#over the counter in the showers on all fours on the air on the wall in the backseat of a car on gojo's grave -

[m-ilkiee]

LOUD AND CLEAR

honk shoo 😴💤

NSFW version on x

[holybibly]

The summer heat seems to be getting unbearable by the day. And there is nothing better than indulging in unholy thoughts during these times. 

And here are your unholy thoughts for the day: Your roommate San fucks you in the shower when the tension between you two gets too hot for you to handle.

San was a great roommate—you might even say perfect—if it weren't for one thing: he was so damn sexy. The boy just smouldered with hotness, and on top of that, you had a hard time dealing with his intensity and straightforwardness.

You never thought you'd share an apartment with someone like Choi San; it was like you two were from different universes; he was a famous fighter in the underground arena, and you worked in a fantasy flower shop. You rarely saw him without cuts and bruises and wearing anything more than an inappropriately tight tank top and sweatpants that hung so low on his hips that you could easily see the tattoo on his Apollo belt. San was quite the homeboy too, though; he loved to spend time with you, watching films or having dinner together, which was pure torture for you.

San had absolutely no filter; he could easily comment on how he liked your panties when your skirt was riding up too high or how your nipples were hard from the cold in the house. So, you often blushed in his presence, and as embarrassed as you were to admit it, your pussy was always unseemly wet for him. You were literally dripping.

Things had only gotten worse since he'd started letting you help him with his cuts and bruises from fights. He literally couldn't take his eyes off you, looking at you as if he wanted to eat you alive or fuck you right then and there. San was on the verge of grabbing you and fucking your brains out, and you knew he might, if the four broken beds he'd replaced were any indication.

But lately he hadn't brought any girls home, and something about his presence had changed. It felt like he was really hunting you down, circling you like a predator, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce.

He became rougher with you, harsher—you would even say possessive—as if you were his. The tension between the two of you was like the thick air before a storm. You could feel how stifling and electric San's presence in your life had become.

And if it was possible, he became even more shameless. Words, actions, touches—the level of sexuality and vulgarity increased day by day. It got to the point that one evening, while you were cooking dinner, he pressed himself against you from behind, all sweaty and dirty from another workout, wearing only sweatpants, and rubbed his erection against your buttocks.

His hands gripped the counter on either side of you so hard that his knuckles were white, and he breathed into your neck like a dog in heat—wet, hot, and hoarse as he thrust his hips into you. You were so shocked by what was happening that you didn't even know how to react; you just stood there and let him rub against you.

After that incident, you avoided him like the plague, and he didn't like that at all. You still remember the time you stayed late at work and came home after midnight to find San sitting in the middle of your living room in total darkness, staring at you with his feline, predatory gaze.

San had you cornered that night, pinning you between the wall and his body, giving you no chance to escape. He was so damn mean, scolding you until one moment his hand was around your throat and his forehead was pressed against yours. You literally gasped as you felt his other hand slide between your thighs and touch your pussy. It was over as quickly as it had begun, and the last thing you saw was San's smug grin as the door to his bedroom closed.

His games with you continued for weeks, literally driving you mad and depriving you of sleep. Hot images of him fucking you into the mattress or bending you over and fucking you so hard you couldn't walk for days filled your mind. And San stimulated it even more, as he seemed to have decided to give up t-shirts and vests altogether, walking around the house half naked all the time, and it seemed that his underwear had also been thrown out, as you could always see the outline of his semi-hard cock under the soft fabric of his jogging bottoms.

And maybe it would have stayed that way for a while if you hadn't left the bathroom door unlocked while you were taking a shower. You didn't think you'd see San until tomorrow morning; he's had another fight tonight, and as you knew, that usually lasted until dawn, so you didn't even think about locking the door.

The hot water scalded your body, thick steam filled the cramped shower cubicle, fogging the glass, and you were so lost in it all that you didn't even hear the front door close. Your hands slid over your body, smearing the fluffy, fragrant foam of your shower gel until your fingers were on your clit, slowly rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves.

You were so sexually frustrated by all of San's actions, and you really hadn't had sex for a while, so you just couldn't resist playing with yourself a little. If only you had noticed the dark figure behind the misty shower wall.

Just as you had inserted a finger into yourself, throwing your head back against the tiled wall and rolling your eyes in pleasure, the shower door swung open with a vengeance, revealing none other than Choi San. You didn't even have time to react because he was instantly beside you in the cramped, wet space of the shower with you. He hadn't even taken his clothes off, his crisp white t-shirt immediately clinging to his body, showing off every muscle of his perfect frame.

You gasped as his palm slapped the tile next to your head, his other hand tugging roughly at your arm, pulling your fingers out of your wet hole with a loud squelching sound. He slowly brought your slimy fingers to his mouth, staring into your eyes before he stuck out his tongue and licked up all your slime.

He moaned softly, his eyes rolling back at the taste of you, his tongue swirling around your fingers, carefully lapping up every drop of your juices.

"Mmm, you're sweet, just the way I like it." San whispered to you, letting go of your hand and grabbing your throat instead, pulling you into a hot, hungry kiss. He fucked your mouth with his tongue instead of kissing you and continued choking you. Your hands gripped his back, feeling all the tense muscles under his thin, wet t-shirt. You moaned into his lips as San emptied your mouth.

When he let you go, your knees buckled, but his arm around your waist held you in place.

"That's it, angel, I've got you, and I'm going to fuck you so good you'll never want to get off my cock again."

[rotthepoet]

Come Home (Dark!Mattheo Riddle x Reader)

Notes; DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. Dark!Matty has been plaguing my mind and I need an outlet omg. I lowkey rewrote some lore for this, so essentially the battle of Hogwarts takes place but Voldemort's influence still lives on through Mattheo, who basically runs the new Knights of Walpurgis(The slytherin boys). Everyone is evil, all good business. 

Warnings; again, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. Dark!Mattheo, Murder/death/gore, stalking, kidnapping, mattheo might highkey be ooc but its fine, dubcon(reader REALLY wants him but like.. morals?), oral(F! And M!), mention of fem masturbation, predator/prey dynamic, spitting, degradation, lowkey breeding kink?, piv, lowkey porn with plot, Stockholm syndrome if you squint, at least he kinda gets a redemption arc

This one goes out to my beautiful @nottswitch i hope dark!mattheo comes to life and fucks us both <3

Word count; 6.3k

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

The bitter breeze in the frigid air pricks through my thin shirt as the diner door swings open and shut again as a customer disappears into the icky black of our winter night. I stare out after him, a farewell unspoken on my lips as I cast my gaze towards an orange, flickering lamp post lining the parallel street, and I realize how truly cold it is inside the shabby eatery. 

As I tug the embarrassingly short, mandated skirt I'm forced to wear, I can only think of the comforting and safe walls of Hogwarts, my home only months ago, yearning for the soft crackle of a fireplace and the ambient chatter of portraits lining the walls. The muggles had nothing as interesting, nothing as familiar as the light of the silver moon passing through the large windows of the great hall. Nothing as comfortable as my own home back in England, with my mother and fathers smiling faces. Nothing as comfortable as the safe, unscarred arms of the once-kind boy I loved what feels like so long ago. 

Being on the lam for about a month now, I've been skipping towns and laying low where I can. It’s not often, but when I'm able to stay in a town for longer than a week, I take pitiful muggle jobs, my current being to take orders at a local diner, “famous for their milkshakes”, although fame must mean four regular visitors in this nowhere town. 

Jean, the gray-haired woman who owns the diner I work at, leans over the counter and points at the analog clock hanging on the wall. It reads almost 1:30, and it finally sets in how tired I am. She hums and looks me up and down, standing in the middle of the floor, standing stiff as a board while holding a broom. She clicks her tongue and shakes her head, a small smile gracing her aged face. 

“I’m sorry, I zoned out.” I apologize, leaning the non-flying broom against a nearby booth, and smooth out my wind-swept hair. 

Jean just shakes her head, “Go on and head home. You did good today.” she hums in approvement, tossing me my room key that was previously hanging on a hook in the kitchen. “Be careful out there, the papers said another storm is coming.” she warned, but a storm is the furthest thing from my mind as I push open the door. Silver light flashes across the street and my heart nearly stops beating, a pit forms in the bottom of my stomach. My eyes squint, finally adjusting to the lack of light, catch the face of a mannequin in the window of a shop. I let out a breath I don’t realize I’m holding and relax as I realize the moon had simply caught the silver details on the faux person. I turn on my heel and carry on down the dimly lit pavement towards my motel. 

It’s just as run down as everything else in this town, water stains stretching across the ceiling like swatches of muddy paint, and the hideous carpet crunches underneath my feet. It isn’t much. It is nothing, in fact, but a roof over my head and sanctuary from the ruthless dangers outside. 

I drop each article of clothing from my body onto the yellowing tile of the bathroom floor, stepping into the freezing cold water of the shower. I shudder, goosebumps racking through my body as I allow the water to wash away the grease and sweat, I collected today. I run a baby blue loofa over my skin, suds washing away with the now lukewarm stream. I close my eyes, and take a deep breath, and the smell of metallic rust from the old pipes fills my nostrils. 

Blood. So much blood. It covers my hands, and my knees, my face, and my clothes. I practically wade through a pool of it, the dark hallways of that god awful manor stretch on infinitely, and the smell of rot and decay suffocates my senses. My heart nearly beats out of my chest as his strong arms wrap around me as I collapse to the floor, and I'm hyper aware of the many motionless bodies lying at my feet. His lips brush against my neck, rough and wet, and I wonder if they have blood on them too. I wouldn’t put it past him. Malicious is not a word I thought I would ever use to describe my lover, the man I thought I was going to marry one day, but like many other things before, he proved me wrong. His warm hands caress the soft fat of my thighs, slipping underneath the loose fabric of my shorts, and he leans into my ear. “They’re all gone now… Let’s go take a shower.” 

I release a shaky breath and turn off the water, letting it drip from my head and down my face, mingling with salty tears. Wiping my face with my wet palms, which did nothing in retrospect, I sigh. I can’t go back there; I can never go back there. It isn’t safe anymore. He isn’t safe anymore. Come on, I can’t keep feeling bad for myself. This is ridiculous, and as I step out of the shower and dress myself, I feel a newfound sense of determination. Sleep, for the first time in months, finds me easily with her warm embrace. 

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

As most things in my life do, my high spirits came to an abrupt end. Smoke fills my lungs, but there's a strange taste to it. It’s not a fire, no, it was tobacco. A smell I was all too familiar with. I sat up in bed, and my eyes met the inky black eyes of his silver, skull mask. My breath catches in my throat, only for me to cough out the smoke from his cigarette.

He couldn’t have found me this easily. It’s a bad dream, it has to be. Merlin forgive me, God save me, tell me this is just a dream! The mask on his face shifts a little, clearly amused at my coughing fit. “Have anything to say?”

Say anything. Stop gaping at him like a fish, you are a powerful witch, almost top of your class in DADA. Almost. Second place, notably. Right behind him.

Mattheo Riddle.

A sob racks through my body, tears falling down my cheeks before I even realize, and I’m paralyzed in place. Half of me wants to crawl into his arms, to beg for forgiveness, to beg for him to take me home. Home to that wretched, dark house, with blood seeped into the wood. With blood-stained grout on the kitchen tile. With blood-stained walls. So, so much blood. The other half of me screams at me to run. To run, to run, run, run, RUN! For god's sake, run! 

I push myself out of bed, fast enough to catch Mattheo by surprise. He flicks his cigarette to the side, letting it roll along the carpet floor. My hand reaches for my wand resting on a table beside the door as I duck out of his reaching arms, and I stumble to my feet as he lunges after me. I throw open the door, pulling it shut in his face as he screams for me.

“You bitch! Come back here!” he screams through the wood, struggling with the now sweat-slick doorknob. 

The door splinters open with the blast of, “Bombarda!”, but I scramble down the wet, cold streets, my bare feet scratch against the rough pavement as I sprint, thankful that it had been just warm enough to not freeze. I duck down another street, pulling out my wand to apparate elsewhere. I rack my brain for a safe location. Hogwarts? I might be able to, but I don’t want to risk splinching. My job? It might separate me long enough to get my shit together. 

Air is knocked out of me as a heavy body slams into mine, knocking my wand out of my hand. A heavy, black boot pins my wrist to the ground, and a silver mask that was not Riddle’s leans over me. He laughs under the mask, but I can’t tell which of his mentally fucked goons had caught me. I reach for my wand, but another set of boots kicks it out of my reach. Leather gloved hands grab my hair and lift me up to face the group now circling me. 

“She looks pitiful, really. Like an angry kitten.” An Italian accent draws next to my ear with a mocking snicker, and I thrash to kick Theodore Nott anywhere I can, luckily landing a solid blow to his shin. He curses in pain, and hisses something inaudible underneath his mask as he throws me back to the ground. The rough concrete scratches against my exposed skin, drawing blood from the soft flesh. I yelp in pain, landing at the feet of someone else. A black, steel-toed boot presses against my cheek, pushing my head to the side as I watch another figure ominously approach. I would recognize my Mattheo’s casual amble anywhere, and he peered down at my stray wand laying at his feet.

I don’t even have time to protest as he steps his boot onto the wood, sparks fizzing out around the magic object as it snaps under his weight. A choked sob escapes me as he approaches, my eyes wide with horror and betrayal.

“Enough of this, love. It’s time to come home,” He drawls, kneeling down to my level and lifting my chin to meet his empty gaze. “Be a good girl and come back to me, I’m tired of this little game of yours.”

“Fuck. You.” I spat on the silver of his skull-like mask, noting the wild look in my own eyes as the saliva slips down its reflective surface.

Mattheo groaned and tugged off his mask, and my breath caught in my throat. What the hell is wrong with me? I can’t think this awful man who betrayed me, threatened me, hunted me down, can still be attractive. Then again, he was still the man I had loved–part of me still does love– all those years ago. The handsome face I fell asleep looking at, the doe eyes I found comfort in. He looked roguish now, his brown curls were longer than the last time I had seen him, and he had a new scar running across his cheek from our last encounter. My mouth goes dry as he leans into my face, his breath hot against my lips. 

“I’ve missed you, love,” He practically purred, pressing his dry lips against my trembling ones. I whine against him, wriggling my body underneath the heavy weight of whoever was holding me. 

Mattheo groaned, gripping my chin harder, “You used to be so obedient, pet, but don’t worry. I’ll fix you.” he mumbled, kissing my forehead as I felt his wand pressed to my temple. He mumbled an incantation against my skin, and I felt my body go limp before my eyes closed themselves, and sleep consumed me. 

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

It was cold, damp, and reeked of copper and mold. My body laid on the floor, sore and unresponsive to my will to move. As my senses came back to me, I tried climbing to my feet, but a chain tugged my ankle back to the floor. I tumbled to the stone floor, scraping my hands against its rough surface. I whimper in pain, and only as I go to wipe my hands on my pants do I realize I’m completely nude. Horror racks through my body as I take in my surrounding and own appearance. I know I'm back in that old house, that old, disgusting, horrible house of horrors, and tears fall from my stinging eyes again.

I don’t know how long I laid on that floor, shaking from the cold as I sob into the air, screaming and cursing with conviction, damning Riddle’s name to an eternity in hell. I scream, and wail, and cry until I tire myself out, my voice breaking into nothing but a hushed plea for freedom. 

I fight sleep, sitting myself against a wall near my chain, breathing deep into my burning lungs. My eyes drift closed, but I will them open as the loud creak of a door alerts me. It’s only then that I notice a stairwell, casted in a white light with the newly opened door, and my heart nervously skips a beat as a tall shadow approaches the stairwell. The stairs creak under his weight as he descends to what I can only infer is a basement, and I stare up at his form.

Mattheo wasn’t nearly as scary like this, dressed in black slacks and a loose white shirt. Had he not been so threatening, and the reason I was chained to the basement floor, I would have swooned over the top buttons being undone. Perhaps I still do get butterflies in my stomach, but that may just be nausea. 

He looks down at me with an expression I can only describe as mock sympathy, clicking his tongue softly. “Down here for less than three hours and you’ve already managed to hurt yourself,” he scolded me, shaking his head in disappointment, “My clumsy girl, what am I going to do with you?” 

The smile he cracked made me want to claw his eyes out, or kiss him, and I worry that he may have slipped me a love potion. My ears ring, and my head suddenly aches with a mild pain, and Mattheo smirks.

“Like the shirt, do you?” He teased, kneeling down to my level. I curse under my breath, face heating up with anger (Or embarrassment, I can’t really tell), of course I forget he’s a legilimens. “Drop the act darling, I know you’re going to crack eventually. Save us both the trouble so I can finally bring you back to bed.” His warm hand tenderly caressed my cold cheek, and I fought the urge to lean into the comforting touch. “I hate seeing you down here like this, but you need to remember your place.”

My eyes snap back to his, and I whip my head to the side to bite his hand. He scowls and rips his hand away, reeling it back and back-handing me across the face. It knocks my breath out of my chest, and the rings on his fingers cut my cheek. Metallic blood drips to the floor. 

“Fine. Stay down here and bleed out for all I care.” He snaps, rubbing his sore hand as he turns on his heel and storms up the stairs. The door slams loudly behind him, and I’m engulfed in sudden darkness.

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

My cheek and hands had long stopped bleeding the next time he came back, staining my skin red with its slick. My head lifts as the door opens again, and light makes my eyes dilate painfully. Mattheo trudges down the stairs, his head hanging low, and a small white box hanging from his hand. He approaches me and kneels at my level. I meet his gaze, glaring into his soft eyes.

“Darling, you know I didn’t mean to hit you, right?” He mumbled, holding my chin to twist my cheek towards him, his rough actions bringing tears to my eyes. “I was just so worked up, and you were pushing too many buttons, you’ll forgive me, right?” He asks hopefully, but I don’t answer him.

He sighs in defeat, opening the little box and retrieving a cloth and bottle full of a clear liquid. My eyes go wide, and I scramble backwards as far as the chain allows me to. “No, No, Mattheo please don’t-” I plead, heart racing as he looks at me with confusion.

A smile breaks across his face, “Oh darling, no, no, it’s just alcohol.” he laughs a bit, a deep sound that makes pleasant shivers run down my spine and too an embarrassing heat between my legs. What the fuck is wrong with me? He approaches me again, dousing the cloth with the solution before taking my hands. He shushes my soft whines as he presses it to my scraped palms, which makes me hiss at the burning sensation. “Good girl, there we go. That’s much better, isn’t it?” he asks as he takes a roll of gauze from the box and wraps each of my hands. He lifts my palms to his lips, pressing a storm of soft pecks and kisses to the gauze and skin. My face heats up at the gesture, and I force myself to look away. He was always so chivalrous for a monster, though it hurt to call him that even after everything.

He presses the cloth to my cheek next, his thumb tracing calming circles into the opposite cheek. “Such a pretty girl, my pretty girl.” He whispered, placing a bandage over my skin. Just like my palms, he kisses my cheek, though much slower and intimate this time. “I don’t want to hurt you, you know?” he promised, leaning over my trembling body. He looked down at me, eyes drifting past my collarbone, and he whistled softly. “A sight for sore eyes… and It’s all mine.” He smirked, leaning down as he supported his weight on his forearms. His chapped lips press suspiciously soft kisses to my neck. A loud thud coming from upstairs makes Mattheo groan and pull away. He looks down at me, wide eyed beneath him, “I’ll be right back, love, don’t worry your pretty little head.” He hummed, patting my cheek as he stood up. 

He casts me one last yearning glance before he shuts the door again, much softer this time. I lean back against the stone, releasing a breath I didn’t know I was holding, and try to ignore the wetness between my thighs as I drift off to sleep.

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

I’m startled awake as the basement door slams shut, and heavy footsteps descend to my prison. Mattheo storms into view, and before I can even get a word out, he grabs me by the hair and pulls me up to my knees. He sneers down at me, and my head is spinning from the sudden switch up.

“Incompetent assholes. Have to do everything myself around here,” He mumbled, not really speaking to me rather than himself. He doesn’t loosen his grip on my hair as his other hand tugs apart the button of his slacks. 

My eyes go wide with shock, and he pulls my hair, forcing my chin up to look at him. “Open your mouth,” He demands, his voice lacking his previous warmth, and I'm reminded that this is not my Matty. My lip quivers and I shake my head slightly. Mattheo pulls his half-hard cock from the confines of his black briefs and pulls me by the hair to his tip. “I don’t have time for this attitude, I said open your mouth.”

I don’t even have a moment to react before his leaking tip is pressed against my mouth. He pushes his way past, groaning as my wet lips engulf his mushroomed tip. He pulls on my hair again, forcing himself further into my warm hole. “There you go, not so hard, was it? Now suck.” He orders in a tone I’ve never heard him use in bed before, and as he bucks his hips towards my face, I whine in protest while the ache returns to my lower stomach. My jaw relaxes on its own, familiar with the girth of his hung cock. An almost inaudible whine slips through my throat, and he groans at the tightness. One more tug lets me know his patience is running thin, and I reach my bandaged hand up to stroke the rest of him while I focus on his tip.

Mattheo bites back a moan, his hips stuttering as I descend further down onto his length. His leaky tip presses against the back of my throat, and he holds my head in place while he rocks his hips further into me. My nose presses against his groin as he slips down the back of my throat, and his grip moves from my hair to my throat, feeling my neck bulge with every movement. Saliva drips past him and down my chin, dribbling to the floor in thick droplets. He shudders as my throat tightens around him, nearly swallowing the head. 

“Yeah, yeah… Fuck baby. Keep going for me, almost there,” He mumbles, rocking his hips faster than before. I whine around him, my own hand slipping down to the ache at my core. My fingers gingerly brush against my clit, and the soft moan I try to let out makes Mattheo’s head roll back. Hot spurts of his seed shoot down my throat and my glossy eyes go wide at the feeling.

“Swallow,” Is all he says, and obediently, I do. He pulls my head off of him, his cum mixing with the drool in my mouth when it drips down my chin. He grips my face between his index finger and thumb, collecting the mess with a swipe of his finger and pushing it back into my sore mouth. “All of it.” 

When I satisfied him, he pushed me back to the ground, and I yelped in pain as I collided against the stone surface. “When I come down here, I want you on your knees waiting for my dick. Understand?”

I nod weakly, and he smirks down at me. “Good girl. Keep it up and maybe I’ll bring you back upstairs.” He says, before pulling back up his pants and running a hand through his hair. 

When he leaves again, I’m left with an unbearable, wet mess.

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

With nothing else to do in my makeshift prison, I sleep a lot. And when I wake up, I force myself to sleep again. I sleep God knows how long before the door opens again, and Mattheo trudges down the stairs. I scramble to my knees, honestly fearing what might happen if I disobey him, and when Mattheo catches sight of me, he smiles. 

“There’s my pretty girl.” He hums, holding a platter with a bowl of something steaming, a slice of some sort of bread, and a bottle of water. My stomach growls as its divine aroma fills my senses, and I can’t remember the last time I’ve eaten. 

Mattheo sits down in front of me and puts the tray between up. He rests his elbow on his knee and leans into his palm. “Eat,” he orders me, gesturing to the platter with the wave of his free hand. “Or would you prefer I feed you myself?” He asks with a smirk, watching how I shift from my knees to rest on my hip. I grab the water bottle first, chugging half of it in one go, before I subconsciously offer him a sip. What’s mine is his. Was his. Was. I look up at him, taking the water and sipping from it. I tore my gaze away before he noticed.

“I don’t want to stay in the basement anymore,” I mumble, dipping the bread into the soup before taking a bite, shivering at its deliciousness. Mattheo sighed and shook his head. “You know I can’t do that yet. You ran away, darling. I can’t trust you won’t do that again,” He explained, reaching his hand across the way to rub my knee soothingly. I sigh and push the tray away, my appetite gone. Mattheo frowned and moved the tray away, leaning over me. “Princess, c’mon, don’t be this way.” he hummed, pushing me onto my back. My heart rate quickened, and he definitely noticed. “But you’re right. I’ve been neglecting you… That’s why you ran away right? My poor girl was lonely and scared.” he hummed, pressing his lips to my collar bone. “Not anymore. My attention is solely on you, I promise.” 

My head rolled back a little, lolling onto the floor as he trailed his kisses down my sternum, stopping at my breasts to gently knead them. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach as I reached for his hair, tugging gently on his loose curls. He groaned in response, his lips finding my perked nipple and taking it into his warm mouth. His other hand slipped down my soft stomach, dipping between my thighs. Out of reflex, I squeezed them together, and Mattheo parted from my tit. He sat back on his haunches, using his strong, scarred hands to pull apart my thighs and admire my glistening, needy cunt.

“It’s been all about me, huh? Need to show my girls some love.” He mumbled, before dipping his head down. His warm breath fanned across my puffy lips, and I shivered at the breeze. He didn’t waste a second more, drawing a long, needy moan from my lips as he licked a long strip from my hole to my clit. My hands tangle into his hair again, and my mouth falls open with pleasure. “Fuck, Matty–” the nickname fell from my lips without a second thought, and he practically purrs against me. His hands grip my thighs, pulling them over his shoulders as he dives nose deep into my pussy. My back arches off the floor as a string of curses flies from my lips. I feel his wet appendage push against my hole, and I clench at the feeling as his nose brushes against my sensitive bud. I tug on his hair again, “Fuck, Fuck, Fuck!” I mewl, my edge fast approaching as Mattheo swirls his tongue over my clit. He sloppily makes out with my lower lips, pulling me closer to the edge with each passing second, and I’m in near tears when there's a loud crash up above us. 

Mattheo practically roars in anger, pulling his soaked face away from my aching cunt, the knot in my stomach loosening at the sudden separation. I whine and sit up, trying to pull him back down, but he stops me with a firm hold on my wrist. “Stay here and don’t make a sound.” he ordered, “I need to take care of this, and I promise as soon as I’m done, I’ll come right back.”

Anger flashes through me, and I bite back my cries. “Don’t you dare leave me like this, Riddle.” I snap, and he gives me a warning look that makes goosebumps prick at my skin. He leans in, pressing a wet kiss to my lips, and I can feel him shiver as I lick my own arousal from his lips. “I’ll be right back, princess. Be good for me, and we can talk about a reward.”

And with that, he left yet again.

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

I was starting to get sick of his mind games, switching up his attitude, finally giving me relief before ripping it away from me. Fuck. What am I saying? I watched him murder dozens of people; I watched lives being taken right in front of me. I shiver at the memory and try to focus on anything else before it becomes too much to bear. 

I hate how he makes me feel. Sometimes he’s my Mattheo, and sometimes he’s nothing but a parasite attached to a face I can’t help but love. My back hits a wall, and I can’t count how long he’s been gone. I miss his warm, familiar touch, but anything was better than the cold, dark basement. I close my eyes, my lip trembling as I reach my hand down, fingers hesitantly spreading my folds. Cold air hit my wet lips, and I gasp at the feeling. I brush my fingertips against my hole, whining softly at the pleasure that coursed through my body. Maybe I'm sick in the head, maybe I hit my head too hard one day on the run and never recovered. Maybe I never really hated Mattheo. 

What is wrong with me?

I don’t move when the door opens again. I glare at him, anger coursing through my veins. This was not ‘right back’. As Mattheo’s black boot lands on the stone floor, my mouth goes dry. He’s weaning that stupid mask again, and that stupid costume, tilting his head stupidly at me. He approaches me in a way that makes my heart race in fear, like I'm nothing but cowardly prey between the jaws of a large wolf. 

He knees down, retrieving his hand from his pocket. Wordlessly, he unlocks the chain around my ankle, and he looks up at me. With another wave of his wand, I’m dressed in a loose tank top and shorts. It’s not much at all, but it’s better than naked. A rush of emotions rushes through my chest, and I almost gratefully throw my arms around Mattheo, but he stops me. 

“Go. Run,” He orders, stepping aside. I stare up at him in confusion, mounted to my spot on the ground. “I said run, little pet, like you want to.” He pulls me from the ground, pressing my cold body up against his comforting warmth. “Run, and if I catch you,” he leaned down into my ear, and through the skull mouth of his mask I could feel his breath fanning across my ear. “Well, I think you know what’s going to happen.”

I still don’t move, wondering if he would be less harsh if I stayed with him, but he only laughed. “Such a good girl, don’t worry,” he pulled his mask up just enough to expose his pearly white teeth. They sunk into the soft flesh just beneath my ear, “I’ll always find you. Go, now.”

I don’t know what possessed me, but my feet started moving on their own. I raced up the stairs of the basement and pushed past the door. The house was just as I remembered, dark with walls that were too tall, black cloths hung over the complaining portraits. I was disoriented in the dark, but my feet carried me through the house until I found the overtly large entrance. I pushed open the doors and ran out into the cold, snowy night. 

Frost nipped at each of my limps, and my lungs found it harder to breathe the frigid air. I ran anyway, out towards the woods surrounding the manor. I cast a glance over my shoulder, finding Mattheo staring back at me through the blacked-out eyes of his mask. I ducked into the tree line, just as he started his casual stroll towards me. Cocky bastard. 

I run for as long as I can before my lungs give out. I leaned against a tree, walking slowly into a clearing. I take a deep breath, pulling my arms behind my head to breathe deeper. Just as I find a moment of peace, a branch snaps behind me. I whip my head around, my heart racing as Mattheo approaches me. He doesn’t run, only walks towards me with his hands stuffed into his pockets. He ditched that awful mask, and I can see the smirk pulling at the edge of his lips. I stumble backwards, falling into the fresh snow. He continues his pace, unbothered by my racing heart as I scramble away from him and finally back to my feet. I don’t get one leg in front of the other before strong arms are wrapped around my waist, slipping under the loose fabric of my shirt.

“I win,” He mumbles in my ear, voice dark and raspy. It sends a chill down my spine that pools in my underwear. 

Mattheo throws me over his shoulder, ignoring my flailing lips as he walks back to the manor. “Didn’t even get a mile, love. Lost your talent it seems, or maybe you knew you’d miss me too much.” he teased, running his warm hands up my thigh, pressing a kiss to my exposed skin. 

It isn’t long before we’re back at the manor, and I thank every god I'm in good ties with when he walks past the basement. He takes me to his room instead, our room, the room where I've fallen apart under his touch more times than I can count. 

I breathe in his familiar scent as he deposits me on the bed, and I roll over to bury my burning face in the pillows. Mattheo chuckles at me and grabs my hips, pulling me back against him as he grinds his hardening bulge against the plushness of my ass. 

“You’ve been extra obedient, haven’t you?” he asked, his voice dripping with a tone I could quite place. Lust? Possession? Love? It all blurred together as he rutted his hips against me. “Good girls deserve a reward, don’t they?” he asked, before hooking his fingers at the hem of my shorts. He pulled them down to expose my glistening cunt. He spread me out along his fingers, admiring the way my pussy pulsed around nothing. He leaned in, pressing a possessive kiss to my clit, holding my hips as I try to buck away from him. 

His warm fingers trace along my thighs, sleeping between my legs and collecting the arousal that pooled there. I release a shaky breath into the pillow as his finger circles my clit, and I arch my back to present myself further. He hums in appreciation, trailing his finger further up to my dripping hole, slowly pushing his middle finger inside of me. I gasp at the intrusion, not being able to remember the last time something so long had been inside of me. I keen under his touch, gripping the sheets for stability as he slowly pumps his finger in and out of me. A moan escapes me as he curls his finger, and his thumb brushes against my needy pearl again. Mattheo adds a second finger, spreading out my tight, gummy walls. I crumble under his touch, mouth falling open and eyes going half lidded as he pulls his fingers from me. 

I hear him dropping his pants, and the bed dips behind me yet again as he leans his body completely over mine. His arm wraps around my neck, pressing me close to his chest while his breath fans across my face. The tip of his cock presses against me, and I whine at the sensation, pushing my hips back against him.

“Needy girl, thought you didn’t need me anymore.” He teased, pushing just the bulbous tip into my hole. It’s enough to make the knot in my stomach tighten, and I shake my head. “Need you, Matty, Need you so bad.” I admit, face flushed with embarrassment as he smirks. “Gonna run away again?”

He doesn’t let me get an answer out before he’s pressing further inside of me, the stretch burning pleasantly while my eyes roll back. His arm around my throat tightens, “I asked you a question, darling.” He teased, licking away the stray tear that fell from my eyes. I gasp as his cock brushes against a gummy bundle of nerves, and my head drops to the pillows. He tugs me back against him, pushing even further until he balls slapped against me. “No! No, never gonna leave again,” I promised, involuntary whines spilling from my throat. 

Mattheo pulls his hips back before drilling them back into me, “Good girl,” He grins as he sets a punishing pace, watching my face contort into pleasure underneath him. “Who owns you?” he asks, and I push back against his hips desperately. “You! You do, God, you do!” I moan, feeling my head go light from the lack of airflow. 

“God isn’t here, Love, It’s just me now.”

He drills into my pulsating hole, my back arching at his every thrust as my brain goes mushy from the pleasure. The arm around my throat pulls away, slipping down my stomach to find my pearl. His fingers are just as fast as his pace, and I can’t fight back the whorish moans in my throat. His lips attach to my shoulder, biting a possessive mark into my skin as he fucks me good, better than he ever had before. 

Tears fall from my eyes, and my hand grips his desperately as I’m worked to my edge. “Matty, Matty please…” I trail off into a string of moans, and Mattheo adjusts himself behind me. He bucks his hips into me once more, and I fall apart all over him. My pussy flutters around his cock, and he rides out my orgasm with a few last thrusts of his hips, before he spills his hot seed deep into my womb. Mattheo collapses on top of me, still deep inside as he pins my body to the bed. He hums into my neck, burying himself in my skin. 

“That’s my good girl. Let’s go take a shower.”

[presleyluvschris]

Join The Dream

alive!luke patterson x girlbestfriend!reader

a/n: not requested, back after 4 months!

desc luke didnt know you could sing after years of being your best friend

wc - 1.8k

warnings slight cursing, fluff, grammar, not proof read

the door krept open as you got home from school, tossing your grey messy laced converse off of your ankles and sludging your backpack off one of your shoulders and onto the floor.

it was 4:09 pm, you had nothing to do besides an english paper. but that could be done later.

you walk across the kitchen to sit on top of the counter, your nike women's dry-fit socks dangling as you thought about something, anything to do.

reggie and alex were out making flyers for their upcoming band gig on friday, while your best friend luke was probably somewhere in your guest house messing with your dads old music equipment and speakers you had gotten out of some dusty boxes for him a few weeks ago.

what was there to do?

you make a raspberry with your lips.

laundry...done. homework..ish, done. rooms clean...dad didn't get home until 10...

you stare at your mom's piano in the crevice of a large indent in a wall as you hear the air conditioner buzz softly.

the house was dead silent. no one was home.

for some reason, your hands begin to shake and your throat closes up staring at the white keys and grand black figure just sitting feet away, almost feeling like an old friend waiting for you to come back to it again.

after years.

this was the longest you had ever beared to look at it before.

the blank truth was you had completely disregarded the thought of ever playing any musical instrument ever again after your mom had died of cancer four years ago.

especially the piano. especially singing.

it was all the things you and your mom had cherished with each other. everytime you tried to even look at it. all that could replay in the back of your mind was your five-year-old self playing and singing along to "i love you baby", with your mother and you giggling with her.

what was so wrong about it? that you couldn't have that same feeling anymore? you didn't know.

it just hurt. all of it did.

over the years you had become slightly jealous of luke, reggie, and alex for being able to enjoy music like it was a second nature. maybe thats because it used to be yours, too, and your love for music had been taken away. and you felt like you could never get it back.

luke never knew about your passion for music. neither did alex, or reggie. sure, luke had watched you play with your mom as a kid but he never knew that you had the same thriving passion of music that made you feel alive like he did also.

everytime he tried to get you to sing along to one of the songs he had wrote with reggie you just shrugged it off, letting them sing.

because when your mom died, music died too.

in fact, luke had never heard you sing before. not even in the car, the shower, nothing.

but would this be what your mother had wanted? never even singing on the radio just because of memories?

if you were honest, you hadn't been the same person when you gave up music. If you were even more honest, you felt a hole without it.

you decided to get off the counter and slowly creep over to just....look.

not play, of course, no.

just...looking.

just...sitting down at your mom's favorite stool..

just..looking at the keys..

just..feeling them..

breathing...

you flinch when you accidentally hit a note with your finger.

your heart immediately starts pumping and you feel your stomach sink.

technically, you did just...play.

so, technically, accidentally, you could just play another...

on purpose, this time, you press a note, taking in the sound of a piano again like it was something completely new.

again, maybe? just once.

you start to play a few chords, trying to dig back in your brain four years.

you remember of a song called "forever", written by you. when you were 14. a month before your mom passed.

after playing the chords a few times, it comes flooding back to you like a sudden tidal wave.

you start playing them in order, now, and start singing your lyrics.

tears fall down your cheeks and onto the keys as you play the whole song through, singing the chorus, the verse..

you lean back slightly, holding your hands to your chest with a sniffle.

you wipe your eyes, but then jump at the sudden touch of a hand on your shoulder.

you whip your head around, quickly backing away from the stool.

"what the hell!" you gasp, but then realize who it was.

it was luke standing in front of you, now. his expression completely shocked.

it was silent, the only sounds was you trying to catch your breath.

his mouth was practically on the floor.

"y/n l/n."

you swallow, "yeah."

"what the fu-"

you cut him off, and play dumb, "what? i was just-"

you turn your head slightly to look at the piano behind you and then back to him.

"i was just like, messing around, i dunno, it was like- something i came up with..like..uhm..."

"i-i have so many questions." he scoffs, "first, okay? why in the honey bunches of fuck did you never tell me you could...you could..sing like that?"

you take a breath to answer, but he keeps going.

"two." he puts his hands to the back of his head, "since when could you play the piano? what song was that? was it yours? your moms? is this why you've never sang before? why-"

"luke, it-its complicated. i-" you take a breath out and shake your head, "i wrote it when i was 14. secretly. kind of before my mom died."

"why didn't you tell me you could write music?" he almost sounds offended.

"i dont know-- at the time you hadn't even started your band with reggie and alex yet, and that was like..your thing, and i just couldn't handle doing music again!" tears filled the bottom of your eyes as you tried to explain.

he steps towards you, wrapping his strong arms around you, caressing the back of your head as he holds it so his chest, stroking it with his thumb gently.

"shhh, sh. you don't have to explain anymore." his voice is gentle and warm. "i get it. but, music isn't something i own, okay? i wish you would have told me earlier, and i dont know how i didnt notice this before."

a sob accidentally escapes into his chest, and luke feels his heart slowly sink into the floor. he was a tough guy, but he would always let his guard down for you.

he rubs your back in comforting circles, "its okay, yeah? this is a good thing. its a great thing."

he tucks your hair behind your ear, looking down at you as you look up at him with swollen eyes and a slightly runny nose, luke speaking to you in a low and comforting voice. "you are so beyond talented. You know what im thinking?"

you shake your head softly, with a small sniffle.

"you need to be our singer for the band." he looks at you and titls his head like he already knows what you're going to say. "n' before you say no, think about it. you could do it in honor of your mom? y/n, look at you. you have crazy chemistry with a song you haven't even tried playing in years. you could play your keyboard? its waiting for you in the guest house. It would be practically wasting this amazing gift you have. and i cant let you do that. you know it, too."

"luke-" you almost whimper from the thought of playing music...all of the time. not just when you had sudden courage, like..all the time.

"please." he begs, "you dont have to decide or anything right now...just..think about it?" he looks down at you with those same eyes. "for me?" he bites his lower lip with a small smile.

"fine." you barely say. he almost jumps from excitement and hisses in victory before putting his hands on your shoulders and looks at you in the eyes. "you wont regret it."

"luke, what if-" you stop. "what if i fail? like, im not as good as i used to be? i havent even tried writing songs again-"

"from what i heard today? the like, one minute of you just...singing, and playing, was-- like, crazy good and thats more than what regs and alex and i could ever even dream of." he smiles, his dimples peaking out like a deer in headlights, "it would be totally awesome if you could join our band. Like an honor."

as you look at him speak you bite your lips nervously, and let out a shaky "okay."

he towers over you, taking a step closer and looking in both of your eyes, you could feel his warm breath dripping down your neck.

there was a silence as you look into both of his eyes back, smiling back slightly

"there's that smile."

he leans in slightly, you breathing out, and then looking down as your tone becomes quieter.

"we shouldn't do this." you whisper.

he makes you look at him by putting his finger under your chin.

"we definitely shouldn't do this." he breathes, trying not to smile.

"definitely." you say, him matching your expression.

"definitely." his breath catches in the air.

your lips meet his as he gently backs you into a wall, picking your legs up and holding them with his palms up like a feather.

you feel his warm lips lock against yours over and over.

"y/n," he takes a breath out, finally pulling away making a small click sound from your lips seperating.

"yeah?" you gasp for air.

"i love you." he chokes on his words, "i know its soon. i know. you dont have to say it back." he swallows. "i just thought you should know. n' like - its totally cool if-"

"i love you too, luke."

his eyes meet yours again, this time his eyebrows slightly furrowed, "for real?" a smile quickly creeps up on his face.

you gently nod your head as he kisses your lips again once more.

"i-i dont know its like- when i saw you playing, and- it was just-" he pauses, laughing and shaking his head.

"you're so talented. so real. like, down to it, real."

he looks at you with his soft eyes, kissing your forehead.

"your hole's filled now, y/n."

your eyes widen in surpise, "how did you--"

he rolls his eyes and tuts, "cm'on, seriously? i know you better than you know you."

a little smile appears on your face. it really was him all along. he knew after you played again you got the spark in your eyes back that you had when you met him and you were now the same girl he fell in love with all over again since he was ten.

he runs his thumb over your jaw. "that spark, right here?" he puts his hand off your chin and presses a fist gently to your rib. "right there."

"you're back."

you giggle softly, "im back."

divider creds to @benkeibear my nav ★

[clockwayswrites]

Cozytober Days 8 & 9: Baking gone wrong & The slight smell of smoke in the air.

masterpost

Sometimes when Jason was feeling a little melancholy and a little soft, he’d talk about when he was a little kid, back before he had become a Wayne. It was usually just a quick thing, some memory about his mother that Jason could tell in a sentence or two. One time it had been about how they would sometimes, when they had enough to spare and she was off the drugs, they stop by the little corner store. It was owned by an old Cuban couple. There were these odd cone shaped egg sponges drenched in a spiced sugar syrup and they would buy one and split it. By the time they got home their fingers would be sticky with the syrup.

It had taken a lot of researching, but Danny had fond what he thought had to be the dessert (called capuchinos of all things) and the easier shaped cabezotes that he hoped to cook. He’d researched and watched videos and it was only four ingredients, if he didn’t count the syrup, so he thought he had a shot.

He bought twice as many eggs as he needed, just in case.

Luckily Jason’s kitchen had all the things that Danny needed. He set them out on the counter like he was prepping for a chemistry experiment. Baking was just chemistry, he’d been reminding himself. It wasn’t like cooking. Baking was a science. He could manage science. He used to manage science a lot.

Of course, science also killed him.

Danny tried not to dwell on the past as he started to work. Tongue peaking out he cracked each egg over a tuperware first, letting the whites drip between his fingers as he gently cradled the yolk to move to the final bowl. Honestly it felt a little like ecto. He’d read that the whites could be saved to make meringue, but Danny though he’s leave that up to Jason. It did seem a waste though once there were nine discarded whites so he put them covered in the fridge.

One more for the bowl, beat in a little sugar, carefully fold in a little corn starch, and a lot of doubt this would work even though he had followed the recipe. He had just finished piping out the mixture into the cupcake tray when he heard Jason coming up the stairs by the ding of an alert. He shoved the tray in the oven and everything else to the side or into the sink. He leaned against the counter, trying to look casual.

“Danny, hey boo,” Jason said with a tired smile.

“Hell, babe,” Danny said back and came over to help Jason unwarp from the fall weather. “Long day?”

“Yeah. But I think that we’ve done everything we can. Now it’s on all the parties to review things one last time and hopefully agree.”

“You’ll get there,” Danny assured him before pressing a soft kiss to Jason’s lips… which maybe turned into Danny bring pressed against the wall and the kisses lengthening and deepening.

Danny was very much enjoying it all until Jason broke apart to ask, “Do I smell smoke?”

“No! My baking!”

Danny scrambled off Jason and over to the oven He barely remembered to use a kitchen towel to pull out the slightly smoldering cupcake tray. It clanked as he set it on the cook top with groan.

“I forgot to put in the bowl water was they would burn!” Danny groaned and buried his face in the warm towel. “The what the fuck you call it!”

“The bain marie?” Jason asked as he came over.

His arms wrapped around Danny from behind and he sunk into the hold.

“Yeah… I’ve got more of the mix I guess. I can start over,” Danny said, voice quiet. He’d just wanted everything to go right.

Jason was quiet as he ran soothing hands up and down Danny’s arms. Finally he asked. “Are those…?”

“Cabezotes. In this shape they’re called cabezotes, but yeah. I wanted to surprise you with them. I have dinner ordered too and a show for us to watch. I thought it would be a nice night.”

“It is nice.” Jason insisted.

“It’s burnt.”

“How about this. We’re going to pretend I never saw these. You put another back in without me showing up and surprising you and I’ll go shower in the mean time, okay?”

Danny tilted his head back to pout up at Jason. “You’re trying to trick me.”

“Yes,” Jason said with absolutely no remorse. “Entirely for my own good too. How about it?”

Danny took a deep breath. “Fine, okay, go shower and let me work. I’ve got this.”

“You do,” Jason said. He pressed a kiss to Danny’s neck before he headed off to the bedroom.

Time to get to work, again.

[cursedlovesstuff]

Fixing Us. Part 2.

Nat ran her hands through her hair, letting out a heavy sigh as she started the car and pulled out of the parking lot.

The incessant beeping of the car grated on her nerves when she realized Y/N had unbuckled her seatbelt.

Prompting her to reach over and fasten her seatbelt once again, her eyes flickering over to Y/N, who remained silent, her thoughts a mystery.

The drive home felt interminable, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. Nat opted for silence, hoping Y/N would have time to sober up before they broached the conversation awaiting them.

As they reached the parking garage, Nat parked the car and turned her attention to Y/N.

"lyubov,"Nat said, but Y/N didn't respond. Nat let out a sigh as she got out and opened the door for Y/N, who stepped out wordlessly, her gaze fixed on the ground.

They ascended the stairs, each step echoing the growing distance between them.

Inside their apartment, Y/N discarded her heels and headed upstairs, Nat trailing behind her. Nat grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge before joining Y/N in their shared bedroom. The sight of Y/N's dress strewn on the floor and the bathroom light casting a soft glow only added to Nat's unease.

"Y/N," Nat called out softly, her voice carrying a hint of concern.

A muffled "what" was Y/N's response as the sound of the shower filled the room.

Leaning against the wall, Nat waited for Y/N to come out. When she did, Nat's eyes drifted from Y/N's laced bra to the tattoos adorning Y/N's body, a new revelation that caught her off guard.

"When did you get tattoos?" Nat's voice carried a mix of curiosity and confusion.

Y/N's response was short, "When I wanted to."

The tension in the room escalated as Nat pressed further, "Were you going to tell me?"

Y/N's reply was blunt, "I guess you were either going to find out eventually or we were going to get a divorce before you saw them."

Confusion clouded Nat's features, "Why would we be getting a divorce?"

"I don't know, Nat. Why would we?" Y/N's retort was sharp, her frustration bubbling to the surface.

Nat felt her patience waning, "What's your problem tonight? So much attitude and backtalk. I asked you a simple question, can you not answer that?"

Y/N's eyes narrowed, "My problem, Nat, is that you dragged me out of the bar when I was just having fun, all because you were jealous that I was dancing with someone you work with".

"I dragged you out of the bar because you had obviously been drinking, and it was a safety concern this late at night," Nat countered, her voice firm.

"Yes, sure, it was totally about a safety concern.Where you are insinuating that I'm some sort of slut? Also a safety concern?" Y/N's tone was sharp, her frustration palpable.

"What? I never called you that," Nat replied, taken aback by Y/N's accusation.

"Oh, but you meant it by asking me if Carol was really just a friend or someone who was trying to get into my pants. It's bold of you to assume that I would sleep with Carol." Y/N's voice carried a mix of hurt and defiance.

"That's not what I meant, Y/N. I know you wouldn't cheat on me," Nat responded, trying to diffuse the tension.

"Yeah, and it's too bad that I can't say the same thing." Y/N's words cut through the air, laden with disappointment.

Nat felt a pang of guilt and confusion. "What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, her voice softer now, tinged with concern.

"It means I've been here every day for the last four fucking years alone, while you go out to work, parties, and hang out with your friends. Maybe I'm tired of waiting around for you to come home and acknowledge me, to act like we're actually married," Y/N's emotions spilled out, her voice cracking with pent-up frustration.

Nat's heart sank at Y/N's revelation. "I didn't know you felt like this," she admitted, her voice filled with remorse.

"Of course you didn't. You were too busy spending time with Maria—'oh, Maria invited me out to eat,' 'I'm going to dinner with Maria.' You're obviously not getting what you want from me, so you're getting it somewhere else," Y/N's voice cracked with emotion, revealing the depth of her hurt.

Before Nat could respond, Y/N uttered words that pierced her heart, "Something better change, Nat, or you can marry Maria."

With that, Y/N stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her, leaving Nat grappling with the weight of her words and the realization of the rift that had formed between them.

~

After Y/N left Nat to shower, Nat found herself consumed by thoughts of where everything went wrong. She reached for her phone and sent a message to Tony, requesting some time off.As she finished texting Tony, she was surprised to see Y/N emerging from the bathroom.

"Oh, you're still here," Y/N remarked casually as she headed to the closet to grab clothes.

"I live here," Nat replied, her tone tinged with a hint of sadness.

"Yeah, I forget that sometimes," Y/N admitted as she slipped into a nightgown and grabbed a pillow and a throw from the bed.

"What are you doing?" Nat inquired, watching as Y/N prepared to leave the room.

"I'm going to sleep on the couch tonight," Y/N announced matter-of-factly.

"You can have the bed," Y/N said, gesturing to it.

Nat sighed, feeling a pang of guilt, "I don't want to sleep in it alone if you're not there, and sleeping on the couch hurts your back."

Nat took the pillow and blanket from Y/N. Y/N was taken aback by Nat's unexpected consideration. She never realized that Nat actually listened when she complained about her back hurting after their movie marathons.

"Goodnight, Y/N," Nat said softly, giving her space as she headed downstairs with her pillow and blanket.

She laid down on the couch, staring at the ceiling, her mind racing with thoughts of how to fix their fractured relationship.

Eventually, exhaustion claimed her, and she drifted off to sleep, hoping for a resolution in the morning.

[bbydeathclaw]

on the bed, on the couch, on the desk, against the wall, in the shower, on the floor, in the bar, over the counter, against the window, in front of a mirror, missionary, cowgirl, doggystyle, backwards, vertically, horizontally, on my back, on my knees, on all fours, every hole, no lube, no protection, all day, all night, gasping for air, screaming into the pillow, moaning into his mouth, toes curling, back arching, legs shaking, fists clenching, ears ringing, mouth drooling, eye rolling, overstimulating

[carolmunson]

come get me, come love me (older!modern!eddie)

part four of who knows how many. orange colored sky set list surprise chapter, bitches. after we got rained out at the park, we finish our date at eddie's apartment in prospect heights, things heat up despite the storm. inspired by @loveshotzz older steve series: all i really want is you (see if you can spot the easter egg in this lil chapter.) tw: age gappy (reader is late 20s/early 30s, eddie is late 30s/early 40s), kissin', reader wears eddie's clothes but there's no body description songspiration: lovesick | banks

The door to the building is wedged between a restaurant and a pet store on a long street of bars and places to eat. You’ve been down here plenty of times, the ramen spot closer to the end of the street is to die for, and one of the ice cream shops is the best in this part of the city. He unhooks the carabiner from his belt loop and hurries the key into the heavy iron grate door before bumbling into the wooden one behind it.

“Whew!” he says when you both get inside, wiping some of the rain from his face. He leads you up the stairs to the second floor and down the small hallways. “Both doors are mine, but this is the front door,” he smiles, kicking his shoes off at the mat off to the side. You do the same. “Sorry if it’s a little messy,” he says, keys jingling in his hands while he opens the door, “Maid took the week off.”

You snort when you follow him inside but he looks at you over his shoulder, “No, seriously. It was her son’s birthday on Sunday so I told her not to come in. I try to keep it together for the most part, but – I don’t know, Sasha gives it a special somethin’ I’ve never been able to do on my own.” 

It’s a little stunning, his apartment. And when you think a little you mean a lot, a floor and a half with a metal spiral staircase that separates the open concept kitchen from the living room, dining room hybrid on the wall closest to the door. Oak floors that look newly shined, a big and deep sectional closing off the space so a dining room table and chairs could be placed on the other half of the room. Even the exposed brick on the back wall looks like it was just put in. His hand rests on your back while he guides you up to the next floor, the metal cold on your bare feet, shivering against the coolness of the central air whooshing through the place.

“If you want I can give you something comfy to wear and throw your stuff in the laundry,” he says when you make it to the top, opening the door, “Bathroom is just around the corner.”

“You have in-unit laundry?” you ask with a breathy sigh.

“I know, I’m so dreamy,” he winks, “You gonna take me up on my offer? There’s towels in there already.”

“Sure,” you take off the linen shirt and pass it to him, “I’ll be right out.” 

The bathroom is small-ish but well put together, it looks like he had it gutted and redone to be more modern, navy blue marbled tiles in the shower with gunmetal hardware – he has an eye, you figure. You open one of the cabinets to see dark blue towels folded and fluffy, waiting for you. The image that meets you in the mirror makes you frown when you wipe your face off – a wet rat with mascara running down her cheeks, blush and lipgloss long faded. You sigh and do your best to wash off your face with what you can, peeling off your wet layers and keeping them on the counter.

“Wanna swap?” he asks while knocking on the door. You ball up your wet clothes, holding the towel up against your chest while you open the door a sliver, easing them out into his waiting hand. You can’t see him but you hear his little snicker while he pushes the dry clothes into your open palm. “You got it?” he asks. “I got it,” you say, balancing them into the room and shutting the door quietly. “Let me know if you want something different,” he offers. You shake out the folded clothes, big black sweatpants and an old, soft band tee. Corroded Coffin spelled out in jagged letters on the front with a marionette dangling from a demonic clawed hand on the back. “This is fine,” you say, slipping them on, “What band is this?”  “It’s mine,” he says. You can hear his footsteps walking away from the bathroom while he talks, “Told you I was a rockstar!” 

When you’re fully changed into his sweats and shirt you emerge from the bathroom, padding out of the tiles in socked feet. You can hear him downstairs putting the leftover snacks into the fridge and freezer from the cooler. Like the sleuth you are, you take in what you can to learn more about him, inching down the short hallway and peeking into one of the rooms. His bedroom looks like a bachelor’s – not in the way a guy in their twenties would have it, but it’s clear he wants to semi impress whoever he’s taking home. You admire the coziness of the space: wrought iron bed frame – likely a vintage thrift find or thousands of dollars. Dark bedding with knit blankets at the foot of the mattress, a dark green rug under the bed atop the oak floors. His walls are littered with framed photos of him with people you don’t know. Show posters under glass from the 90s, some vintage posters from the 70s. It smells like cedar and a nice hotel lobby candle, manly and unassuming. His dressers are a deep walnut wood that compliment the floors with ease – he did say he had an eye for color. Your eyes wander, looking towards the doors of a walk in closet, more art on the walls. A beautiful baroque style mirror that looks straight out of a gothic mansion leaning heavy in the corner. However, you feel heat rush to your cheeks when, slightly hidden, you see two sets of handcuffs dangling off a small hook by one of his bedside tables. 

“Find anything interesting, Nancy Drew?” 

His low rumble makes you jump, turning to see him leaning against the wall of the hallway with his arms crossed. You breathe out a nervous giggle, “Sorry, was just seeing the place. Your room is nice.” 

“Thank you,” he nods, “I just got it redecorated — got a friend who's a killer interior designer.” 

“I bet you got a friend for everything,” you say, meeting him in the hallway where he opens the door to the next room. It's dark, covered in squares of soundproofing foam. A few different guitars hang from the wall above a big desk with three monitors, computer below whirring in a low hum. 

“I do,” he says, “We exchange a lot of favors. This is where I work from for the most part. Laundry is just a closet next to the bathroom. And uh…you saw downstairs, so I guess that’s the tour.” “It’s a really, really nice spot,” you confess, heading back down the spiral staircase, “Super good location, too.” “It wasn’t when I landed here in ‘04,” he leans on the railing at the top step looking down at you, “But you were prob’ly learnin’ fractions back then.” “You’re annoying,” you cross your arms at the bottom stairs staring up at his boyish grin, he winks again – your legs are jello. “I’m gonna change real quick, I made you a cup of coffee – there’s creamer in the fridge if you need it,” he calls out before disappearing from the staircase to change. You go to the fridge where there’s a litter of polaroids stuck to the stainless steel – most of them of a German Shepherd puppy posed with him and another guy, clean cut, nothing like Eddie.

“Whose the cute dog?” you ask when you hear his footsteps against the metal.   

“Oh that’s my nephew, his name’s Bandit,” he says, pulling a shirt over his head while he makes it back down the spiral staircase. Your eyes linger on the tattoos on his chest, trailing down his obliques, “The dog, not the guy in the pictures.” “I figured.” “That’s my buddy Steve, he’s like my brother. I was out in Chicago for a couple months helping him get his shit back on track – we got him a puppy to keep his mind off things,” Eddie snorts, watching you pour some cream into your mug. You offer to do so for him but he shakes his head, taking it from you to put back in the fridge. “Is he okay?” 

“His wife just passed away,” he says quietly. You offer him a sad face and he shrugs in that ‘What can you do?’ kind of way that guys do when they don’t know what to say, “You clothes should be all set in an hour or so.” “Oh, and then you’re kickin’ me out?” you tease, drinking your coffee up against the counter. He smirks, running his palm over the scratchy scruff of his chin and jaw. “Nah, not at all. You can stay as long as you want,” he shakes his head, his curls already starting to dry around his face – big and defined now with the summer rain, “Just didn’t think you’d wanna hang out at some old man’s house all afternoon.” “See, I was thinking how fun it would be to clear you out of your Raisin Bran,” you smirk against the lip of your mug while he makes his way towards you. He crosses his arms, taking slow steps before he’s got you caged in against the counter. If your nose knows, he definitely spritzed a spray of his cologne before he made it back down stairs – dark, spicy sandalwood enveloping you with a whisper of laundry detergent. 

“I’m almost out, actually,” he grins, lids half closing while he looks down into your eyes, “But it’s okay, I have an unopened box of Kashi multigrain in one of these cabinets somewhere.” He waits for your next dig, knowing it’s coming by the quirk in your lips – you’re full of them today. “Gotta keep that blood pressure in check,” you tease again, trying to keep yourself from smiling as he leans in, a deep short chuckle coming from his throat. You little brat, it sounds like.  “It’s really good for your heart health, actually,” he corrects, brows raising a little. A smirk flits across his full lips when he watches you falter a little, your pretty eyes glazing and glassy while he looms over you. His voice gets low and smoky, just like his cologne, “Maybe you could learn a thing or two from me, hm?”

You shut your eyes, biting the inside of your cheek – you can’t show him how good he’s getting you right now, not so soon, “Oh totally, like what the best pill cases are for my future arthritis medicine.” He laughs, the soft crows feet around his eyes crinkling with it. It’s a barking laugh, quick and sharp – you’re sharp, he likes that, “I can definitely do that.” His nose brushes yours and you brace yourself for what’s coming next, ready to feel him kiss you. To feel the buzz of his hands on you like how they were when he led you inside, when he put his hand on your hands in the park. His lips ghost above yours, breath fanning over your face while you take a final one before the inevitable. “You’ve got a quick mouth there, kleine,” he says smoothly. He reaches around you to grab his own mug of coffee, taking a long sip. Eddie catches the miniscule drop of your shoulders, a silent win goes off in his head. You want him to kiss you so bad and that makes him feel like a million bucks – fuck that – a trillion bucks. 

He steps back, taking a sip of his coffee while the apartment gets a little darker, the storm rolling further in. “What’s ‘kleine’?” you ask, trying to regain your breath. He smiles, walking over to the dimmer on the wall and easing the lights up to a warm glow. “It’s German,” he says, looking over his shoulder, “Loosely translates to baby girl.” “You know German?” you ask, trying to not let the translation send you directly into outer space. You watch him with his coffee cup make his way over to the sectional in his open living space. It’s big and inviting, covered in a sea of throws that it looks like he collected over the years. He plops down, tilting his head toward the seat next to him to encourage you over. “I did an extended run of Cabaret in Jersey like – pffft, I don’t know, a million years ago,” he shrugs, putting his coffee on the table in front of him while you plop yourself down on the deep, squishy cushions. You swallow hard when a waft of his cologne hits you again, trying your hardest not to crawl onto his lap to take him in. 

“Saw the show in ‘98 with Alan Cumming, lost my mind – I mean, really transformative for an 18 year old I guess. Years later when I moved out here I saw there was auditions for it and just got knee deep in that shit, taught myself German and everything to make it sound more authentic,” he looks forward wistfully while he recounts the story, smiling at you when he comes back to himself, “Was very helpful when I went to Berlin a few years later.” 

“Oh, how was that?” you ask, “Did you have fun? I’ve never been to Europe.” 

“I’d tell you about all the fun I had if I could remember it,” he grins,flopping his arm up over the back of the couch, beckoning you closer. “C’mere, honey,” he says, the quiet of his voice putting you at ease. You scooch closer to him while he pulls one of the blankets from the end of the chaise cushion and wraps it around your shoulders. With the blanket comes his arm with no hesitation, his hand resting on your shoulder and then down to your waist. “I like to marathon the Twilight Zone when it gets shitty out like this,” he explains, “You down?” 

“Yeah,” you smile, “I’m down. I’ve seen a couple handfuls of episodes.” 

“Yeah? What’s your favorite?” “Hm,” you think, “I think The Monsters are Due on Maple Street. It’s the first one I ever watched.”  “We’ll start with that one, then.” He operates everything from an app on his phone, it surprises you that you’re not as techy as he seems to be. It’s not long before the episode starts and his hold on you becomes more intentional, more cuddly. Thunder booms overhead when the episode gets more intense, making you embarrassed when you jolt. He giggles at you, pulling you in closer – a soft whisper of I got you leaves his lips, you barely hear it.  You snuggle up together while the episode ends and another starts, you tilt your head up toward him, “What’s your favorite?”

“Ooh, good question,” he smirks, “I think The Hitchhiker – it was the first one my uncle ever showed me when I started living with him. Scared the shit out of me.”

“You? Scared?” you quirk a brow, looking down at the way he holds you – assured, confident, “You don’t seem like someone who gets scared very often.” 

“That’s the old age, peach,” he chuckles out, low and rumbly, “All that Raisin Bran, really switches up that fight or flight.” When you laugh he looks down at you, eyes sparkling, noses close together, “Is that funny?” “Yeah, it’s funny,” you say back just as quietly, adjusting yourself a little closer to him, “You’re funny.” His eyes flick down to your lips and then back up, you feel his hand spread out on your waist while he leans in closer, pressing up against you. 

“Just funny?” he asks, watching your eyes flutter closed and then open. His lips ghosting over yours, edge of his bottom lip skating over the curve of your cupid’s bow. 

“No, not just…” you breathe, too intoxicated by how close he is, how his lips and breath tease you. His hand glides up from your waist, trailing a fingertip up the side of your neck, stopping under your chin. You shiver at the touch, goosebumps flooding your arms and legs, belly flipping in somersaults. He tilts your head up, his cocking slowly to the side while his watches for your reaction.

“The show’s about to come back on.” The words are soft and quiet when they leave your mouth, your last ditch effort while fear and excitement roar in your ears. His eyes feel like magnets that you’re constantly pulled too, locking with them while he leans in.

“It’s a boring episode,” he grumbles out quietly from behind a smirk, eyes closing while the tip of your nose is brushed with his. He teases one last time before his lips press warmly against yours, parting slightly to capture them.  You breathe in sharp through your nose, butterflies fluttering and slamming against your chest for release. His hands come up to lay themselves against your cheeks, now hot with excitement while they find home behind your head and neck. He’s fiending for you in the insatiable way he’s felt before, the way a man fiends for a woman.

His leads, taking control of the way the kiss moves with each tilt of his head, changing the intensity each time he breaks away to breathe and come back to you. His lips are full and plush, a soft pink that works for him, it’s almost innocent, when you know he’s anything but. He comes in again, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth, biting down gently to encourage you to let his tongue slide into your mouth. 

His hands greedily pull you in by the waist now that your tongues are brushing, wrapping up together with no space between. You whimper into it, unable to keep the butterflies in your stomach at bay with his other hand roams down your back. You feel his lips stretch into a smile against yours, a growl of a chuckle coming out of his chest when he pulls away again. More kisses, soft and sweet with eyes closed, noses nuzzling before lips meet again. You climb onto his lap, he doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you – tight and protective. You lead this time, a hand coming up to cup his jaw while you kiss, taking his bottom lip between your teeth this time. He relents, grip softening on you, fingertips grazing the tops of your thighs over the material of his sweatpants. Your hips roll forward over his and he pulls away.

“Steady now, sugar,” he warns, looking up at you with heavy lidded brown eyes, “I don’t fuck on the first date.” You pout a little, he likes that face, “You got some kind of moral code, old man?” “M’just not that kind of girl, baby,” he shrugs lightly, taking your hand and pressing soft kisses to your fingertips. His eyes don’t leave yours, big and innocent – like he’s challenging you, “Gotta keep you wantin’ more of me.” You can’t imagine not wanting more of him, no matter how much he gave you. “Then how come you kiss me like that?” you ask, his lips still leaving pillowy kisses against your fingers, “Like you’re hungry for me?” 

“Oh, I am hungry, peach,” he smirks, tongue sliding out and gliding up the space between your first and middle finger. The tip of his tongue flicks the pads of them at the top, before taking just your fingertips into his mouth for a moment – hot and wet. Your mouth hangs open, drool collecting under your tongue at the feeling – imagining it happening exactly where you both want it to. “I think we should cut into that icebox cake,” he offers with a smile, like he didn’t just tease you into complete stupidity, “That’ll solve my problem.” He kisses your cheek as he guides you off his lap to get up, feeling lucky that he put on boxer briefs to keep his now painful erection contained – though his sweatpants left little to the imagination. Eddie comes back with two plates with heaping slices of dessert, passing you a spoon while you try your best to calm down. 

“You okay?” he asks sweetly, brushing a stray hair out of your face. You nod, shoving a bite into your mouth so you don’t scream over his gentle touch and soft eyes. So you don’t yell and stomp through his living room about how bad you want him to bring you upstairs and eat you out. So you don’t tell him about the butterflies. You eat, watch, and talk – getting stories on his tattoos, you tell him about how you just started living alone, he tells you all the best spots to get furniture. You share soft little kisses while cuddled under blankets, laughing at the bad special effects and talking about the good special effects for the 60s as the episodes continue on. You fall asleep on his shoulder and he lets out a big deep breath – he likes that you already feel comfortable enough to do so. He swallows hard, doing his best to settle down his own butterflies. 

prev | next

[ssahotchnerr]

Aaron and the reader getting caught by the team maybe ??

matters of convenience

cw; suggestive content, aaron being all ;) , bau family banter <3

jj tossed the several room keys she picked up earlier onto the table, gaining everyone's attention. "we were able to get only four rooms, so some of us'll have to pair up."

the group of you had arrived in sunny california a few hours prior. you've spent the day going over victimology, visited the crime scene, all the per usuals. the day had felt horrendously long- as it was much later back home in quantico.

"and i'll be occupying my own, thank you." dave didn't hesitate, being the first to reach into the pile and claim a key.

"rossi," derek's voice was monotone, squinting his eyes ever so slightly. "time to share the riches for once, you had your own the last time."

"did i?" dave feigned a quizzical expression. "well, maybe when you write a book, you can have your own room."

"i'm with jj." emily announced abruptly, beating whoever was about to speak next to the punch. "we have a system down. i shower at night, she's in the morning. i refuse to stray from routine unless you want to deal with my wrath tomorrow."

"oh c'mon."

"then i can share with hotch, i don't mind." you casually threw in, shrugging your shoulders as you bit your lip to refrain from smiling. you peeked off to the side as aaron was in your peripheral vision. he was gazing down, still taking notes in his file as he listened along to the conversation.

the others were oblivious to his lips twitching as he fought back a smirk, but it didn't go unnoticed by you. "i'm fine with that."

an opportunity to spend the night alone together? you'd be stupid not to take it.

"seriously?" derek let out an exasperated breath. "boy genius over here will keep me awake with the light on. it's always" he paused, providing air quotations. "'one more book.'"

-

"we have to stop meeting like this."

a laugh easily escaped you and finally aaron's gorgeous smile came into view at the sound. "what, in secret?"

aaron hummed in confirmation, a laugh leaving him as well. the hand not occupied by his go-bag was barely grazing your side as the two of you walked down the hall to your respected room. every so often, his fingertips would lightly make contact.

"very unprofessional of you agent hotchner." you teased as the two of you came to a stop outside the door, an amused expression on your face. you crossed your arms, accompanied by a tilt of your head as you leaned against the wall. "sneaking around with a subordinate while on the job?"

"technically, the job doesn't start again until nine." aaron countered, a wicked glint in his deep brown eyes as he set his bag down.

"oh, does it?" you quipped. with both hands you grabbed ahold of the lapels belonging to his suit jacket, pulling him close. once he was a few mere centimeters away, your palms slowly smoothed down what you had just obstructed, savoring the feeling of warmth radiating from his body. it only confirmed his close proximity, just how you liked it.

his hands fell overtop of yours, keeping them firmly in place as he leaned closer, his lips trailing delicately from your jaw to your ear. "and besides, i haven't been able to get the thought of how you sound under my mouth out of my head all day."

as if to further prove his point he retraced his previous steps, opting to take his time. after pressing his mouth to the skin behind your ear, it skimmed your jaw, stopping every so often only to press chaste kisses along it. his hands released yours to untuck your blouse from your pants, allowing him access to slip his fingers underneath, his touch initiating instant goosebumps on your skin.

aaron's name all but left you in a breath, your eyes fluttering shut as you relaxed your body, completely falling surrender to him. satisfied with the current effect he had over you, his lips found placement on your neck. open mouthed kisses found home here, complimented by small bites, the initial sting from such smoothed over with his tongue. then, he-

"oh god." emily's voice came out of nowhere, causing aaron to immediately unlatch himself from you. your eyes flew open and sure enough, emily was right there.

silence lingered overtop the three of you, and it was almost daring- like it was begging someone to come out and say something. however, your flushed cheeks did you the favor in terms of speaking for themselves, and aaron was sporting the same reaction.

after the initial shock seemingly wore off, emily smirked, raising an eyebrow. "both of you know it's my god given right to share this with everyone, don't you?"

the two of you stood there, still stunned and gaining your breath, as emily sauntered to the next nearby door, rapping on it with her knuckle. "morgan, you owe me a twenty."

[wholoveseggs]

Indulgences

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

Part Four

In the aftermath of violence, you forge new connections and leave behind all the pain that has plagued you for so long.

7k words - Warnings: smut, angst, mentions of domestic violence, more angst, Klaus being nice, cannoli.

{Part One} {Part Two} {Part Three}{Moodboard->}

You found yourself sitting in Elijah's shower, your knees tucked up to your chest, letting the warm water wash over your skin. Your body was sore, your throat ached, your face hurt; every part of you felt bruised. You stared at the tile, trying to process what happened.

All you felt was relief. You were finally free of Jordan. Free from his abuse, his manipulation, the constant fear of him hurting you. Elijah had saved your life. If he hadn't intervened, you'd be dead right now, but you were too exhausted to properly feel grateful. So you just cried, letting out all the pain you had bottled up over the years, and when there was no more energy left, you just sat there, letting the hot water soothe you.

You eventually got up, your whole body aching, bruises and scrapes covering your skin. You dried off, wrapping the towel around your body and winced at a strange pain on your back. You looked in the mirror and saw gravel embedded in your skin; you tried to remove it, but it was just out of your reach.

You left the bathroom and rummaged through the drawers, pulling on a pair of Elijah's sweatpants and a plain t-shirt, the fabric feeling soft against your skin. You glanced at yourself in the mirror, seeing a stranger. Your makeup was gone, and so was the persona that came with it; you had been stripped bare and exposed, the real you was staring back.

You went searching for something warm to drink to help you fall asleep. The house was silent and still, the lights were dim, the faint scent of candles in the air. You found the kitchen and grabbed a mug from the cupboard, filled it with water, and set it in the microwave, pressing the button.

"Who do we have here?" An accented voice called from behind, making you jump.

You turned and saw Klaus leaning against the wall, his arms crossed.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know anyone was here," you said, nervously tugging on the hem of the t-shirt, suddenly very conscious of the bruises covering your face and neck.

"I remember you from the club," Klaus continued, not acknowledging your apology. "You're the one who danced for Elijah."

"That's right," you mumbled, pulling the mug from the microwave.

Klaus approached you and took the mug from your hands, dumping out the water. "Sit, I'll make you some proper tea," he insisted, giving you a kind smile.

You did as you were told, pulling yourself onto the barstool and watching him make tea.

"What's your name, love?" Klaus asked, filling the kettle.

"Y/n," you said, picking at your fingernails.

"So you're the reason my brother has been disappearing most evenings," Klaus mused, setting the kettle on the stove and lighting the burner.

"I suppose," you said, feeling uneasy about where this was going.

"He's not the type to frequent the sort of establishment you work at. It's curious that he's been visiting you," he continued, turning to look at you, his gaze roaming over the marks on your skin.

"It's complicated," you said, crossing your arms self-consciously.

"May I ask how you acquired those bruises?" He inquired, pointing to your face.

"Boyfriend, I guess.. ex-boyfriend now," you said, the word boyfriend sounding wrong when you described him.

Klaus raised his eyebrow. "I see," he said, his tone was cold and sharp, his eyes glinting dangerously. "I'm sorry,"

You shrugged. "It's nothing," you mumbled, staring at the counter.

"Did my brother deal with him? Is he no longer in your life?" Klaus pressed.

"He's dead," you said softly.

Klaus stared at you in silence, his expression unreadable, his jaw clenched. "And do you mourn his loss?"

You shook your head, not trusting yourself to speak, tears stinging at the back of your eyes.

He sighed, placing his hands on the counter, his gaze boring into yours. "My father was the same way. I just want you to know, whatever you are feeling, it's okay," he said, his voice was soothing, understanding.

You felt the tears spilling over, sliding down your cheeks. You wiped them away, sniffling, not able to understand why his words broke you.

Klaus silently finished making the tea, handing you the steaming mug.

"Thank you," you said quietly, taking the mug in your hands, savoring the warmth.

"It's lavender, should help you sleep," he explained.

"Do you know where Elijah is?" You asked. 

"He's out covering up your lover's death," he said matter-of-factly. 

"Oh," you murmured, lifting the mug to your lips and wincing, the gravel in your skin tugging painfully.

"What's wrong?" Klaus asked, noticing your reaction.

"I have some gravel stuck in my back, I tried to remove it but couldn't reach it," you explained, taking another sip.

"I can help, do you mind?" Klaus asked, motioning to your back.

"I don't mind," you replied, pulling down the back of your shirt, revealing the damage embedded between your shoulder blades.

"Ah yes, quite a lot. Hold still," he said, before pressing his fingertips to the wounds.

You felt a sharp sting and winced. He began to remove the pieces of gravel and dirt, dropping them on the counter.

"Elijah would always clean my wounds after our father had hurt us," Klaus began, his voice growing softer. "Often before he would tend to his own,"

You closed your eyes, picturing a young Klaus and Elijah, hiding away together.

"We'd bandage each other up and then go out into the forest and run around, pretend like everything was alright," he continued.

"You were lucky to have each other," you said, smiling sadly.

Klaus dropped the last piece of gravel onto the counter and walked around, pulling the chair out and sitting down, his elbows resting on his knees.

"He's always been this way, putting everyone before himself." He chuckled, shaking his head. "Then, when he's in love, he gets even worse,"

"In love?" You repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"My brother doesn't do half-measures. If he is invested in someone, he's all in," Klaus explained, giving you a knowing look.

You didn't know what to say, so you just took a sip of tea, looking into the steaming mug. You couldn't deny your feelings for him, they were growing stronger everyday, the thought of him made your heart flutter. But love? It seemed like such a strong word, one that comes with consequences.

"I'll leave you to your thoughts. You are welcome to stay here as long as you'd like," he said, giving you a polite nod as he left.

You sat there for a while, finishing your tea and contemplating everything that happened.

When the tea was gone, you returned to Elijah's room, sliding under the covers, feeling completely exhausted. You wished he was here with you, your body craved his touch, to feel his skin against yours. It felt odd to have someone who wanted to protect you, keep you safe, someone who actually cared about you.

Your eyelids were heavy, your muscles felt stiff, and soon you were drifting off to sleep.

You woke to the smell of coffee and something delicious cooking. Your body ached, everything felt heavy, but you slowly sat up, letting the blankets pool at your waist. You were still wearing his clothes, his scent enveloping you, the shirt slipping off your shoulder.

Elijah stood in the doorway, his sleeves rolled up, the top two buttons undone. He smiled softly when he saw you awake. "Good morning, how are you feeling?" He asked, his eyes raking over the bruises on your face and neck.

"I'm okay," you said, returning his smile.

"I made breakfast," he said, holding up a tray filled with eggs, toast, fruit and a steaming mug.

"What a gentleman," you teased, a blush creeping onto his cheeks.

"I try," he said with a laugh, placing the tray on the nightstand and taking a seat beside you on the bed.

"Thank you," you whispered, reaching out and cupping his cheek, stroking his smooth skin.

"I'm just glad you're safe," he said, placing his hand on yours, intertwining his fingers. He then pulled away, a storm of emotions playing on his face but he quickly masked them, picking up the tray and offering it to you.

"Can I ask you a favor?" You asked, taking a bite of the eggs.

"Anything," Elijah said, watching you carefully.

"Can I stay here for a while? I don't want to go back to my place," you said, taking a sip of coffee.

"Of course," he said, without hesitation.

"Thank you," you replied, a weight lifting from your shoulders. "Just until I find a new place,"

"Or forever," Elijah said, with a small smirk.

You couldn't help but laugh. "You might get sick of me,"

"Doubtful," he teased.

You finished your food, placing the tray back on the nightstand and crawling out of bed, stretching out the sore muscles. 

"I'm going to need a lot of makeup to cover these up before my shift tonight," you mused, looking in the mirror.

Elijah appeared behind you, his eyes dark, his fingers brushing against the marks on your neck. "You don't have to go back," he murmured, his fingers dancing across the bruised skin.

"I have bills to pay," you said, turning around to face him.

"I'll pay them," he insisted, his eyes locked with yours.

"I don't want to be dependent on you, it's important for me to have a sense of control," you explained, hoping he would understand.

He sighed, a look of frustration crossing his face. "I understand," he said, although his tone said otherwise. "Can I at least take you shopping? I'll compel the store to give you anything you'd like,"

"If you insist," you said, giving him a warm smile.

You spent the day going from designer store to designer store, buying dresses, skirts, and tops. He also bought you lingerie, shoes and even a few pieces of jewelry. He was the perfect gentleman, helping you carry the bags, insisting you needed more than just what you picked.

"I know this lovely little street market near here, let's go get some food," Elijah said, as you both stood on the sidewalk.

"That sounds nice," you agreed, feeling a fluttering in your stomach.

The market was busy, people were bustling around, the scent of delicious foods and flowers hung in the air.

Elijah went off to grab coffees for the two of you, while you found a jewelry vendor that was making the most delicate necklaces. You ran your finger over a simple chain, a small gem hanging from the end, the metal cool beneath your fingertips.

"Y/n! Is that you?!" A voice called.

You turned and saw Stacy, with Tonya in tow.

"Hi ladies," you said, glancing at them nervously.

"What happened to your face?" Tonya asked, eyeing the bruises.

"Oh, uh, it's nothing," you mumbled, suddenly finding the jewelry very interesting.

"Is Jordy with you? I need some pills," she pressed, not paying attention to your discomfort.

"No," you said sharply. "We broke up,"

"What?!" Stacy screeched. "What happened?"

"It's complicated," you grumbled, trying to walk away.

"Is that Dior? Chanel? Girl, what the fuck?" Tonya exclaimed, looking at your bags.

"Yeah," you said, glancing down. "Uh, a friend bought them for me,"

"Whoever they are, they've got some deep pockets," Tonya scoffed, crossing her arms.

"Yes, he's quite generous," you mumbled, a blush creeping onto your cheeks.

"Oh my god, it's Elijah isn't it? You can't be sleeping with clients!" Stacy gasped.

"I'm not," you said defensively.

Elijah found you, carrying a tray of coffees in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other. He handed the flowers to you, gazing down at you affectionately.

"Hello ladies," Elijah greeted the girls, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Hello, Mr. Mikaelson," Stacy purred, batting her lashes. "It's so generous of you to buy y/n all these pretty things,"

"Not at all, it's my pleasure," he said, his accent making the words sound even sweeter.

"Are you guys a couple?" Tonya asked, her eyes wide with curiosity.

"No," you said quickly, glancing at Elijah nervously.

Elijah gave the girls a tight-lipped smile, not bothering to respond.

"Jordan won't be happy if he finds out you've moved on so quickly," Stacy sneered.

"He won't care," you retorted, not liking her tone.

"Well, I think we should get going, enjoy the rest of your day ladies," Elijah said, taking your bags and offering you his arm.

You gladly took it, leaning into him as you both walked away, a sigh escaping your lips.

"Are you alright?" He asked, glancing down at you.

"Yeah," you muttered.

He stopped walking, his eyes scanning the crowd, searching for something. He found it, and with a swift movement, compelled the nearest food vendor to give him a plate of fresh baked goods.

"Here, this will make you feel better," he said, handing you a cannoli.

You took the pastry, the aroma was heavenly, he guided you over to a nearby bench, and you both sat, enjoying the treats.

You watched the people bustling about, the sound of their voices creating a pleasant hum, the sun warming your skin.

"I don't think you should come to the club anymore," you said quietly, staring at the ground.

"May I ask why?" Elijah inquired, a slight edge to his voice.

"Stacy is a bitch," you said, taking a bite of the croissant. "She wants me fired, she thinks I'm sleeping with you for money,"

Elijah chuckled, shaking his head. "I have never paid for such things and never will. Although, it would be a privilege to spend my nights with you,"

You blushed, looking away, your heart fluttering. "Do you mind dropping me off? My shift starts soon,"

"Of course," Elijah said, standing and offering you his hand.

You took his hand, his skin warm, his grip firm, he gently helped you up. His fingers lingered on yours for a moment, and you felt a spark of electricity. You gazed up at him, his eyes dark and intense, the desire was palpable, but then he looked away.

"Let's go," he said, his voice soft.

The drive was silent, the tension in the air was thick. He dropped you off, giving you a polite nod as you got out of the car.

"Call me when you are off and I'll pick you up," he said, a hint of worry in his eyes.

"Thank you," you said, offering him a small smile.

You headed towards the back entrance, where a bouncer was waiting, a cigarette in hand. He didn't say anything, just gave you a small nod and let you in.

Stacy was in the dressing room, her eyes narrowed, her jaw clenched.

"I still haven't heard from Jordan," she snapped, blocking your path.

"And? That's not my problem," you said, glaring at her.

"What happened to you? Did you get these bruises from Elijah?" She asked, poking the tender spots.

"No, I didn't," you hissed, pushing her hand away. "He saved me,"

"Saved you? From who?" She scoffed, crossing her arms.

"Does it really matter? It's none of your fucking business," you snapped, trying to step past her.

She grabbed your arm, squeezing the bruises and pulling you close. You smacked her hard across the face, causing her to stumble. She looked at you in shock, her mouth open, her eyes wide.

"Don't touch me," you growled, storming away.

You slammed your locker shut and got ready for your shift, ignoring the whispers and stares from the other dancers.

Stacy had run off to tell Mitch, you were sure that she would make your life miserable now, but you didn't care, she had crossed the line.

You danced for an hour, the pain was starting to get unbearable. Your muscles ached, the bruises throbbed, and your face was covered in a thin layer of sweat. You saw Mitch watching you with his arms crossed, an angry look on his face. You knew it wouldn't be long before he came to find you.

Sure enough, Mitch grabbed your arm, his grip firm.

"A word," he hissed, leading you to his office.

He sat behind his desk, gesturing for you to take a seat.

"What the hell is going on with you?" He asked, leaning forward, his elbows resting on the desk.

"Nothing," you said, looking down.

"Bullshit," he scoffed, shaking his head.

You glared at him, your jaw clenching.

"Who the hell did this to you? Was it a client?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Don't worry Mitch, it didn't happen at the club, you aren't liable," you said coldly, you knew that was all he really cared about.

Mitch sighed, running his hand through his greasy hair.

"There is another matter," he began, giving you a pointed look. "Stacy has informed me that there are some rumors circulating about you and that rich client of yours,"

You rolled your eyes. "We're friends,"

"That's not what it looks like. It looks like you are whoring yourself out for him, people have been asking questions," he said, a slight edge to his voice.

"People can go fuck themselves," you muttered, crossing your arms.

"You aren't allowed to see him anymore," he said firmly, his eyes locked with yours.

"Excuse me?" You asked, a feeling of dread forming in the pit of your stomach.

"It's illegal, what you are doing. Not only that, but it's bad for business," Mitch explained, a smug look on his face.

"Since when do you care about the law?" You scoffed, rolling your eyes. "You let the drugs flow here freely,"

"Don't get smart with me," Mitch snapped.

"I'm not doing anything wrong," you retorted.

"It doesn't matter, the club comes first," Mitch said, standing up. "It's your job or your sugar daddy. You choose,"

You froze, your blood running cold.

"What are you saying?" You asked, your voice barely a whisper.

"If you keep seeing him, you're fired," Mitch said, his tone final.

"That's not fair," you said, the words catching in your throat.

"I have a business to run. You need to learn how to stay in your lane," Mitch said, shrugging his shoulders.

You had enough, you got up and headed towards the door. It was an easy decision to make, a job was just a job, Elijah was your friend and someone who had saved your life. You needed him more than anything else right now.

"Fuck you Mitch, I quit," you said, flipping him off as you left the office.

You quickly grabbed your things from the dressing room and texted Elijah to come pick you up. He replied almost instantly, promising to be there soon.

Stacy watched you from the corner, a smirk on her lips. You decided to be petty.

"You were right Stacy, I am fucking Elijah, and it's amazing," you said, a smile on your face. "I imagine he's far better in bed than Mitch is, that limp dick fucker. You'd know all about that, though, huh? How often do you have to suck his dick to get the premium shifts? Does it feel good being the owner's favorite? Because I think I'd rather die,"

She gasped, her eyes wide, her face flushed. She glared at you, the other girls giggling, but you just smiled, giving her the middle finger and blowing her a kiss before walking out the door. You were done with her bullshit.

The cold air hit your face, causing goosebumps to form on your skin. You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to stay warm. You couldn't believe you had quit, but Mitch had given you no choice.

You glanced at the parking lot, waiting for Elijah to show up. He pulled up a few minutes later, opening the door and getting out, a worried expression on his face.

"What happened?" He asked, his voice full of concern.

"It's a long story, can we go home?" You said, shivering.

"Of course," he murmured, helping you into the car.

You watched the scenery go by, your thoughts a jumbled mess, the events of the night replaying in your mind. What you wanted was to be with Elijah, to let him take care of you, but you were afraid. You didn't want to jump from relying on one man to another. You had an opportunity to break the cycle you have been trapped in.

You went straight to your room, collapsing on the bed, your body aching. Bags of expensive clothing and jewelry were scattered around the room, reminding you of the day's events. You groaned, burying your face in a pillow.

As the night wore on, you couldn't shake the feeling of anxiety. You needed to have a talk with Elijah, to figure out where the two of you stood.

You got out of bed, your joints protesting the movement. You walked down the hallway, listening to the soft sounds of a piano being played.

You found him in his study, sitting at the baby grand, his fingers gracefully dancing over the keys. He was playing a melancholic tune, the notes drifting through the air. You stood there for a moment, listening to the music, entranced by the way his hands moved, his brow furrowed in concentration. He was wearing just a pair of sweatpants, his bare chest illuminated by the light from the fireplace. His hair was a little messed up, you had never seen him so casual, the sight making your heart flutter. The fire cast shadows on his features, highlighting the sharp lines of his face, the hollows of his cheeks. His eyes were closed, lost in the music. You took a deep breath, knowing that you had to interrupt him. He was the only person who could make you feel safe, you knew it was time to take the risk and let him in.

"Elijah?" You called softly, not wanting to startle him.

His eyes opened, a gentle smile appearing on his lips. He patted the spot next to him, moving over slightly.

"I didn't know you played," you said, sitting down, making sure to leave some space between the two of you.

"There are lots of things you don't know about me," he said, a faint smile on his lips.

"Like what?" You asked, looking at him expectantly.

He stopped playing and let out a soft sigh, his gaze drifting down to the keys.

"My brother once called me an old romantic, that I am a hopeless idealist. He said that I always hold onto hope, no matter how futile it seems," he said quietly.

"I don't think that's a bad thing," you murmured, looking down.

"Maybe not," he said, a pained expression flashing across his face. "But it doesn't make the world any easier,"

You didn't know what to say, so you just sat there in silence, listening to the sound of the crackling fire, the heat of the flames warming your skin. It was comforting, sitting with him like this, his presence was reassuring.

"I just want you to know... That I'm quite fond of you," he said, his gaze locking with yours. 

"I'm fond of you too," you replied, a blush creeping onto your cheeks.

He gave you a soft smile, the light from the fireplace reflected in his eyes. Your heart began to race, your palms becoming sweaty. You were so nervous, it was as if you were a teenager again, sitting next to the boy you liked, not knowing what to do. You tried to think of something to say, but the words seemed to get stuck in your throat. You felt so foolish, it was just Elijah, the first night you met him you put your tits in his face and gave him a lap dance. He had seen you in a state of undress many times and had touched your naked skin, but somehow, this was more intimate. It was different, there were no expectations, no performance. Just two people, enjoying each other's company. You realized that you had been staring at him for far too long, and looked away, embarrassed. He chuckled, taking your hand in his, his thumb tracing small circles on your palm. The gesture was simple, yet it made your heart skip a beat.

"You are a good man Elijah Mikaelson," you said softly, looking up at him.

"I'm not so sure about that," he said, giving you a sad smile.

"You saved my life," you whispered. "And you have been nothing but kind to me, even though you didn't have to be,"

"I have my own selfish reasons for wanting to help you," he admitted, his gaze drifting down.

"Oh?" You asked, a slight edge to your voice.

"I was lonely. I've always been lonely. When I saw you, I saw an opportunity," he confessed.

"For what?" You asked, your heart sinking.

"A chance at companionship," he said, his eyes meeting yours. "To not be alone,"

"I think that is just what we all want," you murmured. "To be loved,"

The world seemed to fall away. There was only the two of you, sitting there, the sound of the fire crackling, the light from the flames casting shadows on your faces. You felt a rush of emotion, your heart pounding in your chest. You moved closer, your faces mere inches apart, the warmth of his breath caressing your skin. You were intoxicated by him, his scent, his warmth, his presence. You had never felt this way before, had never wanted someone so much.

You closed the distance between the two of you, your lips meeting in a soft kiss. He pulled away slightly, his eyes searching yours, seeking permission. You kissed him again, a low moan escaping his lips. He pulled you into his lap, his strong arms wrapping around your waist, his hands roaming your body.

"I want you," you whispered, your hands gripping his shoulders.

"I'm yours," he said, his lips capturing yours in a passionate kiss.

He lifted you up, carrying you in front of the fireplace and gently setting you down on the plush rug. He hovered above you, his gaze hungry and intense. You felt your body respond, the heat pooling in your core, your heart racing.

Elijah took his time undressing you, his hands caressing every inch of your skin. He kissed his way down your body, leaving no part untouched. His lips lingered on your bruises, as if he could kiss them away.

You both laid there for a while, kissing under the glow of the fireplace, his body pressing into yours. There was nothing rushed, no pressure, no loud music or artificial lights of the club. It was just the two of you, your bodies intertwined, exploring each other.

His fingers traced over your skin, finding their way between your legs, stroking and teasing your clit. He watched your reaction, his gaze intense, his lips parted, his eyes dark. Loving the way your body responded, he slowly eased a finger inside you, your breath catching in your throat.

He moved down, his mouth replacing his fingers, sucking on your clit, his tongue flicking over the sensitive bundle of nerves. Your back arched, a soft moan escaping your lips.

"Elijah," you breathed, your eyes half-closed, your hands gripping his hair.

Your moans increased as you neared climax. He kept you hovering on the edge, bringing you right to the brink before pulling back. He wasn't in a hurry, his tongue lazily circling your clit, his hands caressing your inner thighs.

"You're teasing me," you groaned, your voice heavy with lust.

"It's only fair," he chuckled, the vibration causing you to shudder. 

He moved back up your body, kissing your neck as his erection pressed against you. He took one of your thighs and pulled it around his waist. You held your breath as he teased you, the tip of his cock brushing against your wetness. You squirmed, eager to feel him inside you.

He smiled down at you, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss.

"I want you to know how much you mean to me," he murmured, his voice husky with desire.

"Say the words," you said, your eyes locked on his. "Tell me,"

He leaned down, his breath warm on your neck.

"I love you," he whispered, nipping at your skin, causing goosebumps to spread across your flesh. "I love everything about you,"

"I love you too," you said softly, a shiver running through your body.

He slowly eased himself inside of you, his eyes closed, his lips parted in pleasure. You pulled his face to yours, kissing him hungrily, your tongue dancing with his. He rocked his hips, building a slow, steady rhythm, making love to you.

He cupped your face, his gaze locking with yours, filled with adoration. You reached up, tracing his face with your fingertips, exploring every line and curve of his handsome features. He lowered his mouth to yours, his kiss deep and passionate, his body moving against yours.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, his skin hot under your hands. Elijah gazed down at you, his eyes filled with hunger. He buried his face in your neck, his breath ragged, his fangs scraping your skin.

"Take what you need," you breathed, tilting your head back, exposing your neck.

Elijah growled, sinking his teeth into your flesh. You gasped, a wave of pleasure coursing through your body. You held him tighter, your nails digging into his skin. He lapped at your neck, your blood coating his tongue, sweet and intoxicating.

His pace increased, thrusting deeper, his hand on your thigh, angling you for better access. He groaned, his cock throbbing inside you, his release approaching.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, keeping his head against your neck. Your body started to tense, every nerve ending lighting up, the sweet ache building.

He pulled back and pressed his lips to yours, his kiss possessive, his tongue demanding. You responded in kind, matching his intensity. You were his, he was yours, nothing was going to come between you. He bit down on his lip, the taste of his blood spreading on your tongue.

You felt all the pain in your body start to melt away, a tingling sensation flowing through your veins. You moaned, your hips grinding against his, searching for relief. He held you close, his movements becoming more erratic, chasing his own release.

He shuddered, gripping your hips, his thrusts slowing down. He brought his mouth down to yours again, kissing you with more passion than you have ever experienced. You both came at the same time, the feeling of pure ecstasy washing over the two of you. You held him tightly, your hearts beating in sync.

The two of you spent the rest of the night making love, his hands roaming your body, his lips against yours, his words of adoration spilling out of him. You forgot about everything but him, losing yourself in his touch.

Life at the compound became peaceful, a stark contrast to the constant pain and torment of your former life. Elijah doted on you, taking care of your every need. You often caught him watching you, his gaze filled with love and affection. You had never felt more secure, more loved. But as the days turned into weeks, you were continually plagued by nightmares.

It was the same nightmare, the one where Jordan's hands were around your throat. Every night, you relived the terror, his eyes filled with rage, ripping at your clothes like a feral beast. You screamed, your voice raw and broken, but no one was there to help you. You were trapped in your own mind, reliving the worst moment of your life, the fear gripping you.

You would wake up gasping for air, tears streaming down your face, Elijah holding you tightly, whispering words of comfort.

As time passed, the nightmares lessened, but the damage was done. You began to withdraw, pulling away from Elijah. You had tried so hard to forget about the assault, to put it behind you, but you couldn't. The memory was like a knife, twisting in your gut, bringing you down, the pain never-ending.

You knew what you had to do; it was the only way to move forward. But you didn't want to have that conversation with Elijah, afraid he wouldn't understand.

"You seem troubled," Elijah said, sitting next to you on the couch, his arm around you.

You were curled up in his embrace, your head on his shoulder, his scent surrounding you. You wished you could stay like this forever, safe in his arms.

"There's something I need to tell you," you murmured, swallowing the lump in your throat.

"Anything," he said, his voice calm and reassuring.

You closed your eyes, letting out a deep breath.

"I need to leave New Orleans," you blurted out, glancing down. "Somewhere far away, like, Europe far."

Elijah was silent for a moment, his expression unreadable.

"I see," he said quietly, his voice strained.

You glanced at him, tears filling your eyes.

"I just can't keep living like this... with ghosts of the past haunting me," you said softly. "I can't keep having the same nightmares."

Elijah looked down at you, his eyes filled with pain and understanding.

"If that is what you need to do, then I will support you," he said, his hand reaching up and brushing away a stray tear.

"I'm not asking you to come with me; I would never want to make you choose between me and your family," you said, reaching out and holding his hand.

"I would choose you," he said, his gaze intense, his hand squeezing yours. "But I understand why you need to do this alone."

"I'm sorry," you choked out, fresh tears streaming down your face.

Elijah pulled you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you, his body warm and comforting. You clung to him, sobbing, the grief pouring out of you.

"Since the moment I laid my eyes on you, I just wanted you to be happy," he murmured, kissing the top of your head. "That is all I ever wanted."

You chuckled through your tears, "you mean when I was giving you a lap dance?" You teased, sniffling.

Elijah let out a low laugh, "Well, perhaps a bit later than that," he admitted, smiling.

You buried your face in his chest, the sound of his heartbeat calming you.

"I will miss you," you whispered.

"And I, you," he said, his arms tightening around you.

You sat there for a while, wrapped in each other's embrace, neither of you wanting to let go. But eventually, the moment passed and reality set in.

You would be leaving New Orleans, and Elijah, in search of a new life, a new start.

It was time to say goodbye.

The airport was bustling, the sound of people talking and rushing about filling the air. You clutched your carry-on bag, your stomach twisting into knots. You glanced at the clock, the time ticking closer to your flight. Elijah was standing beside you, his gaze fixed on the floor, his hands shoved into his pockets.

You had spent the last few days in bed together, the two of you memorizing each other's bodies. It was bittersweet, the time passing too quickly. Now, you were standing in the airport, the moment of goodbye looming.

"I'm not good at goodbyes," you confessed, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

"Neither am I," Elijah said, a small smile on his face.

"Will you promise to call me every day?" You asked, tears filling your eyes.

He didn't respond, just pulled you close to him, his arms wrapping around you. You melted into his embrace, not wanting to let go.

"I have one last gift for you," he murmured, pulling away slightly, his hands still on your shoulders.

You looked at him, confused. His expression one of pure turmoil, his brow furrowed, his lips pressed into a thin line.

"What is it?" You asked, tilting your head.

His eyes met yours, the intensity of his gaze sending a shiver down your spine. He reached up and gently stroked your cheek, his touch soft and reassuring.

"You will no longer remember all the pain you endured in this city, anything to do with the club, Jordan, and your time with me," he said, his voice strained.

"You will be happy, you will be free, unburdened by the darkness of your past," he said, his eyes watering. "I want you to live, and thrive, and find love again."

"Elijah..." you whispered, his name catching in your throat, his name sounding strange to your ears.

"You will forgive yourself, you will know you did all you could to escape," he said, his voice hoarse, the tendons in his neck taut with emotion. "Goodbye, my love."

You felt a strange shift in your mind, your memories dissolving, like water slipping through your fingers. The pain you had endured, the trauma, the love and loss, all of it fading into the ether. Replaced with a lightness, enduring hope, a blank canvas.

You blinked, a sense of calm washing over you, and you picked up your bags and walked towards the security gate. A part of you knew something was missing, that a chapter of your life was gone. But the details eluded you. You didn't know why, but you had a strong urge to never return, to start a new life, far away from the past.

And so, you did.

~Epilogue

It had been about a year since you moved to Italy, and life had been good to you. You got a job working at a local bakery and found yourself happily settled in. You enrolled at the local university and were working towards getting your degree. You had made a lot of new friends, and life was good.

You were sitting in the café across from the university, enjoying a cup of coffee and catching up on some reading. You glanced at the clock, realizing that it was getting late, and you needed to head home. You gathered up your things and headed out, the sun warming your skin as you walked along the cobblestone streets.

As you rounded the corner, you ran full-on into a man, your books falling from your arms. You scrambled to pick them up, your face reddening with embarrassment.

"Pardon me," the man said, helping you gather up your books.

"It's alright, I wasn't looking where I was going," you said, looking up to thank the stranger.

He was handsome, with his dark hair and soft eyes, his expression gentle. He watched you with interest; something about you intrigued him. He stood there for a moment, his eyes searching yours. You smiled shyly, holding his gaze.

"Elijah," he said, reaching his hand out, his eyes crinkling.

"Y/n," you said, returning the smile and taking his hand, feeling your cheeks flush again.

"You seem happy, are you happy?" he asked, a hint of a smile on his face.

"Um, yes, actually," you replied, raising an eyebrow. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason, I just wondered," he said, scratching the back of his neck.

You giggled, tilting your head to the side, eyeing him curiously.

"Do I know you?" you asked, a slight pang in your heart.

You didn't recognize him, but there was something familiar about him, something that tugged at you, longing settling in. He gave a half-smile, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Can I buy you a drink?" He asked, his gaze playful, inviting.

He had this way about him that made you want to be around him; it was comfortable, easy.

"Sure," you agreed, "but only because you're hot."

He laughed at your joke, his eyes sparkling, making you feel all warm inside.

You spent the night telling him all about your life, your dreams, and aspirations. He listened intently, his eyes locked on yours. He asked you a thousand questions about yourself, seeming genuinely interested in everything you had to say. He spoke very little about himself, preferring to listen and learn. You sensed there was much more to him than he let on.

After a couple of hours, you headed back home, walking with him to your apartment. He leaned down and kissed your cheek, his lips lingering for a moment.

"It was nice to meet you, Y/n," he murmured.

He pulled back, his eyes warm, a smile tugging at his lips.

"It was nice to meet you too, Elijah," you said, smiling back. "We should do this again sometime."

"Unfortunately, I'm heading back home to New Orleans tomorrow," Elijah said, dropping his gaze to the ground.

"Right, uh, yeah. Well, thanks for the drink and the conversation," you said.

Elijah gave a stiff nod, then hesitated, taking a step closer, his eyes searching yours.

"I'm glad you're happy here," he said, his eyes twinkling. "If you could indulge me for one last moment..."

"Yes?" you said, confused.

His hands cupped your cheeks, tilting your face upwards, his lips pressing against yours. It was a deep, passionate kiss, the kind that shook you to your core, a kiss full of love, full of loss.

He pulled away, his eyes heavy with longing.

Perhaps in another life.

{Part One} {Part Two} {Part Three}{Moodboard->}

Thank you so much for reading the Indulgences series! I will now be trying to catch up on some requests ♡♡♡ Love you all,

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

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[meyousing]

𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨, 𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐘𝐨𝐮 [𝟐]

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: chrollo + prompt 27 “you know that I’ll find you. I always find you.” + reincarnation(& or soulmate) au

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: you’re able to find a place to rest before you continue your journey home, but you can only make it so far when your soulmate has so many methods at his hands to keep tabs on you.

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: this is PART 2 [final part] of a soulmate au where mates have a nen tattoo of the other's portrait on their hand. sfw, manipulation, some violence, implied side character death. 

return to 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟏 here!

You’d managed to run for half a day, adrenaline taking you as far away as you were capable. When the sun had started to set that same night, your energy began to diminish along with the sunlight, and your legs simply couldn’t carry you anymore, not even in a walk or trudge. Thankfully, you’d made it far out enough from the previous wasteland, that there was somewhat of a city surrounding you now. A city, with more people around, and less of an odour plaguing the air. 

Despite the security you felt from having more people surrounding you, you were very worried about taking a break. You had none of your possessions, so paying for the safety that four walls of a motel room could provide was impossible, short of begging and pleading for one with the receptionist. But you weren’t certain of where exactly you were, your paranoia made it so that you still felt like you were in close proximity to your initial drop off– still in close proximity to Chrollo, who must have been hunting you down this entire time. That thought also had you worried about finding a place to rest outside; the risk of being entirely exposed and out in the open scaring you out of it immediately. It was out of the question. 

“Please, I’ll find a way to pay it back later. It’ll just be one night, I’ll even take a room that hasn't been cleaned yet! I’ll take anything that you have, please…” you begged the receptionist with interlocked hands, your head bowing down in desperation. He only groaned.

“Listen, I don’t want to keep repeating myself. I can’t let you have a room without an upfront payment, that’s how it works here. You’re gonna have to pay here, or go somewhere else. Those are gonna be your only options around here.” 

Rage boiled within you, nails digging into your skin as you glared back up at the man. 

“There has to be something else I can do instead of an upfront, I don’t have any money to pay with right now!” To prove your point, you reached into your pockets and pulled them right out in a dramatic display to show him just how empty they were.

 As you did, a handful of coins flew out and onto the floor. 

The receptionist raised his eyebrows at you. Surely now he must have thought you were a complete idiot who just exposed your plan to swindle him. You blinked off your shock at this discovery, laughing nervously as you bent down to pick the coins up and place the right amount onto the counter; shocked once more to see that you still had some money left over after the room was paid for. 

You were still in your work uniform. To save yourself some time while doing laundry; any money that you got from tips were immediately taken out of your pockets and kept in your purse, which was back at your apartment right now. This money was not in your pocket before… but, whatever higher being placed it there for you would be getting plenty of praise and thanks later on as you fell asleep in a cheap and warm motel bed for the night. 

The room had two single beds, and the water here was lukewarm at best, but you had never been more thankful to have a somewhat heated shower in your entire life, than you were right now. It could have been freezing cold for all you cared, you were just incredibly grateful to be able to fully wash off the parting gift of grime and filth that Meteor City left on you. 

As you hummed a tune and worked the fragrant motel shampoo through your roots, you knew that while this moment of peace was delightful–you couldn’t relax just yet. Tonight was a privilege, you didn’t know if inns or rest stops would be as easy to come by, like this one had been, as your journey home continued. Not to mention the lucky coins appearing in your pocket, would you have to pick up a part time job somewhere to afford transport fees later on? After such an exhausting day, you wanted to at least try and relax, to avoid thinking about stressful matters such as this before the actual treachery of your trip ensued. 

Instead, you chose to live in this moment as immersively as possible. You relished in the feeling of weight being lifted off of your scalp as the shampoo scrubbed out the debris, appreciating the relief that it brought. Then you prepared your conditioner slowly, taking your sweet time as you worked it through your ends. You wished this could last forever, if forever meant confining you to this bathroom in exchange for Chrollo never being able to track or find you. Though all good things must come to an end, so when your hands began to prune like raisins and the air became a bit constricted from the steam, you turned the water off and wrapped yourself up in a bunch of towels. You shivered from the further drop in temperature as you stepped onto the bathmat, remaining there for quite some time until your trembling ceased, keeping your eyes shut and letting the towels warm and comfort you until you were effectively air dried. 

Unfortunately, there was no second miracle of the night with new clothes magically being provided to you, so you had the option of either changing back into your work uniform, or hoping your towel would stay wrapped as you got under the sheets. You decided on the latter, as going back into your outfit would have rendered your memorable shower meaningless.

You unravelled the towel that had wound your hair up, dropping it on the floor and using the dryer that hung from the wall until your hair was more damp than soaked. Usually you’d be more cautious of sleeping with wet hair at all, and would dry it completely. Your mother, friends, coworkers, always warned you of how harmful it could be to let even the slightest dampness remain overnight, but in your current situation, you were just happy to know you’d be sleeping with a pillow under your head in the first place. 

Turning the bathroom light off after you were finished, you wrapped another towel around your shoulders for some extra warmth while the other stayed around you, tied at your chest. You tried to fight off a yawn to no avail as you shuffled over to one of the beds, your exhaustion obvious as sleep became imminent. Your arms felt like jelly as you untucked the comforter and sheet, sliding under them and instantly finding a comfortable position to fall asleep in. Frailty from everything that your body had just been put through allowed you to rest for the night, succumbing to a slumber the very moment your eyes closed. 

Waking up the next day was strange. Being supported by a mattress was lovely, and your reintroduction to consciousness allowed you a few seconds of blissful forgetfulness as you slowly came to. As far as you knew, you had just woken up from your morning nap after work and were ready to get some tasks done for the day. But as you writhed in a stretch, everything came back. No, all of what had just happened was not just a bad dream. 

You didn’t know what time it was either, which only disoriented you further. You had no phone to check, and no watch or clock in the room anywhere to show you. The idea of leaving this bed could have made you cry, but you knew that you couldn’t stay in one place for too long in these circumstances. You begrudgingly sat up, rubbing your eyes and hunching over as you mustered the strength to throw your legs over the side of the bed to stand up. As you did, you noted that the towels you wore stayed on through the night, an indication of how solid you must have slept. 

Walking over to where you had thrown your uniform the night before, you stared it down while fearing the idea of putting it back on–the junkyard scent that still lingered on the material served as a reminder of where you had just escaped from. With no other choice, you slowly changed into it, wishing that wearing a towel dress in public was socially acceptable to save you from that reminder. 

Thinking about parting with the clean towels had you wondering if you could sneak one out with you as you set off. You’d definitely have to deal with that pesky receptionist asking what you were doing with it, since you had to go see him anyway. Not only to return your room key, but also to ask what time it was. As much as you wanted to procrastinate on this interaction after the way your last one went, you knew that too much time was passing and you had to get moving. Keeping one of the towels folded in your arm, you left your room, embracing the soft breeze of the somewhat fresh air as it cooled your face and blew your hair. 

Inhaling softly, you opened the door to reception and cringed at what was coming next; probably a huge eye roll and no show of thanks as you returned your key. The door shut behind you, and what you hadn’t expected was for the receptionist to be standing there facing you, already staring with his hands folded behind him and a wide grin on his lips. Since you were still annoyed with his lack of empathy the night before, you hadn’t planned to go into this too kindly, but the intensity of his smile had you mirroring him subconsciously. 

“Here’s the key,” you stated, dropping it on the desk and waiting for his response. He only blinked–with one eye at a time–which unnerved you greatly. Was this some kind of sarcastic retaliation to show that he was still annoyed with you from yesterday? Whether he was being petty or not, you didn’t want to waste more time here than you already had. “Could I ask what time it is?”

“It’s time to go back home” he whispered, voice quiet and syllables muffled under his breath. You mistook this as some kind of inn-culture joke. Like, obviously you’d be going home after staying in a motel! 

You chuckled, a bit fakely to appease him, while waiting for him to actually tell you the time. But when he continued to stare and not say a word, your smile started to fall and your brief laugh tapered off into silence. Okay…you get it, he’s bothered by you. Asking for the time would be your last question for him, then you could leave and part ways for good. Why was he dragging this out? 

You were about to repeat yourself, saying Can you just tell me? When his next move caught you off guard. You flinched back as his face fell expressionless and he collapsed forward, straight for his desk– he had gone unconscious. Rushing over, you leaned atop the desk’s edge to see him; how his arms had stopped him from falling to the floor entirely and surrounded his head, but his legs contorted beneath him, they looked broken. From such a slight fall? The sight was frightening, and you were about to back away to look for help, when you noticed something that you hadn't seen initially. There was something sticking out of the back of his neck…was that… an antenna? 

“I heard how impolite he was to you last night. Chivalry truly is dead in today’s day and age, isn’t it?” 

That voice was all too familiar, and it certainly didn’t come from the receptionist. You snapped back to stand up straight and try to turn around, but you did not expect your back to collide with someone’s chest. His hands found your hips, effectively stilling you before they slid along your waist, meeting to clasp over your abdomen. You looked down, recognizing and hating how Chrollo’s hands were ingrained in your memory from the countless times you’d held and caressed them before. 

Rather than experience dread and paralysis upon your first meeting like you would have expected (sure, you’d love to lie and say that you wouldn’t ever get caught, you never expected a first meeting. But you knew this would happen, didn’t you?) you only felt defeat. His chin pressed into your shoulder and you cowered, the gentle exhale from his nose tickling your cheekbone. 

“Why did you run?”

Of course he didn’t seem mad at you. All he ever had for you was patience and understanding. This almost made you feel worse, like you were a rebel acting out against a caretaker who wasn’t mad at you, just disappointed. You didn’t know how to answer him, but thankfully he continued before you could. 

 “I knew that you would try to, It’s a natural reaction to have in a situation such as this. I just want to know why…did I do something wrong?”

Was he being serious right now?!

“I paid for your rent…I made food for you, no expenses paid on your part. I did this all without complaint, because I wanted to. How else do you think you were able to afford a room here?” 

So… it was him who put the coins in your pocket? You had him to thank for a restful night after, causing you so much grief to begin with.

“As my soulmate, you deserve the finest. So what is it?” He spun you around in his grasp, embracing you face to face. He was looking right into your eyes, though his appearance caught you off guard; his usual head cloth was lacking, revealing some type of cross tattoo, and his hair was styled back rather than down. He’d never appeared to you this way before–it made you nervous, it had you squirming away but he only squeezed you closer, fingertips caressing you as he held on. 

You were at a loss for words, heart thumping too loudly in your ears for you to even hear your own thoughts. His eyes seemed so sad, like he was on the verge of tears.

“Did you think that after doing all of that, I would just let my soulmate go?” his eyes hardened then, tone dropping a few decibels as if it were only meant for both of you to hear. Nobody else was around to save you, anyway, yet it still sent a chill down your spine. 

You shook your head, not knowing what else to say. Your throat felt like it was full of thorns as you swallowed, eyes welling with hot tears as the reality of this situation dawned on you. 

He didn’t say anything else, only gazing at you for a moment longer before placing a hand on the back of your head to pull you into him fully, pressing it into his chest while his other arm was secure around your waist. You trembled softly, like a mouse caught in a trap, being loomed upon impendingly by its predator. That wasn’t too far off from the truth, was it? Chrollo had a way of hunting you this entire time, even letting you have some time to yourself before making it known that he could have taken you back whenever he saw fit. If only he had given you some more time. 

“Did this teach you a lesson, about how it’s useless to try and run?” He whispered the last part right next to your ear, lips tickling your skin as he nipped at the lobe softly, pulling away with it in his teeth until it couldn’t follow anymore, and nuzzled his cheek into yours. 

The closeness and intimacy of what he was doing, mixed with the implications behind everything he said, had you flustered and panicking. You whimpered as you tried to wriggle away from his grasp, and astonishingly, he let you out. Your body flew back into the reception desk from the force in your movements, you winced from the sharp surface digging into your spine. You braced yourself and tried to find stable footing as the tears that streamed down your cheeks began to impair your vision. Chrollo remained in his place, watching you with sympathy written across his features, moving his hands to rest in his coat pockets.

“If I let you go right now, let you run as far as you liked, or even paid for your transportation; you know what would happen, don’t you?” His head teetered to one side, giving him a flair of condescendence that made you feel utterly stupid. You shut your eyes, unable to keep looking at such an expression and absorbing such an aura that only made you feel so, so bad about yourself. He was surely convinced that he was entirely justified in every aspect of this situation, completely civil in how he was handling everything. He spoke again, and this time his voice was a step closer, making you tense and screw your eyes shut even tighter.

 “Tell me what would happen.” 

You shook your head, the only verbal response you offered being a choked out sob. You raised a shaky hand to wipe your tears away, blinking your eyes open in an attempt to clear them, to gain some form of solidity in this. 

It was when Chrollo’s hand romantically lifted towards your face that an idea came to you. Ever the amorous, the poet that he was, surely if you had expressed your perspective to him in some kind of fairy-tale-esque device, he would be more understanding of you. Of why he was not in the right here, and how what he did was not the only realistic solution. 

You stopped him, daring to press your palm to his, fingers quivering as you held him there. You sniffled before looking up, your voice breaking as you chose your next words slowly and methodically. 

“If you truly love me the way you claim to, as my soulmate…you should let me go.”

As you tried to gauge a reaction from his unchanging expression, anxiety filled your nerves. You tried to drive the point home by forcing your fingers to intertwine, clutching his hand in a (false) show of affection. 

After a moment, one where he looked contemplative, he finally smiled at you. You returned his smile, thinking that your words struck something within him and that he would agree with you. Then his fingers curled around your knuckles and his hand squeezed yours with such bone-crushing strength, you cried out and brought up your other to pry yourself out of his grip.

“Your soul is bound to mine, nothing could ever keep us apart.”

He leaned in, his nose inches from yours as he pushed your hand down and pinned it against the desk, the force in the movement making it vibrate and jolt the rest of your body. 

“Even if I did let you run free, Y/N, you know that I’d find you. I will always find you.”

© meyousing 2023. do not share/export my work on to any other platforms. do not translate my work. 

[captainmalewriter]

Sibling Rivalry

Sierra's mother had recently remarried. While she was happy her mother had found love again after divorcing her deadbeat father, it unfortunately came with an extra cost Sierra wasn't prepared for. The man her mother had married had a son her age, and although Sierra just ignored Carlos during the dating phase, now he was her step brother. Carlos was loud, obnoxious, and overall just a disagreeable person. The two would often bicker and fight as if they were little kids again. And now that they moved in with Sierra and her mother, avoiding Carlos became much more difficult.

"I just don't see why you can't get along with him," Sierra's Mom said while she was busy washing dirty dishes. "He is your brother now, you know."

"Step-brother," Sierra corrected. She was slouched over on the kitchen counter. Now that college students were out for summer break, Carlos would be at home more often. She dreaded the thought.

"Sweetheart, the details don't matter. You're both adults, you should act like it and treat each other with respect."

Sierra raised her head and stared her mother down, though her mother didn't give her a response. Sierra couldn't believe what she was hearing. She was always the respectful one, only becoming disrespectful when Carlos started it (which was often). It became clear to her that her mother was simply too oblivious to really help her out.

Sierra took a deep breath and excused herself to go take a shower. She stepped into the porcelain bathtub and turned on the hot water. She felt the tension melt from her body as the steam filled the room. Sierra was ready to for a long shower, until a gust of cold air entered the room. She gasped and peeked her head out the curtain. Her jaw dropped when she saw Carlos had entered the bathroom, and with only a pair of briefs covering him.

"Why are you in here!? Get out!" Sierra yelled.

"Bro seriously?" Carlos rolled his eyes. He started tapping on his phone. "Quit screaming! Now I gotta record this thirst trap again..."

"Dude I'm fucking showering!"

"So?"

"So get the fuck out!! I don't want you in here, get out!!"

Sierra was scowling. Carlos lowered his phone to return Sierra's gaze, though he looked completely uninterested. The two stared at each other for a brief moment with only the running water breaking the silence.

"GET OUT!!" Sierra yelled even louder than before.

"Psh, fine."

Carlos smirked as he turned around and grabbed the doorknob. He began to leave, but just before he left, he raised his leg and let out a loud fart. The sound reverberated throughout the small bathroom for the four seconds it lasted. Once he was done, Carlos left and slammed the door shut.

Sierra groaned as she resumed showering. But within seconds, the rancid smell of a protein junkie's flatulence violated her nostrils. She gagged while covering her nose. It was horrible. While the smell did eventually dissipate, Sierra finished her shower with a scowl on her face. She was sick and tired of her step brother, and that fart bomb was the last straw.

Sierra spent the rest of that day searching through the internet for the perfect revenge plot. She needed something big enough to get him back after everything he’s done as well as cruel enough to make him stop. After hours of searching, Sierra found her solution. She would possess her brother, then force him to embarrass himself all over the internet. She was sure that something like that would get him to leave her alone for good.

Once nightfall came, while everyone else was asleep, Sierra proceeded to perform a magical spell on her own body. She recited the ancient incantation, and her spirit began to untether itself from her body. Soon she was floating through the air in spirit form. Sierra flew straight to Carlos' room. She fazed through the wall and was met with the sight of her step brother lying in bed naked with a mango on his dick.

"Mmm... fuck yeah..." Carlos moaned as he pumped his cock with the fruit.

Sierra averted her eyes. It was the first time she had ever entered his room, and now she had reason to never enter again. She was grateful she couldn't smell in her spirit form, as she had a feeling that the room reeked of body odor and dried cum. Carlos tossed the mango to the side after it became mush. He then proceeded to pick up his stroking pace as he closed his eyes and threw his head back.

Not wanting to prolong the plan any longer, Sierra floated over to Carlos. He was too busy jerking off to notice a ghost had entered his room and was noticing hovering directly above him. Sierra got in position and proceeded to lower herself down to him.

Just a little closer...

She had no idea how body possession worked, but she figured she needed to line up the body parts. She started with her legs. As she lowered herself onto him, she could feel herself sitting on top of his lap. Then, with a little push, her spirit began to sink inside of Carlos' body. Though because of her positioning and because Carlos was in the middle of jerking off, she inadvertently got penetrated while possessing him.

A moan accidentally escaped Sierra's lips as Carlos' thick dick slipped inside her pussy. Her pussy lips flared as the cock head entered her. Sierra hated to admit it, but her brother was the biggest she had ever been fucked by. Pushing aside the sensations, she pushed on with the body possession. Carlos' 8 inch cock got swallowed up by Sierra's coochie as she inserted more and more of her spirit into him. She taken over his legs and waist, then moved onto the torso.

"Aw... fuck...! " Carlos cried out. His pleasure had increased; it felt like he was fucking some tight pussy, yet all he could see around his dick was his own hand.

That didn't stop him from continuing his jerk off session. Sierra began to lay down so that her spirit would go into the rest of Carlos. Their torsos lined up perfectly. Carlos' pecs grew in size as Sierra's tits filled them in. The more Sierra possessed Carlos, the more she could feel herself change from having a female body to a male body. Suddenly she had a dick and balls where she had a pussy. Her chest was still heavy, but she wouldn't need to wear a bra anymore. Sierra aligned her head to Carlos', completing the possession.

Sierra opened her eyes and found her new hairy hands vigorously stroking off her new cock. She was panting and moaning with Carlos' deep voice. She was close. With just seconds to spare, she managed to get Carlos' phone with her free hand and record herself shooting loads of cum all over her brother's possessed body. She was covered in warm, sticky cum- cum that she got to experience the pleasure of shooting out.

She laid there, catching her breath after finishing what Carlos had started. Then, she hopped out of bed and walked over to her brother's mirror. A sinister smirk ran across her face as she confirmed the results of the magic spell. She flexed and groped all over her new male body, the body she stole from her brother.

Sierra admired herself in the mirror, bouncing her pecs as she checked out the goods. She wasn't a fat girl by any means, but Carlos had always been the more fit of the two step siblings. She couldn't help but run her fingers over the bulging veins in her arms and legs. The feel of a V line felt foreign yet pleasurable to her. Her hands eventually went to her new groin, and she groaned as she cupped and rubbed her newly possessed dick.

After thoroughly inspecting her brother's body, Sierra went back to the bed. She picked up her brother's phone and went to the gallery to see the video of her shooting cum all over herself. It blew her mind to know that although it was Carlos in the video, it was actually her spirit controlling his actions. Nobody would know it just by watching the video, they'd just see some guy jerking off.

She paused as thoughts ran through her mind. Sierra had recorded the video to use as revenge, but she began to have second thoughts. Sierra was recalling the feeling of stroking a hairy cock and the pleasure of busting a massive nut. It was obviously different than fingering her pussy, but jerking off in a man's body... That was more pleasurable to her. Sierra grinned as she remembered the warmth of a good jerk off.

Nobody would know. Nobody would ever know unless I told them. And even if I did, who would believe me?

That last thought stayed with her. Then, after a minute, she deleted the video off her brother's phone. She decided the revenge plot could wait. Sierra decided to have a little fun with her brother's body instead. After all, nobody would know it's her.

[coyotescribbles]

Dead Signal [Chapter 1/?]

*sigh* Did my squirrelly ass cave and add YET ANOTHER WIP to the Eternal Pile?

Yes. Yes I did. Thanks, Finding Frankie.

[CW for suicidal ideation]

~*~

There were a lot of things, Felicity Faustus mused, that had led up to standing in line to buy a bus ticket at three o'clock in the morning.

Like a decade and change spent trying to make it in broadcast media, but never actually going anywhere because they "weren't camera-friendly enough."

Like struggling to stay afloat as rent and bills continued to rise, while they were denied raises time and time again even as less-experienced coworkers advanced ahead of them and their other job applications continued to go unanswered.

Felicity had always been a scrapper - it had gotten them into trouble more times than they could count as a kid - but as the months crept by, they felt the fight leaving them as the proverbial water closed over their head.

They would have been lying if they'd tried to say that they hadn't been tempted to end it all more than a few times. The means to their end were plentiful, and it would have been easy to pick one and make use of it.

They'd just never been able to work up the guts necessary to do it.

Instead, they'd aimlessly gone looking for solace in their favorite cult game show, even as they sank deeper and deeper into despair. But cartoons and livestreamed events weren't much of a life preserver when the rest of their life was falling apart around them.

But then, just as they were teetering on the literal razor's edge, the semi-regular announcement was made that Finding Frankie was looking for another batch of contestants.

Four tapes. Four boxes of cereal.

And maybe, just maybe, Felicity had cracked, just a little bit.

In a fit of mad desperation, they'd run up their last remaining credit card buying cart loads of cereal and then, once that had maxed out, resorted to shoplifting even more cereal than they would ever be able to eat. They were pretty sure that they were on some kind of list for that.

They'd only had to open one, though. Just one, to make sure there was nothing hidden at the bottom. After that point, their kitchen scale had been their best friend, looking for one box that weighed a few ounces more than the rest.

The laser-focused obsession had paid off, after four whole months of diligent (obsessive) searching, when they'd finally scored that coveted VHS tape - and their ticket out of this hole in the wall.

(It had paid off for their neighbors, too. All the unopened boxes got dumped in the run-down "community room" of their slummy little apartment building, and they were always gone by the next afternoon.)

They'd spent half of a breathless, sleepless night tossing and turning after that, their heart hammering like thunder in their ears, before ultimately deciding that it didn't make sense to wait.

(It didn't matter that the show wouldn't be airing for another week, and they had plenty of time. Nothing mattered anymore, why should time?)

They'd rolled out of bed, taken a quick, cold shower and gotten dressed, then stuffed their wallet and cell phone into their thigh bag and their Swiss Army knife into their binder, grabbed their jacket, and hurried downstairs to catch a bus to the Port Authority terminal.

"What can I help you with?" The woman behind the counter sounded as exhausted as she looked.

"Can you tell me when the next bus to Dallas leaves?"

The woman stifled a yawn and turned her attention to her computer monitor, tapping away on the keyboard and squinting at the information that her query brought up. "…Eight-thirty A.M. There are only three seats left, did you want to reserve one?"

"Yes, please."

More tapping, more squinting; maybe she needed to schedule an eye exam, Felicity thought to themself.

"That'll be… Four hundred and sixty dollars and seventy-seven cents."

This time, they had to stifle a groan, fishing their wallet out and handing over their debit card.

It was going to use up most of the pitiful little emergency fund they had left in their checking account, but it didn't matter. None of it mattered anymore - not the money, not the debt, not the job or the apartment or anything. Either they were going to win, and the prize money would make everything right again, or they were going to die, and none of their problems would be their problem anymore.

"Credit or debit?"

"Debit."

More tapping; it felt incessant now.

And then there were signatures to be signed, scrawled barely-legible onto the little OLED tablet screen.

And then the ticket was in their hand.

And, just for a moment, the weight of the world lifted off of their shoulders.

[haleyrude]

Alone

Pairing: Zak Bagans x fem!reader 

Disclaimer: Loved this request and had fun writing it! Enjoy!

Words: 2.1k

Masterlist

The sky was blue, not one cloud to be seen. Everything was normal, you had even found a $5 bill on the floor while you were out running errands. Though all day you had a knot in your stomach which was unsettling, your gut was telling you something was wrong. You had texted your family and friends asking if everything was okay and they had all responded normally. You pinned it off as having to join your boyfriend and friends on one of their ghost investigations that night. 

Normally you were nervous but you’ve never had a knot in your stomach like you do now. You had spent a few hours researching the destination so you knew what to expect. Now the location tonight was known to have negative energy toward females and maybe that’s why you were so unsettled. You had just finished showering so you threw on some sweatpants and a t-shirt before wrapping your hair up in a towel. Sighing, you grabbed your phone off the bathroom counter and walked out to your bed plopping on your stomach. Hovering over your boyfriends name on your phone you bit your bottom lip thinking it was stupid to even bring up your concerns with him. He was very protective over you during investigations but sometimes you felt like he cared more about his show when it came down to it. You pressed call and put it on speaker, dropping the phone to the bed and rolling on your side. “Hey baby!” he greeted you cheerfully, putting a smile on your face, “Hey” you didn’t mean for your voice to come out as somber as it did. “What’s wrong?” you took a deep breath, “so after researching the place we’re going tonight, I just… well’ he cut you off, “you don’t want to go? You know I’ve never let anything hurt you.” you nodded knowing he spoke the truth, “I want to go, I just, please don’t send me alone anywhere tonight. I have a gut feeling about something and I just don’t want to be alone.” It was silent for a few moments as he thought about what you said, “Ok baby, you have nothing to worry about” “Thank you, I’ll see you in a few hours” “Of course, love you” “love you too” After hanging up with Zak you thought the knot in your stomach would disappear but it felt heavier than before. 

***

“There were 15 deaths that were confirmed, that doesn’t account for anything left not discovered” You stood next to Aaron while Zak was stating different facts about the location you were at tonight. Everyone was wearing their usual black attire, all the equipment was set up and it was dark as hell as you stood in the lobby of an old museum. 

The air felt heavy as you looked at the different portraits that were hung on the walls. Some were in good shape and there were some that were worn down over time, somehow not being able to be preserved at all. Almost like the portraits rejected what could’ve saved them. Chills ran down your spine as you followed the 3 men, Jay staying behind to keep an eye on the camera’s that were set up throughout the museum.

It wasn’t long before you four were split into two teams, you being with Zak. You stood in front of a painting of a little boy that lost his life within these walls, that is known to still be running around these halls today. Zak held out a spirit box explaining to the camera how it worked before turning it on, the small dark corner you were standing in filled with the noise of static. Zak started asking the little boy questions. “William, are you here with us?” staying quiet to listen to a response, nothing came up. “William, if you’re here you can talk to us through this device I’m holding” After a few more tries you decided to speak up, “Did your friends used to call you Will, do you want us to call you Will?” as clear as day you both heard a ‘yes’ come through. You looked at Zak with wide eyes and he smiled proudly at you, urging you to keep going. “What happened here Will?” there was more silence, “We’re here to understand and help you.” “bad man” once again chills run throughout your body. “What did the bad man do?” you felt your throat tighten, just wanting to cry for this poor little boy, “hurt me, killed” “Woah, he was killed by the main owner Jefferson” “here” both of you couldn’t get over what was happening.

The questions went on a little longer before your luck of communicating with Will ran out but somehow you felt a sense of peace wash over you with what you learned about Will. Zak had his arm around you as you walked through the halls to meet back up with Billy and Aaron.

***

“Zak, you’re going to love what we captured,” Aaron held up a tape recorder. “Unbelievable communication tonight” Billy added on. “Same with us” you stated excitedly, looking up at Zak, he gave you a small smirk ruffling up your hair. Looking into the camera Zak started speaking, “We’ve been getting quite a lot of communication tonight, but I think it’s time we check out the basement area. It’s said this is where Jefferson the owner spent most of his time. Where he ended up torturing and murdering those who didn’t commit suicide. It’s known to have strong energy towards females,’ Zak turned toward you with sympathy in his eyes and you couldn’t help the fact that your stomach had dropped. You couldn’t even hear when he told the camera that you were going alone, you felt numb and betrayed. The 3 men looked at you expectantly. You couldn’t even muster up a word so you grabbed a camera and started walking toward the basement. You knew if you didn’t do this, you wouldn’t hear the end of it and the last thing you wanted to do is have your boyfriend be disappointed in you. “10 minutes and we will come get you” Aaron reassured, opening the door to the basement once you all stopped in front of it. 

Horror movies are nothing compared to what you felt when Aaron shut that door. Thankful you had your hair up in a ponytail because you broke out in a cold sweat, your heart pounded in your ears. The only thing you could rely on was the tiny screen on the camera where you could kind of see where you were going. The basement was run down, the stone steps you descended were cracked, chunks missing. Everything was eerily quiet besides the sound of water dripping somewhere very slowly. Once at the bottom there was a circle of chairs and you sat down on one of them. “I’m here alone Jefferson” you were surprised your voice was steady for the fear that was coursing through your veins. “Is this where you murdered innocent people?” You stood up slowly pacing, “Where you hurt Will, a small defenseless child” you felt tears buildup in your eyes but you stopped and held your breath as you heard a growl come from your left. Ever so slowly you backed up into the wall closest to the stairs, “You’re not allowed to hurt me” You felt as though you were suffocating, your chest felt heavy and then all of a sudden you had an intense pain on your stomach, not being able to see anything you collapsed on the floor and screamed.

The basement door opened and some light flooded through the room. Your tears made your vision blurry as someone lifted you up and started ascending the stairs. “Let me take her to Jay, continue with Billy” Next thing you know was that you were sitting in a chair and saw Jay working the computers. “Where’s Zak?” he looked over to you and smiled, “Are you feeling better?” No, you were not. You were pissed off. Standing, you looked at Jay, I’ll be at the hotel.” He nodded as you took your phone and called an uber, luckily finding one this late at night. 

***

Three scratch marks…. Three perfectly straight lines that drew some blood were placed on your stomach. You knew who did it, yet you felt defeated. You laid in the hotel bed after showering and changing your clothes into a silk pajama set. Setting an alarm on your phone you decided to get some shut eye before Zak came back.

***

You woke up to the sound of the door opening, Zak getting back before your alarm went off. You sat up as he turned on the lights. “I had no idea you came back here” he said once he laid eyes on you and released a breath of relief. “Why does it matter?” you frowned as he set his bag down. “I thought you were with Jay so I was worried something happened” You stood up fuming, “Why would you care about what happens to me!” your voice got louder as Zak came closer to you. “Because I love you? What are you…’ “Love me?’ you laughed, ‘I poured my heart out to you about how I did not want to go anywhere alone at the museum tonight, TOLD YOU, I had a bad feeling in my gut about it and YOU DID NOT CARE” Zak crossed his arms over his chest, “I was just thinking about the show and..’ you couldn’t help but cut him off once more, ‘The show, it’s always about the show Zak. I love how you pour everything into your show, caring so much about the entertainment for your fans and having all these amazing moments with the afterlife but sometimes I feel like you put your show before me and I can’t do it anymore.” you dropped your head letting your tears fall before continuing, “you told me you’d protect me, never let anything happen to me but you did not listen to me today. I’ve never felt so betrayed by you” 

“You’re okay, we’re both safe” before he could come closer you lifted your shirt exposing the scratch marks on them. Zak’s eyes widened as he sat at the edge of the bed urging you to come closer. You did and he gently raised his hand to run over the scratch marks, you hissed as the marks were still fresh. “I…’ his beautiful blue eyes welled up with tears, “you got hurt” he was trying to convince himself it was true. “I knew something bad was going to happen tonight and I begged you. This could’ve been worse and I was alone.” You put your shirt down as he wrapped his arms around you burying his head in your chest as a sob broke from him. You were so mad at him but seeing him like this broke your heart, so you stood there running your fingers through his hair while the other rested on his back. 

You don’t know how long you both stayed there like that but eventually he looked up at you, his eyes red along with yours. “I know sorry won’t fix what I did to you. I truly feel like I have failed you tonight and I cannot begin to apologize for it because it will never make anything better. I promised I’d always protect you and I didn’t do that tonight because I was selfish and was just thinking about entertainment. If I would have lost you..’ his face scrunched up as he brought you to hug him once more, ‘I wouldn’t be able to go on with my life. My life is you and I vow from this day forward my show will never be more important than you and our relationship. Please let me make this up to you” Zak has never sounded so broken before, you could tell he was talking from the heart. Sometimes people can’t see what’s in front of them until something bad or upsetting happens. Dealing with spirits good and evil anything could’ve happened tonight. 

“It’s okay” you softly said as Zak looked up at you again. He stood up so he was able to wrap his arms around you and fully engulf you in a hug. You squeezed him as tight as you could, hating that this even had to happen. “I love you, I never want to lose you” It was your turn to look up at him and smile, “I love you too” He leaned down and kissed you, every word, every feeling he had poured out into this kiss and you knew this was the first step for a beautiful change. 

[fleckcmscott]

Rain or Shine

Summary: Y/N cherishes the joys Arthur has returned to her life - and traverses echoes of the past.  

Words: 1,898

Warnings: None

A/N: My husband (😘) thinks this oneshot's summary should be, "A little story I wrote in two weeks." 😂 Please enjoy another look at Arthur and Y/N's early days! Special thanks to @jokerownsmysoul for beta-ing! More is on the way, including a late Halloween tale. My pen is simply scrawling slowly these days. 🖋️ Thanks for reading!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

It was 5:32 AM and Arthur Fleck was in her bed.

Y/N's alarm was set to six, but Arthur spending the night tended to stir her early. A change she chalked up to the newness of him. The excitement of him. Sure, work would be fuzzy between cups of caffeine, but that didn't matter. The family cases Matt had shoved her way were easy, even if they weren't easy to read. Divorces and custody battles, the odd child protective filing. She could draft them in her sleep.

She wrung out her hair, slid open the shower's glass door. Towel cinched at her hips, she flipped her Conair hair dryer to the highest setting. In the chapel silence of her apartment, it was as loud as a Gotham Air Jet coming in for a bumpy landing.

Toes wiggled on navy blue tile. If the walls were thin enough for the neighbor to have overhead her and Arthur's intimacies, they were likely thin enough for the Conair's whirring to permeate the bedroom. Given how little he slept, that wouldn't do.

Y/N waved the nozzle at the underside of her goosepimpled breasts (his hands would've done a better job of warming her) and flicked it off. Her mop could forgo proper hair care until they had a chance to test it.

Tangles detangled and combed back, thin layer of moisturizer on her face, she donned a robe and padded through the darkened living room to the kitchen.

The latest volume of Loving Some With... lay on the dinette table. She grabbed it, stuck it in her canvas bag to return to the library on her lunch hour. Even after all her reading, his diagnosis remained a mystery. Puzzling out possible illnesses hadn't worked; his symptoms were listed in every title. And she hadn't figured out a way to pry without it coming across as a What on Earth is Wrong with You.

He'd disclose it to her one day. She was confident of that. He'd tell her all about that part of himself. Eventually.

She filled the Coffeematic with four cups of water. Put two mugs on the counter, along with a teaspoon and diner style sugar dispenser she'd found at Donahue's, the kind with the flap. Smiling, she flipped it open and shut. If it hadn't been for Arthur, she wouldn't have bought it. Did he realize the ways he'd already changed her life? As mundane as kitchenware, as significant as a softened heart?

Harsh times had callused it over. Forced each chamber to thicken, harden into iron gates. Moving to Gotham had unlocked them. Making friends who were strangers to her past had pushed them ajar. Falling in love had flung them open.

Last evening, they'd had wine and conversation in bed, a lovely distraction after the news's distinct lack of Renew Corp. coverage. Arthur seemed to be developing a taste for Merlot; she'd stuck to two glasses.

He'd laughed as he explained that getting used to rolling over without falling off the couch or hitting the back cushions was weird. He'd laughed at her when she'd told him the hardest thing to get used to after she'd moved was standing in the subway. ("The drivers must have a pool as to who can brake the hardest.")

And she hadn't stopped putting her hands on him. Running awed palms up his chest, across his broad back. She hadn't realized how much she'd missed the skin to skin. Touching someone for more than a diaper change or washing or feeding. For more than a funhouse mirror of survival. For more than the mechanical.

The baggage she tried to keep hidden must've shown on her face, because he'd propped himself on an elbow, worry written on his dark brow. "Is something wrong?"

Her fingertips flitted from freckle to freckle. "I was just thinking about how much I love touching you," she'd half-truthed. "How much I love you," she'd full-truthed. "How much I like you."

Unease had given way to a shy smile, tight lips and closed eyes. He'd reached over her to turn out the nightstand lamp, pulled the floral comforter to their chins. A bony foot burrowed between her calves, cold toes caressed her instep. His strong arms had enveloped her, warm and soft and safe. "I like you a lot, too."

Cooking for someone who could enjoy it was another rediscovered pleasure. She took out two frying pans, filled one with OreIda golden home fries and deli honey ham. Brown eyes narrowed at a carton of eggs. How did Arthur like them fried? Sunny side up? Well done? How many would he want? When she'd asked if he'd been eating enough, he'd shrugged, said he guessed so. A perfect non-answer. She reached into the carton and grabbed four.

As she salted the potatoes, the TV sparked on, a commercial for the GBS Wednesday Night Presentation: a special on changes in the workplace in the eighties. Then Wake Up Gotham's muted trumpet bounced through the apartment, a triumphant start to a bright new day. She pressed the brew button on the coffee maker.

When Arthur rounded the corner, he'd already put on brown trousers, but his chest remained bare. The smell of nicotine and bitter cold rolled off him. "Your hair's wet." He wound a clump of damp strands around his thumb and forefinger.

"You slept so soundly. I didn't want to wake you." She cupped his chin, drew him in for a peck. "I wish you wouldn't go out in the cold like that. You better have some coffee to warm up."

He reached for the pot but stopped, paused mid-motion. An almost imperceptible twitch in his bicep. "What's this for?" he asked, low and graveled.

"It's for you, silly. Now you can pour exactly how much you want."

He traced the sugar dispenser's rimmed lid, followed its seams to the ribbed glass. "Can I pour you?"

A groaned chuckle, a shake of her head. She cracked eggs into the second frying pan. "This'll be ready in a few minutes. Put our mugs on the coffee table and I'll be right over."

Plates in hand, they sat on the sofa. Paper towels covered her lap and, by extension, the couch - getting grease out of cream color upholstery would be a nightmare. Feet tucked beneath her bottom, she cut egg white with the side of her fork. "What have you got planned for today?"

"I have to call the nursing home. Find out what I need to send over. There's too much stuff at the apartment. The paperwork's all done, but they want something else. I think it's the living will you explained to me? At the hospital?" Huffing, he leaned forward, elbows on his thighs. "But I dunno what she wants."

"The doctors there should be able to help you figure out what's best. I didn't know what my father wanted. I had to do what I thought was right and hope that it was." She blew ripples in her coffee. "You'll know what to do. It may take a while, but you'll get there."

The weatherman predicted an afternoon of clear sunny skies, and freezing rain expected around seven. The lead anchor started in on the latest headlines. After the latest round of failed negotiations, the garbage strike was expected to last through the end of the year. Severe storms had knocked out power to millions in Texas and Nebraska. Reagan had promised to ''not retreat one inch'' from his social spending cuts for the poor and tax cuts for the rich, a story that felt too close to home.

Arthur poked at a home fry, brought it to his mouth. Dragged it from the tine with front teeth. He chewed at the pace of a cow on its third round of cud. He pushed the egg around his plate. The white flipped and wrinkled, mixing with ketchup. When his fork pierced the yolk, yellow streaks spilled streams all over. Soaked the potatoes, smothered the honey ham. Sickly veins across the ceramic.

"They're too runny, I'm sorry." Holding her robe to her breast, she aimed to stand. "I'll make some toast to sop that up."

The plate clunked to the table. "No, it's fine." Both hands pressed flat on the wooden surface. The tendons of his neck stood out like jagged fences.

At the next commercial break, she swallowed. "Arth-"

"I'm not upset," he said. Chuckling, snuffling. A scratch of laughter in his throat, nearly an animal cry. He armed his nose, leaving a long, wet streak. "I just- I don't know what to do with what's going on in my head. I'm happy- I'm happy with you, but... I don't know where you came from. I don't know why you're here now." The fingers of his left hand coiled like snakes. "I don't know why you weren't here before!" His fist pounded the table on the final word. Cutlery clattered to the carpet.

Silence tautened the air. Y/N stared at his hand, which trembled, loosened. Four seconds and he winced, murmuring sorry, I'm sorry with the shame of a sinner. He reached for her, entwined their knuckles until hers ached. She didn't stop his apologies.

He'd been hot and cold since Murray, since running out of medication and treatment. Last night hot, this morning cold. And the anger she'd just glimpsed was too close to what she'd seen on the monitors backstage, when she'd longed to go to him and had to wait for a commercial break. It was tough to witness. Brought back unwelcome feelings of Unknown.

Meeting him earlier would have been wonderful. She often thought about it, pondered what they might have had. But she wasn't sure it would've worked. Though painful, experience had matured her, provided insight not only into Arthur, but also into herself. Without it, she may well have repeated a version of the mistakes she'd made with her father. Driven down the same dark roads with headlights out.

She wouldn't allow that to happen again.

She sipped her coffee quietly. Thoughtful, not meek. "Have you called the doctor?"

"No."

"I think you need to."

He stroked up her forearm, under her loose sleeve. The hurt hiding under frustration turning into the tenderness that'd caught and kept her. "It's hard."

"I'm glad you're happy with me; I'm happy with you, too. But I want you to be happy with yourself."

At that, Arthur scooted up the sofa, turned to lay his head on her shoulder. The arms that'd protected her before now clung to her middle. Fingers burrowed, determined to sneak between her back and the cushions. Eyelashes tickled her neck, his nose nuzzled her clavicle. Rich shades of twilight shone through the windows, the blue hour before dawn.

Y/N stretched to put her mug on the coffee table. "You wonder why I wasn't here earlier," she said, stroking the silken curls at the nape of his neck. "I was busy becoming the woman who knows how to love you."

A rush of hot air caressed her skin. "Maybe I was busy becoming the man who's learning how to love you."

The gates of her heart fell off their hinges. "You're already doing a pretty good job, Mr. Fleck." Smiling, she rubbed her cheek against the crown of his head. "Let's teach each other as long as we can."

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve​​​​​ @ithinkimaperson​​​​​ @sweet-nothings04​​​​​ @stephieraptorr​​​​ @rommies​​​​​ @fallenstarsabyss @gruffle1​​​​​ @another-day-in-chuckletown​ @hhandley80​​​​​ @jokerownsmysoul​​​​​ @rafaelbottom @ralugraphics​​​​​ @iartsometimes​​​​​ @fleckficgirl

[persephonewritessometimes]

Moon Song / part four: smoke signals missing my heart

Summary: Y/N is staying with her sister for the time being, but her thoughts turn to Hotch.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x (AFAB) Reader

Word Count: 2915

Warnings: ANGST, distressed!reader, reader is kind of depressed and doesn't want to talk about it, lots of emotions

Playlist: Link

Author's Note: I apologize if this chapter is a bit more slow-moving, I promise the next part picks back up! As always, thanks for reading, it means the world!

This work is meant for readers aged 18 and over. You are responsible for your own media consumption.

-Two Days Later-

         I’ve been staying in my sister’s spare bedroom for the past two days. It’s blank, bare of any memorabilia, just beige walls, cream-colored carpet, and me curled up underneath the covers not even knowing what time it is.

         “Y/N? Are you hungry?” My sister asks, opening the door and walking in quietly, sitting on the edge of the bed.

         “No,” I mutter. Oak and Bobby have been nothing but gracious hosts, giving me space. I know my sister is worried about me – I’m worried about me, but at this point, I’d rather just rot away in bed than do anything else.

         “Will you just eat a little bit? For me?” Sometimes I forget that I’m two years older than her. I feel small, curled in bed. I feel her rest a hand on my hip. “Y/N.”

         “Please,” I whisper. She just sighs and leaves, shutting the door behind her. My phone is shut down, buried underneath my socks. I texted everyone, save for…him, and gave them my sister’s address, asking them to send a letter if they wanted to get in contact with me. I just need some time away from everything. I sigh and roll over to my back, stretching out my limbs from their cramped position. I forget how cold my hometown is in December. It makes sense, we’re far more north than Virginia is. I woke up to a light dusting of snow on the ground this morning, snow flurries kicking up in the air. I sat by the back door and watched them as I sipped a cup of coffee. Then it was back to bed.

         I’m listless, I don’t know what to do with myself, don’t know what to say to Oak, don’t know what to say to myself. I feel drained, devoid of life, and lost. I sleep almost all day on the second day.

         On the third day, I peel myself out of bed, take a shower, and put on a pair of sweats and a large sweatshirt before emerging from the confines of my room.

         “Good morning,” I say quietly, pouring myself a cup of coffee in the tackiest mug I’ve ever seen in my entire life. I watch my sister and her husband exchange a look. “You can say it. Subtlety is not your strong suit, Oak, and I profile people for a living.” I say, raising my eyebrows, stirring some sugar into my coffee.

         “We’re just worried, Y/N. I’ve never seen you like this before, I’m worried.”

         “That’s fair.” I grasp the warm mug in both my hands, turning to lean against the counter and look at them.

         “Is there any way we can help you? I’m just lost here.” Oak looks like she’s about to cry and Bobby grabs her hand, squeezing. Tears prick at my eyes at their affection.

         “I just need time, that’s all. I’ll be okay – I always am.”

         “That’s what I’m worried about, Y/N. You always manage to pull yourself together and don’t let anyone see what’s going on underneath. It’s okay to hurt, it’s okay to open up, it’s okay to not be okay." She smiles at the cliché.

         “I’ll be fine. That’s why I’m here, isn’t it? To heal, to be somewhere that…that he’s not.” My throat closes up and I barely get the words out. I clear my throat awkwardly. “Do you have any errands I can run for you? I might as well make myself useful while leeching off of you.”

         “You’re not leeching off of us, Y/N. You’re welcome here. And I need a few things from the grocery if you’d like to venture out today.” I nod, taking myself and my coffee back to my room. I finish it within a half hour and fight the temptation to turn my phone back on. I put on socks and shoes, grab a banana from the fruit bowl in the kitchen, my sister’s shopping list, and let myself out of the house. I breathe in the crisp air for a few moments, letting my body adjust to the chill. I walk a mile to the store, eating my banana, I relish in the exercise and the serene quiet that my hometown brings.

         It’s just a small mom-and-pop grocery shop, and Meryl recognizes me instantly.

         “Well, if that’s not Y/N Y/L/N! Hey sweetie!” She calls from behind one of the registers.

         “Hi, Meryl.” I give her a small smile. “Just picking up a few things for my sister,” I say, waving the list.

         “Come here and give me a hug, I haven’t seen you in years!” She rushes over and squeezes me tight.

         “Yeah, I’ve been busy. Always working.”

         “The FBI needs to give you more time off!” I laugh, and agree, excusing myself to do the shopping. The store is quiet, just me, Meryl, the store manager, two middle-aged women, and a dad and his son. I’m watching them, not on purpose, the dad looks nothing like Hotch, but he reminds me of him all the same. I overhear him talking to his son and he says,

         “No, we’re not getting chocolate today, Jack, just the necessities.” I freeze when I hear his son’s name, the tears threatening to spill over. I blink a few times, willing them back and hurriedly get the items my sister needs. I make my way back to the cash register when a can rolls in front of me. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” The man exclaims, “Jack you need to hold onto things better!”

         “It’s fine!” I say, leaning down and picking the can up. Jack walks over to me shyly. “Here you go, Jack,” I say, handing him the can.

         “Thank you!” He exclaims, beaming up at me. I smile at him and give his dad a smile. I check out, adding a chocolate bar to the belt.

         “This is for that little boy when he and his dad check out,” I say to Meryl, handing her the chocolate bar.

         “You’ve always been a sweet girl, Y/N. Don’t let anyone dim your light.” Meryl says, taking the chocolate from me. I just give her a small smile, take my bag of groceries and head out of the grocery. I’m on the way back to my sister’s house when I see a small church on the other side of the street. It’s quaint, made of old gray stone and its doors are wide open. I’m curious, I don’t remember seeing this church growing up. I look both ways before jogging across the street and stepping inside. It smells like old books and communion wafers. There’s a “Please be quiet!” sign right outside the chapel, and there are a few people sitting inside, praying in silence.

         I’ve never been a particularly religious person, so I don’t know what compels me to walk into the chapel and sit in the last pew. I set the groceries down quietly beside me, and I just kind of look around. It’s beautiful in here, with huge stained-glass windows towards the front, and an altar made of granite. It feels peaceful here. I don’t pray, merely just sit in quiet contemplation for a few minutes, before gathering my things and leaving. I let myself into my sister’s house and put the groceries away. I find my sister sitting in the living room and ask,

         “Hey, has that church always been there?” I ask, and she seems surprised that I’m wanting to have a conversation that’s longer than her asking me a question and me saying no.

         “The gray one? Yeah, I think it’s been there as long as we’ve lived here. Why?”

         “Oh, well the doors were open, so I went inside. It was pretty, I liked it. Very quiet.” I say and smile. “Felt nice.”

         “I think it’s open every day for people to come in and pray.” I nod in contemplation, and she asks, “Have you heard any news about…?” I shake my head.

         “I turned my phone off. Completely. Which reminds me, if I get a letter, it’s from my team. I told them that’s how they could contact me.” She nods, and I excuse myself, back to my room.

-The Next Day-

         I awake from a nightmare, gasping for breath. It’s early, and the sun just starting to rise. I pull on my coat and a pair of thick socks, quietly letting myself into the backyard. I watch the sun as it rises, the hues coloring the sky. I watch as the sky turns the lightest shade of orange – his favorite color – and then into vibrant yellows and soft pinks. It’s beautiful and I don’t realize that I’m crying until I feel my cheeks get cold and wet. I laugh a little, wiping them away. It’s silly to be crying at the sunrise, but it feels like something inside me has cracked open, ready to heal.

         The next week I come out of my room more and more, borrow books from my sister (mostly shitty romance novels that don’t have much substance but are distracting enough), and walk to the little gray church every day. Sometimes I only stay for ten minutes, the other day I stayed for an hour. I think while I’m there, reflect, sometimes I cry, but I always feel better after I leave, like the load has lifted a little bit. I’m letting myself into the house after spending some time at the church and Oak says,

         “Hey, you got a letter today.” She hands me the envelope and I recognize JJ’s pretty handwriting.

         “Thank you,” I say breathlessly, taking the letter back to my bedroom and ripping it open. Everyone has written a paragraph for me. Some are short, some longer, but all light-hearted and express that they miss me. Penelope starts hers off with a poorly written joke, but it still makes me laugh. JJ’s paragraph is last, and it has the information I’ve been dying to know.

         Y/N, I hope you’re getting the rest you deserve. I know you’re wondering about him, so I’ll tell you. He woke up shortly after you and Reid left, and the first words out of his mouth were your name. When he realized you were gone, he looked like he was going to throw up. He’s back at work, despite the doctor’s orders, and keeps to himself even more than usual. He doesn’t joke around anymore, just says what he needs to and leaves. We’re worried about him, and I know you are too. He’s not the same when you’re gone. I’m not telling you this to get you to come back, I’m telling you because I know you, and you’d strangle me if I didn’t give you at least a little bit of an update. Take your time, we’ll all be here for you when you want to return. Love you.

-JJ

         They did not ask him to write a paragraph, and I feel the absence of his presence greatly. I wonder if he even knows if they’ve sent me a letter. Part of me is glad, if he doesn’t write, then I don’t have to worry about reading his words and feel like I’m hurtling over the edge into the abyss.

         I woke up in the middle of the night that night. It’s pitch-black outside, the world is quiet, waiting for something. I shuffle out of bed, put my gun in the waistband of my pants, and go for a walk. The world looks different when it’s nighttime, it’s peaceful and I walk to a park two blocks away. I sit and swing for a while, and I can’t stop thinking about him. I see him everywhere I go. In the grocery store, in the sunrise, in the sound of the door being opened but it’s always just Bobby.

         I don’t know when I start to cry. I just sit there, unmoving, letting them spill down my cheeks.

         “Let him go,” I sob at the big dark sky. But I can’t. He is entangled in my very being. The first time we kissed, the atoms of my body welcomed him in, and now he is burned into my soul. I will never be able to let him go. I feel like I’m watching myself break down from the outside, an outsider to my own life. I’m listening to her scream, listening to her cry. A feeling of relief came over my soul. I couldn’t take it any longer, and I lost control. They’re big, heaving, gut-wrenching sobs as I realize that I will never be able to rid myself of Aaron Hotchner. I feel the rational part of me chasing my emotions up the stairs, and I pinned her to the ground. Underneath her whimpering, I could hear the sirens sound. I rattled off a list of all the things I miss.

         “God?” I whispered when I was able to get my sobs under control. “I know we don’t exactly have a good track record, and I know it’s stupid to ask you for something after all these years, but if it’s meant to be, can you please send me a sign?” I look up into the sky and right as I’m about to close my eyes, two shooting stars follow each other across the sky. I suck in a breath and whisper, “Thanks, God.” I collect myself and walk back to my sister’s house, curling back up in bed and sleeping better than I had in weeks.

         I dream about him. When I wake up, from the dream where I am safe and loved, I reach across the bed for a body I know isn’t there. I curl into a tight little ball, resting my hands under my chin as my sleepy eyes take in the quiet room. I feel more at peace than I did yesterday and join Oak and Bobby for breakfast. They keep glancing at each other, and I know they’re trying to figure out what changed.

         “Y/N, Christmas is next week, do you want anything?” I blink and pause. I hadn’t realized it was coming up so fast.

         “Oh! Um, I’m not sure. Maybe a nice pair of pajamas?” I suggest, and Oak smiles at me.

         “I can do that.”

         “Do you want anything?” I ask back. She regards me.

         “I just want you to be happy.”

         “Oak…” I start, but she cuts me off.

         “No. Y/N, you love that man, yes?”

         “Yes, but - ”

         “No buts. You love that man. He loves you. You make it work, if it’s meant to be, it will work. It won’t be pretty and easy, but you can’t give up and then spend your whole life wondering what would have happened if you had just tried.” She grabs my hand and squeezes it tight. “I’m not saying you need to just forgive him immediately, but it’s clear he loves you, and you can’t help but love him.” I squeeze her hand back, not trusting myself to speak, and nod.

         I walk to the church again that day, feeling lighter than I have in a long time. There’s no quiet sign today though, and people are chatting inside. I almost turn and leave when I hear,

         “Hello, I’ve seen you here a lot. What’s your name?” An older-looking man, approaches me, a kind smile on his face.

         “Oh, um, I’m Y/N. I’m just staying with my sister for a little bit.”

         “Ah, I see. Running from your responsibilities?” He asks, smiling.

         “Running from a person, more like it.”

         “Ah, there’s always a boy in the story, isn’t there?”

         “Yeah, it seems like it,” I mutter, but smile at him.

         “What’s his name?”

         “Aaron.”

         “Good name. Is he kind?”

         “He tries to be, he’s just been hurt. We all have.”

         “I understand. We’re having a potluck right now, would you like to join us?” He asks, motioning towards the chapel.

         “Oh, uh, I didn’t know. I didn’t bring anything.” I feel awkward.

         “That doesn’t matter, come inside, Y/N, we’d be happy to have you.” I don’t know why I concede, but I do. The old man, whose name I forgot to ask, introduces me to a few people, and I recognize the dad and his son, Jack from the grocery store.

         “Hey! Thank you for the chocolate!” Jack says, tugging on my hand. I smile and crouch down to be on his level.

         “Of course! What’s life if you can’t have a little bit of chocolate?” I wink at him, and he giggles. I stand back up and his dad, whose name is Eric, says,

         “Thank you again, that was a pleasant surprise.”

         “Anytime.”

         “Why did you do it?”

         “The world needs a little more kindness than what I’ve been giving it,” I say plainly.

         “I see you met Aaron,” Eric says, changing the subject and nodding at the older gentleman. A look of surprise comes over my face before I quickly school it back into neutrality. Of course, his name is Aaron.

         “Oh, uh, yeah, he invited me in.”

         “He’s one of the church elders, and the nicest man I know. Hey, we’re having a Christmas Eve service, if you’d like to come.”

         “Of course, I’ll be there.” I smile and excuse myself. For some reason, the idea of smoke signals comes to my mind.

         The orange sunrises, the little boy named Jack, the double shooting stars, and the older man named Aaron. You must have been looking for me, sending smoke signals.

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part five: the day after tomorrow

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