#poor girl working on a gif*

[pardonmydelays]

JAMES BAY one life music video every scene with Jonah Hauer-King PART 2, PART 1

requested by lovely @immercuryinretrograde 🩷

[weepynymph]

Oh Boy have I made a discovery

[not-with-you-but-of-you]

GILMORE GIRLS | 2.10 x 2.18

+ bonus

[ducks-love-peas]

yeah, erm, spelling - not their strong point.

[asalesbian]

Act 3 | Act 7 | Act 8

Jeongnyeon: The Star is Born

[supemaeve]

"We don't need you for the reality shoot. Got everything we need, check it out!"

[targaryenluvs]

DELICATE

pairings: dark!coriolanus snow x innocent!wife!reader

warnings: erm we’re back at it with another dark corio! possessiveness, literal murder, threats, vulgarity, nc touching -dumbification/babying, emotional manipulation and vulnerability, sexual undertones and thoughts, ownership?? NOT PROOFREAD

summary: coriolanus had to marry. lucky for him one of the most eligible girls of the capitol was up for grabs. only problem? he hoped his cold exterior would keep her away but nothing broke her sweet spirit. what happens when he finds himself being drawn to her light? and how far was he willing to go to keep it untainted and all to himself?

word count: 2.09k words

a/n: i swear i can only think of dark ideas for him because he is practically crayz - i loved this concept tho so enjoyyyy - annoyed i can’t find any post-lucy gifs snd i’ve already used the other one help me plz

taglist: @sleepydang @aspieundercover @darktrashsoulbear @3lliesrifle @rafeysbafey @zejjef @themorriganisamonster @cryfordemie @winterblu2 @earthangel-111 @taylarxse @alexameliamg @katastrophic04 @jjggdfvvy @joshwifeyslaymamaballs @10ava01 @kis9na @princessdaella @princessloveweird @prettybiching @justacaliforniandreamer @bxtchopolis @witchafterz @har-rison-s

PART TWO

coriolanus wanted nothing more than a relaxing night. he’d been at a campaign meeting for about four hours and he’d gotten absolutely nothing out of it.

he was in the right mind to fire them all and work it himself but he knew he couldn’t. all he wanted was to go home, have a bath drawn for him, eat dinner with you and go to sleep.

coriolanus had seen a number of weird things in his life but nothing was weirder than seeing you, hanging up the laundry to dry. you’d stopped him in his tracks but hadn’t yet noticed his presence as you hummed to yourself and went about your business. after staring in confusion for a few minutes he cleared his throat, “y/n. what are you doing?” you turned towards him with a smile, “it’s christmas! so i sent the staff home for the rest of the day so they could be with their families. don’t worry i had them prepare your bath, dinner and everything else. there were some things left to do so i thought, why not do them myself? i cleaned my room and yours, ironed the previous batch of laundry and placed them away, dusted the library and i was hanging up the laundry until you showed!” you beamed as you continued to hang the clothing.

coriolanus took a seat on one of the lawn chairs as you continued. he decided to watch you, to make sure you were okay. because who on earth wants to do laundry? that was the very reason you had so many servants. but here you were.

“you can head inside corio, no need to wait for me!” you said sweetly. coriolanus was a strong man, always rational. but god when you spoke so sweetly to him- no. “there’s no need, i’ll wait till you’re done.”

the sun was hanging low as the last rays illuminated the dining room. you’d set out candles, flowers and other pieces on the table. back home you loved setting the table, until your father would reprimand you for doing something you didn’t need to. what will people say if my daughter is acting as a servant?

but right now you felt at ease.

you had a good life. good friends which were rare to find in the capitol. good family and a good husband. he was proper, took care of you in every way, even if he didn’t love you, you were grateful to be married to someone you liked. admired. you’d heard whispers of corio’s childhood, his depleted resources and poor upbringing. but you couldn’t care less. he was more of a man than anyone you knew. and he was extremely pretty, your parents would’ve probably married you off to whomever they thought would help with social standings so this match? a lifeline.

coriolanus kept himself in check. he was up for presidency, his name and wealth restored and he was respected and feared. you were a diamond in the rough. whilst all the other girls in the capitol were, special, to say the least, you weren’t like them. first of all, he could tolerate you. like you even. you were exceptionally smart, well-read and spoken, respectful of those worthy but even those beneath you. you were kind, not the fake kind of the capitol. kind to everyone, helping everyone however you could.

and to him it was more than perfect. someone kind would be easy to have, easy to be married to. he knew from the second he saw you as marriage material that you’d never endanger those around you. you cared, enough to put your happiness to the back of the line. you’d be easy to control. after the wedding he expected you to be clingy, desperate for his love and affection. as any girl would from their husband, but you kept your distance. you didn’t push yourself on him, you did your duty. you did what was required and more. but you always listened, listened to him.

so he assumed you’d be easy to be married to, but he was always in awe of you. your sweet smiles every time you passed eachother in the halls, in the morning at breakfast and at night for dinner. always catering to him.

“what should i wear?” “you can choose.” “you tell me.” “it’s your choice.” and god did it inflate his ego. you were always asking about him, how his day was, what he did, who he saw etc. but it wasn’t just small talk, you were always listening. absorbing his words like a sponge, wide eyes, head nodding along dumbly. he loved it. and over the year he found himself, caring, on the inside at least.

every time you’d go out there were hungry eyes consuming you. your face, body everything. and he wanted to personally pluck out each eyeball and feed it to their families. so again, overtime, he’d shield you, protect you. his sweet wife who knew nothing of what the others wanted to do to her. a hand on your back, an arm around your waist, a peck on your forehead and his large red coat around you. all for show right?

he wanted to puke.

the smell of cabbage wafted to his nose and he was oh so close to putting this fist through the wall. who on earth-

you were humming, again. “corio!” your voice was music to his ears, corio, no one said it to him anymore. not even tigris. but he only liked, only wanted it to come from you. “dinner is served, some of your favourites are here. i asked tigris what you use to eat as a kid. ooh, you never told me you liked cabbage, me too! guess that’s another thing we have in common.” you beamed as you walked over with a bottle of wine, “tell me when to stop.”

he eyed you up the entire time. trying to catch a fleck of disgust whilst you ate, andddd, nothing. you weren’t lying, you actually liked it. he swallowed his own fear and began to eat.

“mm, i was wondering what you wanted me to wear tonight? i’d like to match corio, if that’s okay with you.” corio smiled slightly, “i would like to match. i have something i would like you to wear tonight sweetheart.” your eyes darted forwards as the word fell, sweetheart.

you couldn’t help the smile that came to your face, he only used terms like that in public. and based on his reaction afterwards, of which there was none, it meant that he probably didn’t even realise. or he did, you could never read him.

the red dress did things to coriolanus. the idea of you in it has his head spinning, but to actually see you in it? he wanted to throw you onto his bed and never let you out.

but to you it looked as if he was studying the dress rather than looking at you in it. “you look good.” you grinned, “thank you corio! i love your suit, you look very handsome.” you straightened his suit as he looked over your shoulder, your back was bare. “do you have a throw?” you quickly nodded and picked it up from the dresser. “good.” you already got a million stares in ordinary clothing, tonight was going to test his patience and anger.

the gala was gorgeous. for once there wasn’t ugly statues and weird color matches. a clean and pristine white hall, chandeliers, gold accents.

your heels clicked on the floor as coriolanus held his arm for you. “your hand please.” corio stared, waiting for your further explanation. “when we link arms your arm is too high for me. i end up with my arm at my neck.” you laughed as he lent his hand, which you gladly took.

stares and compliments at every corner of the room, everyone was looking at you two. the future president and first lady of panem. a match made in the capitol. you and coriolanus made the rounds, talking to present sponsors, potential sponsors and other candidates, much to coriolanus’s distaste. after a while you realised you were sort of just standing there, so you excused yourself for a drink and a closer view of the band.

“you look, ravishing.” charles operman. a sight which no one wanted to see, but to you he was just an ex-peer of the academy. “charles! thank you, corio picked it out for me.” you’d missed the way his jaw clenched at the mention of your husband, but you were to engrossed by the angelic singer and band. “you know, i always thought we’d end up together.”

the abruptness of his sentence had you choking on your drink, “excuse me, i’m married charles. i’m sorry if you thought that we would be together, i see you as a friend. i’d hate to lose a friend.” you smiled as he got uncomfortably closer and leaned into your ear, hand on your bare back.

coriolanus’s grip on his cup was tightening as he listened to lucky drone on and on. he wanted to see the life leave charles’s eyes, maybe his head would make as a nice present for you. “excuse me.” he nodded his head as he placed his cup on a passing waiters tray. you were helpless, and he was here to help you.

his breath was hot in your ear and you could smell the liquor on him as he was grabbed from you. “coriolanus, sir.” charles mocked salute as coriolanus stared at him, maybe he thought if he stared long enough hed burn into the floor. coriolanus rarely smiled, but this one was unsettling to say the least.

“if you ever put your hands on my wife, look at her, speak to her. it will be the last time you do so. i might just call in a favor with dr gaul, i hear your fond of snakes?” charles’s eyes widened, he hated snakes. he couldn’t even watch the 10th hunger games, the second he saw the snakes he ran to the bathroom and hurled.

“when i become president, you better keep yourself in line. it’d be horrible to see your family in the games no?” charles took a step back, “you can’t do that, i’m capitol.” coriolanus drew back,

“you won’t be for long.”

you couldn’t believe your eyes, of course he’d protect you but, threatening? he’d never do it right? the shutters of cameras had you reaching for corio, “can we leave my love?” coriolanus turned to you, “of course sweetheart.”

he’d stayed up for a long time. a smile came to his face when he remembered the sound of charles’s neck snapping. the door creaking open revealed a disheveled you, “corio? are you awake?” he sat up as you released a breath.

“what is it y/n?” you took a shy step forward, “i uhm, i can’t stop thinking about charles. he scared me, i didn’t know what to do corio. i-” you couldn’t stop the tears from falling as coriolanus swiftly got out of bed, helping you into his bed. “i- can i sleep here tonight? please?”

this was definitely not how he first expected to have you in his bed, but how could he say no to you? your hair in its braid, messy and lose, puffy eyes and tear stained face. he wished he’d first seen you cry underneath him but he’d take what he could get. what he didn’t expect was for him to like this, the scene of you crying, needing him. he was the one who could help you, console you, coddle you.

coriolanus nodded as he moved back to the bed, tucking himself and you in softy, caressing your hair and kissing your forehead. god he’d held out for so long, denied himself and his feelings but having you in his arms was all he could ever want, but the idea of being in you flooded his head.

would you cry like this? would you shout and scream? did you like it soft and sweet? he couldn’t be soft and sweet, he’d savour the moment but he loved the idea of unravelling you, he’d be the only one to see you like this, him being the only one to make it happen.

you curled into his chest, like a baby. your soft cries and whimpers went straight to his crotch and soon enough you were asleep.

his sweetheart, his delicate little wife.

corios hand slipped downwards and into your pants, he promised himself he just wanted to feel but god you made it difficult. he saved you tonight, didn’t he deserve a reward? didn’t matter if you detested he had you where he liked. so he slowly rolled over and placed you on the bed.

your eyes fluttered at the change of placement but he couldn’t care less. he was done waiting.

you squirmed underneath him in your sleep but his worries faded away.

[corrcdedcoffin]

teenage dirtbag, baby

jj maybank x reader

requested: yes

warnings: none. fluff, pining. one use of y/n. jj is a big ol’ softie and nervous boy here. poorly proof read. i’m not entirely happy with this but it is what it is i guess. 18+

gif not mine!

it was so typical to want what he can't have.

it went against basically every rule on kildare island. kooks and pogues aren't friends; avoid each other at all costs. date in your own social circle. but he couldn't help himself and the big, fat crush he had on you, ever since the day he'd saw you.

it was at the wreck. kiara was helping out one weekend, back when she went to the kook academy for a year. she was behind the counter while jj, john b and pope sat at it, listening to her qualms about her new school.

you were with your family having lunch, pope noticing how kiara kept looking over to you.

"is she one of the mean ones?" he asked, everyone else turning to look at you as you were wrapped up in a conversation, moving around animatedly.

"no," kiara breathed out, "she's pretty cool, actually. she's in my art class. i think she keeps more to herself."

"why don't you try being friends with her?" pope suggested.

she shrugged. "yeah, maybe."

the conversation moved on, but jj couldn't stop looking over at you. if he were in a cartoon, little heart bubbles would be floating all around him, and there'd be a tiny heart shaped arrow stuck in his chest.

he hadn't seen you around for a long time after that. not until the next year at school, when you were at the public school instead of the academy. you certainly looked like a pogue — maybe slightly more well groomed and fashionable, but nothing about you screamed kook.

by the time he'd worked up the courage to introduce himself to you, you were gone.

he saw you around a lot after that. every time he'd wander the halls when he was supposed to be in class, he'd peek in every window to see if you were behind the door. he didn't see you for a few days until he passed the art room at lunch.

there you were; headphones on, slightly swaying side to side as you painted, stopping every few moments for another bite of your lunch.

art never made much sense to jj, he didn't like having to think about what something meant, or being told what he was supposed to feel when looking at something. but he knew one thing for sure: you were insanely talented, and he’d happily sit in a room full of your paintings.

this is his chance, he thought, but you looked so focused and in the zone that he didn't want to disrupt you, so he left.

you invaded his dreams basically every night since.

it was probably for the better anyway, he thought to himself. jj was… well, jj. a dirt poor stoner who hardly ever went to class in favour of smoking and surfing. and you? you oozed intellect and creativity.

a while later he'd learned your name from kiara, impressed with himself how casually he brought it up. "i think i saw another girl from the kook academy here" he'd said.

"oh, yeah. that's y/n, the only other reasonable and cool person that went there."

"do you know why she left?"

"no idea" kiara shrugged. "maybe they bullied her out like they did with me."

and that was it. after he'd learned your name, he found you on social media and began to... observe.

it wasn't like you were secretive, but you weren't exactly an open book like some people were on socials. your instagram had a few selfies, photos of your art, your friends, and some landscapes. your twitter was all over the place, from memes to thoughts that were definitely while high. it only made his crush grow ten times bigger. maybe you were more alike than he thought?

he followed you on instagram first, and was incredibly pleased when he received a notification that you requested to follow him too a little while later.

the school year was going by fast. valentine's day was coming in hot, and small tables were set up to send a rose with a note to whomever you pleased. jj decided to do it.

he wrote your name on the little card, writing a small message about how talented he thought you were as an artist, and that one day he'd love to buy your work. he left a heart at the bottom with no name, and carried on with his day.

on valentine's day, he could see roses being handed to people left and right. this was the first time in a while he'd seen you in the cafeteria during lunch instead of the art room, but then again he was hardly ever there. you were sitting at a table with people from the chess club, reading a book as you ate.

god, you were so different from him.

a student approached you with a handful of roses, and handed you two. jj tried to push down the jealousy that bubbled up. did you have a boyfriend he didn’t know about?

one of them you rolled your eyes at, the other made you smile. he hoped it was his. you studied the flower for a while before looking around the room, eyes eventually locking onto his. he tried to stop his cheeks from going red, resorting to hiding his face and turning away from you.

why the hell did you make him so nervous? he was jj fucking maybank. talking to girls was an easy feat for him — it had never been a problem before. he felt different with you though, less like you were another to fool around with mindlessly, and more like you were someone he actually wanted to get to know.

when he had the courage to look back at you, you were gone.

the end of the year bonfire was a big tradition on Kildare island. all kooks and pogues would gather together at the boneyard for a night of partying and officially transition from school year, to summer.

it wasn't as big or fun as the end of summer bonfire when all the tourons would join in, but it was still a good time.

jj had shown up with pope, meeting kiara and john b there. to his surprise, they were talking to you.

none of his friends knew about the massive crush he harboured. he kept it quiet cause he didn't know how to actually deal with his feelings, so he swept them under the rug and accepted that you'd never acknowledge him, let alone like someone as damaged as he was.

but when kiara pointed out him and pope to you, you smiled.

she introduced you to them, pope shook your hand and jj offered a shy wave. he could feel the way john b was eyeing him down at his actions, the bastardly flush returning to his cheeks and ears. the boy smiled at his friend, asking kiara and pope to join him for a beer, purposely leaving jj alone with you.

you broke the silence first.

"kiara told me you're a really good surfer" you'd said.

he shrugged, "yeah, i guess. been doing it my whole life." he couldn't look at you. he wanted to, badly, but he was so unbelievably scared. instead, he dug his foot in the sand, kicking and twisting.

any other time he would have boasted about being the best surfer on the island, but he couldn’t right now. why the hell couldn’t he talk himself up to the girl he likes?

"i'm terrible at it. i tried last summer for the first time and i think i spent more time in the water trying to fight it than actually standing on the board" you joked, and he let out a small laugh.

"have you ever thought about like, being an instructor or whatever for beginners?"

were you hinting at him?

"not really, but it does sound like a good idea. maybe i'll start, be a good summer gig" he shrugged, finally looking over to you.

he'd spent so much time admiring you from afar or through instagram posts, but he was still just as mesmerized. you were absolutely unreal up close. the sun was behind you, illuminating you as if you were an angel. you had incredibly smooth looking skin, and it looked liked you’d spent lots of time outside; a subtle tan accompanied by a tinge of pink across your nose and cheeks. there was a small scar on the middle of your nose.

he wondered where it came from.

"i can be test subject number one,” you suggested, “if you can't help me, then i'm afraid there's no hope for either of us."

conversation flowed easy after that. he learned that you left the academy simply because everyone was a massive dickhead, and you weren't about that. he learned about your childhood injuries (including the scar, that you got from pulling a cats tail) and dreams, your current dreams, and that you weren't as scary as he made you out to be.

actually, he felt rather calm talking to you once he got past his nerves. it was like catching up with an old friend he didn't know he was missing.

you talked all night long, neither of you realizing you'd completely ignored your friends until they came up to you saying they were heading home. looking up, you realized most people had already left. jj's friends looked at him expectantly, while he looked at you.

"you staying?"

you looked around for your friends, unable to spot them anywhere. "guess i should head home. my friends already left i think."

jj nodded and stood up, offering a hand to help you. you walked to the parking area with them, and said your goodbyes once they were at their van. "where's your car?"

"oh, i didn't drive, my friend did" you told him.

"and they just left you?!"

you shrugged, "i don't mind the walk."

jj pursed his lips in thought. the nice thing to do right now was offer you a ride, but he didn't want to be nice. he wanted to be a little selfish and have more time with you.

"i'll walk with you" he said before closing the van door and jogging over to you, not saying a word to his friends. the way you smiled at that made his heart jump with glee.

the entire way, you didn't stop talking. both of you were on a roll of asking questions and sharing stories, laughing and walking as slow as you could so you'd have more time. it was electric. for the first time in a long time, jj felt like he was exactly where he was supposed to be, and he was happy with it. he felt good, like this life wasn’t so bad after all.

your hands brushed together as you walked, legs moving in sync. occasionally your shoulders would bump into the other. by the time you got home, it was nearly 2am.

jj walked you right to the door. seeing your house was a reminder of how different you were, it slightly bruised his ego and confidence again, but then you looked at him and it all washed away.

it was obvious that neither of you wanted to say goodbye, but you were the one to make the move and ask for his number.

"sorry if i bored you to death tonight and kept you away from all the fun party stuff" you said as you put your phone back in your pocket.

jj shook his head. "i was so far from bored. i had a lot of fun with you. actually i—" he let out a big breath, "i wanted to talk to you all year, i was just nervous."

"what! really?"

he nodded. "yeah. kiara recognized you from the academy, and at first i tried to get her to go make friends with you, but she was scared cause of all the shit that happened there.

"and then every time i wanted to talk to you, you were so busy and focused on your art or reading, and i didn't want to interrupt. which, by the way, you're an incredible artist. if i ever get rich one day, ill be your number one buyer."

you smiled at him, your heart swelling at the realization that the anonymous rose you'd received on valentine's day, was from him.

"so it was you, then?" you asked, just to be sure. you spent so long wondering who it was from, the idea of finally knowing was extremely exciting.

he gave you a confused look, then started to blush. "yeah. it was me” he nodded.

you remembered seeing him that day after you read the note, you thought he was cute. you'd noticed him a lot after that, as he walked past the art room or any other class you were in, seeing him in the halls. you never thought he'd noticed you, though. you always thought he was too cool to pay attention to someone like you.

bouncing on the balls of your feet, you reached up and kissed his cheek. "goodnight, jj" you smiled before turning to your door.

"goodnight" he spoke quietly, giving a small wave and smile as you shut the door.

you watched from the window as he held his hand to where you kissed him and stared at the stars. if only you could see the shit eating grin on his face.

once you washed up for the night and got back to your room, you couldn't help the smile that came when you looked at the dried up rose on your dresser, note still attached.

maybe it was against some silly island rule of kooks vs. pogues that you had a crush on the boy, but you didn't care. there was something special about him. something that made you feel like you were on top of the world, in the safest place ever.

like you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

like you were home.

don’t be shy, reblog!

feel free to send a request

[itchytitss]

Imagine how protective Pit Fighter Vi would be

Just imagine dating Vi, your pit fighter girlfriend who’s made a name for herself in the fighting scene. She’s admired by hundreds of people in Zaun for her ruthless matches and charismatic personality. Everyone knows who she is, and everyone’s eyes are always on her.

Of course you go to every match of hers. Of course you help her with training. You love seeing her at work. Watching the pure power and energy flash in her eyes during a fight always gives you butterflies in a strange way. You find yourself crushing on this woman all over again. You get front row seats, VIP access to the locker and green rooms.

You and Vi know how dangerous the Lanes are, especially in the fighting scene. Creeps and addicts lurk around watching the matches, hedging their bets on fights,, picking pockets, partying and drinking.

Because of this, you and Vi are inseparable. She won’t let you go anywhere alone at these venues. Not with so many strangers around. You follow her around from match to match, sticking with her and remaining at her side as she signs autographs.

Vi always has to have some form of physical contact with you at all times. She rests her hand on the nape of your neck when talking to staff. She tugs you close with an arm around your waist while shuffling through the crowds of spectators. She slings her arm around your shoulders, pulling you to her side as she walks you both home. Under a table, she’s always got a hand resting on your thigh or a foot nudged against yours.

It’s her way of telling you, “I’m here— I’ve got you— You’re safe.”

You love your scary guard dog. Though it’s quite funny seeing as how she’s the famous one yet you’re the one needing a bodyguard. Everyone at the arenas and clubs knows not to mess with you. They know you’re taken. Taken by the Vi. Every now and then some clueless asshole either doesn’t get the memo, or ignores it completely.

Last time a guy touched you at a bar without asking, he left with a broken nose and a cut lip. When people ask you to dance with them, you smile and politely let them down as Vi wraps an arm around you, staking her claim.

It’s not that she’s controlling you. Not in the slightest. She’s just protecting you from the unpredictable fans she’s had to deal with for so long. She knows that what they say and do (especially to pretty things like you) can be overwhelming, scary and confusing. So she keeps you close. If you really want to do things alone, she’ll let you, but keep a close eye on your surroundings.

—

Just imagine having drinks with Vi and her management after a successful fight. The music is loud and the lights of the club are flashing. You’re getting quite tired but offer to bring the last round of drinks to the table from the bar.

As you’re walking back with a handful of drinks, you can feel the hungry stares of many eyes watching you. You arrive at your table with the drinks, and set them down. The clinking of the glasses drowned out by the bass of the music. Out of the corner of your eye, you see a man stand up from his table and take a step towards you. Before he can take another step, Vi pulls you into her lap. You wiggle to get yourself comfortable, nestling your face into the crook of her neck, giggling at how she rests her hand on your ass. All the while Vi stares down the poor man across the room who was planning on making a move.

Who he thought was just a cute club waitress was actually the Vi’s girl.

He clears his throat and sits back down. Vi smirks in triumph as his table laughs at him. She glares at him. A glare that says,

“She’s mine.”

—

Thinking of that one lap sitting gif from Wilde (1997) but wlw🥰👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩🌈

[bookshelf-dust]

baby love, my baby love

gif by @corrodedcherry

eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 1,880

warnings: swearing, reader had a not so good day, some hair washing, reader is nude in a non-sexual way, casual intimacy, lots of lovey-dovey things

a/n: hello! i am still very tentatively getting back into writing, but i wanted to write something sweet and comforting and soft and all those things. and eddie is the best provider of all that. this is so cute i almost made myself nauseous. lemme know what you think!! happy reading!!! <333 lots of love

————

“Where’s my girl at?”

Eddie’s voice rings throughout your small apartment, echoing slightly due to it not being fully furnished. His tone is almost giddy, words taking on a little twang after having spent the day working with Wayne. 

You bury your face deeper into your pillow, fighting a smile at the way he speaks to you. From your place on the bed, you hear his keys smack the wall as he hangs them up, hear his boots thudding across the kitchen tiles as he makes his way to you. 

When Eddie appears in the doorway to your shared bedroom, his arms are raised, fingers working to quickly tie his hair up in a knot. His biceps flex with the movement, drawing your eye to his pale skin. A brilliant smile spreads across his face upon seeing you. 

“Hey, bug,” he says.

You flush. You never thought you’d allow someone to call you love bug, let alone any variation of it. You certainly didn’t think you’d like it. It’s who’s saying it that’s converted you.

You’re laying on your stomach, hands crushed under your cheek. You try to smile back at him, but it comes out much less enthusiastic than normal. It’s a very tired gesture. 

Eddie notices, kicking off his shoes and crouching before you. “What’s the matter sweet girl? You’re wearing your outside clothes still, and you look pretty pitiful.”

At least he’s honest.

You blink and let your eyes flutter shut. “Long day. Headache. Upset.”

He brings his hand to your face, brushing his fingers over your temples. “Oh, I’m sorry, bug. I know you just wanna feel all better. Is that it?”

You nod, eyes still closed. He starts to laugh playfully just because of how pitiful you really do look, at how small and scrunched up you’ve made yourself. When he kisses your cheek, you feel his smile against your skin. It makes you beam, despite how you feel. The tingle Eddie’s lips leave behind makes it seem like the first time no matter how long it's been. You’re all soft for him, and there’s no denying it. But hell, he’s the same way. 

“How about…” he trails off, rubbing the tips of his fingers up and down your spine, tickling your lower back where your sweater has ridden up. “How about I take care of you? Run you a bath, for starters? I know you like that.”

Your eyes open, happy to think about how nice it would feel to sink your tired body into a hot basin full of bubbles. “Okay, Teddy.”

“Yeah? C’mere then,” Eddie says gently, holding his hands out to encourage you to sit up. You slowly push yourself away from the mattress, and he easily pulls you to stand. “I’ll get the water warmed up for you.” 

You give him a poor little salute, making him laugh, and then stick your fingers through his belt loop so you don’t have to do as much on the short walk to the bathroom. When you get there, Eddie bends to cut the water on and push the drain plug down. You wrap your arms around his waist and fold yourself against his warm back. You close your eyes once again, hearing him squirt a hefty amount of bubble bath into the tub. You’ll be lucky if he doesn’t flood the bathroom.

The plastic top clicks shut and Eddie rises, grabbing hold of your hands and spinning around in your grip. 

“Don’t like seein’ you all drained, baby,” he says. Eddie’s hands cradle your face, long and pale fingers beginning to rub at your temples. It feels so nice to have that pressure be pushed away, to feel his body so close to yours. At this rate, you’ll forget you even had a headache. 

“Wanna tell me about it?” Eddie asks. “Or do you just want to have a chill night?”

You open your eyes and push up on your toes to kiss his nose. “The latter,” you say. 

He chuckles, knowing you never used that term until you started reading Jane Austen. 

“M’kay, bug. That works for me.” His eyes twinkle mischievously. “You want a kiss? I think you deserve a good one.”

That gets you to practically melt. I fucking love this woman, Eddie thinks. He feels breathless each time you look at him that way. You look at him like he hung the stars, like he is your knight in shining armor. He kisses you in that way that thanks you for making him feel so loved. So cherished.

You thread your hands in Eddie’s hair, fingers pulling at the chunk at the nape of his neck where it’s most sensitive. His mouth is warm against yours. He smiles at your playfulness, breaking away to kiss both cheeks. 

He bends and drags a finger through the water. “It’ll be plenty warm enough in a second, bug.”

You give him a tired thank you squeeze as he presses a kiss to your jaw. 

“Need help undressing?” he inquires, a wolfish grin spreading across his face. 

You gently backhand his stomach, watching as he feigns severe injury. “Perv,” you joke. 

Eddie sits down on the toilet seat lid so that he can be prepared to turn the water off when he deems the tub full enough for you. Really he’d just like to see you surrounded by a huge pile of bubbles for his own amusement, but also because he knows it’ll be the thing to coax that pure, joyous laugh out of you. The sound he’d bottle and keep on his nightstand if he could.

You remove the little bit of makeup you’d been wearing with a cotton pad, sighing in relief to have it all off. You take out your earrings and slip off your rings, setting them in an ashtray on the counter you’ve been repurposing ever since Eddie decided to cut back on his smoking.

You take off each of your socks, one hand gripping the countertop for balance. As you slip your belt off, Eddie finishes preparing your bath and turns to face you. He holds his arms out, ready to collect your dirty clothes and accessories so that he can put them in their rightful places. 

He takes your belt from you only to be cheeky, snapping the thick leather as loud as he can manage. He makes himself laugh. 

You turn to the side when you unbutton your jeans, flushing and shy at his attention even after all this time. Even knowing how beautiful he finds your body. How much he loves how soft you are. After all, your body allows you to live. It allows you to spend time with him, and that is all he’ll ever ask for. It doesn’t matter to him what state your body is in because it is yours. And you are his. 

Eddie smiles watching you shimmy out of your snug jeans. You hand him your pants and t-shirt, now only in your bra and underwear. You don’t give yourself the time to be self-conscious, longing for the hot bath water. You turn and quickly unclasp your bra. Eddie playfully flicks your bum. It always deserves appreciation in his eyes. 

When you hand him the last of your items, he presses the sweetest kiss to your tummy, thumbs rubbing at the indentations left on your chest from your bras underwire, as if he can make them go away just by sheer will. 

“I love you, bug,” Eddie says, looking up at you with those watery doe eyes. His kisses your stomach again.

“I love you same, Teddy. Now let me take my bath. It’s rather chilly in this house, don’t you think? I refuse to freeze.”

Eddie laughs to himself as he walks off, taking your clothes to the hamper and storing your bra and belt elsewhere. He never could’ve imagined a world where preparing a bath for his partner would make him as happy as it does. 

————

Eddie is kneeling on the bathroom floor. Your back is pressed against the side of the tub, and he’s washing your hair. Well, really he’s already given it the scrub and cleanse that it needed, now he’s just trying to make weird shapes out of it. 

After you’d sat in the warm water until your toes pruned without actually bathing, he jokingly offered to do your hair while you washed your body. 

You hadn’t even thought about it. You were enjoying the way the bubbles came up to your chin, the way you were completely encapsulated in the safety of them. The way Eddie sat there on the rug, telling you about his day. About the different things he’d fixed on which cars—nothing you understood in any fashion, but something you always wanted to hear about.

“You could make good money doing this, you know. You’re very talented,” you quip, scrubbing your calf with a washcloth. 

Eddie snorts, kissing your wet shoulder blade. “What? Give head massages?”

You ring out your rag, having completed your washing ritual and made sure everything got the attention it deserves. 

“Mhm. That felt so good.” 

You pull the drain plug up, letting the water out. Eddie stands and acts as though his back is going to give out on him. You quickly turn the shower on, just so you can make sure you got all the conditioner out of your hair and feel completely clean. Eddie has never done this rinsing routine after a bath, but loves to see you do your little happy dance when you’re all clean and wrapped up in a towel.

He holds out a hand as you step over the rim of the tub, bowing for added effect. “How was your bath, m’lady?”

You lead the way out of the bathroom, on a search for pajamas. “I’d say it was the best bath I’ve ever had the pleasure of taking, good sir.”

You hug your fuzzy towel to your chest, pushing up on your tiptoes to kiss Eddie’s full lips. He blushes at the eye contact you’re giving him. He knows how it makes you nervous, but getting to have all of your attention like that makes him tingly.

“Thank you for helping me, Teddy.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart.” 

You turn to the side, gripping a round, wooden handle and pulling open your top dresser drawer. Eddie kisses your cheek. Sometimes you think Eddie’s kisses are lifesaving. They’ve surely contributed to your stability. They’re healing. And so is the way he cares for the people he loves. The way he so effortlessly does things just because he only wants to see you happy.

Eddie ends up picking out your pajamas while you pick out his. You’re in your own bottoms, but one of his Iron Maiden t-shirts. You told him you should match, so he pointed you in the direction of another, and you made sure to choose pants for him that had red in them, just like yours. 

Before you can sit down on your shared bed, Eddie takes your hand and leans down to whisper in your ear. His chin brushes your jaw, lips parting in a bright grin before the words ever leave his mouth. 

“Now, what do you think about going to get milkshakes?”

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

note: none of the gifs or images i use are mine! i get most of my images from pinterest or here, and gifs from about the same. please let me know if i ever don’t credit someone properly!

[pardonmydelays]

JAMES BAY one life music video every scene with Jonah Hauer-King PART 1, PART 2

requested by lovely @immercuryinretrograde 🩷

[weepynymph]

It's a full time job.

[ttrashlord]

STEB SFW/NSFW HEADCANONS

A/N-This is my first time writing smut so,pls be kind with critics <3 (@moonstrider9904 its the owner of the gif)

P.s-i was listen to Lana del rey while doing this ;)

Warnings:mentions of kinks (cockwarming,bdsm,oral sex,etc),oral sex (Female and male receiving),

Pairing:Female!reader x Steb

-SFW-

Steb is such a gentle lover,he won't just do anything without your consent or go too rough or fast,he won't go slow either,he will adjust at your rythm,just as you are.

He will steal you kisses all time at home,at all time.Youre cooking? A stolen kiss. Reading at the couch? Don't look behind you,because a Wild Steb will be waiting there.

He is not a coffee lover ( as i said in another headcanon) but he surely loves tea!,so whenever you two decide that you want to do a lazy day or just thake breakfast in bed (most of the times,he does the breakfast),he is ready!

He enjoys going shopping,and even more if it's with you! He makes a whole list but you don't take different parts,no,you do the whole shopping TOGETHER.

I saw an account saying that Steb would have french accent (SORRY I DONT REMEMBER THE ACCOUNT) which i believe 2 things:

He can SPEAK french,because it's one of the lenguages he can speak,but he has British accent (just imagine ladies)

Have you seen the manhwa sign? Well,hearing his voice by the first time has the same reaction that yohan did on soohwa

He Will listen to whatever music you listen to

But he is a lana del rey boy

He likes tickle wars,but only when he's winning >:/

He didn't used to have a lots of things in his wardrobe until you came to his life,then you started to be like a fashion designer to him and started to tell him what could fit him and what he should try/buy.

He really apreciates this,because It feels like it's worth It to worry how he looks apart from his enforcer uniform

-NSFW-

(pls let me get ready for this)

If in his normal life he is a shy,a man of poor words,but believe me when i say this,he is comunicative in bed

If he needs you/something he'll say,he won't do any rodeo about It,he is kinda shy about being too explicit,but he makes sure to let you know what he needs

Imagine that is been a long,tiring day,you two are enforcers and right now are working at the "peanut partro"l with cait as a Commander

Sure,she was great,but sometimes a pain in the ass as a boss.

So,when you two arrived home,you shouted to him as you lead your steps to the kitchen "i'm making dinner"

You put your apron on,and started to make something,but suddenly,a pair on blue,warm hand were embracing you stomach

Steb:mhm...you...mhm..

You didn't undertood a word of what he said because his head was pressed on your shoulder

You left your hands from the sink and put the on his hands,and asked him: honey,what did you say?

And as clear as water,he told you,putting his chin on your shoulder and his lip very near your lobe:

Steb:I need you....now....

He doesn't speak very much but damn he know how to use his mouth.At first,he was very shy to go down on you,saying he never didi It on anyone else,but the more he thinks about it,the more he wants It.

The very first time he went down on you he was inexperienced,but he is someone that learns pretty easy,so the first time uses It to learn as much as he can for you,what do you like? What reaction what can he get from you?

BUT when you first when down on him? Girl are you trying to kill him?

You did It the very first time you two has sex,and he hated to admit how fast he did came when your Lips touched his tip.Only using your hands,going Up and down was...such a view,and even while you were looking at him with such pretty eyes,but when you decided to use your Lips,he fainted.

The first time you had sex you decided to go missionary.It's confortable,it's intimate and he can be as close to you and look at you

Saying this right now ,MAKE EYE CONTACT WITH HIM,he loves it,he loses it.

His favoutire positions are:

Cowgirl,the Lotus,any variation of the missionary,and any position where he can see your face.

I believe that he has Big dick energy (DON'T KILL ME) but not THAT much,just above avarage.but the () it's pretty normal.

I believe he has the prettiest dick, i mean,i can't say look, but think about It:

More than avarage lenght,let's say () while not erected,but when it's erected It passes to be ().

And it's pretty firm,very curvy,just a prefect curve that helps you to make your own climax even better.

His () as on the avarage side,making It ().

Meanwhile the colour tip it's a pretty pinkish colour,not a full Pink but It shades into Pink.

He loves eye Contact,but most of all kissing you and showing to you how much he loves your body,in any way possible.This is like mosning your name as loud as he can (yes,he doesn't only moan,he groans,growls,do any sounds you can imagine) worshipping you,telling you how good you feel,etc.

And kissing you is something that he does:

1-when he is about to come,he feels It,and he needs to show you how good you make him feel

2-if it's a very intimate sex session (like,you're not only fucking but "making love")

He is such a gentleman,he can adjust at your rythm with any problem, did you tell him to go faster? For sure faster It is. You told him you don't want to come yet? He understands,he slows the pace and waist for you.

His kinks are on the "normal" side:

Praise kink,slight bdsm (chokers,blindfolds,and sometimes shibari) oral (receiving and giving),cockwarming,slighlty erotic asfyxiathion (on him)

But most of the times,he enjoys "normal sex" and always will prefer to "make love" with rather than just "fucking"

HEYYY THIS IS MY VERY FIRST TIME WRITING NSFW DON'T HATE ME ON THIS!

this took me soo long because i had no idea what to write for him so,here it is!

Hope you like it!

Also! I wanted to thank @saradika-graphics for this beautiful dividers,if need any, she surely has! (Or ask a request).

That's all loves,bye!

[tkwrites]

Soft Launch; Hard Launch - Quinn Hughes x ofc

gif from @kawhh

Title: Soft Launch; Hard Launch: A 500 Follower Celly

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Quinn Hughes x Sarah Roberts (ofc) 

Warnings: Though most of this is fluff, there is a really nasty comment left on a social media post and mentions of poor self body image.

Summary: 4 times Quinn soft launched his relationship with Sarah, and one time he did it for real.

Word Count: 2,900

Comments: The idea of writing a 4+1 fic for my 500 mark has been rolling around my head for a while, so when I hit 500 followers about a week ago, I thought I'd try my hand at it. Many thanks to @aloragrace and @captainlexaproluvr for looking over this piece and calming my fears about doing new things. I’ve never written in this format before, but I quite like the way this turned out.  I’d love to know what you think!

I'm just bowled over and so excited! Thank you all so much. Knowing people enjoy my writing has been so fulfilling to me. I’ve wanted to write since I was about thirteen, but never had the guts to publish anything for people other than my friends to read. Now that I have and know that people like it, it feels a bit like I’m giving my little inner awkward teenager the best gift she could ever ask for. Thank you for your encouragement, kindness, and support! I can’t tell you how much it means to me.  

If you did enjoy this Snapshot, please let me know by commenting, reblogging, or sending in an ask. Your encouragement and comments truly inspire me to keep writing. 

Soft Launch; Hard Launch: A 500 Follower Celly

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot 

1.

The first time Quinn put Sarah on his social media was after they got home from the family reunion. The Monday after she left, he was looking back through his photos while he waited for her to get off work. He found one from their beach day he’d completely forgotten he’d taken. Sarah was kneeling over a tide pool with a few of his cousins, pointing to something in the water, while they looked into her face with rapt attention.

Even though her face was mostly hidden from view, she looked beautiful in that casual way he loved so much. Her hair was up in a bun, and she was wearing a pair of denim shorts along with her orange swim top.

Do you mind if I put this on my stories? he asked later that night, once she'd texted that she’d arrived home safely and would call as soon as she changed.

“I don’t mind,” she told him after they said their initial hellos, caught up on each other's day, and he asked again. “I’m a little surprised this is the first photo you want to go with,” she admitted. 

“Why?” 

“I don’t know. I thought maybe you’d want to go with something more…” she trailed off, unsure exactly how to phrase what she was thinking. She’d only glanced at it, but from what she remembered, the photo wasn’t anything special. It was from the tide pools, and though it fulfilled the mission of showing her without showing her whole face, she didn’t look excessively beautiful or anything. In fact, the first thing she’d zeroed in on were her stomach rolls. Echoes of girls calling her too fat to be with NHL superstar Quinn Hughes rang in her mind. 

“I like it,” he defended before she could find the right words or slide down the slippery slope of body image woes. “You’re doing what you love.” 

It melted something in her that he looked at that photo and saw her passion. “That’s really sweet, Quinn.” 

“So it’s okay?” 

How could she say no now? “Yeah. It’s okay.”  She reminded herself she wouldn’t see any of the things people were saying about her unless she sought them out, which she had no intention of doing.

He put it up with nothing more than an orange heart in the corner as soon as they hung up from the FaceTime call.

Less than a minute later, Eunice raced into Sarah's room. She was so overly excited, she ran into the door jam, bouncing off of it before regaining her balance. She thrust her phone into Sarah's face. “Quinn put you on his stories!” 

Glancing at the screen, Sarah smiled. “Yeah, he just asked me if he could put that photo up.”

“Oh my god. This is so dreamy,” she gushed, turning the phone back around to look at the picture again. “You look so pretty.” 

2.

The second soft launch was on his main feed at the end of the summer, though he still didn’t show her face.

It wasn’t until they got home from Hawaii and all shared their photos that Quinn realized just how many pictures his mom had taken. He was used to her snapping pictures of them - it was a very common occurrence to look around at any given moment, especially on vacation, to find her brandishing a camera to document everything she could.

He’d never appreciated it more until he was looking through the shared album and saw all the moments his mom caught. There were photos of him and his brothers and him and Sarah once she got there. There was even a video of his and Luke’s shock at their girlfriends’ arrival.  

His favorite picture she took was from the beach outside of their vacation rental. Anxious for a quiet moment together, Sarah pulled him outside to watch the sun set.

The rest of the family was inside, debating something about dinner. They had been on a kayak and hiking tour that day, and he was so tired, he was beyond caring. As long as some kind of food was provided, he’d be fine.  

His mom must have walked out onto the back porch to snap the photo. 

 The sun, sinking into the ocean in front of them, turned them into shadow as Sarah leaned her head on his shoulder. It was the kind of photo people put in vacation advertisements, and when he’d seen it, he knew it had to be included in his end of summer review.

He uploaded it with a carousel of six other photos before captioning the post, One for the books. 

After receiving sixty notifications in the first five minutes, most of them from people he didn’t know asking who the girl in the 5th photo was, he muted the app.

It wasn’t until he looked at the comments that evening and saw, I think this must be that fat bitch he was dating during the season. I was hoping they’d broken up since he didn’t stay in Vancouver this summer and she did, that he disabled comments all together.

He’d been so angry that someone who didn’t know either of them would say anything like that, he had drafted a reply before realizing he was about to engage in a reactionary argument with someone he didn't even know or have any emotional ties to. He wanted to correct them, but knew he should really get PR help to do that. 

When they talked about social media for the first time in their relationship, Sarah explained how the comments from these so-called fans made her feel. Even though she knew they didn’t know her as a person and didn’t have any place in their relationship or lives, it was difficult not to let them get to her. 

He knew the feeling well. He’d gone through the same thing when he accepted the captaincy. The pressure to perform had been so immense, it had turned him into a snappy, short-fused, irritable person until, at the advice of some other captains in the league, he started putting his phone down regularly. 

3. 

The third came when it was his turn to sit for a 32 Thoughts podcast episode with Elliott and Kyle, and they were shooting the breeze before the actual interview began. 

“We missed you at dinner,” Elliott said, referencing a banquet that the league had hosted the night before for all players and press on site for the whirlwind pre-season media tour.

Without really thinking about it, Quinn found himself explaining, “my girlfriend's family lives here, so Jack and I had dinner with them last night.”

“She's not here?” Elliott asked. 

“No, she has stuff going on back home so she couldn't be, but it was nice to see them.” Some players brought family to the media tour, but not many. It was a short stint, shorter than most road trips during the season, so most didn’t bother.

Their producer, Shanna, flashed a red light, letting them know it was time to start the formal interview. Kyle counted down, “three two and one,” before introducing Quinn and starting with the questions. 

At the end of the recording, both Elliott and Shanna asked if he wanted them to cut his talk about his girlfriend and her family from the episode. Usually, they left those anecdotal conversations in, especially on the youtube videos, but this one was a bit more nuanced. 

“I think it should be fine, but can I talk to her about it and get back to you?” 

“Of course,” Shanna said, smiling. “It’s not slated to go up for a few weeks, so just let us know by the 17th.”

When he'd asked Sarah about it that night after arriving home, she seemed unconcerned. 

“I think that's kind of up to you.” She knew from their FaceTime conversation the night before that Quinn, Jack and their agent had eaten at Rachel's house, so there was no risk of someone posting photos and making the connection they were with her family.  

“I mean, people have been speculating you have a girlfriend, right?” she asked. 

“Yeah.” It was more than speculation at this point - most people knew he had someone. They just didn’t know who she was. 

“And people who found my instagram already know I’m from Nevada, so I don’t really see what the worry is.” 

He’d expected her to be more worried about it, but now that she was responding to him with cool logic, he had to admit she had a point. 

The next day, he messaged Elliott along with his agent to let them know they could keep the anecdote in the recording. 

When it hit the airwaves, Sarah purposefully didn’t check any of the messages Eunice sent her for a few days. Eunice had taken it upon herself, and continued at Sarah’s request, to report big gossip to her so Sarah wasn’t tempted to go on the blogs or fan accounts. 

Most responses were sort of victorious bragging, posting about connections with Sarah’s instagram “about me” section where she talked about being from Nevada, feeling that this interview proved them right. 

4. 

The fourth time wasn’t planned. 

When Quinn got home from their first regular season road trip, the apartment was dark. It was past two in the morning, and Sarah had a therapy appointment at eight, so she hadn't waited up for him. 

In his trek through the apartment, he paused by the dining room table. Until Sarah moved in, walking into the apartment after a road trip was often the worst part of the whole thing. He was always glad to be back in his own bed, but nothing seemed to exasperate his singleness more than coming home. Not only was he going from being surrounded by the team to being totally alone, he was coming home to an empty house. The combination of the two felt stiflingly lonely.

The mess of textbooks, highlighters, and notebooks left out on the dining room table was such proof of someone else living in the house, it made his chest feel full. 

In a spur of the moment act, he snapped a picture of the dimly lit chaos and posted it to his Instagram stories. No caption, no explanation. Just the simple proof that he wasn't alone.  

“Why did you put a picture of my books on your instagram?” she asked the next day after getting home from her appointment. 

He shrugged, “I liked it.”

The season before, anytime she would study at his house, she would clean everything up, organizing it all back into her bag before going home or coming to bed. 

Now, her books often stayed out on the dining room table on weekends. He offered to convert one of the spare bedrooms into an office for her, or let her use the office he had a computer in now, but she turned him down. 

“I like studying out here,” she'd said, glancing up to look out of the windows. “If it bothers you, I can put everything away.” 

“It doesn't bother me,” he'd said, leaning down to kiss her temple. “I just want you to be comfortable here.” 

She had beamed at him and turned her head to brush her mouth over his. 

5. 

Quinn waited until the one year anniversary of the day he and Sarah met to officially announce their relationship. 

He knew by that time that they could go the distance. He'd seen her through every month and every season and saw no major red flags. Not to mention the fact that everyone in his life liked her, and her family and friends seemed to like him.

Over the course of the year, he'd moved pictures he liked of Sarah and pictures he liked of them together into a favorites album he simply called S. So, in late January, he put together a post and sent it to his PR rep to look over. After they sent it back with some edits, he showed it to Sarah. 

Sarah, who for her part, knew this was coming but wasn’t quite sure what to expect, was taken a bit off guard. She knew Quinn read a lot and was thoughtful with his words, but reading his simple summary of their relationship made her melt. 

He’d included 5 pictures of her that were interspersed with 5 pictures of them together. The first photo was that perfect, golden hour sunset selfie. The rest were all photos she knew he loved. She’d seen some of them, and some of them, she hadn’t. There was a candid shot of her laughing with Jack and Luke that she hadn’t seen before as well as a picture she never knew he’d taken of her sitting at the dining room table with her laptop, looking pensively at the screen, fingers poised to type. There was the photo of them in front of their Christmas tree, and one of them laughing so hard, they were falling all over each other on a beach in Hawaii.

Under the photos, he’d simply written, The best year. and tagged her in the final photo - the dreamy picture Kaitlyn had taken of them under the mistletoe. 

“Quinn,” she breathed, looking up to find him smiling expectantly at her.

“You like it?” he asked. 

“I really like it,” she said, fighting back the tears that pushed at her eyes. 

“You’re sure you’re okay with this?”

He was ready for the world to know that not only was he taken, he was taken with her, and not afraid to say it, but he knew it would likely open up another door of criticism she’d never been exposed to before. 

“Yeah,” she said, nodding. “I’m ready.” 

The fact that Quinn wanted the world to know, without a doubt, that she was the one he was with made her heart race. 

They didn’t have to hide anymore. To her, it was the last, final cementing block in their relationship. It spoke of his faith in their future and his dedication to staying with her. He wouldn't put it out for the world to see if he had any doubts. 

He posted it right before practice two days later so he could work the anxiety of it off. 

When he got back to his locker an hour and a half later, he had 1,654 likes and over 200 comments. At first glance, they all seemed positive. Not that what random strangers thought of him meant much, but it was nice to know his fans were happy he was happy. 

Bonus scene: 

On the afternoon of the anniversary of their one year of meeting, Reece stopped Sarah as she walked into the building after work.

“I’ve got a delivery for you, Ms. Roberts,” he said, walking with her over to the security desk. 

Before he’d even picked them up, Sarah knew it must be the large bouquet of flowers that were an absolute riot of color - purple and yellow, red and pink, white and green. 

Quinn was out of town - playing in Toronto at that very moment, in fact - and she knew he must have sent them in place of being there in person. 

“Thank you, Reece,” she said, accepting the flowers and a card from him before heading upstairs. 

Trying to manage the vase, card, and her school bag, as well as press the button in the elevator, resulted in her accidentally slopping a large amount of water down her front. Thankfully, the large bouquet hid the spill from anyone else in the elevator, and she was the only one to get off on the top floor. Upon entering the apartment, she set the vase and card on the bar and went straight up to change. 

It wasn’t until she wandered down to make dinner during the second intermission and saw the bright flowers that she remembered the card. 

Her full name was on the envelope in someone else’s writing, and the front of the card was completely blank, so when she flipped it open, she was surprised to find Quinn’s handwriting filling most of it. 

It’s been one year since I took refuge in the aquarium, only to stumble upon a beautiful woman giving a talk about octopus and took the chance to ask her out. Back then, I just thought she was one of the most beautiful people I’d ever seen. Now I know that not only is she beautiful, she’s smart, kind, supportive and so driven she inspires me to do better. I don’t like to think what my life would be like if she’d turned down my offer for lunch, or I didn’t get up the guts to talk to her. This time with her has been a whirlwind and the best year of my life. 

I wrote this for the caption of the post that went up today, then realized the only person I really wanted to read it was you. 

Happy one year of meeting, Sarah. I’m so glad you took a chance and went out with me even though I was more than a little awkward. 

I love you. 

Love, 

Quinn 

Moved to tears by his thoughtful words, Sarah snapped a picture of the flowers to put up on her stories, adding the caption, Love you, @_quinnhughes, before texting him.

I love you. I can’t believe it’s been a year. Here’s to a million more.

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist

To read all my fics, check out the Fanfiction Masterlist

[notsopersonalcharlie]

Work Divorce - The Interlude

Aaron Hotchner x BAU!Reader angst (with a happy ending of course)

Summary: The bridge of Work Divorce

Notes: I was feeling the angst. Obviously we all know how this ends, but enjoy! Gif is not mine

“I don’t want to talk to you right now, Aaron,” you repeated. Your said it what felt like a hundred times since you got off the jet. Aaron was driving, his knuckles white on the wheel, eyes straight ahead.

“We have to talk about this.” He was still just as angry as you were, his lips pressed into a line. Your arms were crossed over your chest, knees pointed away from him, eyes out the side window. It didn't take a profiler to figure that one out.

“No! I’m upset and I’m angry and nothing I say right now will be at all productive! Leave me alone!” Your nose tickled with the precursor to tears and you swallowed around the lump that had remained in your throat since Aaron helped you out of the cave. Your eyes stung with tears and you closed them, letting the little lurch in the road at the end of your street remind you that you were almost home.

“No!” Aaron could be difficult to argue with. He brought every lawyer skill he had to your screaming matches.

“Fuck you, Hotchner. You wouldn’t let me do something and it resulted in two people dying. I have every right to be fucking furious.”

“Yeah, but you don’t have every right to ignore me! We’re supposed to talk about things.” Aaron pulled the car into the driveway, parking outside the garage since your car was inside.

“That is not fucking fair right now and you know it. If we were supposed to talk about things you wouldn’t have shut me down at the station.” You slammed the door to the car, harder than needed but driving home a point. You stalked to the front door as Aaron locked the car and brought in your bags.

“You were putting yourself in danger.” You turned around once the door to your house was closed, trapping the sound of your screaming.

“That’s our fucking JOB Aaron. You have to deal with that. You put yourself in danger all the fucking time. I have to be able to do my job!” You snatched your bag from his hands and stormed upstairs, once again unnecessarily slamming the bedroom door shut. You stewed for a moment, taking deep breaths and staring at the bed the two of you had left unmade on the way to work almost two weeks ago. You heard Aaron's footsteps near the door and then they carried away into the house. You dropped your bag where you always did in the closet, tossing the dirty clothes into the laundry basket before heading straight to the bathroom.

Aaron finally came in when you were done showering and had laid down in the bed face first. You couldn’t get that poor girl off your mind. It was a process, you both knew it, but it took time.

“I don’t want to be near you right now,” you huffed when he sat down on the bed.

“Where am I supposed to go, huh?” His hand traveled closer to you on the bed, a peace offering. You tucked your hand under your chest, turning your head away from him.

“Jack has a bed.”

“It’s for a seven year old.”

“Go away.”

“Fine.” He got up and set down his bag beside your. He had packed the dirt stained clothes you were wearing in the cave into his own bag on your way out of town and he dropped it into the basket before taking it out to wash. You didn't move.

The laundry kicked on and Aaron returned, heading straight to the bathroom. He showered and put clothes on in the closet. As he walked out, he paused in the doorway, hand on the doorframe and muttered softly, "I love you."

You were laying on your back now, staring at the lines in the ceiling.

"I love you too." He tapped the doorway once, like he was deciding to continue, but thought better of it and continued out.

The sun had set a long while before when you got up to turn out the lights and get ready for bed. Your footsteps must have clued him in, because Aaron came up the stairs slowly and louder than normal as if to announce his presence.

"Can I come back now?" You turned from where you were moving the pillows around and fixing the blankets.

"Yeah... I guess." He let out a little sigh that made your lips twist into a small smile. He sat down on his side of the bed, plugging his phone in to charge.

"Can we finish fighting tomorrow? I'm exhausted." The tiny curve in your lips turned into a full smile and you snorted a laugh.

"Me too. C'mere." You flopped onto the bed, Aaron pulling the covers up around the both of you and pressing his face into your shoulder. He slept nuzzled into you like you were his missing piece every night he could, and he had never slept better before he met you.

"I'm still mad," you whispered into his damp hair.

"I know. Me too."

"We can fight more tomorrow." He nodded a little bit, his breaths already steadying. You thought he was asleep after a few minutes of quiet, your mind still replaying the case over in your head.

"I'm sorry." Your heart beat must have jumped because he ran a soothing hand over your waist where it was tucked under your pajama shirt.

"I know. I love you."

"I love you too."

-/-/-/-/-

You woke up after Aaron, as always. You were still mad, though now it was tamped down with layers of logic. You had known all along that this day was coming. There had been moments of it, when you were just getting together, and right before your wedding, but there had never been a time where it was solely up to Aaron to decide if you went into danger or not. It had been years, and you had let it go when he decided to keep you in the station or sent you to the crime scene instead of after an unsub. You knew it was coming all along though.

Aaron had already left for work, but your lunch was packed in the fridge and there was coffee left for you, but no note.

You arrived not much later than him, said a good morning to Reid, who was usually first in the office after the two of you. He looked as exhausted as you felt and you plopped down at your desk to complete your paperwork from the case.

The whole team had filtered in by the time you got through it. Not because it was actually difficult to complete, but because you were still replaying the girl's voice. 'Why didn't you come?' echoed in your head and your rage had returned. You stood up, maybe more abruptly than you needed to given Emily's little jump, and you took a deep breath before stalking up the stairs towards Aaron's office.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the whole team looking at you with wide eyes.

Aaron looked up from the files on his desk

"Wha- Oh." You closed the door behind you, crossing your arms.

"Back to fighting," you started, "Because I could have saved her, and I could have gotten him to turn himself in. He wa-"

"You have no idea if he would have stepped down. He could have tried to take you instead." Your cheeks heated up.

"I am not some precious little thing you have to keep safe! I have to be able to do my job just like you and all the rest of the agents on your team!" He stood up from his desk, leaning forward braced by his hands, his face drawn into a scowl.

"You are something precious I have to protect. There was no way of knowing if he was being serious about his demands and if you had gone in without a weapon and he had one..." He didn't deign the result with an explanation.

"This isn't working, Aaron." He stared at you, the sudden stillness in his limbs and chest only lasted two or three blinks, but you'd done it on purpose, remind him what he was actually fighting with.

"You don-"

"No. I don't." You wanted to kiss him for the relief that washed across his face, the relaxing of his shoulders, the slight shocked blinking.

"I do mean though that I can't stay on this team. I can't let you restrict my instincts and I can't tell you to fight yours."

"I was afraid you'd say that." He pointed to the chair across from him with his chin and you sat down at the same time as him.

"I think it's time to cash in that promotion I have been putting off." He nodded, leaning forward.

"I'm sorry. I know you love this job." You smirked, leaning across his desk till your noses were near touching.

"I love you more."

[msbigredmachine]

The Boy Next Door: Chapter Five

MASTERLIST ✨ harmshake’s masterlist ✨ msbigredmachine’s masterlist

Word Count: 8.9k

TRIGGER WARNINGS: 18+, NSFW, language, angst, violence, smut

Poster made by me. Credit to the owners of the other pics and gifs.

A/N: So, as you all know, harmshake is on an extended hiatus from tumblr. This means I'll be handling the story henceforth. We were both able to draft and flesh out the chapters and storyline together, giving me an easier job of putting the finishing touches on each one and uploading them. I hope you've all enjoyed it, we both had a blast doing this together and hope you continue to support us and TBND!

Enjoy chapter 5! 😬

The glow of Ivy’s bedside lamp bathed golden light on her chocolate skin as she reclined against the pillows of her window seat, glass of port wine in hand, pepperoni pizza on a paper plate, her full lips curved into a teasing smile. 

Across the street, in her direct line of sight, Roman lounged in a leather seat by his open window, a small plate of buffalo wings within arm’s reach on the sill. The soft yellow light from his room reflected off his sharp features, highlighting the intensity in his gaze that made her pulse quicken as they watched each other from a pleasantly short distance.

“Dude, you’re lucky I like you,” she said, biting into her pizza. “I don’t usually share my date nights with someone who isn’t even in the same room with me.”

Roman’s deep laugh rumbled through the phone. “Oh, baby girl, you don’t just like me—you adore me. Own that shit.”

She rolled her eyes, her grin widening. “You’re awfully sure of yourself.”

“And you love that about me,” he countered smoothly, swirling his whiskey. 

She paused at his words, her heart skipping a beat. Love? It wasn’t the first time Roman’s confidence caught her off guard, but this? This was different. She tucked a stray curl behind her ear, the weight of the word lingering in the air between them.

“How’s Zaia doing?” he asked, as if sensing her thoughts, smartly steering the conversation away, but not before leaving Ivy with the faintest flutter of something unspoken.

“She’s doing better—just a cold, nothing too serious. She’s in her room sleeping, but she was miserable all day, poor thing. We’ve been stuck at home together today, but I don’t mind. She’s my baby. That’s what mamas do,” she said.

Roman’s voice softened, full of admiration. “I know you do your best with her. I see it every day. You’re an incredible mom, Ivy.”

She felt a flutter in her chest, his words hitting her deeper than she expected. There was something about the way he just…cared, even from afar. She took a sip of wine, savoring the smooth taste. “That's so sweet. Thank you, baby,” she answered with a warm mix of emotion and affection. “You seem to be making this whole long-distance date night thing work.”

Roman’s gaze never wavered from hers as he leaned back in his seat, his posture casual yet commanding. “I make it work because it means I get to see you. I’d do anything to make you happy.”

She felt the sincerity in his words, the weight of the connection between them growing stronger by the second. “And I’m lucky to have you around. I like being around you,” she said softly, her eyes locked on his.

A small, teasing smile played at the corner of Roman’s lips. “And I like you in my t-shirts. A lot,” he added, “You look better in them than I ever could.”

Her fingers instinctively brushed the oversized t-shirt she’d claimed during one of their late-night trysts. She leaned closer to the open window, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Glad you feel that way, cuz it’s mine now. You ain’t never gettin’ it back.”

His gaze darkened, and even through the phone, she could hear the change in his tone, low and suggestive. “You can keep it…as long as you tell me what you're wearin' under it.”

Her stomach tightened at the suggestive question, heat pooling low in her belly. She took a slow sip of her wine, her voice laced with playful mischief. 

“Nothing," she responded airily.

The silence that followed was charged, Roman’s sharp intake of breath echoing through the line. Eyes darkened, he leaned forwards, as though trying to close the distance between them. “Prove it,” he rasped, that baritone of his smooth, dangerous, and inviting all at once.

Ivy took a slow breath, the challenge of his words igniting something bold in her. With a sly smile, her fingers slid beneath the hem of the t-shirt, pulling it off completely. Her smooth, naked skin shone even brighter beneath the lights. 

Roman’s sharp exhale sent a thrill through her. “God, you’re exquisite,” he murmured, his voice thick with reverence and hunger. “So fucking beautiful, baby girl.”

His words made her heart race. She knew he was more than just attracted to her—he was captivated. And she was just as entranced by him.

“I wanna see more. Touch yourself for me, Ivy,” he commanded.

Her breath hitched, her pulse racing as he unraveled her carefully maintained composure. “Only if you do the same,” she challenged, her voice trembling with anticipation.

The faint rustle of fabric on his end sent a shiver down her spine. “I already am,” he confessed, his words molten heat. 

Sure enough, his dick was out of his shorts, legs spread far apart, his fist moving up and down the hardened length as he reclined in his chair. "Like what you see, baby?" he asked, his body heating up when she licked her lips. 

"Oh yeah. That's it, big boy. Stroke it for me," she encouraged him, her voice rough with need. “Fuck…I want that big beautiful dick in my mouth, baby," she murmured.

“Just your mouth?” Roman challenged, “Your turn. Show Daddy how wet you are."

Putting her phone on speaker and setting it in front of her, she spread her legs, giving him a full view of her goodies. She pushed her two middle fingers between her folds, gasping from the shock of the intrusion. "Unnnh, fuck," she thrust the fingers in and out of her, imagining it was Roman’s long, thick dick testing the stretch of her walls, and pulled them out, moaning as they came away glistening with her arousal.

“Jesus, Ivy, you’re drippin’…Put that shit in your mouth, baby.”

Completely turned on, she did as he ordered, hearing his groan over the phone as she slowly sucked her taste off her fingers before slipping them back inside her pussy, working them faster. Through the cloudy haze of pleasure, she caught the sweet sight of Roman’s large hand twisting faster around his large length, his lips parted, panting, the depths of his desire flooding her ears and flooding her pussy even more. 

"Shit, that's beautiful, baby girl. Keep fucking your pussy like that..." He watched her head tilt back, groaning along with her as he stroked himself with the same speed as her pumping fingers. The intimacy of the moment swallowed them whole, the distance between their windows evaporating as their breaths quickened in unison. 

Ivy let herself go, surrendering to the way he made her feel—desirable, fearless, alive. For once, she didn’t question the intensity of their connection or the way he effortlessly stripped her bare, emotionally and physically. She only knew she wanted more of this man, Roman Reigns. Probably forever.

Consequences be damned.

Gemini sat at her desk, the weight of the situation pressing down on her. She had never expected to be the one to deliver this news to Ivy. When Kofi—Angelo’s cousin—contacted her, she hesitated. She and Ivy hadn’t spoken in weeks and the idea of revisiting the painful subject of her friend’s baby daddy made her stomach churn. Yet here she was, sitting behind the polished wooden desk in her office, holding a letter from Kofi and a copy of the will that had been left behind after Angelo’s sudden death.

The door creaked open, and Ivy entered, her face drawn with exhaustion, still in her scrubs from her shift at the hospital. The tension in the air was thick, but Ivy’s eyes softened when they met Gemini’s, though she masked it quickly with a sharp, questioning look.

“You said it was urgent,” Ivy said, her voice guarded, her arms folded tightly across her chest.

Gemini gestured to the chair across from her. “Please sit.”

Ivy hesitated but lowered herself into the chair, her eyes flicking from Gemini to the papers on the desk. She looked like she was preparing for bad news, and Gemini couldn’t blame her. The last time they’d spoken, their argument had been raw and emotional, and the distance between them had only grown since.

“Angelo’s cousin Kofi…reached out to me,” Gemini began, her voice steady despite the knots in her stomach. “He wanted me to be the one to handle his affairs. Babe, Angelo had a will—and he left a few things behind. Things for you and Zaia.”

Ivy’s eyebrows furrowed as she leaned forward, curiosity mixed with wariness. “A will? I—” She shook her head, the disbelief evident in her expression. “I didn’t know he had anything left. After everything, I didn’t think he’d care.”

Gemini exhaled, her eyes dropping to the document in front of her. “I didn’t think so either. But there’s more here than I expected. It’s all in the will.”

She slid the papers across the desk. “He bought a house, Ivy. A house for you and Zaia. It’s fully paid for. There’s also a trust fund set up for Zaia—enough to cover her education, and a bit more for whatever else she’ll need. And a piece of local business—his cousin Kofi’s company, actually. It’s a stake in something stable. You’ll have a steady income from it.”

Ivy blinked, her lips parting slightly as she processed the information. “A house? He...he bought us a house?” Her voice cracked slightly as if the weight of the words was more than she could bear.

Gemini nodded, watching Ivy carefully. “He left you a ring too—something personal. Family heirloom, the documents say.”

Ivy’s eyes welled with unshed tears, but she refused to let them fall. She wasn’t going to cry in front of Gemini—not after everything. “I didn’t know…” Her voice trailed off, filled with confusion and a hint of anger. “Why didn’t he ever say anything? He never told me any of this!”

Gemini leaned back in her chair, her gaze hardening despite her sympathy. “I’m not sure why he didn’t tell you. Maybe he thought you’d be upset or maybe he just didn’t know how to say it. We both know he wasn’t the best at things like that.”

Ivy’s jaw tightened as she set the will back down on the desk, looking at Gemini with a mixture of frustration and sadness. “Yeah, that sounds like him,” she muttered, turning away to look out the window. “I never understood why he couldn’t just…Why everything had to be so damn complicated.”

Gemini swallowed, at a loss for words. A rarity. Ivy shook her head, the pain clear in her expression. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel about any of this.”

“I get it, babe. I really do. He was a pain, and I’m not going to pretend otherwise. But—” She caught herself just as she saw Ivy’s expression harden again, closing herself off.

“I don’t need you to tell me what to feel, Gem. You’ve done enough of that already,” she said, her tone more brittle than before. 

Gemini sighed, leaning forward, her own frustration bubbling to the surface. “Ivy—”

“I gotta go,” said Ivy. “Thanks for informing me. I’ll figure it out.”

Before Gemini could say anything more, Ivy had already stepped out, the door clicking shut behind her. She sat in stunned silence, staring at the empty room. She had wanted to say more, to reach her somehow, but the words felt trapped in her chest. The rift between them continued to germinate, and it seemed no matter how hard she tried,  Ivy was slipping further away.

Gemini leaned back in her chair, exhaling heavily in frustration, her fingers tapping rapidly on the desk. The silence in the room felt heavy with the unshakable tension between her and Ivy, the walls they had both built too high to break down easily.

Needing to clear her head, she decided to leave for her lunch break, grabbing her coat and turning off the lights. The moment she stepped outside the building, the air was cold, the late November weather biting at her skin. She wrapped her coat tighter around herself and began walking to her car, but a strange feeling tugged at her—a sense of being watched. She glanced over her shoulder quickly, but there was no one there.

The street was empty, save for a few passing cars.

Shrugging it off as paranoia, Gemini continued walking, but the feeling persisted. Every step she took felt heavier, more deliberate, as though something—or someone—was just behind her. She stopped at the intersection, glancing behind her again.

Nothing.

She shook her head and continued walking, but her unease only grew stronger, a cold shiver crawling down her spine. When she reached her Mercedes, she fumbled for her keys, quickly unlocking the door and sliding inside. The sense of being followed still gripped her chest, but when she checked the rearview mirror, there was no one there.

She exhaled sharply, gripping the wheel as she stared out the windshield. “I’m losing my shit. Just great,” she muttered to herself, starting the engine. 

But as she drove off into the night, the nagging feeling that she wasn’t alone never quite left her.

Roman leaned back in his leather armrest, the soft expensive material creaking under his weight, his eyes fixated on the darkened windows of Ivy’s house. The house he had once watched from the shadows, studying her every move. A fond, fruitful memory.

He remembered the first night he’d arrived in the neighborhood—the house still empty, the moving truck yet to arrive. The thrill of anonymity had been intoxicating. It had all felt too easy, too perfect, like a symphony waiting to be orchestrated. His house, still almost empty that first week, had been the perfect backdrop to his plans.

He first sighted her in her backyard with little Zaia, the girl running around with their dog, Duchess, all carefree in the evening sun. There was something about the way she doted on her daughter, something warm, almost maternal, that captivated him. And he knew from the start, from the very first moment he saw her, that he would make her his.

But it wasn’t just the motherly affection that drew him in. No, it was the way she carried herself, the subtle grace she exuded. She was beautiful. Perfect face and banging body, with curves her wrap dress woefully failed to hide. He could tell there was a strength beneath her calm exterior, a depth that no one could see unless they truly watched. And he had watched her. Night after night.

At first, it had been about learning her routine—how she left for work, when she came home, the time she spent with Zaia, and the occasional moments when she was home with Angelo. Those nights, when he’d stalk the house like a predator in the shadows, the soft flicker of her bedroom light barely visible. The arguments. The passionate reconciliations. The first time he watched them fuck, a jealousy unlike anything he’d ever felt had ripped through him. Animalistic, raw. It had enraged him, the way Angelo’s touch seemed to have ownership over Ivy, the way she would give herself to him.

Roman gripped the glass harder, his dick rising at the more pleasant memory of watching Ivy, all alone this time, sprawled across her bed as she pleased herself, her body writhing on her soft sheets. It was the night after they first met, and he’d wondered if it was him she was masturbating to. He’d imagined claiming her fully, not just with his eyes, but with his hands, his mouth, his dick, buried in her wet. That jealousy, that hunger for her, had grown, and when Angelo put hands on him, he took action. He was an easy target, as were the brake lines of that jalopy he drove…Roman had made sure there was no coming back from that. That punk bitch was gone, and Roman seized the moment and stepped in, comforting Ivy as she grieved, his presence a soothing balm to her wounds.

Now, she was all his. The fire they shared, the passion—it was everything. Roman had never known anything like it. Each time he lay beside her, the warmth of her body pressed against his…each time he was inside her…he felt…whole. He had won. He had her, and together, they would be the perfect family, the one he’d always dreamed of. Him, Ivy, and Zaia.

But there was yet another fucking thing that threatened to ruin it all: Gemini.

His blood boiled at the thought of her. Poking around, asking questions, getting too close to the truth. Her scathing words had echoed relentlessly in his head since the night of her party, each syllable sharper and more grating than the last:

“I see right through you. You’re not who you pretend you are. I can feel it. You’ve got Ivy and everybody else fooled, but I’m not buying it.”

The nerve of that bitch.

Roman’s jaw clenched as he replayed her smug expression, the way she had stood close, practically taunting him. She hadn’t flinched, hadn’t look away, like she knew she was poking a bear and relished the risk. Gemini wasn’t like the others—she was too observant, too bold. That made her dangerous. Too dangerous to keep around. She didn’t know who she was dealing with. Roman had dealt with people like her before, but this one was persistent. Too persistent.

His mind flashed to the moments when he’d seen her lingering near Ivy, always so observant. So fucking nosy. Well, no more.

She had to go. 

Roman leaned forward in his chair, his eyes narrowing. His plan was already in motion. It would be simple, like all the others. He would make her disappear too, and no one would find her.

He glanced over at the clock, the quiet ticking of time mocking him. Soon. As soon as he dealt with Gemini, everything would be perfect.

Roman’s lips curled into a satisfied smile. He had Ivy and Zaia now, and nothing and nobody would take that from him. Ever.

He stood, his fingers tapping against the window frame as he stared out into the darkness, knowing that soon, very soon, his family would be complete.

And that meddlesome bitch?

She was just another loose end. One he would tie up.

Probably literally.

The morning light filtered through the wide windows of his pristine kitchen island, glinting off his untouched cup of espresso. His focus, however, was entirely on the MacBook before him. Leaning forward, his eyes narrowed like a predator studying its quarry, watching the grainy surveillance footage play out on the laptop screen. 

Gemini moved about her bedroom, oblivious to the camera’s hidden gaze. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he traced her movements, his fingers idly tapping the screen. She thought she was the hunter, investigating him—but Roman always stayed one step ahead. 

Night after night, he would watch her scour through case files, searching through news reports, and any scrap of information to uncover his identity. Her determination was unlike anything he had encountered before, and it unnerved him in a way few things ever had. He needed to act before she finally found something and took it to Ivy—or worse, someone else. Like that lame ass five-0 she was fucking, Hayes. 

He had to hand it to her. Though he had perfected this dance over the years, she was different. Her confidence infuriated him, and some part of him wanted her to know, in her final moments, that she’d been right about him all along.

The smart TV on the kitchen wall murmured in the background, showing a clip of Montez, the distraught fiancé of Bianca Belair who was still missing, pleading for her safe return. Duchess was fast asleep in the conversation pit a few feet away. But it was the lazy clink of cutlery that had his attention. His gaze flicked to his girlfriend, who sat quietly across from him, her fork absently tracing circles through the barely eaten scrambled eggs on her plate. She had been distant for days, her mind clearly elsewhere. Something was weighing heavily on her.

“You’ve been quiet,” Roman said softly, his voice low, filled with a tenderness that Ivy had come to trust. “What’s going on, babe?”

Ivy hesitated, her stomach knotting the way it had for the last few days, since she’d learned of Angelo’s surprising bequest. The weight of it was heavy on her chest and she had kept it to herself until now, unsure of how to even begin processing everything. Roman had been a constant presence since Angelo’s death—strong, supportive, and patient—but this was something that still made her feel vulnerable. 

Roman shut his laptop and motioned her over. “Come here.”

She made her way over to him, allowing him to pull her onto his lap, his forearms winding protectively around her. His lips pressed against her shoulder. “Talk to me,” he whispered.

Ivy sighed heavily and bit the bullet. She’d been carrying this burden alone long enough. “Angelo…he wrote a will,” she began, her voice faltering as she struggled to find the right words. “He…he left things. A house, a trust fund for Zaia, some business stake—things I never thought he’d care enough to leave behind.”

Roman raised an eyebrow but didn’t interrupt, watching her closely. He knew that whatever Angelo had left wasn’t just about the material things. He could tell that it was something deeper—something Ivy was still trying to understand herself.

“I know what this is about,” he said quietly. “I know it’s not just about what he left. It’s about him—about everything he kept trying to do. Trying to come back into your life even when you told him no.”

Ivy let out a long, quiet breath, her gaze dropping to the counter. “He couldn’t just let it go, Ro. He couldn’t accept that we were done. That we been done for a long time.” Her voice faltered, but she quickly steadied herself. “He kept trying, always trying to force himself back in. And now…now, he’s gone, and he’s left me this…this mess.”

Roman’s gaze never left hers. “I know he wasn’t easy on you, and I know he made things complicated, even when you were doing your best to move forward.” He gently reached out, placing a hand on hers. “But I also know you loved him, at least in your own way. He was Zaia’s father. And now, with all this…stuff he left behind, I can’t imagine how hard it is for you to figure out how to feel about it.”

Ivy’s face was full of vulnerability. “He was a good father to his baby. He really was. I can’t take that away from him. But he kept trying to get back into my life. He was always coming around, always expecting me to give him another chance. And now—after he’s gone—I’m left with all this guilt. I don’t know if I’m supposed to be grateful or angry.”

Roman’s hand tightened around her waist, a reassuring squeeze. “You’re allowed to feel both, Ivy. You can be grateful for the good he did for Zaia, for the father he was, while also being pissed at the way he treated you. You don’t have to choose.”

Ivy swallowed hard, nodding as the weight of his words settled into her chest. “I just…I don’t understand why he didn’t do this sooner. If he really wanted to fix things, if he really wanted to show he cared, why didn’t he do it when I needed him to?” Her voice was a whisper now, as if the thought itself was too much to bear. “Why did he make everything harder for me?”

“Maybe he didn’t know how,” Roman mused. “A lot of people—especially people like Angelo—they don’t know how to express what they really feel until it’s too late. Maybe he didn’t realize it until the end. Maybe he didn’t know how to fix what was broken between you two.”

Ivy shook her head, wiping away a stray tear that had escaped. “But that’s just it, Roman. He never listened. He never saw me. He always just assumed what I wanted, what I needed. And now—now he’s gone. And I’m stuck with all this…uncertainty. I’m stuck with a little girl who won’t understand any of it. And I can’t even process any of this because of the way he kept pulling me back in.”

She had fought so hard to let go of the past, to move on from the chaos Angelo had brought into her life. It wasn’t fair that after all that struggle, this new development was now forcing her to confront everything she had tried to forget. She was trying to build a new future for herself, for Zaia…and possibly Roman…but this…this was a lot to carry.

“Hey,” Roman said gently, squeezing her hand, “Baby, I know you’re angry, and I know you’re hurt. But you’re not alone in this. You’ve got me. You don’t gotta carry all this by yourself. We’ll figure it out together, one step at a time.”

Ivy let out a long breath, her chest rising and falling. She felt exhausted, like the weight of everything had finally caught up with her. But hearing Roman’s words, feeling the warmth of his hand on hers, she knew she wasn’t alone anymore. Maybe she couldn’t control everything—maybe she couldn’t change what Angelo had done—but she could still move forward. She had a choice. And she had Roman.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice breaking slightly as she leaned into him. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Roman smiled softly, caressing her face. “You’ll never have to find out. I’m here, Ivy. I’m here, no matter what.”

Ivy met his gaze, the conflict in her heart still there, but the steady, grounding presence of Roman gave her something she hadn’t had in a long time: a sense of peace. She didn’t have to have all the answers. Not yet. But with him by her side, perhaps she could start to heal.

Roman’s hands gripped the steering wheel, a million thoughts plaguing his mind as he navigated his Range Rover down the suburban streets enroute to Zaia’s elementary school. The sunlight streamed through the windshield, bouncing off his dark Ray-ban Aviators and giving his already cold demeanor an eerie, impersonal sheen. Ivy sat beside him, chattering away, little Zaia in the backseat singing along to the music, some song from Gracie’s Corner, blaring from her iPad. Roman had tuned them both out completely, their cheerful voices nothing but background noise to the storm that had been raging in his mind since Ivy dropped that bombshell on him.

Damn you, Angelo!

He was seething. That fucking bastard’s will felt like a final act of sabotage, the ghost of the past reaching out from beyond the grave to pull Ivy back into a world of chaos he’d worked so hard to shield her from. 

But he wasn’t just angry at Angelo. No. 

He was furious with Gemini for delivering the news. For helping tear open old wounds Ivy had spent years trying to heal from, all in the name of business. A burning rage surged through him. Like Angelo, Gemini had become another anchor Ivy couldn’t free herself from. Another reason for Roman to despise that bitch.

A sudden burst of repetitive, high-pitched music jolted him from his thoughts. Zaia had restarted the same insipid song she’d been playing since they got in the car, the tinny melody grating against his nerves like nails on a chalkboard. Roman’s fingers tightened on the wheel, a muscle twitching in his jaw. The sound seemed to fill every inch of the vehicle, piercing through the thin layer of control he’d been holding onto.

Zaia continued to sing her little heart out as the cheerful tune played on. It was relentless, drilling into Roman’s skull. He exhaled sharply, forcing himself to keep his composure. He glanced in the rearview mirror, catching her innocent, happy expression, one he usually appreciated but now he just couldn’t stand the sight of.

“Little lady,” he began, his voice carefully even, though the tension brewing in him laced every syllable, “you don’t got any other songs?”

Zaia beamed at him. “But it’s my favorite! Don’t you like it?”

He hated it. The tune quickly became a nightmarish loop, and for the first time in hours, his thoughts of Gemini faded—not from guilt or doubt, but from sheer, unrelenting irritation. The song pounded on, and Roman’s fingers tightened on the wheel, his knuckles stretching unnaturally against the black leather.

On the third replay, he snapped.

“Man, turn that shit off!” His voice was a whip, sudden, loud, and vicious.

The car fell into a stunned silence. Zaia’s lip quivered, her breathing pattern changing, quickening, before she burst into tears. 

“Roman!” Ivy exclaimed.

“What I do? I just told her to change the song!”

“I want my daddy!” Zaia wailed.

“That’s too damn bad,” Roman shot back coldly, his deep voice dripping venom as he twisted his head to glare at her. “You ain’t never gon’ see that piece of shit no more cuz he’s dead!”

Ivy’s heart stopped. She turned in her seat, gaping at him in complete shock. “Roman! What the hell is your problem?”

Chastened, he opened his mouth to respond, but she cut him off, absolutely livid. “Stop the car. Now.”

“Ivy, I—”

“Stop the damn car!”

Roman exhaled heavily, muttering under his breath as he pulled the SUV to the side of the road. Ivy didn’t wait for the car to come to a full stop before she threw the door open. Her legs were shaky, but her fury propelled her forward. She yanked open the back door, gathered Zaia and her backpack, and marched down the street toward the school building. At the entrance, she set Zaia back down on her feet, but the little girl refused to let go of her, clinging to her neck like a lifeline.

The sight of her daughter’s distress pierced something deep within her soul. Kneeling down, she held her tightly, letting her hold on to her for as long as she needed, even as the school’s morning bell rang around the building, signaling the start of the day.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Ivy murmured softly, her voice laced with guilt. She rubbed Zaia’s back in slow, soothing circles. “Please don’t cry, my snuggle bug.”

Zaia hiccupped through her sobs, her voice trembling and barely audible. “I don’t want Roman to be mad at me, Mama.”

The innocent remark hit Ivy like a punch to the chest, momentarily stealing her breath. It dawned on her that her little girl had grown attached to the big man. She struggled to find the right words to reassure her. “He’s not mad, sweetheart. He’s just…had a tough morning.”

Zaia’s sniffles grew louder, her fresh tears spilling over. She clung to Ivy tightly, her small fingers gripping almost desperately at her mother’s scrubs.

“I miss my daddy,” the little girl whimpered, her words a fragile echo of her broken heart.

“I know, sweetie. I know,” Ivy replied, her voice wavering as she fought back her own tears. She gently cupped Zaia’s face and wiped away the wet streaks with her thumbs. “It’s okay to miss him. But guess what? He’s watching over you in Heaven. He'll always be in your heart, okay?”

But even as she tried to console her daughter, Ivy’s mind raced. Zaia’s distress gnawed at her. How could she send her baby into school like this? Would it even be fair to ask her to focus, to pretend everything was fine when it so clearly wasn’t? The uncertainty weighed heavily on Ivy’s shoulders, even as she pulled Zaia into another hug, pressing a soft kiss to her curls. 

“Little lady?”

At the sound of his voice, Ivy glared up at Roman’s approaching figure, his face a mix of remorse and something she couldn’t quite name. She tensed, shielding her baby girl with her body. “What do you want?”

“I just…I want to apologize,” he said, his expression soft and remorseful. “Ivy, please. I was wrong. Let me make up for it.”

Ivy studied him warily before giving a reluctant nod. “Fine. But you’d better mean it.”

She didn’t take her eyes off Roman as he crouched down to Zaia’s level, his chiseled face drawn with regret. “Hey, little lady,” he said gently, his voice soft, almost tender. “I am so sorry for yelling at you. I didn’t mean to, but I was wrong to do that. Can you forgive me? I’ll never do it again, I promise.”

Rubbing her nose, Zaia looked to Ivy for approval, and Ivy, despite her better judgment, gave the go ahead with a short nod. 

“Okay. I forgive you,” Zaia answered, her smile small and watery.

Roman smiled back, his features awash with relief as he hugged her tight. “Thank you, Zaia.” He tapped her little nose playfully. “Tell you what, how about we get some ice cream after school? Just you, me, and Mommy. Wherever you want, and whatever flavors you want. That sound good?”

It was a winning bargain, as Zaia instantly brightened and she nodded eagerly, throwing her arms around his neck in another big, warm hug. Waving goodbye to the two adults, she spun around and zoomed off through the doors of the school. Roman smiled at her retreating figure, but when he turned back to her mom, the look in his eyes was more pleading than apologetic.

Ignoring him, Ivy kept her distance all the way back to the car. The moment the doors were shut, she exploded.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Roman? She’s a child!” she yelled.

Roman’s jaw ticked. He rubbed his face and exhaled a shaky breath. “You…you wouldn’t understand.”

“What’s there to understand? You fucking yelled at my daughter! You think I’m gonna let that slide?” she snapped, her anger barely contained. “Gemini warned me about this. To think I keep defending your ass, only for her to be right. This is how you really are!”

“No it’s not, I swear!”

“Then tell me what’s wrong! You've been acting up all week! Something is up with you and I wanna know what it is! And don’t lie to me!”

He hesitated, then dropped his gaze. “Okay then. Here’s the truth.” He swallowed hard. “Today…marks a year since…since Elesha died.”

Ivy blinked, her fury momentarily giving way to surprise. She hadn’t expected that. Her scowl softened, though her wariness persisted. “I’m sorry, Roman. I can’t imagine how hard that must be. But that don’t mean you get to take it out on Zaia or be an asshole to me. If being with me, being with us, is triggering you, just say so. If it’s too much—”

“It’s not too much,” he said quickly, his voice breaking. “Ivy, I swear to you, it’s not. Don’t ever blame yourself for my fuckup. I’m just…I’ve been trying, really trying, to process it all.” He looked at her, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. “Everything’s happened so fast. Losing her, moving here and meeting you…My feelings for you are so strong, and it scares the shit outta me cuz I don’t wanna lose you too.”

His vulnerability struck her like a tidal wave, raw and unguarded in a way that left her breathless. Roman looked shattered, the weight of his emotions carved into every line of his beautiful face. She hesitated, her own walls trembling, before gently resting her hand against his cheek. Her voice, barely more than a whisper, trembled with conviction.  

“Babe, you’re not gonna lose me. I only just found you,” she said. “I told you before. I’m here for you Roman, just like you are for me. I just need you to stop bottling things up and talk to me.”

A fragile, watery smile curved his lips, but it couldn’t mask the storm raging in his eyes. He leaned into her touch, his forehead resting against hers as though she was the only anchor he had left. For one brief, stolen moment, the chaos around them stilled.  

“I don’t deserve you,” he rasped, his voice thick with anguish. “I don’t know how to be without you. You’ve made my life worth something again—you and Zaia. I’m so sorry I snapped at her…Please, Ivy. I know I messed up…Don’t leave me. I need you.”  

Her chest constricted, the ache in his voice cutting through her like glass. The desperation in his gaze was a dagger, and despite every reason to walk away, she couldn’t. Because whatever doubts had begun to creep into the edges of her mind paled in comparison to what she was starting to feel for him. She was painfully aware of how hard, how undeniably she had fallen for him too, and it was in equal parts terrifying and exhilarating.  

Her fingers traced his jaw, her own tears threatening to spill. “I accept your apology,” she whispered, moved enough by the emotions pulsing between them to seal her words with a gentle kiss that tasted of unspoken vows and quiet redemption. “And I’m not going anywhere,” she murmured, kissing his forehead as well, her voice steady even as her heart thundered, even as the doubt lingered. “I promise.” 

“You sure you don’t want me to come over? I can leave this function that I’m at. We can just kick it for a lil’ bit.”

Gemini smiled into the phone, twirling a lock of her hair around her finger. “Thanks, Melo, but I’ll be fine, I promise.”

“So you don’t wanna see me? Damn, ma,” Carmelo sighed, the smooth baritone of his voice sending a delicious shiver down her spine. She knew he meant well, but the last thing she wanted was for him to worry about her more than he already did.

“Of course I wanna see you. I always do,” she insisted, her voice gentle and assured. “I just don’t want you feeling like you have to drop everything for me.”

“I know I don’t have to,” he replied, his tone laced with a quiet insistence. “But I want to. That’s different.”

She bit her lip, her gaze drifting to the window. The evening’s shadows stretched across her home, her reflection faint against the glass. His words warmed her, tugging at something she didn’t want to admit she’d missed—feeling cared for, wanted...a lover’s touch.

“I appreciate it,” she said softly, letting her guard down just a little. “But I promise, tonight is just about me catching up on work. Nothing to stress over.”

Carmelo was silent for a moment, and she could almost picture the wheels turning in his head. “A’ight,” he said finally, though the hesitation in his voice lingered. “But if anything changes—if you need me, or if you just feel like some company—holla at me and I’ll be right over. No questions asked.”

Gemini couldn’t help but smile again. He always knew how to walk that fine line between protective and overbearing, never crossing it, even when she pushed him away. “I’ll hold you to that,” she teased lightly. “But seriously, don’t let me mess up your evening. Have fun.”

“You know my nights ain’t the same without you, right?” His voice was teasing, but she could hear the undercurrent of truth in it. Her stomach fluttered, making her shy in a way only he could. 

“You’re smooth as fuck, you know that?” she giggled.

“Nah, I’m just honest. That’s why you like me so much. But I’ll let you get back to it—for now.” There was a smile in his voice now, and it made her chest ache in the best way.

“Goodnight, Officer Hayes,” she whispered.

“Goodnight, Miss Beaufort, Esquire. Don’t work too hard now, okay?”

She nodded, even though he couldn’t see it. “I’ll try.” And as the call ended, she found herself staring at her phone, wondering just how much longer she could keep her guard up around someone who made her feel so safe, so…loved.

Sighing heavily, she refocused on the legal briefs and deposition notes scattered across her table. The phone call was a distraction, a brief escape from the mind-numbing class action case she was working on, but boredom gave way to curiosity as a notification popped up in her email, the logo of the dark website she frequented glowing on her laptop screen.

Her gaze was locked on the unopened documents. Tagged Psycho Hottie: The Coral Lake Butcher, the post drew her in with its absurd title. She clicked out of boredom, expecting yet another bizarre story or twisted fantasy from the forum’s strange array of users. Instead, she was staring into the face of someone she knew.

Roman.

There was no mistaking the sharp cheekbones, the slanted eyes, the smirk that always hovered at the edge of his lips. It was him—or at least it looked exactly like him.

Her stomach knotted as she clicked on the article accompanying the sketch. Published two months ago, the headline was simple but chilling:

Her eyes flicked down to the grainy mugshot embedded in the article, and her breath caught in her throat. It was Roman, no question about it. Shorter hair, but the same dark intensity in his eyes, the same chiseled, angular face. But the name was different. Roman Reigns was what Ivy called him. Mateo Hobbs was what the Floridian police called him.

The text beneath the mugshot only worsened her unease.

It has been nearly a year since Mateo Hobbs escaped police custody following his arrest for the brutal murders of his wife, Elesha Hobbs, and her alleged boyfriend, Tama Tonga. At the time of her death, Elesha was four months pregnant.

Witnesses reported seeing Hobbs flee from the Pensacola police precinct three days after his arraignment. He was awaiting formal charges when he disappeared.

Since his escape, Hobbs has been linked to a string of homicides along the Florida coast, with most victims being female sex workers in their twenties and early thirties.

Her blood cold, Gemini scrolled down, and her heart nearly stopped when she saw the photograph of his wife.

Fuck.

She looked just like Ivy.

The resemblance was uncanny—same smooth, deep brown skin, same pretty almond-shaped eyes, same slim thick figure. Roman had a type, it seemed, and Ivy fit it perfectly.

The article went on to describe his other possible victims. Young, beautiful women in their twenties or thirties. Throats slit. The pattern was clear, and Gemini’s mind immediately flashed to Rhea and Bianca.

Rhea, a pregnant woman. Her throat, brutally cut, several weeks ago. Another woman, Bianca, had disappeared shortly after. Probably dead, too. Both of them, as the Hartford Police discovered, were sex workers outside their day jobs, with Rhea an OnlyFans model and Bianca an escort. One woman from Middlesex and another from Fairfax, two towns en route to Hartford, died the exact same way Rhea did a couple of months ago. This felt like the markings of a serial killer, and Gemini had little doubt that Roman—no, Mateo—was responsible.

And then there was Angelo.

Gemini’s hand flew to her mouth as it hit her like a ton of bricks. Angelo had died in a car crash not long after Roman came into the picture. Everyone had assumed it was a tragic accident, but now Gemini could see the truth, almost clear as day. Roman had probably followed Angelo to that bar. Tampered with the brakes that had mysteriously failed.

Roman killed him.

She felt a wave of nausea but pushed it down, forcing herself to focus.

The article ended with a warning:

“Hobbs is considered armed and extremely dangerous. If sighted, do not approach. Contact law enforcement immediately on these numbers...”

But Gemini didn’t have time for law enforcement. Ivy didn’t have time for law enforcement.

Her hands moved on autopilot as she clicked “Print,” the printer spitting out page after page of damning evidence. She grabbed the stack and stuffed it into her bag, her thoughts racing.

“You’re always looking for problems where there aren’t any! Roman’s been nothing but good to me. Just because you don’t trust anyone doesn’t mean I should be the same!”

She and Ivy had barely spoken in weeks, but Gemini didn’t care. Her best friend’s life was on the line. She shoved her phone into her bag and bolted for the door. She had to get to Ivy. Immediately. 

Her mind was a chaotic mix of fear and determination. Would Ivy even listen? Or would she laugh off Gemini’s warning again?

It didn’t matter.

She wasn’t going to let Ivy end up like Roman’s wife, like Rhea, like Bianca, all those other women. And she wasn’t going to let Zaia grow up without a mother. Not when she no longer had a father, probably thanks to him.

She’d been suspicious about that monster ever since he stepped foot in Ivy’s house that night, sensing something off about his charm, his intensity, the way he inserted himself so seamlessly into Ivy’s life. And now she knew why.

She had to stop him.

The night air was cold as she stepped out of her house and rushed to her Mercedes. The air outside was eerily quiet. Too quiet. It was then she realized how empty her street was. No, it was more than empty - it was deserted. Worse, she felt like she was being watched even though nobody else seemed to be around. The stillness was oppressive. Not just silence, but wrong silence—the kind that seemed to buzz in her ears like a phantom noise, amplifying every beat of her heart.

And yet…something deep in her gut told her yet again that she wasn’t completely alone.

Gemini glanced down the street again, her unease mounting with every passing second. The dim, flickering streetlights cast jagged shadows that seemed to stretch and reach for her. Uncharacteristically spooked, she started to open her car door.

She froze, her mouth slowly falling open in horror.

Roman stood across the street, mere meters from her home, a black hoodie over his head. He wasn’t moving, but the intensity of his stare felt like a physical force, pinning her to the spot. Gemini’s breath hitched, her body going completely numb with terror. She tried to scream, but no sound came. Her throat was void, and terror was the only thing filling it. 

Fuck, the word tumbled through her mind, frantic and desperate, Fuck, fuck, fuck!

She squeezed her eyes shut, praying to God that she would open her eyes and it would be nothing more than a hallucination. Maybe it was a trick of the dim light. Maybe she’d open her eyes and find the street as empty as it had been moments ago. 

But when she dared to look again, Roman was moving. Striding towards her with deliberate, predatory determination.

At this, Gemini’s paralysis finally snapped. Her brain finally gave her legs permission to move, and she spun on her heel and bolted, her feet pounding against the pavement as she raced for her front door. Her bag bounced wildly against her side, her breath bursting in shallow, ragged gasps.

The edge of the pathway betrayed her. Her toe caught in the stone step, and she tumbled forward, crashing hard to the ground. A sharp burst of pain flared through her knee and palms as they scraped painfully against the concrete, but adrenaline surged through her veins, propelling her back to her feet.

Her house loomed ahead, so close, but yet so far. She fumbled with her bag, her injured fingers trembling as she rifled through it for her keys.

But Roman was fast. Quarterback fast. In an instant, he was behind her, his body slamming into hers and pinning her against the door with his entire two hundred plus pound frame. Her cheek pressed against the cold wood, causing a strangled cry to escape her lips.

“Where ya goin’, huh?” His voice was deep, terrifying, and far too close to her ear. His breath was hot against her skin. “You think you can run from me, bitch?”

Terror clawed at her throat, but through the fog of panic, she remembered - the can of Mace buried in her bag that Melo gave to her. Forcing herself to concentrate, Gemini discreetly dug her hand into her bag, feeling for the small, cylindrical lifeline.

Roman grabbed her by the hair and yanked her head back, forcing her to meet his wild, hate-filled glare. Pain shot through her scalp and tears sprang to her eyes, but she didn’t let go of the Mace.

With a burst of defiance and a quick twist of her arm, she whipped the can up and aimed. A sharp hiss filled the air as the spray found his mark. 

“Arrrrgh!” Roman cried out in pain, clutching his face as he stumbled back. His curses rang in Gemini’s ears, but she didn’t waste a second. The keys were in her hand now, and she jammed them into the lock with shaking fingers. The door gave way at last, but just as she made to slam it shut behind her, Roman charged, tackling her to the ground in a vicious spear that almost broke her body in two. The impact knocked the wind out of her lungs, the back of her head hitting the hard floor, and she was sure she was concussed. Roman pounced, straddling her waist, pressing one hand against her throat as he held her down. His face, usually handsome and composed, was like something out of a horror film, his eyes wild and filled with hatred and madness. 

There he is…I knew it…

Grabbing Gemini by the hair, Roman stumbled to his feet and dragged her past the foyer, her desperate cries swallowed by the echoing silence of the house. Her nails clawed at his sleeved arms, her legs kicking wildly, the polished floor chafing uncomfortably against her skin. Her struggles were futile—Roman was too strong, his grip vice-like and unyielding. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the blinking red lights that should have been on the overhead cameras were gone. Disabled. By him, surely. He’d been in her house before, probably scouted her out in preparation for this day. Her heart sank as it dawned on her that no one would witness her futile fight for her life. 

As they reached the kitchen, Roman lifted her bodily off her feet, throwing her against the counter. Gemini hit the table spine-first, sending her crashing painfully to the ground.

“You just can’t leave shit alone, can you?” Roman snarled, his breath coming out in short bursts, his rage barely contained, “Always sticking your fucking nose where it don’t belong!”

Gemini gasped through her tears, scrambling to get away, but Roman easily caught up to her retreating form.

“I’m so fuckin’ sick of your shit,” he snarled, his voice venomous and trembling with fury as he stomped on her right leg with brute force. 

The crack of her bone echoed sickeningly all around the kitchen. Gemini screamed, the sound animalistic and blood-curdling, but it barely registered in the lifeless air. Pain surged through her body like wildfire, reducing her fight to pitiful spasms.

Roman’s handsome face twisted in a grotesque mask of a set and satisfaction. Slipping on a pair of black gloves, he crouched down beside her, tilting his head as though appraising a broken toy.

“Not so mouthy now, huh, bitch,” he taunted.

“P-Please…please don’t do this, Roman,” Gemini sobbed, clutching at her shattered leg. 

“Learn to shut the fuck up for once in your goddamn life,” he growled, his voice low and terrifying as he pulled out a knife from his pocket.

The blade flashed in the dim light, and before Gemini could process the motion, the cold steel sliced across her throat. Her scream died a gruesome death, a wet, choking gasp accompanying the blood pouring from the gaping wound. She tried to speak, to beg for what was left of her life, but all that came out was a pathetic, gargled noise.

Roman was on a roll, his chest heaving as he paced in circles around her twitching body.

“Stay the fuck outta my business, you nosy bitch! Ivy is mine!” he roared, pointing at himself. “She belongs to me! Ain’t nobody gon’ take her from me, not even you, you understand me, you-”

Lifting his right leg off the ground, he slammed it back down, a brutal stomp of his foot to her face following each word.

“Worthless!” Stomp.

“Fucking!” Stomp. 

“Bitch!” 

The awful sound of bone crunching filled the room. When he moved his foot, he saw that Gemini had gone stock-still. Her face was unrecognizable, her blood spreading in dark rivulets across the vinyl plank flooring.

Roman stood over her, his fists clenched and trembling as the red fog of rage cleared from his brain. The silence in the kitchen was deathly, deafening, broken only by his labored breathing. He looked down at the mangled, lifeless corpse, his nose wrinkling in disgust at the mess of bone, flesh and blood pooled around his feet, staining his black Air Forces.

“Goddamn it,” he sucked his teeth, wiping a hand in frustration across his sweaty forehead.

It wasn't supposed to go like this. Gemini was supposed to stay out of it, to leave him and Ivy alone. But her dumbass couldn’t. And now, he had another body to clean up.

But it was worth it, because no one would interfere with their love anymore. 

Ivy was all his now. Forever. Just like she promised him.

And he planned on holding her to that promise.

😬😬😬

Thanks for reading! Your replies and reblogs are so much appreciated! Also keep your Asks coming, we’re loving all the theories!

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