A damn dick bomb? Do you understand how ingrained they are into my carpet? I sent you a cheap one, something you can easily clean up but you couldn't even consider that!"

"What," Imani comes back to her own," those craft herpes were not easy to clean, I'm sure it's still in the kitchen now and staining my clothes. So don't you dare come at me with 'woe is me' look like you had any consideration at all for my floors."

"Well excuse me, I didn't hack into your speakers to play Halloween screams all through the night. I damn near had a heart attack at 2 in the morning because of you," he points to her, debating on jabbing her in the chest. She slaps his hand away before he gets the chance, scoffing.

"At least I didn't make you spend money on eight pizzas! Do you know how much eight pizzas cost? It was like seventy bucks. I'm just glad you didn't splurge on something more than a single topping pizza. But fuck you for making them all pineapple you monster," she bites back.

The two ramble on long enough for the neighbors to peek their heads out. Embarrassed, they close out their argument with a huff and a door slam. Church heads off to his apartment, falling onto the couch while grumbling to himself. Imani growls and mumbles in her bed. They both can't help the thought that ruins all their anger:

God, they were hot.

The pranks don't stop in their frequency. The two continue, using their frustrations at their traitorous thoughts to fuel their revenge.

Imani still plays with his speakers, using screamo songs to annoy him in the afternoons. Church booby traps her door again with more glitter, his preferred weapon as of lately. She takes up tap dancing, he pays the kid next door to blare BTS near the shared wall of her apartment. She puts a fake ticket on his car, he puts vulgar stickers on her's. the childish game goes on and on.

Imani sits in her room one night, frustrated beyond belief with the sexy minotaur. She can't get his face out of her head. Why did he have to be cute? It's not like it makes the little game they have going harder to do. No, it just makes it seem more than it is. She has to constantly catch herself praising his wit in some of the stunts he pulls. Scolding herself nonstop for wanting to stop by his place and yell at him some, just to see him. It's stupid, wanting to actually get to know him.

Church relaxes in bed, feeling more bothered than Imani. He has hit a bit of a dry spell in his sexual life, or his solo sexual life. He can't jerk off without picturing the little hellspawn upstairs. It would be easy to give in and just think of her but it would be too much. She is an enemy, not a potential interest. So what if she is one of the sexiest humans he has ever seen? Who cares if her ability to keep up with him in this little war is kind of turning him on? It doesn't matter, right?

He sighs in defeat, "I don't think I can believe that even if I tried," he grunts as he clenches his shaft.

Imani is at home setting up her next plan when someone knocks on the door. She looks to the clock surprised at someone visiting this hour. Confused, and cautious, she gets out of bed and walks to the door. Looking through the peephole she rolls her eyes at who she sees.

Imani opens the door," if this is about the folk music I'll tell you now I'm not changing it back."

"No," he growls," this is about the tap shoes. Metal on wood makes for some very undesirable sounds."

"Well, excuse me for trying to take up a new hobby. What about you paying off the kid next door to play her music next to my wall? I swear that little demon doesn't sleep," Imani scolds.

"Speaking of little demons, can you for the love of god shut your dog up. Every morning I hear his damn barking and I'm seriously debating calling someone," he takes a step into her space, scowling at the dog behind her.

"He doesn't bark," she pokes at his chest," I have never heard him even make a yelp since he was a puppy so I suggest you come up with a better lie than that."

"A lie," he shouts," your fucking dog barks, stop thinking he is some sort of mute."

"He does not," she shouts back.

"Does too," he steps closer.

"Does not," she raises her chin.

"Does too," he grabs her hips.

"Does not," she tugs at his shirt.

"Does too," he says, lowering closer to her. Before she can get her turn he quiets her with a rather harsh kiss, mashing his lips to hers. They grapple one another, pulling the other closer as they stumble into her apartment.

Church kicks the door shut as he fumbles with her shirt. She helps, parting from him long enough to cast the clothing aside. He tugs her back in for a sloppy kiss, delving his tongue into her mouth as she unbuttons his top. Thrusting his shirt down his arms while they bump into the sofa. Church beings unclasping her bra, uncoordinated as she sucks on his tongue.

The two fall to the couch, church not wasting any time with her freshly revealed tits. Imani gasps, petting down his chest to his pants. As he suckles on a nipple as she pulls him from his pants, holding his cock in her hand. He stutters in his attentions, panting heavily against her chest as she jerks him off.

"Oh, fuck," he groans.

"Like that big boy," she steals his attention, him looking at her cocky smile.

"Shut up," he reaches down to her pants, palming her through her jeans. She bucks into his hand, rolling her eyes at his smirk. He quickly discards her bottoms, tossing them away without a care. He watches her as he pets at her pussy, delving between her lips to feel how soaked she is for him.

"Am I wrong to assume this is all for me," he pushes a finger in. she clenches her jaw, groaning from the intrusion. He chuckles, feeling rather confident as she rides his hand. Not caring for his large ego she reaches for his cock once more, feeling him throb in her grip.

"Am I wrong to assume this is all for me," she mimics back smugly. He throws her an annoyed look, removing his fingers and slapping her hand away. Dropping a hand beside her head he leans down, looking between them as he prods his cock to her pussy. They both flinch, eager above all else. They both watch as his head parts her lips, poking at her clit with short nudges.

"You think I can make you scream like those damn Halloween recordings," he jokes as he grinds into her.

"No, I don't think you have the stamina," she jabs back, trying to stop the urge to buck against him. Church leans down and nuzzles against her neck, pressing a sweet kiss under her jaw.

"I guess we will just have to see," he grins, feeling less confident than his words suggest. His cock is damn near ready to burst with just his tip being coated in her sweet juices.

Church reaches between them, pressing his cock to her entrance. He guides his tip in, stretching his arm up to rest it beside her head. The only warning he gives her is a sultry smile before he shoves forward, both crying out at the suddenness.

"Oh, shit," Church whimpers beside her ear. Imani grabs at his arms, feeling utterly stuffed. He pulls back, thrusting forward quickly. Imani appreciates him not wasting time just pistoning into her. The need has been building up all week, the denial adding a new level of appeal to this want.

He rams into her, listening to her try to hide her cries of pleasure. He feels her body tell him what he needs to know, feels her walls pulling him in with every buck of his hips. She wants him as badly as he wanted her. It's satisfying to church to know this. To know that she needs this as much as he does. Not wanting to miss a thing he sits up, grabbing her hips as he does.

"Look at you," he groans," trying to hold back those little moans and whimpers. Don't fight it, babe, I wanna hear you." Imani startles herself with a cry, arching her back as his words add kindle to the fire. She wants to pretend this isn't happening, that she isn't getting fucked by her apartment enemy. But damn, does it feel fantastic.

Church watches her writhe on the couch, his stomach clenching as he tries to fight off cumming at the sight. Her tits bounce with each clap of their hips and it's driving him wild. Reluctantly he shuts his eyes, thinking about anything else to prolong this blissful torture.

Imani wails and whimpers as her insides are set aflame. As her orgasm comes rushing to the forefront she locks her legs around his waist, grinding like a madwoman into his thrust. She cries out her pleasure, utterly wrecked as she falls apart.

Church chokes on his breath as she clenches around him. He can barely think as she holds him in a vice grip. His hips go wild as he finds himself coming to an end. It's only half a thought that he undoes her legs and pulls out, grinding against her as he cums on her stomach. Imani watches in rapture as he tosses his head back and moans, the sound going straight to her already throbbing clit. She watches him spray out over her and she can't look away for even a second.

Church falls onto his hands, panting as he holds himself over her. He can't believe it. He got to fuck the cute hellspawn that has been tormenting him all month. At this moment he couldn't even think about the countless hours of sleep missed because of her little pranks. Right now all he can think of is holding her close and taking a much-needed nap. As he attempts the action he looks to her stomach.

Imani is bone-deep satisfied. Her body is relaxed against the couch and she feels like she's on cloud nine. She hardly notices when Church climbs off her, his footsteps fading away. When she does notice, it stabs at her heart a little. She watches him button up his pants, reaching to the floor to grab his shirt. I guess he's leaving, she thinks.

Church grabs his shirt from the floor, bunching it up as he turns back to her. She looks surprised when he crouches beside her and mops up the mess on her stomach with his top. He wants to laugh at the shocked expression but bites his cheek against it. With her all clean he tosses the shirt away and crawls in beside her. The couch is rather small so he lifts her onto his chest, lounging on his back. He cradles her against his front, ready to take a well-deserved nap.

Imani is rather confused as she watches him fall asleep. She fully figured he would dip after everything, she surely didn't expect anything from this. They were still in a war. A truce was never called but she can't help but think this changes something.

Shrugging, she snuggles up to him, enjoying his soft fur against her cheek. This is a problem she will deal with in the morning.

Imani wakes up alone in her bed. She is nearly tempted to figure the night with Church was all a dream till she feels the subtle ache in her legs. Ride a bull, you should expect some soreness. She chuckles to herself as she dresses. Walking into the kitchen she prepares for a lazy day indoors while she figures out how to deal with Church and her's relationship. As she gets ready to feed her pup does she realize the lack of said pooch.

"uh, Giovani," she calls out. No answer. She calls out again, searching around her apartment frantically. Did he get out while the door was open last night? Surely she would have noticed if he managed to sneak past. She rounds the apartment again just in case before she runs to the door, throwing it open in a rush. Out of the corner of her eye, she spots something hanging on her peephole. She tenses at the sight, snatching it.

Imani I have your dog Church

Imani scoffs, crumpling the letter as she marches downstairs. She can't believe she let herself think that things would change between them. That this little prank war can be swapped out for an actual relationship, friendship or otherwise. Above all, she can't believe he stole her dog.

Rounding the corner and stopping at door 15 she pounds her fist against the wood. She continues pounding till the door opens, revealing a smirking Church.

"Hello, babe, what brings you here so early," he asks, leaning against the frame.

"You stole my fucking dog, I want him back," she snaps, no ounce of playfulness available. Church nearly stutters on his act, a little worried about her protectiveness over her dog.

"Now, I stole him for his own good," he explains," with his separation anxiety I figured it is best if he got used to my apartment since I'm going to take up training him."

Imani scoffs," Excuse me? My dog doesn't have separation anxiety nor does he need to be trained by some dog snatching idiot with horns."

Church deadpans," idiot with horns?"

"It's early, they can't all be gold," she rolls her eyes," doesn't matter, give me my dog back."

Church shakes his head, frustrated at her denial. Instead of answering her, he calls for the pup, leaning down to pet him when he comes trotting over. With the dog properly excited he takes a step into the hallway with Imani and shuts the door. Imani looks from him then back to the door.

"What are you doing," she asks.

"Just wait," he holds up a finger. They both stand silently, nothing happening. Imani opens her mouth to acknowledge the ridiculous of waiting in front of a door when her dog begins whining, yelping loudly from inside the apartment. Church looks over to her with a smug grin, "Told you he barks."

Imani flusters, gawking at the door and listening to her dog cry out. Church opens the door, the pup running out and jumping at Imani. Still embarrassed, she pets at her dog before picking him up and walking away. Church watches her turn the corner, not saying a word as she departs. He sighs.

It's a good day of nothing that picks at Church. Surely he didn’t push too far, he didn't really intend to keep her dog so it wasn't that mean. He just wanted to prove that her dog did bark, finishing the month-long war on a hopeful note. It wasn't meant as another attack against her. He really did intend to help by offering to train her dog.

Throughout the day he debates going up there and apologizing, to offer an olive branch of some kind so he can actually get to know her. Last night for Church was…amazing. It was something he wants to do again, to explore further. That may be a pipe dream now.

Late into the afternoon church gets a knock on his door. He jumps up, feeling rather stupid as he quickly answers the door. Expecting Imani he is left disappointed as no one is there. No one could have left that fast. He looks down the hall, left to right. Nothing. With a defeated sigh he begins to close the door. He stops when a fluttering piece of paper catches his eye. Excited, he snaps it off the door unfolding it swiftly.

Church,

Dinner at my place, 8 pm

                               -Imani

Church smiles to himself, refolding the paper and heading back inside to get ready.

[rowyn-writes]

Cinnamon and Sugar

Chapter Three

Warnings: language, fluff, mentions of a toxic relationship, small angst

Characters: Dean, Reader, Benny Lafitte (mentioned only)

Pairings: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Dean let you sit in his car until the rain let up a bit. "God, I hate the rain." He grumbled.

"I love it." You whisper, your eyes wandering the parking lot. "When I was younger, and there was a thunderstorm, me and my siblings would make a fort and huddle underneath it together. We loved it when the power would go out. We would light candles and grab flashlights and play board games in the dark. Sometimes Andrew would read to us. But uh - it would be scary stories," You smiled. "He would scare the ever living crap out of us. Lena and Josh would would cuddle into my side, no matter how much I hated it, they would still do it."

"You really love your siblings." Dean noted, swallowing hard, memories of Sam flooding his head.

"I do." You nodded. "They're all I have. Sure, I have my parents, but it's not the same, you know? Growing up, my siblings and I fought like dogs and cats, but we knew each other better than anyone, even our parents. Even when I go months without seeing them, when we all get together, it's like we're still little kids, ya know? We goof around, we argue, we joke. It's like none of us ever grew up."

Dean stayed silent for a moment, and you weren't sure if your message was getting across. "Look, I know we don't know each other very well, but what I'm trying to say is, call your brother. I don't know what happened between you two, but it's obvious that you love him. You shouldn't waste all your time worrying about whether you should contact him first or if he's angry with you. Time is a precious thing and people often waste it."

"Damn, you're wise." Dean gave a quiet chuckle. "But you're right. I will call him soon, I'm just not ready yet." And with that, the Impala was enveloped in silence again. That is, until Dean's stomach let out a loud rumble. "Sorry," He apologized with a sheepish grin.

"Don't worry about it." You shrugged. "It looks like the rains letting up. Do you want to come inside and I can fix you some food?"

"Oh, I don't want to impose." He shook his head.

"Nonsense. You gave me a ride home, this is the least I can do."

Dean silently debated whether or not he should take you up on the offer, but ultimately agreed, seeing as he was starving. By the time you were under cover, you were both soaked.

As soon as you opened the door to your apartment, you were met with a warm blast of heat. A pleasant shiver ran down your spine.

You began to click your tongue, calling out for your moody cat. "Storm, c'mere buddy." Your cat glared at you stubbornly from his place on the window seal. You rolled your eyes, slipping off your jacket and hanging it over the back of the chair.

"Sorry," You apologized to Dean. "My cat's being a little bitch." The man let out a laugh at your comment. "I gave him a bath and clipped his claws yesterday; now he's pissed at me."

"How in the hell do you cut a cat's nails?" He questioned, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Very carefully." You noticed that Dean was shivering. "Let me grab you a towel. I think I have some of my exes clothes. You're about the same size."

He was going to object when you silenced him with a look. You went to your room and began rummaging around in your draws, eventually finding a pair of black sweat pants and a grey hoodie.

"Try this," You said, handing Dean the clothes. "They should fit. You can change in the bathroom; it's the first door on the right."

While Dean went to change, you did the same. You exited your bedroom dressed in a pair of black leggings and a UK sweatshirt.

You noticed that Dean still wasn't out yet, so you went to start some food. You contemplated on what you should cook before ultimately deciding that mac and cheese would do. It was a comfort food, after all.

It would take a bit longer than usual, since you were making it from scratch, but Dean had said earlier that he had nowhere to be.

"Smells good in here." Dean noted when he walked out of the bathroom. Seeing him in Michael's clothes made your heart stop for a second, and not in a good way.

Dean and Michael had many similarities, the hair color, height, demeanor, etc. And you didn't want to be reminded of that man.

"Thanks," You said nonchalantly. "It's nothing special, but I thought you'd like it."

"So," Dean started, leaning against the counter. "This is a nice little set up you've got here."

"It's not much, but it's home." You shrugged as you stir the pot of noodles. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Storm sneaking around the corner of the kitchen, hoping for some food or a treat.

"How long have you lived here?" Dean asked.

"About five years." You informed him. "Ever since I turned eighteen I've been living on my own."

"How come?"

"You know the thing parents always say? 'As long as you live in my house, you follow my rules'? Well, I didn't like their rules so I got myself this apartment and I've lived here ever since."

Dean snorted. "Yeah, my old man was like that too. I actually did the same thing as you did. 'Cept I came back 'bout a week later." He laughed. "I was too dependent on my dad and brother. I have never lived alone before then; and to be honest, I hate living by myself. I still do."

"You never got roommates?"

"I had a few. There was Mick and Cas. Of course, I can't forget Benny." He grinned. "But they're all gone now."

"Benny?" You mumbled. "As in Benny Lafitte?"

"Yeah, why? You know him?"

"Do I?" You rolled your eyes. "That idiot's my cousin."

"Really?" Dean said excitedly. "I haven't heard from him in ages, how's he doing?"

"He's loving by the coast, and the last I heard, he met some girl named Andrea and he is head over heels in love."

"That's great." Dean smiled. "I really happy for him."

"Yeah, I expect to get an invitation to his wedding so enough. The way he talks about her, you would think he's known her his entire life."

"That's sweet. Benny seems like the guy that falls hard after one date."

"Oh yeah, he definitely is." You giggle. "He calls me after one date and says, 'Y/N, I think I'm in love. If I sent you a picture of a wedding ring, would you look at it and tell me what you think?'"

"No way!" Dean laughed.

"Yes! I had to talk him down from buying an engagement ring! I told him to wait for a year and a half, and then revisit the subject of marriage. Times almost up and he's still fawning over her. But I'm happy for him, he definitely deserves this."

You sprinkled bread crumbs on top of the Mac and cheese before popping it in the oven for a few minutes.

"You put break crumbs on your mac and cheese?" Dean questioned.

"You don't?"

"Never tried it." He shook his head.

"You caveman." You sighed. "I will just have to train you." Dean gave a harmonious laugh, which, in turn, made you laugh as well.

You grabbed a towel and pulled the mac and cheese out of the oven. You scooped some onto a plate and handed it to Dean. Both of you sat down at your small kitchen table and began to dig in.

"Oh my god." Dean said, his mouth full with food. "That is the best mac and cheese I've ever had."

"See? Told you it would be good."

"I'll never doubt you again." He mumbled as he shoveled more into his face.

You ate in a comfortable silence until there was a knock at your door. "I'll be right back." You told Dean as you opened the door.

"Mr. Pierce." You said nervously. "What can I help you with?" You knew what he wanted. And you sure as hell didn't have it.

"You're behind on rent, Y/N. I need the money, or I'll have no choice but to evict you." You felt your heart drop to your stomach.

"I-I don't have it right now. My hours have been cut and I-"

"I'm sorry, Y/N. You're a good girl, but I need someone who will lay rent on time every month. I really hate to do this, but I want you out in two weeks."

"I-It's okay, Mr. Pierce," You assured him shakily. "I understand." And with that, he was gone. You gave a shaky breath as you leaned on the door.

"Y/N?" Dean called, approaching the living room. "What's going on? Are you okay?"

"I will be." You nodded.

"What happened?" Dean questioned gently.

"I just got my eviction notice." You deadpanned. Dean's mouth popped open in shock. "I have to be out in two weeks."

"Crap, sweetheart. I'm sorry. What are you going to do?"

"Couch surf for a while, maybe? I know Jo will let me stay with her for a couple of days, but if her landlord catches me there, he'll throw her out too."

"What about your parents?"

You gave a cold laugh. "No, they'll never let me come home. I would stay with my older brother, but he's overseas right now. So honestly, I don't know what I'm going to do."

Dean stayed silent for a moment before speaking up. "You could come live with me." He suggested.

"Dean, I really appreciate the offer, but I can't impose on you like that."

"It's okay," He assured you. "I have an extra bedroom. And it's not imposing if I'm asking. Besides, like I said before, I hate living on my own."

"Dean, we barely know each other." You tried to reason.

"Hi, my name is Dean Winchester, I'm an Aquarius, I enjoy sunsets, long walks on the beach, and frisky women." You let out a loud laugh. "There, now you know more about me."

"Dean-"

"Just think about it. If you can't find anywhere else to live, my door's always open. I have to go, but here's my number," He said, writing down his phone number on a sticky note. "If you need anything, call me." Dean gave you a small smile before he walked out the door.

You flopped on the couch, staring up at  ceiling. Storm jumped up on your chest, purring loudly. You gently scratched his back. "What should I do, Storm?" You asked. "Would you want to live wYou flopped on the couch, staring up at  ceiling. Storm jumped up on your chest, purring loudly. You gently scratched his back. "What should I do, Storm?" You asked. "Would you want to live with Dean? You seemed to like him." Storm gave a tiny meow, his eyes closing shut. "Real big help there, buddy."ith Dean? You seemed to like him." Storm gave a tiny meow, his eyes closing shut. "Real big help there, buddy."

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Tag List:

Cinnamon and Sugar Tags

@vicmc624 @lovememisha @supernatural-jackles @laycblack

Dean Tags:

@akshi8278​

And if anyone else wants to be added to any tag list, let me know!

[srose-foxfire]

“Under an Autumn Moonlight” Part: 3 (Damirae fic)

Part #1

Part #2

Part #3 

Raven let out a deep sigh as she exited her history lecture hall. Her mind should had been in class, but her mind she kept going back to the very uncomfortable lecture they received from their landlord outside their apartment building. Raven and Donna had returned to find their apartment building evacuated because their friend and roommate, Jinx, had started a small fire in their kitchen. Their landlord was furious with them all, this wasn’t the first time Jinx had endangered lives before. It was her third, and their landlord was running out of patience to let them continue renting the three-bedroom apartment. The only thing saving them from being evicted was that they were college students trying to get by and focusing on their degrees. Though Raven was certain with another ‘Jinx incident’ they be kicked out to the streets, for sure.

Their friend seemed to be a magnet that attracted misfortune wherever there was any electronic device. Nevertheless, they all cared for Jinx very much. Raven wouldn’t be true to herself if she didn’t feel a bit least upset for leaving Robin. She was starting to feel at ease with him and wanted to continue talking with him. It also seemed he wanted to talk about something more personal before she got the phone call from Jinx.

“I hope to see you again.”

Was the last thing Robin had said to her and in truth Raven wanted to see him too. She didn’t know how to though, it would look strange if she just showed up at the warehouse, besides she didn’t know when the band was there. Maybe if she could contact him directly? Robin was friends with Jon, maybe Raven could ask Jon for Robin’s number, but knowing Jon he would question her and then go gossip to Donna who would interrogate Raven on the matter. Raven didn’t even know what all this was, the only thing she was certain was she wanted to see him again and just talk.Right? That’s all she wanted nothing more.

Raven continue walking down the main walkway of the university going to her next class. Introduction to Astronomy. One of the class assignments she was looking forward to was going to an overnight camping trip to stargaze and map out constellations. Their professor also added that they could distinguish the planet Saturn from the stars because it was closer to Earth during the fall semester.

Raven could hardly wait and just stargaze to ger heart’s content. Since a child, Raven always liked looking up into the starry night sky and letting her worries be swept from her.

Raven didn’t have the best childhood; she lost her mother at very young age where her memories were blur glimpses. What always made her think of her mother was the smell of lavender. Somewhere in the back of her mind she could had sworn seeing her mother standing next to her crib and light a lavender scented candle, singing her a gentle lullaby. When her mother passed, she was left with a drunken father who wasn’t home at all doing who knows what. She was confided in that small apartment for eighteen years, the only times she was allowed outside was to go to school. During the day she was the good student, getting the highest remarks in every class, but when night came, she let herself cry out. One night she looked up to a full moon and imagined it was her mother’s way of lighting her dark world. Since then Raven found solace in the night sky.

When Raven graduated from high school, she left that small apartment and moved away with her only friend Donna Troy to Gotham City, for a new start. There they met Jinx, this made Raven feel she had someplace she could really call home and have a family. She entered the new school year without declaring a major, but knew she wanted to be surrounded by books. During her second year in the university, Raven was passing by a small vintage store and through the window saw a mother and her very young daughter look through a worn-out book. In that moment Raven imagined herself in the girl’s place and transformed the woman to what vague memory Raven had of Arella, her mother. That’s when Raven decided she would open her own bookstore, in memory of her mother, and help others find sanctuary.

Raven finally arrived at her astronomy classroom. She sat down in her usual lab table and took out her notebook and textbook. There were ten tables in total, separated in pairs to force students to work together. Though the seat next to Raven’s was always empty, which was weird there were exactly twenty seats and twenty students were enrolled. One student was never called for, yet the seat was taken since no one had dropped out. To act like she could rely one someone, Raven always placed her backpack on the empty seat, the bag was a trusted ally who always carried her things. The classroom was starting to fill as each student too their seat before the professor arrived.

Raven was looking over her notes from last class when she noticed someone out of the corner of her eye standing next to her table.

“Is this seat taken?”

Raven looked up and her gaze widen in shock. Standing before her dressed in designer clothes was none other than Damian Wayne. Like theson to Bruce Wayne and heir to run Wayne Enterprises. What was he doing here?

Raven managed to squeak out a no, and quickly as she could remove her backpack from the chair. Damian sat down, and took out a notebook, flipped through it till he found a clean page. He scribbled something on a corner and then very gracefully pulled out his textbook. This made no sense, Raven thought. Was he the one student that was enrolled and never show up? And why show up now of all times. They were halfway through the semester and come to think he wasn’t around for the midterm they had taken a few weeks ago.

She could feel the atmosphere change in the classroom as everyone stared at the young man next to her. Damian Wayne was someone who didn’t allow anyone get near him other than his family, in interviews and documentaries on his family’s company he was always seen to be at a distance from everyone. Raven wasn’t much for gossip, but all these were just rumors and online news articles she had heard from.

From the corner of her eye she saw Damian read over some notes, he looked so calm. Like he had no care in the world. Which was surprising given to the fact she caught some of her classmates taking pictures of him. Probably posting on their social media pages that the infamous Damian Wayne had graced their presence. Raven would lie to herself if she didn’t admit he was handsome. His olive skin looked almost that of a god of sun, his emerald eyes containing vivid green forests in them. Raven wasn’t staring she had seen countless pictures of him to study his features. The room went silent when Professor Charles, entered the classroom.

Professor Charles was in his late sixties, with a small rounded belly and fine gray hairs still trying to cover his baldness. He went straight to his desk, plugged in his flash drive into the classroom’s computer and turn on the projector. Someone who sat behind Raven, cleared their throat rather loudly making Professor Charles look up from the computer screen. He was about to address the student when his eyes caught something unusual. He removes his small round glasses, gave them a quick wipe, and placed them back on the brim of his nose.

“Ah. Mr. Wayne. Glad you could finally join us. I assume you will be with us till the remainder of the semester?”

“Yes. Professor.”

Raven tried so hard to pay attention she hadn’t been focused in her previous class but now this was ridiculous. Her mind kept screaming:

Ahh it THE Damian Wayne! Is he going to be OUR lab partner?

When did she revert back to a lovestruck teenager? He was just another classmate nothing more. Raven continue to try and focus on the lecture and take notes as the studious student she was. Her mind wondered again but thankfully this time it made her start doodling on the corner of notebook page. She was going to pay for it later, but Raven manage to write down some words she heard her professor say. Raven will have to go over one of her classmates notes after deciphering whatever her brain allowed her to retain. She allowed her hand to move to whatever direction it wanted, she wasn’t paying it no mind.  

Raven stopped when she heard countless chairs screech, she looked up to find her classmates collecting their belongings and heading out the door. Raven shot a quick glance towards Professor Charles and he was erasing something he wrote on the white board. Panicked kicked in and Raven quickly wrote whatever was left of the assignment. Maybe she could ask someone for clarity on the homework through the class’ online portal? Feeling very disgruntle with herself, Raven started slamming her things into her backpack.

“A robin.”

Raven looked up to find Damian standing from his seat staring at her notebook. She then looked down and saw she had doodled a bird, though she wasn’t sure with herself if it was a robin. “I guess.”

“Your favorite bird?” he continued.

Damian was trying to make small talk. Why with her? “Not really, but birds are cool.” Brain stop talking. Raven was making a fool of herself; she flipped her notebook closed and slammed it into her backpack. Out the corner of her eye, Raven could still notice Damian just standing there. Was he waiting for a longer explanation? “I was thinking of some… thing that happened over this weekend. Made me draw a bird.” Truth was she had met someone but he didn’t need to know that little detail.

“Sounds interesting. I’m Damian Wayne by the way.” I know. “I have been away due to personal matters and would like to ask if you could assist me? I fear I may be a little behind and could use a study partner for this class.”

“Well according to the seating arrangement, we’re supposed to be lab partners for the whole semester. I’m Raven.” She extended her hand out and Damian shook her hand.  

Damian smiled at her, “pleasure to meet you.”  

Raven could had sworn she seen that smile once before, but couldn’t place it in her mind where she had seen it.

--------------------------

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed this update, I wanted so much to happen but had to pace myself for the sake of this story. I am not sure when I will update this one next, trying to figure out a route that I like best. HOWEVER be on the look out this Friday for the first two chapters on my Dark Robin Au! I am excited to share with you all this fic, also because I want to multitask I will be sharing a chapter  for another longer Damirae fic sometime this weekend. 

Till next time!

~ S.Rose

[phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess]

I think, given how covid played out in the initial days of infection, and even deep into it, when we STILL had people like "it's a hoax" and "you can't make me stay home/wear a mask/limit my right to shop!" etc

that every future pandemic or zombie or alien apocalypse fic... now needs to follow this particular trend, until it becomes an accepted trope

The first case(s) come to light. The world splits into different factions

You have the people directly affected and their families, frightened and afraid for their lives/loved ones and not knowing what will happen. Because it is an unknown and there was no preparation.

You have the people who hunkered down like it was doomsday who had sort of the right idea? Maybe a little disappointed the enemy is microscopic and not somethng they can shoot.

You had the poor who knew that every step outside their homes was a threat to their lives and those of their families, but someone had to bring in money and food.

You had the middle-class who split between staying home to be safe and making random trips to the store for things, and those who refused to acknowledge any issues.

You had people from the last group who also decided to hoard as much food and items they could, knowing it could disadvantage everyone. They make "I can't believe they're making you work during a pandemic!" statements at the counter.

You have the rich, who hunker down in their mansions and cry on the internet about how hard things are. Their servants and stylists and bodyguards are sent out into the wild for things they want.

You have the wealthy brats, who think being able to travel to another country in pandemic/apocalypse is a bragging point and they try to get clout on social media.

You have the the leeches and the snake oil salesmen. They are the landlords who double rent and evict people to the streets when they cannot go to work, they are the people who charge desperate people for a 'cure' that is a sad lie. They are the vampires of hope and future happiness.

You have the false matyrs. The people who speak the words of the gods but line their pockets with the money of the desperate and faithful, who they claim they can save or heal or whatever it takes to build another mansion for this 'humble servant'. You have the followers, of different levels of the socioeconomic system, who all cling to them and pay their 'tithes' to seek favour with a god who apparently cares nothing for them unless they pay the subscription. They are prey to greed and cruelty.

You have the Deniers, who claim it is a hoax and cannot see how the 'sheeple' are so fooled. They proudly hold protests about wanting shops to open, claiming they are the oppressed here. They will likely die, or have blood on their hands.

You have little people in small streets and towns and suburbs all around the place who did pull together, they barter from home to home so no one has to go to the shops. You have the helpers, who put themselves on the line with every precaution possible, to try and help the vulnerable, the elderly, the home-bound.

You have the people in their fields who fight through every day to try and save as many as they can, cure who they can, and even just hold the hands of those who are passing so they do not leave alone. You have the medical professionals who are working hard, you have the scientists who are frantically searching for the how, the why, the what will fix it?

You have the cruel. Like the leeches and snake oil salesmen, but they have Power, they are the tools of martial law. The ones who think that the world going to hell is subtle permission to show greater brutality when there are not as many eyes on them. They are the arms of the Offices Above us all, and they are soulless.

You have the media, who report whatever truth they are allowed to by their channel's owners.

You have different countries who respond either with pro-protect the people, or using generic shows of appreciation for their health and general service workers who are hostages to the situation.

You have the aholes who think its fine to hoard vast amounts of sanitation/safety items and try to gouge people for the chance of not dying, what little money they do have. They are rarely disciplined for their crimes.

You have those trapped in places they cannot leave, knowing that one little contagion or careless action or mishandled item, and they all die. Like nursing homes or prisons or hospitals. You have those in poor mental health who are trapped without outside help, the disabled who need supplies but they're all gone, those in domestically abusive households who have no way to leave and the more stress the angrier They get.

You see the corporations leering down on the common folk like gods witholding a lifesaving boon until the appropriate amount of sacrifice is made to them. You want to spit in their faces for their greed, but you cannot risk upsetting them, or others may miss out.

And each stage is a rollercoaster. It starts, things peak, some countries react and are proactive, others do not. Cases rise rapidly, spiking, and again and again.

Then things stabilise, but no, a spike again.

And again. And again. There is no time, in this void of worrying if the world will end. And then you hear of the selfish actions of someone who wanted to breach quarantine or who left the doors open 'for some air' and let the zombies in...

And you cannot imagine how they can do this. But there are so many.

And people die.

And then it calms, it plateaus. Not great, but holding and the world gets hopeful. The vaccine is here, maybe. A weapon to shoot down the alien ships, maybe. The sun is rotting the zombies now.

But it's not over.

Some countries go back to 'normal'. The new normal at least.

Acting as if things are not still at crisis for other countries, as if people have stopped dying because it is no longer here.

But everyone is changed. Everyone is wary. Even the loudest dissenters still shuffle into self-isolation if there is another lockdown, another siren to announce potential worry is here again...

There are so many characters and viewpoints in this ongoing pandemic/apocalyptic event, so many facets of humaity that have been seen, positive and disgusting. Cruel and kind.

AS of yet, we don't know how it will end, as it will not until all countries are vaccinated, until no cases have been seen for more than 6 months. Then, that is the time people will breathe a little easier, and not before.

When that will happen, who can say.

But for the genre, I think we have proven beyond doubt that there will always be a boomer or a karen arrogantly slamming their hand on a bell for service, even with a hoarde of zombies bearing down on them, while minimum wage workers crouch behind the counter and hold one another in fear, begging the gods that the zombies bypass them in favour of the loud one.

And as the boomer/karen hits the ground, yelling for police, they will see the workers and point at them. Drawing attention to them. Killing them as good as if they'd pointed a weapon themselves.

With rage in their eyes, the employees can do nothing but glare back at the foolish person who has brought doom to them. They are shackled to the counter and cannot escape, and this entitled bastard has killed them...

Perhaps a hamfisted allegory, but, seeing a maskless someone approach during quarantine periods and not being able to just fucking glen 20 them in the eyeballs would be terrifying. Or when a customer sticks their head around the plastic screen??? Or starts yelling about their right to not wear a mask or use sanitiser or....