#trigger warning -> mentioned past drug and alcohol abuse | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

treacheryinblue · 9 days ago

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「 ON DISPLAY 」 noah sebastian ⨯ f!reader

▷ chapter one

noah is your neighbor and your new favorite view thanks to his lack of curtains. you're pretty sure he prefers it this way. but the man you've created in your imagination is nothing like reality and you soon find yourself falling prey to a past lifestyle you had been desperately on the run from. trigger warnings : language, eventual smut, violence, mention/flashbacks of abuse, alcohol and drug use, sexual harassment/assault (nongraphic). word count : 6.2k comment to be added to the tag list for future chapters!

masterlist

“Goddamn. This apartment just got so much better.”

Your mouth fell agape after you followed your best friend’s gaze until you were both staring across to the window opposite of yours. With only a narrow walkway separating the two apartment buildings, it gave you a perfect view into the curtainless home.

A man stood in the living room, shirtless, his torso of tattoos on display for you to gawk at. Your eyes trailed the bits of bare skin slowly, pausing just where his black athletic shorts sat low on his hips. He was doing some stretches that you immediately recognized as yoga poses. Not your workout of choice but who were you to judge when your breakfast that morning had been a stale bag of Doritos?

“Fuck…I didn't know yoga could be so hot.”

Both you and Melinda - Mel - took synchronized steps closer before kneeling onto your couch, elbows resting on the back ledge for comfort.

“Should we be watching him like this? I mean…doesn't it make us kinda creepy?”

Mel shrugged, her palms shifting to cradle her chin as she stared adoringly at your way too hot neighbor. “Nah, it's fine. It would only be creepy if he was watching you work out.”

“Sounds a little hypocritical.”

“He's the one half naked in front of an open window!” She motioned dramatically to the lack of coverings on the floor to ceiling windows of his apartment. “He's asking to be watched.”

With a roll of your eyes you could only laugh, head shaking at your friend. You weren't going to touch on that specific topic with her because Mel could be rather sensitive at times. The last thing you needed after enduring the stress of moving was to have a petty argument break out.

“Shit, I gotta go. I'd love to sit and watch this absolutely stunning show all day, but Madam Roslyn needs her brat’s dry cleaning.”

Your nose scrunched at the mention of Mel's boss. She used the term ‘Madam’ in mockery towards the horrid woman, although that's how Roslyn preferred to be addressed. She clearly didn't view it as laughable as the rest of the city did when referring to a millionaire with two ridiculously evil twins.

“Tell Satan and Lucifer ‘hi’ for me.”

“You do know that's pretty redundant, right?”

“Yeah, but I don't care. It gets my point across.” You waved her off with a motion of your hand before bringing the same hand to your lips to blow a kiss in her direction.

“Bye, bitch! Let me know if you go fuck your neighbor!”

The request didn't even warrant a response because of how unlikely that scenario actually was. Mel knew this too. She had begged you on many occasions to go out and 'stretch your legs' again aka spread them for whatever guy looked your way at a bar, and each time you did exactly the opposite. That wasn't a mistake you were going to make again. Too many scars still lingered from last time – physical and mental.

After Mel securely closed your front door you allowed your attention to shift back out the window. Although this time when you looked out a pair of eyes were staring back at you. His hands were on his hips, his breathing slightly labored, both of you holding the other's gaze for a beat too long. Your eyes widened and you froze as you were caught in the act, but the guy only did what you could assume was a laugh from so far away, his hand then lifting in a slight wave.

You dropped down to your couch suddenly so you were no longer visible. Your heart hammering away violently within your chest. Dammit. How fucking awkward.

X X X

Days were long and the nights even longer. You had managed to pick up a couple of jobs to help ease the financial burden of moving despite the hefty amount of cash stashed away beneath a pried up floorboard in your closet. It wasn't the greatest hiding place but you didn't want to risk such a large sum of money randomly going into your bank account. You feared it would trigger an alert of sorts to those you were better off without. The feeling of having to hide was exhausting and you wished more than anything that things didn't have to be this way.

If only you had been smarter. Less naive. Not so gullible.

You yawned as you kicked your shoes off after a tiring day of being a personal errand girl for an old man that simply went by Red. Mel had helped you get the job through her connections with Madam Roslyn and the man reminded you of your grandfather when he had been alive and well. It was an opportunity you hadn't been able to pass up. The pay was decent and he was kind enough to give you the main holidays and most weekends off. What more could you ask for in the bustling city?

Unfortunately, his generous pay still wasn't enough to keep you afloat and comfortable in your new life. Never would you go back to skipping meals or clinging to someone because of the way they ‘took care’ of you. You were determined to do it on your own.

“Shauna said you can get a job with her!”

There was a fury of noise in the background of wherever Mel was, leading you to believe she had agreed to stay later with Madam Roslyn’s little terrors. Thank god you had gotten a better deal with Red’s assistant gig. Mouthy children were not your forte.

“The Shauna who works at that one club? The one with black velvet walls?”

“Wait…how big are your tits?”

You paused from tugging your shirt off to look at the phone as if your best friend could see your expression from across the city. Your unamused face was from both her knack of ignoring your questions and also asking some ridiculous ones of her own.

“Okay, whatever, doesn't matter. You're hot and have a nice ass.” Mel quickly covered as if her question hadn't caused hundreds of others to arise.

“What the hell kind of job is this? But I can't leave Red anyway, not after he talked to me all day today about how his grandkids never visit anymore. Shit is depressing.” You scurried around your room while changing into your comfortable attire for the evening. Oversized tee, pajama shorts, and fuzzy socks. It didn't matter what time of the year it was because your feet were always freezing.

“That's the beauty of it!” Mel squealed in delight from the other end of the call. “It's a nighttime gig. I think she said she goes in around eight and gets off at two –”

“In the morning?!”

“I know you aren't worried about getting your beauty rest. I've seen you party all night and rally for work with fifteen minutes of sleep on the bus.”

Okay, she had you there. You were the queen of functioning with little to no sleep. It was both a blessing and a curse.

“Maybe. I guess. I'll have to see what kind of availability I'd be able to give.”

With one hand carrying your phone and the other clutching a box of crackers, a pack of cheese tucked into your elbow, you came to an abrupt halt in front of your couch. Right across the currently empty sidewalk was your hot neighbor…naked…with a girl pressed against the glass. Her back was to you and her legs wrapped securely around his hips, that of which were currently ricocheting between her thighs at a rapid pace. Your eyes widened, the words you had been about to speak to Mel dying on your tongue to leave nothing but the sound of her trying to grab your attention.

“Hello? Helloooo?”

“He's fucking a girl right now.”

“What? Who? Oh my god! Hot neighbor?!”

You nodded, and even though Mel couldn't see you she still erupted in excitement as if she was standing right beside you and witnessing the act as well.

“What does she look like? Is she hot too? I bet he bags all the tattooed baddies.”

“All I can see is the back of her head and her ass, Mel. I don't know.”

The phone in your hand was set down after you switched it to speaker, your “girl dinner” also dropping to the couch to be tended to in a few. You were frantically trying to close your curtains to give him some privacy whether he wanted it or not, but your sudden movements must've somehow garnered his attention.

Just as you were about to fully close your curtains his head tilted in your direction, your eyes meeting again just as they had a few days prior, but this time over the unaware girl’s shoulder. And just like then, you froze. His thrusts slowed to a pace that you just knew had to be agonizingly torturous, though you could tell by the rippling of the girl's ass that he was still being rather rough. A faint smirk tugged at his lips…or what you assumed was a smirk due to the distance between your windows. No, you were pretty sure he was smirking at you. Had he even been waiting for you to appear and see the show?

Okay, so hot neighbor was smug as hell. You couldn't say you were surprised by that. Just the eye contact you two held was enough to drive a warmth through the entirety of your body, more specifically right between your thighs. A chill even radiated down your spine despite your flushed skin and you briefly found yourself wondering what it was like to currently be that girl pressed against his window.

“Flash your tits! Maybe he’ll invite you over to join!”

“Melinda!” You hissed, the screech of the curtains finally coming together to block out the scene interrupting your scolding.

“Fuck. This guy has got to get some blinds or something.”

Later that night while in bed, your hand had drifted down between your thighs to help ease the tension that had grown rather quickly all thanks to that damned smirk.

X X X

There were times when you were alone that you let your thoughts get the best of you. Your overthinking had become less and less controlled until it ate you up, leaving your cuticles in tatters and the constant sound of your foot tapping against the hardwood floor had become the soundtrack of your life. You were terrified constantly. There were so many things that could go wrong that you were truly just waiting for the pin to drop because you knew it would eventually, it was just a matter of when.

When would you be found? When would you make the single dumb decision that would change your life forever? When would you end up six feet under at the hands of the people you were once involved with?

Living with these thoughts day to day wasn't healthy. You knew this. You didn't need to pay some $500 an hour specialist to recite the obvious, nor did you need to sit around in a circle and reveal your deepest thoughts to strangers in a support group that only had fake sympathies to offer. This was something you could handle on your own, or so you liked to constantly remind yourself. If your past had told you anything, it was that you couldn't rely on anyone but yourself anyway.

You took in a deep breath, held it, and then slowly exhaled while counting backwards from ten. The trick didn't work as well as it used to but you were still hopeful with every attempt. It was your first day off in over a week and while your body desperately needed the rest, your brain was still going a million miles a minute. There was a bottle of overpriced wine you had yet to touch that was living in your fridge, that of which could easily take the worries away, but you resisted. That was only a temporary fix.

As you shifted your position on the couch for the first time in two hours, you couldn't stop your gaze from drifting out the window. Most of the time he was never there, obviously off living his life to the fullest and unconcerned about you, the strange woman who creepily watched him. But much to your surprise, there he sat. He appeared to be alone from the glimpse you took, his long body spread out on his couch in a mimic of your own. Maybe he felt your eyes on him or maybe he had been curious about you as well because after only a couple of seconds his head lifted and angled perfectly for where you sat.

Like every time before, he didn't shy away from your stare. You decided to follow his lead and not look elsewhere either. You could even feel the faintest smile appearing over your lips, a friendly acknowledgement that you saw him and also saw him seeing you.

Hot neighbor’s eyebrows pulled together slightly and his head nodded upwards, a curious expression working over his features. You figured he wanted to know what you were doing, so you promptly lifted your book so he could see the spread pages. It wasn't like he had to know that you hadn't flipped a single one in a good hour. He nodded, his face now reading as impressed. A brief moment later and he was exchanging the same information with you, allowing you to see the notebook and pen held within his hands. A writer? How interesting.

It was amazing what could be communicated without words.

Long, drawn out seconds later, you both returned to your own lives, but you still occasionally found yourself glancing to his curtainless window.

X X X

“H-O-T-T-O-G-O! You can take me hot to go!” You loudly sang with the group crowded into your apartment, all of you tossing your hands up along with the lyrics in the way Chappell Roan had bestowed upon you.

Surely you would get a fine for being so loud but you and Captain Morgan couldn't care less. At that moment you were having the time of your life for the first time in months and that's what was important to you. Not work. Not the dark cloud looming over your head. Nothing but having the best fucking time before reality set in.

Mel danced up against you as you ground your hips into Dean, one of your other friends who always had the best manicures and didn't know what a “full length shirt” was. If he wasn't showing off his abs then what was the point of life? All his words.

“Order up, I'm hot to goooo!” You tossed your hair around and dragged your hands along the length of your body, paying special attention to your chest and hips - both of which were accentuated in the dress you wore.

How had you ever thought throwing a “house warming” party would be a bad idea? God, sober you was such a fucking drag sometimes. Parties were fun as hell and you made a silent pledge to yourself right then to have them more.

As your fingertips dragged along your thighs, hiking the hem of your dress up a bit in the process, you felt your body becoming abnormally warm. Alcohol always made you flush but this was a different sensation, one that had only recently become known to you. You wanted to look around your apartment because you would've sworn he was in the same room as you, simply watching you dance and have a good time. No way could his stare be this powerful from all the way in the apartment building opposite of yours.

But alas, you were wrong.

Your glitter dusted eyes drifted to your window where twinkling lights had been hung. You could just barely make out the image of his silhouette across the walkway, one hand in his pocket as the other arm rested against the glass above his head. Thanks to his eyes acting like actual fingers, you didn't need to question the possibility of what he was focused on. You could feel every trace along your heated skin.

Although he was a distance away, you were imagining that he was right across the room. Watching you. Devouring you. Dean wandered off to join a duo he excitedly greeted as they walked in, leaving the front of your body on full display for hot neighbor. Your hips continued to sway while your hands trailed along your body, one paying special attention to your breasts as the other slowly lowered back down to where the short hem of your dress rested at the top of your thighs. You imagined him licking his lips and raising his eyebrows for you to continue, silently challenging you to put on more of a show for him.

It didn’t matter how many people were in your apartment and could see you because everything you did in that moment was for him and only him.

Ever so slowly your fingers dipped beneath your dress to trace along your inner thigh to tease him, and also yourself in the process. You didn't think it was possible for his gaze to become even heavier but you swore it drank you in and swallowed you up. The hand on your chest pushed up against your breast and your fingers dug into the ample flesh, threatening to tug the fabric down and bare yourself to him. Every inch of your body was aflame, your nerves screaming to be touched by his heavily tattooed hands you had daydreamed of on more than one occasion.

You had no idea what it was about this man that had you in such a chokehold. Everything about him was unknown to you, yet you still craved him. Maybe even more than you had ever desired anyone before.

The sound of your name being repeated pulled you from your trance until you had no choice but to rip your gaze from his. The music blasting through your apartment came flooding back in and you were suddenly aware of where you were again, as well as all the people surrounding you. Thankfully it didn't seem as if anyone had noticed your little bout of hypnosis.

“We need towels!” Mel was calling to you from over the music, motioning towards the kitchen where an obnoxiously drunk guy appeared to have knocked over an entire bottle of Tito’s Vodka. The liquor was puddled on the floor, shards of glass glistening in the liquid it previously housed.

“Son of a bitch,” you grumbled before yelling back to Mel an explanation of where she could find some spare towels. Maybe you should've gone to clean it up yourself since you were the host but you were eager to get back to the eye fucking you had been participating in with hot neighbor. Unfortunately, when you looked back through the large windows, his apartment was empty.

X X X

“I feel so ridiculous,” you murmured to yourself beneath your breath, following the statement up with a heavy sigh. For the tenth time you tugged at the tiny black skirt you had been provided to wear, the hem riding up your ass and cupping your cheeks in a suggestive yet desirable way. Maybe Mel had been right when she said you had a nice ass. Too bad it had taken your physical discomfort for you to realize this.

A blonde woman that appeared to be a few years older than you glanced your way with a snarky grimace, her eyes then rolling after taking you in. You tried not to pay any attention to her as you adjusted the straps of your top, as well as your breasts that were popping out. You had been told to wear your best bra, which you had, and now you could see why the request had been made. The uniforms at Nocturnal left very little to the imagination, but at least you were still wearing clothes.

You couldn't say as much for the red head that was sauntering around the dressing room with her tits out without a care in the world. Damn. How were you supposed to get that amount of confidence? It wasn't that you were insecure, but being in the sort of relationship you had previously had definitely done a number on your mental state. You had been conditioned to believe that showing your body for anyone but him was one of the biggest sins. Amongst many other things but you had been trying very hard not to allow your thoughts to drift to those dark places. Something as simple as a v-neck t-shirt had earned you a reprimand on more than one occasion.

“You're the new girl, yeah?” The attitude-filled blonde questioned while swiping eyeliner along her lower lash line. You glanced at her through the mirror you stood before, responding with only a slight nod. Her eyes looked you up and down again, a throaty laugh following her heavy gaze. “They're just going to looove you. New meat.”

“Shut the hell up, Charlotte. Why do you always have to be so catty with the new ones?”

Shauna came strutting into the room at just the right time to prevent you from making an enemy on day one. She stood at your side, one hand on her curvy hip, the other resting upon your bare shoulder. The snarky blonde that you now knew as Charlotte simply rolled her eyes in the same exaggerated fashion again, a manicured hand waving in dismissal to Shauna.

“Don't mind her,” Shauna leaned in a bit closer to you as if she was telling a secret but the volume of her voice never lowered. “She's just bitter because she doesn't get good tips anymore after her botched boob job. She's scared you'll take all of King’s attention. Not like she ever really had it to begin with.”

You couldn't stop yourself from laughing despite your attempt to stifle it. Charlotte shot a glare at you, her fist tightening around her curling iron that she was using to touch up portions of her hair.

“Oh, please. She's clearly not experienced enough to draw his eye. I'm not worried.”

“Who's King?” You looked back and forth between the two women, your confusion beyond evident. Charlotte again chuckled, her tongue swiping over her plump lips while giving Shauna a look that read as 'seriously?’.

“As I said, I'm not worried.”

“So grouchy,” Shauna whispered while giving your shoulder a squeeze. You couldn't help but to notice how they both ignored your question. “But you look amazing! I knew you'd fit right in around here.”

“What did she mean by all of that? Who's going to love me?” As far you knew, this was supposed to be a simple waitressing gig at a club. Sure, there was a room towards the back that housed the nude dancers but you had made it very clear that wasn't going to be your area.

Shauna smiled kindly at you, soft laughter emitting from her. “She probably just meant the regulars,” she explained as she took your hand and began to lead you out of the dressing room. “They're the best tippers and are always on a first name basis with the girls. A few can get a little handsy but they know the servers are off limits. They have to go to the back rooms for that.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in further confusion but you didn't dare voice your questions. While you weren't naive when it came to this sort of “scene”, you also weren't well versed in it. All you really knew was what you had seen from movies and read in your books, as well as the conversations you'd eavesdrop in on between your ex and his pals. Never did you think you'd actually be a part of any of it.

Shauna dragged you along to the bar off to the side. The music was loud enough that you couldn't even hear yourself think, so you had no idea how you were supposed to take drink orders in this place. Bodies were already piled in, all of them dancing and swaying to the music, tabletops filled with those enjoying the scenery and atmosphere. Nothing too out of the ordinary so far in comparison to waitressing jobs in the past. Those had been at family friendly restaurants, but how different could it really be?

“I'm going to start you off with a couple of lower tables, okay? Only until you get the hang of it.” Shauna had her mouth close to your ear as she explained things, aiding in your inability to read her lips well enough.

“I'm just taking drink orders, right? It can't be too bad.” You shrugged, a notepad and pen now in your grasp that she had passed your way. Shauna side eyed you with a smile and a slow nod of her head, silently communicating that she wasn't too sure about that.

“Only thing you really need to know is that you've gotta smile and be friendly! These guys aren't dropping hundreds of dollars to be served by a witch with a stick up her ass. No matter how nice it may be. They like attention and thinking they have a shot with you, even though they have zero chances.” Shauna’s laughter continued as her eyes traveled along what appeared to be business men along the opposite side where the more private booths were located. “But like you said, it can't be too bad, yeah?”

Oh, how wrong you had been. Only a couple of hours in and your feet were already aching, your black top damp and chest sticky from the drink you had recently spilled on yourself, and your frustrations were rising by the minute. It didn't help that Charlotte had decided to steal one of your main tables, leaving you with only one, as well as a couple of small bar tops. Despite your overwhelmed demeanor, the club never stopped filling. More and more bodies pressed together and you swore the music had also been cranked higher, the lights dimmed red to further set the vibe. Fuck, you were going to crash and burn on only your first night.

“Hey!” A whistle garnered your attention, your head quickly turning to the bartender whose name you still hadn't caught. “Can you take these to VIP?” He slid a couple of glasses your way and then began to take the order of another patron before you could even reply. Your mouth opened and closed in an attempt to explain that you weren't serving VIP that night. You didn't even know where the hell VIP was.

“Up those steps and to the right!” The same red head from the dressing rooms earlier sauntered by you while carrying a tray of empty glasses that she quickly disposed of and replaced with fresh drinks. She was no longer naked, instead adorned in the same uniform as every other waitress.

“I…Shauna told me to stay on the lower levels,” you tossed back nervously, shaking your head.

“Look, we're swamped! Just take the drinks up and then I'll take VIP again after I drop these off. Easy!” Then, just like the bartender, the red head was disappearing before you could respond.

You looked at the drinks, the winding stairs that lead to the VIP level, and then back to the drinks. The glasses were already starting to sweat so you knew you had a narrow window before they became too watered down. With a deep breath, you snatched up the drinks and strutted towards the steps with as much confidence as your exhausted limbs could muster. Which, honestly, wasn't much.

One step was cautiously taken after another, the music fading the higher you ascended. You sighed in relief when your ability to hear just yourself again resurfaced and you suddenly realized why VIP was so sought after by all the waitresses. You knew it couldn't be solely because of the tips you were likely to secure. It was also the peace of mind.

VIP was darker than the lower levels because the lights shifting through the space never angled correctly to douse it in much color. You figured this was done with a purpose. The back perimeter was lined with black leather sectionals, glass tables centered in front of each one, and there was a railing that allowed patrons to overlook the lower level. Since this wasn't a very party-heavy area, you couldn't help but to assume it's where business took place. You had been in spaces like this many times before finding your way to this city. The thought made you uneasy because “business” sometimes meant paperwork and meetings, but it could also mean something more violent.

Three men sat off to the right, two of them smoking cigars while the other fidgeted with something in his hand. A coin, by the looks of it. Silence overtook them when one noticed you, his eyes immediately raking over your body. It felt nothing like it did when hot neighbor did the same. Both were strangers but there was something about this particular unknown man you didn't care for. He was older, which wasn't the problem, it was more so the dead look in his eyes.

“My sincerest apologies for the delay, gentleman,” you smiled while laying it on thick.

“Where's Dana?”

The man to the right spoke up, his disdain towards you quite obvious. You figured Dana was the red head you had spoken to at the bar, or so you were going to safely assume. “She’s briefly tied up with another table. She'll be right back with you. Until then, can I get you anything else?” You forced a smile, the sweetest possible in the moment.

“Yeah,” the same rude man took a swallow from his drink and then motioned for you to step closer. “Come here. I haven't seen you before. I'd remember.”

There was no hesitation in your motions as you closed the space between yourself and the man, no matter how uneasy he made you. Nothing had happened to make you believe he was outwardly dangerous, although you could see right through him. You knew he was the type that liked to destroy others. It was written in his eyes and the $20,000 watch hanging from his wrist.

“What's your name?”

Shit. Shauna had told you earlier to make up an alias for yourself and you had been too caught up with actually working that you had forgotten. She explained it was for safety but also because it could be fun to play someone else. You didn't tell her you were already doing as much and it wasn't nearly as fun as the club assumed.

“Genevieve,” you slowly drawled. The name of your late grandmother. Oh how she’d get a kick out of this.

The man smirked through a cloud of smoke, his lifeless eyes again looking you up and down. “Genevieve. How beautiful.” He was suddenly reaching out for you, his hand grasping your wrist to pull you closer. Keeping a hold of your wrist, he set his drink aside to free the other so he could grope along your hip and down the side of your exposed thigh. You softly gasped in shock but you didn't jerk away like your mind was screaming at you to do. Instead you stood frozen, fear shuddering through your veins.

“Hasn't the boss and his right hand already warned you about touching the servers?” One of the other men laughed as if you were nothing more than an object for their enjoyment. In their eyes that's exactly what you were.

Dead Eyes kept his focus on you, his rough fingertips still trailing your thigh. “Fuck the boss and his little bitch boy. What's his name? King? Kid thinks he runs this place.”

Tears threatened to well in your eyes but you refused to let your fear show. That's what men like these wanted. They craved to feel the power they held over others, but especially women. It made them feel special in their minuscule lives. In reality, it made them weak.

The man you stood before halted the motion of his hand just as it grazed the back of your thigh and threatened to disappear beneath your already barely-there skirt. His eyes were now looking past you, annoyance showing in his hollow gaze before his hand fell from your body. He dropped your wrist with a force while simultaneously pushing you back an inch.

“You were already given a warning, Marcus. Two, if I remember correctly.” A new voice greeted your ears, yet you were still too frozen to turn and see who it belonged to. You could feel his eyes, though. It was so familiar. Heavy. “But here you are, still harassing the staff.”

A figure stepped around you, gently nudging you back a few more steps. He was much taller than you with dark hair, his outfit black on black, at least from what you could tell from behind. There was something about him that commanded the attention of the room and you were more than willing to give it to him. So much that you hadn't even noticed the way he was leaning closer to the man now known as Marcus, his body slightly bent and an extended hand holding something to the repulsive man's neck. A peek to the left and you could just barely see the black splotches of ink that covered his own hand.

“Why do you insist on touching what doesn't belong to you?” His voice lowered, the words being hissed in a threatening manner. “Don't make me remind you again just who here is the real bitch boy.”

Marcus murmured something that sounded like an agreement, maybe an apology, which was apparently enough for the man because he stood back to his full height and then closed the knife you hadn't previously realized he was in possession of. As he turned to the side you could see the bright red line of blood that was sliced into Marcus' neck - his punishment. The wound was shallow, definitely not deadly, but you figured it got his point across.

The man was then facing you and you slowly raised your attention to him. Your breath caught in your throat and recognition flared in your eyes. You were sure the brief shock you saw in his gaze mimicked your own, though his was fleeting and quickly returned back to the hardened glare.

Hot neighbor.

“I'll be sure to mention to the boss that we had a talk tonight, gentlemen.” The man spoke to the small group without so much as a glance back to them. His attention was too focused on you, his hand placed on the middle of your back to help guide you around and towards the spiral staircase. You assumed he was going to leave you once you began your descent but he was right on your heels for the entirety of the trek, only pausing once you nearly reached the lower level.

Lightly grasping your arm, he gave a gentle tug to bring you closer before you could scurry away. “I think a 'thank you’ is in order.” You could hear the smile in his voice, as if this situation was amusing to him. Maybe it was. You knew next to nothing about him so it wasn't as if you could truly gauge his reaction.

“I didn't need your help,” you fired back. You didn't like to be told what to do by men on a power trip. Not anymore. “I could've handled it myself.”

“Really?” His smile widened and his posture dipped so your eyes could better meet through the darkness. “Because it looked to me like you were a frightened deer caught in the headlights. Very consistent for you.”

At least he was admitting that he knew who you were without truly saying it. You had given him the same look from your apartment window on multiple occasions now.

You remained silent, your eyes burrowing into his instead of trailing along his face like you desperately felt the need to. For reasons unknown you wanted to memorize every little detail and carry the memory with you forever. It didn't matter that you knew you should be somewhat afraid of him after the physical threat he placed upon Marcus. The idea of him doing the same to you never even crossed your naive mind.

When you still didn’t respond, but also refused to back down, he returned to his full towering height over you and dropped his smile. It was like he had pulled a mask over his face to be whoever it was Nocturnal expected. But what did you know? This could be the true version of himself instead of the one you had been witnessing from your window for over a month.

“Run along, little deer,” he gently spoke, his tone condescending, just before disappearing back up the spiral staircase.

CHAPTER TWO

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kurishiri · 6 months ago

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ikémen villains content warning list .ᐟ

this is a work-in-progress compilation of complete content warnings per route (because ikévil tends to underwarn a bit maybe to avoid spoilers) that will be updated as we go. please let me know if I missed anything, regardless if it says ‘work in progress’ or not, or pitch in with warnings. ♡ and ↻ are appreciated!

some of the ikévil routes contain sensitive themes that may be triggering. so please remember to take care of yourself while reading 🫶

GENERAL ༉‧₊˚. 🕊️

canon-typical violence, (minor but named) character death, depictions of murder.

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WILLIAM REX ༉‧₊˚. 🍓

near death experience, drug abuse, sexual coercion (not by love interest), corruption, romanticization of death.

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HARRISON GRAY ༉‧₊˚. 🦊

corruption of the police and higher-ups, mentions of human trafficking, coercion to commit crimes, mentions of kidnapping.

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LIAM EVANS ༉‧₊˚. 🐈

attempted suicide, suicide and suicidal ideation, depression, anxiety, implied self-harm, mentions of child abuse (physical and emotional), fire, severe burn wounds, human trafficking, mental breakdowns.

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ELBERT GREETIA ༉‧₊˚. 🍎

objectification both by and against love interest, mentions of sexual assault or rape (not by love interest), domestic abuse, attempted child sexual assault, pedophilia, obsessive and possessive behavior, stalkerish behavior, grooming, non-consensual touching, depicted suicide, self-harm, mental breakdowns, mentions of animal death, kidnapping, mentions of human trafficking.

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ALFONS SYLVATICA ༉‧₊˚. 🪞

description of children’s corpses, symptoms of depression, topics of mortality, attempted suicide, near death experience, self-harm, mental manipulation (?), dub-con: having sexual intercourse while one has “consented” in an intoxicated state or under the influence of a curse, (perceived) non-con, mentions of drug abuse and the effects of drugs, mentions of child abuse or labor, implied animal torture and death.

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ELLIS TWILIGHT ༉‧₊˚. ⛓️ —— warnings provided by @myusuchaa !!

romanticization of murder and death, family murder and death, suppressed emotions, emotional disconnect, people pleasing, attempted kidnapping, negative treatment of disabilities, coercion, child trafficking, gang activity.

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ROGER BAREL ༉‧₊˚. 🍻

a loott of alcohol consumption, drug usage or abuse (recreational drug use), cult activity, near/death experience of a side character, dub-con, self-harm especially in the past.

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JUDE JAZZA ༉‧₊˚. ⌛️ —— w. i. p. ┊ warnings provided by @judesmoonbeauty !!

smoking, torture, mentions of drugs and human trafficking, neglect and child abuse, mentions of a child’s death and the death of a family member.

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lexaverse · 4 months ago

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meet ruth ★

she's a stripper who lives in the desert trying to escape her past but winds up needing to return home to face some demons that she had tucked away. along the way, she bumps into things where she finds herself doing the same very thing she's been running from.

i honestly see a lot of myself and my trauma in her so buckle up!

{tw: this story has a lot of mature themes and sexual content along with physical abuse being mentioned. other tw include: smoking, drugs, addiction, alcohol, sexual content, violence, assault, blood, death/murder, possible gore, guns/weapons, mental health issues/mentions. all trigger warnings will be shown as one word, for example - twalcohol. read at your own discretion!

my inspo for this story comes from listening to a lot of ethel cain + lana

#ts4 #ts4 story #twviolence #tw mention #tw abuse #twabuse mention #ruth

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stargirlinterludefr · 3 months ago

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BLACK FRIDAY: jj maybank x fem!reader

synopsis: you struggle heavily with your mental health but you never show it as you’re jj’s pillar and when jj moves in with you to finally get away from his dad, he begins to notice more and more

TW: mentions of child abuse, drug & alcohol usage, talks of an ED, talks of self h@rm, body dysmorphia, mentions of bad mental health thoughts, mention of luke maybank, HEAVY angst, fluff.

notes: if you struggle with any of the things listed within the trigger warnings and feel like this will potentially trigger you then please do not read! If you do continue, read at your own risk. i have created a post here where you can learn more about ed’s & self h@rm and there is also helplines on there! my inbox is always open for anyone who needs to vent, you’re not alone!

JJ had never felt a shadow cover the light you bring to his life, not even the shadow his father casted over him could diminish your light. But JJ never expected the light within yourself to be dimming, he blames his own troubles for not noticing it sooner.

Before he took the big leap to completely detach from his father, he was so intertwined in his own mess of a mind that he failed to be the observant boyfriend he’d always been. He forgot to provide light to you like you’d always done for him.

In your opinion, JJ is a consistent light in your life. He always has been and that will never change, but in JJ’s mind it was like this.

You know how bulbs dim over time, they grow duller and make it harder for you to see when you turn the light on? That’s how he felt he’d been treating you because eventually that bulb goes out and you’re left in the darkness.

He’d always known of the issues you had with self harm, of course he’d known, because before he was your boyfriend he was your best friend since third grade…he’s seen the scars.

But he’s ashamed to say he’d never been actively knowing about the problems you had with eating. Sure he’d seen you have off days, the days where you didn’t eat, he’d made the ignorant decision to put it down to the fact that everyone has off days.

But now he’s living with you, in the home you share with your mother who is almost never home, he’s noticed.

He sees you sneaking off to the bathroom after eating things you cook for the two of you, how you’re never hungry, always tired…hell you’d fainted on him a week prior.

He didn’t want to push you to talk or to confront you but when he sees the tell tale signs of you deteriorating before his eyes, he’s not going to allow that to continue to happen.

The two of you have just finished eating, you’ve cleaned the dishes and as you’re about to scurry to the bathroom JJ gently reaches out and tugs at your wrist with a knowing look on his face that makes your stomach churn.

“I- baby…there’s somethin’ i wanted to talk to you about.” He says, never letting go of your wrist as he looks at you with such adoration and so much guilt it makes your lip quiver.

“What is it?” You ask quietly, but you know, you can tell by his eyes what he’s going to say.

Your boyfriend swallows, a heavy breath ringing out through his chest before he speaks out.

“I’m kickin’ myself for never noticing, but…you- you’ve been making yourself sick a-and you’ve hardly been eating, god I’m so worried about you, and I’ve been worried about askin’ you about it but whatever it is that’s going on in your mind…don’t hide it from me, your pain is my pain remember? We gotta share these things, i hate seeing you in so much pain and i-“ Through JJ’s ramble he begins to choke up, cutting himself off as he catches the sob and swallows it as you blink rapidly, tears beginning to well in your eyes.

You chew your lip, hand coming to rub at your arm where past pain resides upon your skin and when JJ notices his face breaks and he takes your other hand as he shakes his head.

“Please baby, just tell me, whatever it is I’ll make it go away a’ight? I’ll take it away, let me be your light now come on.” He pleads, his eyes so beautifully piercing and endearing that you finally crack.

“I-I don’t know with all the scars and i just- wanna better body…better skin, i-i wanna be perfect like all our other friends.” You say, voice trembling and as you mutter the last words, JJ brings his hands to cradle your face, tears streaming down his cheeks.

The Maybank boy shakes his head, his thumbs gently wiping the tears from beneath your eyes.

“You listen to me, okay? You are so beautiful, everything you are is pure gold…I-I’d give up my life for yours because your very existence is more important to me than anything on this godamn planet…n you always look so pretty, l-like the sun or somethin’ you know i could watch forever while you shine on everyone?” As JJ speaks through a watery tone, his forehead gently falls onto your own as you sob quietly before he pulls you into his arms.

You feel the abundant amount of kisses he places to your head as he cries quietly and you know the guilt he’ll feel…that’s why you tried to hide it from him, any pain in your life and JJ immediately feels guilty that he can’t retract any inch of unhappiness from your being.

“I don’t know how to stop Jay, i-i feel like i suck the life out everything.” You sob against him and the boy violently shakes his head as he gently strokes your own.

“You don’t, believe me baby, every time you touch me i feel adrenaline like you’ve sparked me with life and you’ve always managed to see the light for me in my darkest times…so I’m gonna do the same for you, you hear?” His words hold so much sincerity that you feel some weight lift off of you and for the first time in months your body relaxes as it allows itself to feel all the pain you’d had bottled, JJ knows so he gently lowers you both to the floor while he holds you securely.

“I’m gonna help you get better, I’m gonna be here for every dark battle with your mind…you’re not on your own okay? I love you so godamn much.” The boy says, voice thick with tears as he sniffles while placing a kiss to the top of your head.

You cling to him because now that all that pain is out, what else are you supposed to do?

#tw ed implied #tw ed #tw sh related #tw sh implied #eating disoder trigger warning #read at your own risk #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank drabble #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank outer banks #jj maybank x routledge!reader #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank angst #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank #jj maybank x you #rafe obx #jj maybank x pogue!reader #obx imagine

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trashmouth-richie · 11 months ago

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𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐭 𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬

masterlist

𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: implications of: adult prostitution, physical child abuse, child neglect, poverty. series trigger warnings include drug use and abuse, alcohol use and abuse, neglect, etc

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: eddie is determined to make things right, past hardships mentioned. 6k — eddie leaves in 1982 when he is sixteen, there is a scene that takes place in 1984 when reader is eighteen and eddie has already been gone for two years at this point.

He watched the sun creep through the blinds, the Indiana skyline sending hues of pink and purple against the dawning morning.

Birds chirped noisily, greeting each other in flapping winged ‘hello’. He wished he could feel their joy, wished his eyes didn’t throb from lack of sleep. His throat was caked with the dry cool air still blowing through the vents.

He so badly wanted to be right, have an answer for one of his many questions that kept weeding into more and more. An unending tether.

Rubbing wet from his eyes he swung his long legs to the floor. Back aching from the heavy spring loaded frame, he stands and heads toward the shower itching the curls on his head.

The water from the shower head was warm and welcoming, bringing forth a blanketed calm to his cold exterior. The water washed over his face and wet his hair almost down the length of his back. As he scrubbed his body his mind was elsewhere.

A million different “what if’s” shattered through his mind. What if… he came back sooner, you had run away with him, what if you had answered his letters, what would have happened to you if you weren’t left here to rot like the foundation of Forest Hills?

Did you think he didn’t care about you? That he was better off? He wasn’t. And if he could have come back he would’ve. It’s not as if his old man would have welcomed him back with open arms. He’d be lucky to get back handed instead of the usual a meaty fist to the side of the head.

But Eddie would have done it, for you. And he’ll be kicking his own ass about it until the end of time for not taking the risk. For not having you hop through your window like you’d done so many times before, and run away with him.

Hand in hand. Into the dark night. Rescuers style.

With shampoo barely rinsed, he hits the faucet with a bang. Too many years of guilt hung like a weighted cape on his shoulders, but now? Now he had the wits and means to make it right. A promise he kept to himself, to you.

The itchy towel dried his skin hastily as his fingers raked through his hair, tussling his bangs into a messy submission. His watch beeps on the nightstand, an alarm telling him he had only fifteen minutes before he was supposed to have his meeting.

It was settled, Eddie wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. Certainly someone in this town had to know where you were living.

Locking the door to the motel he dropped the keys into his pocket and swung a leg over his Harley, he took a deep breath as he revved the engine, satisfied with his decision, a rose blossoming in his stomach, if he could leave Hawkins; so could you.

The smell of bleach was an odd comfort to you. The astringent burn in your nose brought a calming peace, cleanliness. Washing away spills and stains from any surface it touched. Today in particular were the bedsheets from the club.

You splash another cupful into the correct compartment for good measure, slamming it shut and inserting quarters into the slotted mouth of the washing machine—cranking the dial to the heaviest wash and hottest water. Your head pounded and throbbed, the hangover headache worsening by the hour.

The sheets spun around and around as water filled the drum, and you stared in a hypnotizing trance at the thick glass door, thinking about the list of to-do’s Rick had told you needed to be done in his absence.

“… don’t forget the laundry, okay? Nobody wants to fuck a whore on a dirty bed. I left you something special on the nightstand,” he winked before bending down to kiss your cheek, his suitcase already tucked into the backseat after you packed it and placed it there yourself, “don’t do it all at once, it’s some pretty strong shit.”

He waits for you to nod and he bites his lip, “be good, Tommy’s in charge for the next two weeks while I'm gone.”

He smirked half assed and flicked his sunglasses down onto the bridge of his nose, climbing into his car and reversing down the driveway.

A choked breath finally releasing from your lungs as his tires squeal on the black top.

A wave of nausea hits you from the sickening tickle of broken winged butterflies tumbling in your stomach at the way Rick had smiled at you.

Making you wish bleach was edible. Maybe it would kill the butterflies, poisoning them from the inside, just as you had been.

Rick wasn’t the big bad wolf of your life. That title was held to another man, one whose blood coursed through your own veins. Was he an upstanding hero type? Not at all, his wings were clipped like any other fallen angel.

But he was right lastnight— he came to your aid at the time you desperately needed someone. And in a weird, sickening way, he had saved you.

If being “saved” meant going from one evil to another that is.

You weren’t naive enough to think that you were dating. What Rick and you had was simple…cash register transaction, complete with the clinks and clanging bell noises. He provided you with shelter, kept your needs met, gave you a job. Your payment for such luxuries transpired behind closed doors.

It wasn’t love, quite literally a situation formed on the grounds of a business deal. But oh how foolish you were to think it was anything more than that in the beginning.

—

One black garbage bag. That’s all that was needed to collect your belongings, and it wasn’t even full.

“Do you really have to go?” Lolly’s wide eyes were full of tears, knobby knees tucked to her chin as she sat on your shared bed, watching you unpack drawers and slide a big silver ring over your thumb.

You have always been strong for her. Protecting her from the evils that took place in this trailer. Sheltering her away when dad’s fist was looking for someone to blame after mom left. Bruises faded easy on your skin, and you’d take them again and again if it meant hers never had to be painted.

“Lover’s Lake isn’t that far, you could bike there.” your tone is nonchalant like you aren’t being torn to shreds from the inside out, and it’s taking everything in you to not break down in front of her.

She sniffs loudly, “everyone leaves me.”

The words break your heart, and you can practically feel the tissue ripping inside your chest.

“Mom, Molly, Pickles, and now you,” her lip quivers and the tears drop on the tops of her knees.

“That’s not true,” you tut, rubbing a hand down her back, “Pickles was probably a hundred years old when you found him. Even old Jimmy said that he’d been living here longer than anyone.”

Deflecting with humor was something you picked up to have Lolly look on the bright side when things were worse for wear. But deep down you hurt just like she did.

Molly would have been almost eleven now, and you hadn’t seen her since you were her age. You remembered her birthday was the 17th of July and still lit a candle on a gas station twinkie to celebrate it every year.

“You’ll get the entire room to yourself, that’s pretty cool Lolls, right?”

She shrugs, wiping a tear away with a pink polished hand.

You know it’s time to be serious. It’s time to warn her, to try to keep her safe while you aren’t under the same roof anymore.

Taking her hands in yours and squeezing you plead to her, “stay out of his way, don’t speak unless he asks, don’t stop going to school.”

Lolly opens her mouth to interrupt but you stop her with another pleading look. You had already left school last year, Dad claiming he needed you to help take care of things at home rather than “waste time at that fuckin’ place.”

“Remember the treehouse in the woods, behind the grove of cedar trees by the big gray rock?” she nods silently, “…nobody knows it’s there but me and E—” your voice breaks on the first syllable of his name and you clear your throat, “it’s safe there,” you don’t tell her how you had made sure to stock the treehouse with her favorite things as a little escape for her. Magazines, cans of food with pull top lids, packaged sweets, your favorite nail polish, a warm blanket, pillow, flashlight etc… anything to keep her company to keep her safe.

“.. it’s kinda cozy.”

The tip of your nose tickles and your throat feels heavy as you try to swallow down sobs. Not here. She couldn’t see you that way.

“I'm not leaving because I want to… you know that, yeah?”

Her little arms fling around your neck and she squeezes you as hard as an eight year old could, and you hold her tight, wishing you could morph together.

The bedroom door flies open and the boom of your dad’s bark ricochets off every surface, breaking the sound barrier. “Fuckin’ Christ Clove, you ready or what?”

Lolly’s fingers grip you tighter and you hug her just as tight. You whisper quietly to her, “don’t cry in front of him, he doesn’t like it, I’ll come back as soon as I can.”

You let her go.

Your own tears wetting your cheeks adding to your wet shoulder, but you smile through the pain of your heart breaking.

Dad scoffs in the background, muttering under his breath something about how he’s not raising a bunch of fucking crybabies.

His meaty hand grabs your wrist and yanks you upwards, the stench of unwashed armpits and a thick ash of his cigar fill your senses, drying your tears immediately.

“Let’s go!” he roars, “makin’ me look bad in front of the new client.”

He looks around the room with shifty eyes, as if he might say something else, as if he might apologize for the bullshit you’ve had to go through, but when you’re a living breathing demon yourself, you don’t have a conscience, and he rubs his other hand over his balding head, rubbing the grease and gel further into his comb-overed scalp, “…don’t need him thinkin’ I’m a liar because you’re too goddamn selfish to be on time.”

Your virginity, your innocence was traded to a new drug smuggler in Hawkins for the price of discounted dope. Bought like property, sold like cattle.

Black plastic fisted hotly in your hand as you walked behind your dad’s crippled sway down the length of the hallway to the front door.

The childhood home you had imagined leaving behind was blurring past you. The cracked windows, the creaky floors, ratty carpet that was barely glued together, the water stained tub with the leaking faucet. It was all going to be part of your past.

If only Lolly could fit.

Fit inside the one plastic garbage bag.

The jagged chip in the corelle plate was keeping Eddie’s fingers occupied as Wayne’s girlfriend sniffled and quietly blew her nose, talking about the final days of him being alive.

Cancer. Caught late and untreatable. He lived a whole year longer than what the doctor’s had expected him to, that alone was a miracle.

Eddie was wrong. Wayne didn’t own a trailer or even live in Forest Hills. He had been renting a small apartment before he got sick and apparently had paid his rent in advance until the end of the year, giving Patty somewhere to stay while she cared for him and the comfort of not having to worry about making ends meet.

Boxes labeled with loopy handwritten sharpie were stacked in the living room and leaning against the kitchen table that Eddie and Patty were sitting at along with half of a sandwich still sitting on her plate.

She wipes her nose and shoves round glasses into her auburn graying hair, dotting her under eyes from another trickle of tears.

Eddie felt bad for her, and maybe he would feel some sort of grief if he had known his uncle more than just the handful of times he had gotten to know him. He was embarrassed to say he couldn’t even remember what Wayne Munson really looked like.

“He was a great man, talked about you a lot,” she half whispered, picking at the crust of her sandwich, “always felt like he should have done..something.”

Eddie didn’t accept pity, it was a Munson trait. So he did what he always did, brushed off any seriousness with a charmer’s smile.

“No worries ma’am, honestly, I- I managed just fine.”

She nods and reaches into the front pocket of her apron, her voice meek and hesitant, “I have everything packed. The crematorium opens on Monday, appointment’s at ten.”

A brass key twinkles between her fingers, “I have a sister out in California… with Wayne gone I don’t,” her voice warbles and she looks around the apartment, “…there’s nothing here for me, anymore.”

A soft wrinkled hand slides towards Eddie as Patty leans forward on the chair, the key scratching against the wooden table top.

Eddie smiles softly, knowing the feeling of not being able to stay after tragedy strikes. And from the sound of it Patty deserved a quiet life.

She explained that he had until December to figure out what should happen with the apartment, but everything else was already put into motion. Maybe he could even find someone to sublet the place until then.

Her soft eyes still wet as her lips tremble, “you’re more than welcome to go through the boxes and take what you need before the folks down at the Salvation Army load everything up.”

“When do you leave?” he asks after taking a sip of unsweetened iced tea.

Patty folds her hands and smiles for the first time since Eddie had knocked on the door, “Greyhound leaves this afternoon.”

Four loads of sheets were folded and heaped into a basket that was on the verge of tipping over in the back seat of your car. The Diet Coke you bought at the Spin n’ Dry left your stomach grumbling more than it had before you slurped the carbonated drink down in a few gulps.

With a knock of your hip into your driver's door it slammed home, the noise rattling your brain like a jug of shaken pop. Hangover still ringing loud between your ears.

The world’s darkest sunglasses couldn’t have shaded away the blinding rays of the sun, the heat felt like it was cooking your skin, making your temples and upper lip drip with sweat, an unusually warm day in the middle of May.

You didn’t recognize the plates on the motorcycle you had parked next to. Definitely not from Indiana. But maybe Wendy’s boyfriend finally got out of prison in Ohio? or was it Colorado?

In desperate need for a shower, you hoist your purse strap higher on your shoulder. Only having a few hours before you needed to clock in at the club, you didn’t have time to take a nap, or grab something to eat.

You could delegate your tasks to someone else but most of the girls had other jobs during the daylight hours. The only one wrapped up day and night in the club was you.

The apartment building you resided in had a shared water heater between the 6 units, meaning that hot water was scarce. But you were used to the unpredictable temperature of the water, and on this sweltering day you were glad when the water hit your back like icy daggers.

Like the bleach, it was an odd comfort.

The cool water jarred you awake a little, allowing your senses to come back to you after a night of inebriation, god knows you needed it.

Working shampoo through your hair you mentally check off things you’d completed, and everything else to be done for tonight’s shift.

Laundry ✔️

Set up testing appointments ✔️

Inventory ✔️

Restock napkins

Advertise for Ginger’s position

Call Kenny

Saturday’s were nickel wing night, and that brought with it a crowd of regulars and the occasional out of towners looking for a hot meal, and the typical extras that Queen’s offered.

Tommy had the brilliant idea last year that the girls would dress up in angel wings with halos or devil horns with a spiked tail to replicate the sauce of sweet or spicy wings the kitchen served. As miserable as it was to trot around dressed like a she devil, the tips on saturday nights were good, even if you left with greasy BBQ sauce fingerprints on your skin.

Tilting the devil horns into submission atop your head the plastic cherry red pleasers hung by the straps from your painted fingers as you click the front door locked with your keys and shuffle with slippered feet down the stairs.

Your purse jingled and clanked around as you descended down the steps. A shift at the club meant you could never be too sure on what you might need. Barrettes, an extra pair of panties, hair pick, bobby pins, mascara, lip liner, lotion, tylenol, icy hot for Jolene and the most important of all, an unlabeled package left on a nightstand.

The sidewalk scuffed the rubber bottom soles of your slippers as you walked to the parking lot. A throat cleared loudly followed by a voice saying your name. First, middle and last.

A voice you’d recognize in heaven or hell. His voice.

He was standing next to what you now realized was his motorcycle, of course the out of state plates made sense. His jaw was pressed into a tight clench, a Marlboro dangling from his ringed hand.

Eddie looked different with the sun’s ray on him compared to the haunting neon lights from the club. They colored his hair a pretty caramel swirled in coffee tendriled curls. Standing next to him you finally comprehended how much taller he was, but when the cheshire cat like smile broke across his face you found it hard not to smile back but you managed not to.

The scowl on your face sets him back. Hurt riddling his chest. Your eyebrows pinched the same way they used to but it was never a look that he saw very often, at least not towards him.

Your face was scarred, but beneath all the difference and the makeup he’d never seen you wear, he still could see that girl. His best friend.

You roll your eyes and turn away from him, stomping quick to your car and shoving the key into the lock, still not finding it easy to look in his eyes, “stalking is illegal in Indiana.”

His nose rumbles with a wrecked laugh, blowing smoke from his nostrils and he chuckles, “didn’t know you lived here.”

“Sure,” you say over your shoulder in an annoyed huff, “you just happen to show up at my work and now at my apartment. Totally by accident, or is this your bullshit idea of fate?”

He opens his mouth to speak and you cut him off before he can utter a word, “.. that was rhetorical, I don’t want your answer.”

“Looks like you got your license after all.”

You know what he’s referring to, and you hate the way a smile spreads against your lips. He was trying to break your shell, not knowing it was rock hard and super glued shut.

His olive branch is stretched out again, arm aching from the strenuous amount of leaves and offerings, but it quickly catches fire from the embers harbored in your stare when you whip around to face him.

“Well I’m not sixteen anymore, and I definitely didn’t need your help getting it.”

His face falls, “Cl—..”

You cut him off again, “I gotta go, I have a million things to do before we open tonight and you’re wasting my ti—”

This time he’s interrupting, talking fast to avoid your annoyed pouts, “can we talk, please? I’ll expl—”

You both might be older but the bickering between you could mimic teenagers, neither of you letting the other finish a sentence.

Rage pours through you like lava, hot angry and red. The wave of hurt it’s riding on stabs like a knife. “I don’t…goddamnit, I don’t have time for this Eddie!”

You look at him letting his warm eyes capture yours and you notice how handsome he’s gotten, how his features fit him well, but it doesn’t stop you from delivering the hurt you were feeling for years, “… and most importantly I don’t want to make time for you.”

You spin on your slippered heel. Shoving down the burning ache of regret and possibly vomit from your pounding headache.

Fuck this, and FUCK him.

Somewhere between the haste of needing to flee and fumbling with your keys, your bag tumbles to the ground, scattering your belongings all over the asphalt.

Eddie reaches down to pick up your things the same time you swing your door open hard, and in a comical blur the door connects with his bent head knocking him flat on his ass.

You gasp and he hisses through his teeth, mumbling curse words and rubbing his forehead.

Stifling a giggle you tuck your lips behind your teeth as you bend at the waist to look at him, your fingers fly to his head trying to pry his hands away.

“Are you..”

“Don’t laugh,” Eddie fake grumbles, a wide smile on his lips, “don’t you dare..”

You bite your lip to stop giggling, “‘m not...let me— oh c’mon, let me see it.”

Finally getting his fingers from his head you’re able to take a look at the small cut above his eyebrow.

“Jesus Christ Slick, when did you learn to box?”

You’re both laughing now, falling so easily in sync again it was making your head spin. And for the first time in a long time, you let your guard slip.

His palm is braced against his head, holding the growing goose egg he was sure to get.

“Please,” you mutter between raspberry blown lips, “I’ve never fought anyone, not with you arou—”

You look at him when your sentence falls flat. Both of you knowing that Eddie’s fists got into more fights defending you than himself. Trailer trash or not, he wasn’t about to let Hawkins jockstrap wearers treat you like dog shit.

Eddie winces when your fingers graze over the small gash by his outer brow, “how bad is it killer?”

“Remember when you tripped over your own feet playing hide-n’-seek in the cemetery?”

Eddie snorted through his nose at the memory, “you mean when you had to give me a piggyback ride back home?”

“I forgot that part… this isn’t nearly as bad, maybe a tenth of that.”

You dig through the remaining stuff in your purse, finding the small tin full of bandaids and neosporin you kept for blisters. “Should have taken you to the ER that night.”

Thumbing through the collection, you find a suitable sized bandage.

“Yeah,” Eddie scoffs, “I’m sure Al would’ve loved gettin’ that bill in the mail.”

His eyes meet yours and you notice the pool of childhood fear bubbling to the surface. Years have come and gone since then, but one never really forgets the pain from those days… How could you when the evidence was scarred into your skin?

You shut your eyes and shake your head as you peel the slicked backing from the bandaid— a yellow cartoon background with Mario and Luigi.

Eddie gives you a look with a cocked eyebrow and you shrug, moving his bangs back from his face so you could get a good look at the cut.

His hair is surprisingly soft like french silk. You wonder if his girlfriend buys special shampoo for him meant for curly hair.

Placing the sticky bandage against his cream colored skin, you rub the seams of the bandaid with your thumbs so it’ll stay in place. His breath fans across your forearms, and he watches in silence at your first aid handiwork.

You haven’t been this close to Eddie in years. It shouldn’t be weird, it shouldn’t feel awkward to touch someone’s forehead. The same someone you had shared a bed with more times than you could even count. But this was different, you were kids, teens then, now you were both adults. Living completely separate lives.

Clapping your hands in a wiping motion you unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth, “there, good as new.”

He pushes his hands on the pavement and stands up, as you pick up the rest of your things, tossing them absentmindedly into your purse.

“Thanks doc,” he breathes, clearing his throat, “I don’t mean to be a dick.. don’t hit me again, but are you wearing horns?”

You scoff and look up at him. He stands tall above you, and you actually take notice of what he’s wearing. Black boots and a light wash of denim jeans, a navy and brown patterned flannel fit snug against his arms, rolled to his elbows.

He looks like a grown man, no longer a trailer park boy with holes in his jeans and stolen sneakers on his feet.

A large hand is extended down to you and you take it, his right your left, the two tattoos aligning for the first time in what seems like forever.

When you stand to your full height he’s still inches taller than you are, and where your noses used to be practically at the same level, yours barely hits him in the chest now.

“Does Hawkins celebrate Halloween in May now?”

You shake your head and let out a sad sigh, “it’s umm.. it’s for work.”

You’re embarrassed that you have to explain to your old friend that you have a job that requires you to dress like a slut, that your ass literally paid for your car, that since he left your life turned upside down for the worst. Your cheeks are hot and you pick at the polish on your nails.

“Oh,” his voice grows small, “that’s…”

“…yeah.”

You’re praying for a miracle, for lightning to strike, or a car to backfire— anything, to have this awkward conversation die.

You don’t have to wait long.

“Well,” Eddie exhales, swinging his arms, “since you beat me up in my first twenty four hours of being home, I think you owe it to me to let me take you for a cup of coffee,” he smirks, fingers gliding over the bandage and shaking his hair back into place.

Home.

A common word that had held no meaning to you, but with Eddie here standing in the flesh, breathing the same air and staring down at you—the four letters felt colossal, and it made your stomach flip.

“I don’t like coffee.”

Eddie’s smile falls. The small glint of hope in his eyes dimmed out like a burnt lightbulb. Leaves on his olive branch curled and charred next to your embers.

Keys jingle in his pocket with his hung head and he fumbles with his words.

“Sure, yeah.. sorry. I just wanted to..” his shoulders sag, “it’s been a long time, Clove.”

You stare blankly at him. Whatever wind was in his sails was snuffed out by you, and you fucking hated yourself for that. All you wanted to do was scream in his face.

Tell him yeah, it has been a long time because he left you. He was the one who skipped town in the middle of the night. It was him who left nothing but— goddamnit… his doe eyes could convince a nun to rob a bank, hopefully you don’t end up regretting this..

“Do you like wings?”

—

“Okay easy! Easy!”

“I got it, calm down!”

“The van’s top heavy y'know? This fucker will flip like that.” Eddie says snapping his fingers, his other hand was gripped right on the ‘oh shit’ handle knuckles glaring white.

Eddie did it. Between working weekends at Z’s shop and saving whatever nickel and dime he had, he finally saved up enough cash to buy the shitty brown van the Templeton’s had for sale in the front of their trailer.

The windshield was cracked, the passenger door was permanently locked shut. But to Eddie it was a means of escape, a venture that Al Munson had no say in, it was dirty and the seats were mouse bitten and full of dust. It was paradise.

“Just ease into the parking lot, try not to hit anyone..” a smirk catches the corner of his lip, “but if you do, aim for Higgin’s sedan.”

This wasn’t your first time driving Eddie’s beloved vehicle, usually you practiced on the open highway, turning onto gravel and coasting with Eddie’s hand waving out the window, but today he thought it’d be good for you to drive in town.

You were nervous, never really having to maneuver through vehicles or watch for anything more than a scared rabbit from the tall ditch weed, driving in town was wracking every nerve to the highest meter.

“Eddie, uh, how do I park? There aren’t any lines.”

He mouths around a cigarette, pointing lazily with his forefinger, “here’s fine, just whip her in there.”

The van comes to an abrupt halt, and the grinding sound of metal on metal groans loudly. You sit wide eyed and breathing heavily, foot still on the brake. The cigarette from Eddie’s mouth falls on his lap.

What would have been a normal ass chewing and possibly a slap to the back of the head from your dad, is only met with a grin from your bestfriend.

He reaches over and throws the gear shift into park. And coaxes your hands from their death grip on the steering wheel.

Fear riddles through your body and you stutter an apology, “I’m sorry Eddie! I’ll pay for it!” he says your name but you ignore him, “how— however much it is! I swear! I’ll—”

A hand clamps tight over your mouth and your eyes well with tears, ready to flood over the dam of your eyelashes.

“Clove, stop…it's fine,” his eyes plead for you to believe him but you don’t, your mouth keeps moving against his hand so he holds your face gently with both hands, “I swear, it’s not a big deal.. alright? You think I care about the paint job on this big lug o’ shit? C’mon, scoot over.”

You move across the center counsel and back into the heaping pit of whatever Eddie thought was necessary to keep back there. His long legs scramble and tangle up in the steering wheel before he’s sitting comfortably behind the driver’s seat and you crawl to the passenger side, wiping at your eyes.

“‘m hungry, you?”

Of course you were, the box of scalloped potatoes you made for supper last night ended up being crunchy and watery. The last pieces of bread went to make Lolly a mayo and cheese sandwich. The potato monstrosity ended up feeding the strays, and your belly grumbled ever since.

“Not really,” you lied.

Eddie shrugs and throws the van in reverse, wincing as the van groaned against the rear fender of Jonathan Byers’ olive colored car.

“Don’t worry,” he lies, “he won't even notice.”

—

The powdered gas station donuts left a white film of sugar on your lips. Yoo-hoo dripped down Eddie’s chin as he took another long swig, biting the rope of a Twizzlers in half.

Eddie had spread a flannel blanket he had “borrowed” on the floor in the back of his van, and you both climbed in amongst the trash and nonsense to enjoy a sugary breakfast.

The crinkled white donette’s wax paper is tossed behind him carelessly and he reaches for a second bottle of Yoo-hoo. “So much better than first period, McCannon can suck a fat one.”

You wipe your lips on the back of your hand, “I kinda like History, it’s interesting.”

Eddie snorts, “you like History because you’re hot for teacher.”

Mr. James McCannon was good looking, but that’s not what made you interested in his class. He was your roundabout, average middle aged family man.

A father, a husband, a friend, a coach, an employee—but most importantly, he was respected, put together, polished.

He probably taught his kids to play catch, took family vacations to some National Park, and without a doubt, his lawn was more than likely manicured in a way that looked magazine ready at all times.

His wife brought his lunch in a brown paper sack, toting along a thermos which you imagined would be filled with a creamy tomato soup or maybe coffee. She always had their toddler in tow. A smiling little cutesy thing, sparkling eyes and dressed to the nines. She too was an average American woman, cookie cut and baked to perfection— still that wasn’t what drove you to like his class.

It came down to something rather simple. You were jealous.

Seeing a father be so loving and caring for his own child, excited to see the young kid and always giving a kiss to her little cheeks, it drove you mad. The way his eyes lit up when his little family knocked on the door, the way they seemed so fucking happy— made you yearn for normalcy.

Because your life would never be like theirs.

Guaranteed little Kelly McCannon didn’t get cigars flicked into her face whenever her dad felt like she deserved it. She probably would never have to care for a sibling like a parent, never have to rummage through couch cushions in search of loose change to buy a gallon of milk.

She would never know the gut wrenching feeling of having her mother pack up only one of their siblings and disappear into the night, never to be seen again.

So the answer was no— you weren’t in love with Mr. McCannon. You were completely enthralled that he was a good person, a doting father, and that more than likely— never in your lifetime or the next, would you experience the bond of unconditional love from a parent, probably not from anyone.

Scowling, and burying the sadness of the truth, you shove his arm, “you’re hogging all the Yoo-hoo.”

He laughs, leaning forward and handing the glass bottle over. The dark blues and purples around his eye from last week were now shaded to a gross jaundice-like color, much like the fingerprints on your arms.

Eddie stays quiet for a while, watching you nibble your breakfast, taking small sips at the chocolate drink. He picks at his jeans, fraying the holes wider, his knuckles still swollen from Tommy’s chin.

A fight he’d gladly start again if he ever caught that son of a bitch trying to— Eddie shook his head, he’d fucking kill him, plain and simple.

Your lip was still split, and he had spent an hour picking gravel out of your palm while you sat on his bathroom counter. Snotty nose and tears flowing from your eyes.

It was probably then— he realized, or maybe it was years earlier when you were both younger. But right now sitting across from you in the dingy air of his van, Eddie is sure he’s never seen anyone look more beautiful.

The rolling feeling in his gut he got whenever he couldn’t fix what was making you sad, when you came to school with new bruises on your skin unable to stay awake in class, the countless times you had snuck out and showed up at his window in the middle of the night when things got really bad— it all came to fruition, like a lightbulb going off in his brain.

You meant more to him than anyone in his life, he’d protect you with his own life if he had to. You were all he ever needed.

He knew at thirteen, and he knew now. When he thought of the word love, he thought of you.

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daechwitatamic · 7 months ago

Text

Vice;Grip || chapter 3 || chs

(banner by @itaeewon)

Vice;Grip (masterpost) NSFW - minors DNI Genre: angst smut fluff, fuckbuddies!au Summary: Make it not hurt, you could have asked him. Or, at least, make it hurt in a way I choose. A/N: infinite thank you's to @sailoryooons and @eoieopda for beta-ing!!

Warnings: Frequent depictions of depression, depressive episodes, panic attacks, and substance abuse (alcohol, weed, and pills referenced). PLEASE know that these characters’ relationships with drugs and alcohol are not healthy and should not be emulated. If these topics are triggering to you, please consider sitting this one out. Section Specific Warnings: penetrative sex, language, reader on top, angst, depictions of depression/depressive episodes, edging, dirty talk, emotional constipation, bar scenes and recreational drinking, brief mention that reader had a sick (unspecified illness) parent in the past, sexual acts in a technically public place but they are not discovered, arguments and hurt feelings

wc: 6200

Playlist: you can call me in the middle of the night / you can leave before i wake up in the morning / and it could feel so wrong / but i'll still hold on

11 months ago

Vernon was afraid of drowning. All those rocks he carried - they weighed him down, pulled him under. He considered this as rain beat against the windshield of his car, ran down the windows so thickly that he struggled to see the front door of your building through the onslaught, didn’t even see it open and close, had no idea you were already outside until his passenger side door opened and you threw yourself into the car, squealing, wiping rain out of your eyes.

“Can you drive in this?” you asked breathlessly. Above you, the clouds lit up and went dark again. Vernon didn’t answer you; instead he silently counted the seconds until thunder cracked, sharp and insistent, somewhere behind them. Eleven seconds.

“Buckle up,” he said, no irony in it.

Stopped at a red light, he glanced over at you. Watched as you turned to trace a raindrop down your window with your fingertip as it worked its way through fragmented droplets, cast red by the stoplight, by the brake lights of the car ahead of him. Another flash; Vernon didn’t catch the bolt this time, either.

One, two, three…

Eight seconds until the thunder broke.

“Were you scared of storms when you were little?”

You turned to look at him, something quizzical on your face. He kept his eyes on the road, embarrassed. You and him - you didn’t ask personal questions. You didn’t talk about things. Even now, over a year since you’d started hooking up, you kept things strictly business, but for a few hiccups.

It was starting to wear on him, weigh on him. Neither of you had been with anyone else in a year - so what were you doing? Just spinning your wheels?

It was the first time Vernon realized he was angry. With you.

Lightning flashed as he slowed to turn into his building’s lot, the bolt snaking down so quickly he could have imagined it.

Vernon knew it wasn’t fair to be mad at you for not giving him something he’d never asked for.

Thunder cracked again, above the car. Five seconds.

“Actually, yeah,” you said finally, and Vernon startled a little; he’d already forgotten he’d asked the question. “My sister and I used to hide under the bed.”

He didn’t know you had a sister. He bet you didn’t know that he had one, too.

What are you doing?

Inside, his window flashed white, the whole room going greyscale, and then darkened again. The thunder snapped, furious and louder than before, and you screamed a little, then covered your mouth with your hand to hide your self-conscious giggles.

Vernon laughed, then lowered his body over yours and murmured, “Let me help you calm down.”

Three seconds.

The rain beat against the windows in waves, the sound coming from beside his bed and the ceiling in tandem, nature’s surround sound. Vernon slid his fingers through the mess between your legs, sinking two of them deep into your heat just in time for a roll of thunder to drown out your wavering moan. He fucked you steadily, the way he knew you liked, then shifted to rub circles on that place on your front wall. Your breath caught, your back bowed, your hands fisted his comforter, your head tilted back to expose your throat. The room went white and dark again in a single second, and the silhouette of your pleasure burned into Vernon’s brain like a photo on film.

He moved to replace his fingers with his cock before the thunder could answer.

Two seconds.

You wrapped around him - your cunt squeezing around his length, your arms looping around his neck, your legs wrapping around the backs of his thighs, trying to bring him closer.

He gripped your hips and rolled, giving you the chance to ride him, his hands caressing the backs of your calves as they flexed.

His eyes squeezed shut when he came, teeth gritted as he groaned out his own answer to the clouds’ cacophony. Your hands, gentle in his hair, guided him back down.

He found your hoodie near the foot of his bed, after. He carried it wordlessly to you, holding it out like an offering.

“Thanks,” you said, your voice tiny. Like you were accepting something bigger than clothing.

“You could stay,” Vernon heard himself say, and something inside him started kicking and screaming, panicked and trying to grab the words and pull them back in.

You looked at him sharply, your eyes a little wide. You didn’t do that, you didn’t sleep over.

“Why?” you asked, the word leaving your body with all your breath, almost a gasp.

Vernon felt his lips part, felt his stomach clench. “I -”

The syllable stretched, loomed, filled the room so completely that it crowded out the flash of lightning and the immediate rumbles. Zero seconds. The pounding rain drowned out the roaring in Vernon’s ears.

Maybe he’ll drown, too. Maybe he’ll let himself.

I want you to. I want to sleep next to you.

I need to know what this is. I need to be closer.

I need to kiss you and mean it.

His stomach sank as he watched the way you waited, breath held, for his answer.

“I just meant, because of the weather,” he said, his voice ringing hollow and flat even to his own ears. “If you don’t want to go back out in this - you don’t have to.”

“Oh,” you said, and he wished he could read it, wished he could translate that single sound. Was it disappointed? Relieved?

He couldn’t fucking tell.

“No, it’s okay,” you said, and you were already moving towards the door. “I think the worst has passed us already.”

Vernon thought that was bullshit; the worst hadn’t passed - he was standing in the middle of it, wind-whipped and drenched to the bone, watching the sky alight again and again, unable to make himself move.

10 months ago

whats up for tonight

idk

want me to come there?

i dont think i want anything

sorry. shouldnt have sent that one. door’s open if you decide to.

Vernon came into the apartment so quietly, you didn’t even hear him until he was shuffling into your bedroom. The cat leapt from the foot of your bed and wove itself around his ankles twice before darting into the living room.

“You good?” he asked, eyeing how you were curled on your side, watching him in the doorway with a small frown.

“Mhm,” you said, nodding a little, even though it was only a little true. “Just. One of those days, I think.”

He laid behind you first, one arm crossing your torso and pulling you tight against his chest, pressing kisses to the bare skin above your shirt collar at the nape of your neck. The sensation tickled just enough that goosebumps rippled down your arms.

“I can make you want something,” he offered. Or threatened. Or promised.

“Cheesy,” you accused, but a smile played on your lips, and you felt his own smile curve against your neck.

“Watch me,” he said, reaching for your hem. He worked you up with teasing touches and kisses until you were squirming, fucked you on his tongue and fingers until you were panting, then pulled away, letting the building crescendo quiet into silence again.

“Vernon,” you threatened, sitting up on your elbows and narrowing your eyes at him.

He cocked his head to the side, all innocence. “Is there something you want?”

“I’m not playing this game with you,” you growled.

He smiled beatifically, then went back to kissing your collarbones, starting at the very beginning again. That time when he stopped, you let out an exasperated shout.

He cocked an eyebrow, as if to ask, yes? but didn’t speak. He waited for you to say it.

It took three more rounds of this - getting you close, waiting you out - before you caved, admitting what he wanted you to admit:

That you wanted it. That you wanted him.

“Please, fine, you menace,” you cried, so frustrated that your chest was hot with it. “I want you to fuck me - I want you, I want to cum, please, Vernon -”

When he gave you what you asked for, pushing into you in one easy motion that made you cry out and squeeze your eyes shut, your tongue tripped up, telling him a truth you hadn’t meant to.

Instead of I want it, as he set a quick pace, burying himself inside you again and again, you babbled, I want you, I want you, I want you.

The sideways glances he sent you while he got dressed had the question all over them. He may as well have just asked - did you mean it? Did you?

In his absence, you pulled the blankets over your head and pressed your face into your mattress, trying to drown out the question in his eyes, trying to forget the feeling of his lips on your neck, the sound of his sighs in your ears, the taste of his kiss. Your bed retaliated, assaulting you with his smell on your sheets.

I want you.

Kicking at the blankets in frustration, you got up and slept on the couch, instead.

9 months ago

wyd?

ah, going out with some friends tonight. sorry.

come over after?

i would, but my friend is here from out of town and shes staying with me

bring her

you’re so gross.

next time then. have fun :)

dont smiley face at me chwe hansol

oh god the government name. fine, i take it back

You hadn’t done a girls’ night in over a year; your friends made sure to remind you of this frequently as the night wore on, as if it was singularly your fault. It was different from a night out with Chan and Soonyoung and Seungkwan - different because the shots being pressed into your hands were pink instead of clear; different because no one was handing you beer bottles; different because they wanted to dance, not talk shit around a table in the corner.

But you leaned into it, sneaking to the bar between songs to order shots that didn’t taste good, dancing with your friends until your feet ached, until your ears rang, until the colored lights bled together above you, until you forgot that you were annoyed about all of this.

When the lights flashed in warning - the overhead lights, the go away now it’s 2 am lights — you went to close out your card, casting a glance over your shoulder to make sure your friends were all accounted for. They were - mostly still dancing, but a few headed to the table to gather coats.

You were heading back across the dancefloor when you saw them. You spotted Mingyu first - one of Chan’s friends, one of those cross-over friends that knew both Chan and Vernon.

Your stupid heart jumped. Had he come out? Had he somehow ended up at the same club as you? You wouldn’t be able to leave with him, but you’d see him.

That wasn’t something you should want. It shouldn’t excite you that you might get to smile at him across a crowded dance floor. You didn’t like him, this wasn’t a crush.

Besides, crushes happened at the beginning; you’d been hooking up with Vernon for over a year now.

You scanned the crowd near where Mingyu was standing, waiting for the moment that your gaze snagged on a spark of familiarity. It didn’t come, so you pressed into the crowd; at this point in the night everyone was pretty faded, dancing with abandon, unaware and uncaring that anyone could see them - you’d all be leaving in minutes anyway. This one last song should matter, this one last song should seal the envelope on the night with a lipstick kiss.

The spark of familiarity eventually struck, but it came with a flash of warning. It wasn’t Vernon’s big smile or his conversely stoic expression that you recognized, it was his jawline - snapback twisted around, his lips close to some girl’s ear as he leaned in to talk to her.

You looked away quickly, as if he’d feel your gaze and you’d be caught staring, but you couldn’t help but peek again as you kept walking. The girl was laughing, tucking dark hair behind her ear, her eyes eagerly on Vernon’s face.

Your stomach heaved. You wanted to go over there - to slide an arm behind him where it belonged, to smile in this girl’s face because Vernon was yours. Because he was going to text you before he texted her and she needed to know it. Because he let you in when he shut everyone else out and she was everyone else.

Your friends found you then, saved you from yourself, pulled you back to the table to gather your shit, trouped outside to find the Uber home.

In the car you all fell quiet, tiredness creeping up on you. Your thumbs tapped anxiously on the dark screen of your phone, and then you opened your messages.

you gonna leave with her?

The lack of response radiated through you, and you felt sick as you wondered why - because he was pissed that you’d even asked? Because he was already busy with her?

Then -

lmao were u at dark horse?

You didn’t answer, too embarrassed, the shame flying overhead to catch up to you for the first time in a while, its wings spread and claws stretched as it prepared to land.

Your phone lit up again.

i honestly wasnt gonna but now youve got me curious

would it be a problem if i did?

No, you thought defensively, a reflex. But he didn’t give you the chance to answer.

and if it IS a problem… why?

“Who are you texting?” your friend asked, craning her neck to peek at your phone. You turned off the screen.

“Chan,” you lied.

Then why?

Because he was yours and he belonged with you - not with whatever random girl he found at the club. Because you wanted to be enough for him, wanted him to be impervious to anyone else’s advances because you were all he wanted.

Because you did like him. Because you felt something for him - something that might have been a crush eight months ago, but was certainly a bigger beast now.

Fuck. Fuck!

Your feet felt like they were plunged in ice, and you closed your eyes, swallowing back panic and nausea.

At home, you lay across your bed while your friend used your shower, turning your phone screen on and off, typing and erasing, your mind dizzy with the war it was waging against itself.

Vernon was a wildfire, catching and migrating, drawing closer and closer. Something in you screamed to take action - start digging a trench, start running if nothing else, just get away get away get away before you’re not just burned but reduced entirely to ash. Something else argued that Vernon’s fire was the only thing that kept you warm, vital for survival against the icy nights that overtook you at their whim.

How to protect your dignity, deny that you need him, deny that you’re trying to keep him all to yourself, without losing him completely?

You imagined him at his place, rereading these messages. You wondered if he was mad, frustrated. You wondered if he felt suffocated by your display of possessiveness.

You’d never answered his why.

You never did. You left it unanswered, and his next three wyd’s went unanswered as well.

Then he stopped trying.

8 months ago

sorry. i - - can we just go back to normal - - wyd later? - - i’m sorry - - hey - - it’s not a problem, you can do what you want - - it is a problem because i - - sorry for not answering, hru? - -

Unsent, each. Deleted.

You had Bestie Night with Chan during a deep freeze, your radiator working overtime as you split a bottle of red.

You sketched absently on your napkin as you caught up.

“I dunno, Chan, the co-worker thing always scared me a little. Mom always says don’t shit where you eat and I think she’s right.”

Chan, who was head over ass in love with Jinseo in marketing, scoffed at you heavily.

“A romantic situation scaring you means nothing to me,” he said, dead serious. “I think someone asking for your number would scare you.”

You scowled at him, defensive. “We haven’t had enough wine to start the personal attacks.”

He laughed. “Okay, okay. I’m just saying. You spook easy. It’s not a secret.”

You stuck out your tongue, went back to your doodle.

“It’s nice to see you drawing,” he said, casually, and you narrowed your eyes at him.

“Are you intent on being a busybody tonight?” you asked, and he laughed, holding his hands up in surrender.

“I’m just saying!” he cried, still chuckling a little. “It’s nice to see! It’s a healthy outlet for you!”

“I’m kicking you out,” you deadpanned, then reached to refill your glass, because if he was in this kind of mood, you were going to need it.

In all honesty, sketching wasn’t really your thing - you weren’t drawn to pencil or charcoal or ink or even digital sketches the way you were drawn to painting. But you hadn’t in so long now you felt almost stubborn about it, like starting again would be the same as admitting something. Like starting again would mean admitting that you were dumb to quit in the first place. It would mean admitting that you’d fucked away every good opportunity you’d had, and for nothing.

Nothing had even happened - that was the part that kept you up at night, gave you a stomachache. You’d fumbled your entire future, a few years ago, and you didn’t even have a good reason for it - no major trauma, no life-altering crisis. Just your own worthless brain doing everything in its power to bring you low.

You’d graduated from undergrad already knowing you’d been accepted to a great visual arts school - prestigious, even. You’d had to submit a portfolio, had forgone sleep for months trying to make it perfect. But every time you’d tried to move on it - send in paperwork to register or officially enroll, forms for financial aid, any of it - you’d frozen like a rabbit in headlights, too scared to push a single button unless it was the X in the corner of the screen.

Your dad had been sick at the time, that was true. But he’d been okay in the end - just a few touch-and-go months, some hospital stays, nothing worse than that. He was fine now. You weren’t even living at home, didn’t have to deal with it - it didn’t factor in. It didn’t matter, it wasn’t enough to take the blame from you.

And, true, you’d just come out of an episode right before graduating, and found yourself standing among the rubble of what your life had been before the episode started noticing that your two best friends were no longer present - hadn’t waited around for you. But that wasn’t a good excuse either. Friendships faded all the time. Life went on.

“So, are you gonna ask her out?” you asked, hoping to turn the conversation.

“I would love to, but I think if I tried, I would throw up right there in front of her,” he said, and you were pretty sure he wasn’t kidding.

“Text her,” you suggested.

“That seems… so sad,” Chan admitted. “I’ve got to have the balls to just do it. Right? Aish, Lee Chan.” He buried his face in his hands, frustrated with his own cowardice, and you reached out to give his arm a reassuring pat-pat.

“Did you talk to her this week?”

“Yes,” Chan said emphatically. “We took our breaks at the same time on Thursday, and we talked about the cold snap!”

You leveled him with a look. “Have you talked to her about anything besides the weather?”

He pointed at you, expression darkening. “I will not be judged by the likes of you. When was your last date? What year?”

“Wow,” you said flatly, and he began cackling, delighted with himself. “Wow. Just… wow. I truly have nothing else to say to you.”

“Ask her if she’s watched any good shows lately,” you offered. “Then you have something you know she likes to talk to her about.”

“Eeeehhh,” Chan said, which meant I don’t think I like your idea.

You shrugged. “Stay lonely, then, I guess.”

You should have enrolled in the grad program. You should have pursued painting.

Instead, you’d convinced yourself it was stupid - not lucrative for a real career, just hobby-chasing, and you weren’t good enough anyway.

The deadline had passed. You got a job in an office, an apartment, the cat. Life went on. Your bunny-rabbit brain had said hide scared hide scared hide scared and you’d listened, had pushed away the scary thing until it was too late to grapple with it at all.

It was the parallel to now, and maybe the wine, that pushed you to look steadfastly at your kitchen wall and admit, “Actually, there’s something I haven’t been telling you.”

Chan’s smile dropped quickly, and he leaned a little closer, ready to listen.

“I’ve been hooking up with this guy,” you admitted. “For a while.”

Chan’s gaze sharpened and you wanted to flinch. “Only him?” he asked. And then, “How long is a while?”

Shame beat on the window, scratched its nails down the panes line a chalkboard, the screeching sending shivers down to your toes.

“A little over a year,” you mumbled.

Chan’s silence rippled out like you’d thrown a stone into the quarry. He said nothing, just watched you carefully, swirling his wine around in his glass just for something to do.

“That’s a long time,” he said. A long time to keep the secret from me, he meant. A long time to be with one person, you heard behind it.

“I know,” you said, deflating. “I’m sorry. I really am. I just… I knew you’d romanticize it, try to talk about it like it was a thing - and I… I really, really wanted it to stay just hooking up. None of the other stuff.”

He very nearly grimaced when you said this, and it made your stomach sink even further. You knew you were broken, unable to connect, unable to give or receive anything close to love - but to see your best friend react like he knew it too? It sucked the breath out of you.

“And he’s okay with that?” Chan asked, instead of addressing your allergy to feelings. “For a year, just sex?”

You shrugged. You were the one who’d gotten possessive. Vernon had never asked you for more, had never indicated that he might want to shift your boundaries. “Seems like it.”

Chan shifted in his seat, frowning a little. “Well, if you’re on the same page, then I guess… I’m happy for you?”

“Eh,” you said. “Don’t be. I screwed it up. As usual.”

He gives you a look that says don’t do that. You drink the rest of the wine in the glass and reach for the bottle again, but it’s empty.

“Can you fix it?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “I haven’t tried.”

“Okay,” Chan said easily. “So try.”

When Chan left, you stayed at the kitchen island, pulling out a notebook and pen. You sketched across four pages - flowers, faces, the clock on the wall, the frost patterns on the window.

It wasn’t a paintbrush, sliding through a shade you’d worked to make just right. But it wasn’t nothing. It wasn’t terrible.

You picked up your phone.

hey. sorry for the silence - really. that was shitty of me. you been okay?

You passed your fingers back over the last page of sketches, feeling the tiny ridges where the pen had pressed. You traced back over a flower - hyacinths, just like your mother used to grow under your bedroom window.

You were prepared to receive no answer; you would have deserved a taste of your own medicine, and you knew it. But it wasn’t much later when an answer came through.

no worries. my place is freezing, our boiler broke. can i warm up there?

You thanked every star in the whole sky that Chan wasn’t there to see your smile at Vernon’s answer. You could never have denied it - the smile said I am feeling something, allergy be damned.

And just after the smile came the bunny-rabbit instincts: hide scared hide scared hide scared.

of course. i’ll be here.

7 months ago

“I think I’d be happier as a cicada,” Vernon mused, squinting at Seungkwan through the half an inch of vodka rolling like a sea in the glass he held aloft.

Seungkwan’s face dropped into a frown. “Is this, like, would you still love me if I was a worm?”

They were on opposite sides of the tiny, wooden table he usually ate at, the bottle open between them and sweating a circle onto the wood. Vernon dragged a finger through the condensation until the streak ran dry.

“Nuh-uh. I just think I’d be happier.”

The frown deepened. “I can’t tell if you’re being ironic or if I need to be concerned about you.”

Vernon dodged, said something that might make more sense outside of his own head. “What if I dropped out of grad school?”

The vodka in the glass did nothing to blur the flat expression Seungkwan leveled at him. “Now what in the fuck would you do that for with only four months left? That’s just financially stupid. It’d be like running a marathon and giving up on mile twenty-two.”

“Counter-point,” Vernon said, lowering the glass as far as his mouth, teeth clicking on the rim of the glass, “I fucking hate it and I don’t see the point in finishing.”

“Money down the drain,” Seungkwan intoned.

“Years of my life down the drain,” Vernon grumbled.

“That actually adds to my point. You’ve invested time and money. Might as well see it through.”

“But for what?” Vernon demanded, finally getting closer to the truth he’s been circling.

“The job opportunities?”

Vernon drained his glass, waited for things to soften just a little around the edges. “I don’t know if I want them anymore,” he mumbled, then made an escape into the kitchen to put another few ice cubes in his glass, to get away from the way Seungkwan’s gaze sharpened as he caught on to how much Vernon meant what he was saying.

The problem was that he had to leave the kitchen eventually, and Seungkwan was waiting, his face carefully blank.

“You don’t want to -?”

“I don’t know,” Vernon interrupted with a grumble. And that was the truth - he just didn’t know. He didn’t know if he’d like his field, didn’t know if he’d be good at it or if he’d find it fulfilling or if he’d hate it and regret his choices and wake up every day feeling just as bored and - frankly - unenthused about his life as he did these days.

And he was tired. He woke up tired every day, fought exhaustion the whole time he was awake, went to bed tired. His eyes ached from wanting to close, his heart screamed for a chance to rest. He was tired of it - of fighting the exhaustion, the apathy. He wanted sometimes (often) to just give in - sleep however long it took. Months, maybe.

“Gonna have to pay your bills somehow,” Seungkwan reasoned. “See? Cicadas don’t have bills,” Vernon argued, and Seungkwan rolled his eyes so hard that Vernon couldn’t help but laugh, leaning sideways against the kitchen’s doorframe as his body shook with it.

Later, after Seungkwan left for the night, Vernon squinted at his phone until the letters held still.

wanna be a cicada with me?

vernon what the fuck

its a serious question

i mean, maybe??? sleep for seven years, come out and scream for three months, then die? i could get behind this plan

i knew you’d get it. seven years of sleep? bet.

personally i think screaming for three months straight would fix me

exactly.

[ ]

wanna come over?

yeah. omw

“You’re so drunk.”

Vernon squinted at you, unsure if he was hearing judgement in your tone (which would be rich) or if he was projecting (much more likely). “‘S ‘Kwan’s fault,” he muttered, still squinting, even though it really wasn’t Seungkwan’s fault. In fact, Seungkwan had been the one to twist the top back on the vodka bottle and walk it gingerly to Vernon’s freezer, claiming he was just helping tidy up when they both knew he’d thought Vernon had had enough.

Vernon was still seated at his little table, body turned so the wall behind him held him up as he leaned back against it. When you dropped into his lap, his arms came around you automatically, pulling you in tight. You leaned into him, brushing your lips gently across his cheekbones, down his jaw, and then resting your head against his shoulder so that you were almost burrowed in the nape of his neck.

The room swam around him a little, but Vernon flexed his hands against your waist every time it spun too much and it helped him ground himself, helped him remember that if you weren’t spinning then he couldn’t be either.

“They molt, too,” you said, and for a long minute Vernon thought he’d blacked out and missed part of the conversation. But then you ran a hand down his chest, letting it land on his forearm, and clarified, “Cicadas. They shed their skin. I like that part, too. Getting to step out of a self that doesn’t fit now, leave it behind - leave behind physical proof that you aren’t that, now.”

Vernon’s hands flexed around you for a different reason.

He liked that, too - the idea of leaving himself behind, a self he didn’t want to be anymore.

His eyes slipped shut, but he heard himself say, “So, it’s settled, then. We’ll be bugs.”

Your giggle, the light sound of it as well as the feeling of your body moving against his, brought him back a little, and he cracked his eyes open to see you smile.

“Yeah,” you told him, sitting back up and smiling lightly. “We’ll be bugs.”

6 months ago

going out with seungcheol-hyung later. u gonna be out?

yeah - going to maestro with some friends

i dont think hyung would step foot into maestro but i’ll try

Vernon is sharp. Sharp wit, sharp eyes, sharp angles, sharp smile twisting into something leering.

You were chasing lights, trying to track pink beams as they carved paths across the club’s dark walls, when you caught his gaze across the crowded dance floor. He leaned against the bar, watching you, still and jagged, a serrated edge.

You held his gaze long enough for him to know it was a message, then you began pushing your way through the mass of people around you - not towards him, but away, towards the barely lit back hallway that led to the bathrooms.

You knew he’d follow. You didn’t have to check.

When he pressed you into a dark corner, you wrapped an arm around the back of his neck for stability and let your eyes slip closed, let the colors you’d been chasing flow around you as you floated.

“Where’d your hyung go?” you breathed as Vernon traced your silhouette with heavy hands.

“Don’t care,” he muttered.

He tucked his chin low, focused, slid one hand up the trembling inside of your thighs, slipped his fingers past the thin layer of your panties, pushed two fingers deep inside you and sucked in a breath when you moaned out loud, your head falling back against the wall.

“Already fucking wet for me, so wet for me,” he growled, fingers working you in even, steady pumps that made your walls flutter and your legs shake. “Didn’t even do anything yet.”

You whimpered his name, the muted bass from the club’s main room settling around you like a fog, syncing up with your pounding pulse. You said it again, a little louder, desperate. Somewhere in your mind, you were aware that you could be found, and that piece of you urged him to be quick.

“Hurry -” you gasped, “-before -”

“Hurry?” he laughed, the sound almost mocking. “Why would I hurry? Want to stay knuckles deep in this pussy all night -”

You gasped, your hips bucking, and he groaned out loud, unashamed.

“Fuck, you fucking gushed when I said that, christ,” he whined, voice suddenly thinner, like it might crack. Like he might shatter, leave more sharp pieces behind.

You shattered before him, trying desperately to keep the long, keening noise buried in your throat as he pushed the pads of his fingers against your front wall, urging out every last shudder.

When he slipped his fingers from you, he paused, face freezing with his mouth stretched into an exaggerated grimace as he tried to work out where to wipe them. It surprised both of you when you surged forward and grabbed his wrist, bringing his sticky fingers to your mouth and licking a stripe from the edge of his palm to his fingertips before taking them between your lips.

You thrilled when his eyes rolled back, when he slapped his spare hand against the wall next to your head to brace himself, when he rutted against you furiously as if you weren’t in plain view of anyone who decided they had to pee right now. He pressed against you, so hard you could feel the heat of him even through his pants, as you laved his fingers with your tongue, mimicking what you’d be doing on your knees if you were in private.

“If I cum in my pants in the fucking club, I’m going to be so mad at you,” he gasped, and it made you laugh, giving him the chance to pull his hand away, to back away from you desperately, chest heaving. You laughed again, feeling a little victorious.

You straightened yourselves up and made your way back to the bar; you ordered shots and took them in succession. Then, one eyebrow raised, you asked him, “So - want to finish what you started?”

He laughed, teeth flashing. You ordered a ride on your phone. You stood and he trailed you closely as you made your way unsteadily through the crowd. A group of girls tried to pass the opposite way and you had to pause, stopping short as they wiggled past you, sending you grateful smiles. Vernon bumped into your back, his hands finding your waist.

You stayed there, even when the path cleared, feeling his body solid against yours, his hands tight on you, losing yourself in the tidal pulsing of the room, as if the whole club inhaled and exhaled each time the beat changed up.

“What?” Vernon asked behind you. “What is it?”

Everything in your bloodstream - from alcohol to adrenaline to oxytocin to you weren’t even sure what else - spoke for you. Turning just slightly, you asked him something you’d kept caged for months on end.

“When are you gonna leave?”

Shock crossed his face before he could school it. Then, confusion, or something like it, his brows furrowing. “You want me to go?”

“No,” you said quickly, knowing what you’d already said was a mistake, knowing anything else you said could only make it worse, but unable to stop the words that your mouth provided. “No, I didn’t mean tonight. I just. I meant… in general.”

Something cold slid over his face. “That’s not better,” he said, his voice suddenly so even that it sent shivers down your arms. You turned to face him fully; around you, bodies moved, voices shouted, and the music was almost deafening.

You barely noticed any of it.

“I meant -”

“I know what you meant,” he interrupted, angry. You could see it all over him - his shoulders tight, his mouth turned down. “You meant you’re just riding out your sentence with me until I inevitably leave you. Right?”

“I -” No, you meant to say, but he was kind of right, and it was confusing.

He shook his head, took a step away from you. Miraculously, the crowd let him. “This is bullshit,” he told you, his voice low and brittle with hurt. “You don’t get to fucking put that on me - you’re the one who runs in this - in whatever this is.”

He took another step back, shaking his head, obviously disgusted.

“Vernon, that’s not - I do not run -” You couldn’t choose what to argue first; your head swam, and you pressed a hand to your eyes for a second, hoping to clear them. “Why are you so mad?” you asked plaintively, looking at him again.

He laughed, just as mocking as he’d been when he was toying with you in the back hallway. “Why am I mad?” he repeated. “Go fuck yourself.”

Vernon was always sharp. He left you standing there, bleeding on the dancefloor.

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thank you so much for reading!!! i'll update again next friday :)

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aft3rhrs · 1 year ago

Text

halloween masterlist 🦇

DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT. yandere content. nsfw. trigger warnings to be expected are listed under the cut. please proceed with caution.

disclaimer: most of the themes mentioned below are not new here. however, for this event they will be explored in ways that could be considered extremely harsh and explicit, so please consume responsibly. as always, this is only fiction, it does not represent bts or my morals. please also keep in mind that all my characters are always 18+! thank you. ❤️

pseudo incest — step brothers, step fathers, step uncles, step sons... ooops.

gaslighting

cnc, dub con — including the use of triggering words in an erotic/degrading manner (r*pe, ab*se, m*lestation)

grooming

teratophilia — hybrid/monster aus

fear kink — physical and verbal threats

predator/prey

mature topics — mentions of depression, anxiety, neglect, past abuse, drugs, alcohol, smoking

blood, violence, murder

bdsm — whips, chains, cages, collars, leashes

necrophilia (in supernatural settings)

ღ the masterlist can be found here! it's still in the process of being completed.

ღ more warnings may be added as I go on writing.

ღ a taglist is available. 💌

ღ the fics will be posted under #dead dove, so please feel free to block the tag if in any way uncomfortable! thank you 🫰

#❤️#I don't take requests atm but my ask box is always open for suggestions ❤️#yandere bts #bts smut #bts x reader #dark bts #hoseok smut #jin smut #jimin smut #namjoon smut #jungkook smut #taehyung smut #yoongi smut #I don't wanna spam the tags so I'mma end it here ahshdhdhd #💖

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lokisprettygirl · 1 year ago

Text

Brokenhearted (Daemon Targaryen x Female Reader) (Non Canon Modern AU) (18+)

Read Chapter 13 here // Series Masterlist

Chapter 14

Summary: Samantha finally takes what she wanted but it might just be not enough for her.

Warning: 18+, Smut, Angst, violent thoughts, stalking, Discussion of mensuration and Pregnancy, bloodshed, Abusive relationship, mention of rape, toxic masculinity, gender norms, sexual abuse, Samantha, traumatic distressing content, Daemon is a big time smoker so if it’s something triggering don’t read it, alcohol drinking, mention of past trauma and therapy, cigarette smoking, possessive behaviour, violence, baby needs therapy, baby is trying

There was a palpable tension in the room between you, Daemon and Viserys, you knew you should have told him what Samantha wanted from him but you felt scared of losing him and your worst nightmare was about to come true. The only thing you could do was sit and watch as your world crashed and burned right in front of your eyes.

Samantha found him during his run that morning and had revealed to him what she had against him that could ruin his Life, his career and what she wanted from him in return.

Eight years ago during her last birthday party with Daemon, Samantha had laced his drink and under the influence he had not only indulged in several prohibited drugs under the federation but also participated in an orgy where he could barely keep his eyes open. She had planned all of that, once he was intoxicated she got his blood taken, and then she got his pictures and videos taken for further leverage, she wanted him to lose control so she'd have something against him whenever he'd plan to leave her but before she could use all that against him things ended rather drastically between them. You still had no idea what Viserys had told her that night in the hospital to make her leave him.

But she kept everything because she knew she'd never let him go completely.

Daemon remembered that birthday party really well, she was pregnant at the time so he wanted to be extra careful with her but he didn't remember everything from the night, he just remembered waking up the next morning with his cock in her mouth, he remembered feeling safe for once as she made love to him without wanting to hurt him, he really thought that the child would turn her, change the way she chose to love him.

He remembered it as one of the better days of their dysfunctional relationship not knowing what had happened the night before but now he did and he was ashamed of himself.

He was ashamed of how he'd be perceived if such things would make their way to the public.

"Daemon we can get the best of lawyers..we can-" Viserys spoke but he was interrupted immediately.

"Nooo" Daemon raised his voice at his brother and your eyes welled up. Why didn't he want justice? Why was he so adamant on not wanting to take any action against her? You didn't understand.

"Daemon –" you spoke but he cut you short as well.

"I'll come to you as well y/n" he said to you sternly. He never called you by your name so it was already an indication that this conversation won't end well, he seemed furious and you felt worried about what he was going to do. Your gut feeling told you that it was going to end terribly for you two.

"Go call her.. I'm sure your bitch of a wife stays in touch with her..tell her I want to meet her in the evening.. I need to talk to y/n now" Daemon told Viserys so the latter sighed and stepped out of the room to give you two privacy. This wasn't going to end well for you, he knew that and as much as he wanted to save your relationship with Daemon, he knew his brother far too well.

As soon as Viserys was gone Daemon looked at you, he was leaning against one of the bedposts just staring at you,

"Daemon –" you walked closer to him so he looked away. What he was going to do with you would make you hate him forever, and he would deserve that. He never deserved a woman like you in the first place, the selfless love you had for him, he was unworthy of it, he was too weak of a man to treat you better than this "I'm sorry I didn't tell you..I wanted to..I just"

"You have to go"

As you heard those words you could feel your heart stop for a moment . What did he even mean?

"Wha..tt?" Your voice cracked as you questioned him, you placed your hands on his forearms and stepped closer to him, he can't just ask you to leave this way, you were there for him.

"I'm going to give her what she wants, she wants me right? Then she can have me.. and for that to happen youuu need to leave y/n" he said nonchalantly, he pretended as if saying such cruel words to you wasn't affecting him at all but the reality was much different. He had never felt such intense debilitating pain as he did in that very second and he sure as hell knew a thing or two about pain.

"Don't say that, i know you're upset–" you tried to get through to him but he cut you off mid sentence. He can't have you arguing with him because he knew he'd get convinced easily.

"I'm not upset, not with you, I'm just done..I'm done trying to ignore the inevitable, she'd never let me go ..can't you see?" his eyes teared up, they seemed vacant and hopeless so you cupped his cheeks and kissed him softly, he didn't stop you either, he'd never get to hold you like this again or feel your tender kisses against his skin ever again so he wanted to relish your touch, live an eternity in those very few moments because a life of hurt and regret was waiting for him.

"There are other ways baby..don't do this please..i love you ..i love you so much..stay with me, let me be here for you please.. please" you cried as you clutched onto him, you can't lose him, especially not to her, you can't even imagine him getting hurt again.

"Please don't make this harder, darling" he said to you so let go of his shirt, he was just going to give up on this relationship and there was nothing you could have done to save it.

"So you just leave me to go back to her..that's your plan?" You looked him in the eye but he wasn't able to hold your gaze, he was truly ashamed of himself. "Why are you doing this dae?" You didn't understand his reasoning, why didn't he want to get rid of her? Have her punished for what she had done to him? What was compelling him to not drag her abusive ass to the court?

"Because I don't want the world to know me as the man who was too delicate to defend himself. That is not the legacy I want to leave behind"

You stepped away to look at him as he said that. He was worried about his past getting out because he was afraid of judgment from other people, he was afraid they would think of him as weak and unmanly, as someone who took it for years and said nothing.

"You can't think like that Daemon, nobody is going to judge you for being hurt by someone you loved so deeply" he snickered as you said that to him.

"Really? Look at me ..how does a man like me get abused by a woman? Tell me?" He gestured towards his physique and you opened your mouth to say something, to tell him that he was wrong about his own judgement but then did you know any better? You were in no position to judge him for his thoughts, he had suffered hell on earth and you weren't going to question the way he chose to cope with it.

You wished you had an answer for him but you didn't, you had a feeling nothing you could say would change his mind now.

"Daemon…don't leave me baby..i love you..i can't watch you go back to her and get hurt again" you whimpered and cried, the sight of you being so broken only fueled the hatred he felt for himself.

"I won't let her hurt me this time..I'll take care of myself" he said to you calmly and whatever hope you had dissipated along with his words. You stepped away further from him, shock was evident on your features that he was letting you go so easily.

"So that's it..you're going to let me go like i meant nothing to you?" He finally looked you in the eye as you said that.

"You mean everything to me ..you have no idea what I'm feeling at the moment ..you think this is easy for me?"

He asked you but you didn't have a response. It wasn't easy for him but it was definitely more difficult for you to be on the receiving end of this. Silence fell between you two after that, you asked to leave so he got your ticket booked immediately.

No questions asked, no resistance shown.

You couldn't even believe that this was happening, last night you slept in his arms, cuddling him like never before, he seemed so happy and so were you then why did your world turn upside down today. Why were you losing him now?

You were almost out of his hotel room when you turned around to look at him one more time, you couldn't help it, the thought of him returning to that monster only made you feel helpless but you couldn't help him if he wasn't willing to be helped.

He had his back against you, he couldn't even look into your eyes after this, he needed you right now more than ever but he had no right to ask you to stay. He had to let go of the safety of your arms and that was the hardest thing he'd ever have to do, he knew he had broken your heart and your trust and he also knew that you'd never forgive him for this but then he felt your arms around his waist as you sobbed against him and that's what made him give up the facade and have a breakdown.

You turned him around, cupped his cheeks and got on your tiptoes to place your forehead against his, one last moment of comfort, in that moment he knew you'd forever be his angel no matter what he does.

"Someday and I hope you'll see that day sooner than later Daemon.. someday you're going to realize that you're not a victim, that you're a survivor and the world will see you as such if you decide to tell them all about it.. whenever that day comes or whatever the reason will be for it.. I hope you'll build the courage to fight against her instead of allowing her to win again.. i love you..more than anything, i always will" you mumbled softly and kissed him one last time before you turned around to leave.

That would be the last Daemon would see you for a while. As soon as you had left his room he was reduced to his knees and in tears, he wanted to run back to you and tell you that he was ready to fight the world for you but he wasn't, he was too vulnerable.

He was a coward and he deserved a woman like Samantha, not you.

In the evening he met Samantha and she hugged him so tightly as she cried and then cried some more, there were tears in his own eyes but they weren't for her or because of her. Those tears only concerned you.

"I have changed Daemon i promise, I have grown in our time apart ..i only did all of this just to get you back, that's how much I love you my sweet boy"

She cooed in his ears as she clung to him. She got what she wanted and you lost everything you had when he was yours. He didn't say a word, he felt completely numb and he figured that's just how it will be for him moving forward.

Four days later, the day of the championship, Daemon stepped into the octagon with a defeated attitude. He didn't fight back, choosing instead to take the beating and stand there as his opponent pummeled him. He didn't deserve a win after what he had done to you, he wanted to feel the pain. He would have won the championship if he had you by his side, but now he no longer felt worthy. He felt weak and pathetic, just like how he had felt for the past seven years

Your eyes were glued to your tv screen, tears never stopped rolling as you watched the love of your life losing on purpose. Why would he do that? You didn't understand, did Samantha ask him to lose? Was he getting manipulated again? You hoped not.

Hours turned into days and days turned into months, he lived just a few steps away from the diner but you couldn't go see him. You couldn't go hug him or kiss him, he wasn't yours anymore to do so. A part of you wanted to hate him with passion for abandoning you like this but you couldn't hate him after everything he had been through, all he needed in his life was love that was safe and secured but he no longer had it. Samantha didn't love him, she just wanted to possess him like an object, a trophy to show off.

One evening, as Daemon returned to his condo after work, he was greeted by a box on his door. He opened it up and found all the gifts he had given you. All of the valuables, you didn't want to keep them anymore. He could feel the pain in his heart as he rummaged through the box. He always knew that his precious girl only loved him and didn't care about the materialistic values of the items but it still hurt that you didn't want to keep his gifts. When he didn't find the case of knives he had given you, he took a deep breath and let out a sigh. At least you kept what mattered to you.

As Daemon walked inside the apartment with that box, Samantha's eyes followed him. She didn't work, she spent her days just lounging on the couch all day long and spending his money like there was no tomorrow, that's all she did. It had been two months since they got together, but he wasn't ready for intimacy with her. He felt like he was cheating on you, like he was tainting the pure relationship he had with you.

A few weeks later as daemon got ready for bed Samantha turned up in the skimpiest nightie to turn him on but he only felt disgust and contempt for her.

"Come on love me tonight..i have had enough of your nonsense" she cupped his cheeks and kissed him against his will, the warm blooded man in him wanted to give in but he couldn't, there was no love in his heart for her, he hated her and he couldn't get himself to forget what she had done to him. After being doused in your love from head to toe he could clearly see that she had never loved him at all.

"I'm not in the mood" he grabbed her shoulders to pull her away but she wrapped her hands around his throat and began to choke him,

"Stop with your drama you idiot, you're mine now and you're going to be the man I want you to be. And as a man I want you to please me. What's wrong with you? Does your cock not work anymore?" She taunted him so he pushed her away with a force, sudden action made her lose her balance and she fell on the bed.

"Daemonnnn..come back'" she yelled his name but he grabbed his pillow and went to the other room to sleep.

As he laid down on the bed he heard the sounds of a vase crashing into the mirror in his room but he put his earbuds in and turned the music on to zone out.

Three months had passed since that god awful day and his fingers itched to touch you, to have you touch him in ways that brought him pleasure. His eyes longed for a gaze of yours, there was a ringing in his ears that only your voice could have shut down.

He opened his gallery and went through the pictures he had taken of you and with you on his phone, he had to save them all in a private folder so Samantha wouldn't see them, he wanted to keep you safe from her prying eyes.

A moan escaped his throat as he came across the pictures he had taken of you in his bedroom, with all the jewelries he has gifted you, you adorned nothing else but those jewelries and the sultry little smile on your face, your beautiful bare skin glowing in the dim yellow light of his bedroom was all he needed to get through this night.

He scrolled through the countless pictures in countless poses he had made you do, some lewd enough to work him up that his hand began to move of its own accord but some so innocent that it made him want to hold you right that moment. He worked furiously over his own length as he went through the pictures and then he stumbled upon the video he had taken of you some other night.

It wasn't just you though, it was you underneath, both of you were drunk and figured it would be scandalous to make a sex tape but the next morning neither of you could build the courage to watch it, the sight of your moans and groans and sweet whisper of his name as he fucked you senselessly was the push he needed to crumble into an orgasm.

He always thought he was being mechanical with you during sex, that he didn't give you enough tenderness but the evidence in front of him made him see otherwise, his eyes teared up as he looked at the way you held onto him and the way he'd pull you closer to him to latch his mouth with yours between thrusts, your eyes never leaving one another.

He was high on the much needed euphoria but as the feeling died down the guilt began to sink in, he had no right to keep these souvenirs, you were not his any longer but he couldn't bring himself to delete them either, your memories were all he had now.

Next morning on his way to the center he stopped right by your diner and looked in from the glass window, he had no intention of getting in but it felt comforting to just stand there knowing too well that he could just walk right in and see you. He was about to turn around and leave when the kitchen door opened and you stepped out, you were going into the employees room but you spotted him on the other side of the window, your heart skipped a beat as you noticed what he was wearing, a black hoodie with a black trouser, a sight too memorable.

His hair was braided from the sides, the rest of the mane was down below his shoulders, it had definitely grown longer. He looked as pretty as you had remembered, it's been just three months but it had felt like years to you.

You stepped out of the entrance, looking at him standing across the window. He gave you his typical look, narrowed eyes and non-existent brows scrunched all the way down. You couldn't help but feel a flutter in your chest at the thought of him staring back at you so intensely as if you still belonged to him

"Were you planning to come in?" You broke the ice first so he took a few steps towards you,

"Not really..no" you nodded as he said that.

"Come on in..I'll fix you a sandwich" you went inside as you said that, squeezing your eyes at your own eagerness to invite him in. As the bells on the door rang you couldn't help but smile that he had taken you up on the offer.

He sat down on one of the booths wondering what the hell he was doing. He knew he was being selfish, you didn't deserve this, you didn't deserve him disturbing your peace this way.

A few minutes later you placed the plate down in front of him and sat down on the other side, your arms situated on the table itself as you tried to decipher the look on his face. His skin was free of bruises, which was a relief, but it still didn't erase the pain of not knowing what he may have endured in the past three months. You hoped she hadn't hurt him the way she used to.

"How are you?" He asked you so you smiled,

"Alright..you?"

"Kay..I guess ..work has been good?" He asked you so you nodded. Neither of you could deny that this was as awkward as it could get, none of you knew what to say to each other, the way your relationship ended wasn't exactly mutual, you didn't want this and you knew he loved you so it's not that he wanted it either but how the world perceived him was more important to him than you and you didn't blame him for that.

That is how he was conditioned to believe, the scars she had left behind were permanent, as a man he didn't want the world to think of him as someone so frail that he couldn't defend himself against a woman that was physically weaker than him, it wasn't true, of course not, but he had to realize that himself. You just wanted him to stop thinking of himself like that.

He was nibbling on his sandwich like a bird and it made you smile, gods you have missed him and all his quirks, he smelled good but you could also smell the cigarette on him so that worried you, why was he smoking first thing in the morning?

You had to go back to work so you got up and as you were about to walk past him he grabbed your arm so you turned around to look at him, his puppy eyes melted your resolve instantly, you knew you had to be the one to remember that he was the one to let you go but perhaps a momentary lapse in judgment won't kill you right? Or so you had thought.

He wrapped his arms around your waist and placed his head down on your torso to hug you the way he used to whenever he seeked comfort from you, your fingers ran through his scalp and as soon as he felt your soothing touch his hold only got tighter around you.

After a while as he pulled away so you immediately turned around and left, you didn't want him to see you cry again. What was the point really? However that wasn't the last you had seen of him that day, he turned up at your door with the box of gifts that you had returned to him a few days ago.

"Why did you give this back to me?" He asked you as he entered your apartment and your eyes welled up.

"Why not? Last time i checked i wasn't' your girl anymore" his jaw clenched as you said that. Well atleast you were showing him the anger he deserved instead of being a fucking angel about it, he needed your anger, he needed you to tell him that he had ruined your life, he wanted you to hate him in the hope that it would lessen the guilt and regret he felt every waking second of his life..

"It was a gift, you shouldn't return the gifts like that..you silly stupid girl" you scoffed as he said that. Oh how you wanted to be his stupid silly girl at that moment.

"Get out .. okay? Don't do this to me now..I want to move on but I can't if I keep seeing you like this ..stop looking at me like that you hear me?" the pain in your voice was transparent, countless nights you had cried yourself to sleep just thinking about him and how different your life could have been with him.

"What if I don't want you to move on?" He questioned shamelessly, he couldn't bear the thought of another man being lucky enough to earn your love and then be blessed enough to keep it at the same time.

"You can't expect that from me, you made your choice, you chose her" you raised your voice and he snickered in response.

"No i didn't choose her, i chose hell.. that's what I did..I chose misery, I let go my darling angel and picked a witch that is going to torment me all my life, don't act as if you're the only one that has been hurt here"

Tears rolled down his cheeks, his voice broke with all the pent up emotions that he was hiding underneath that cold hard exterior.

"You have no right to be upset with me dae..you have no idea how hard it was for me to let you go that day, to watch you go back to that woman that had ruined you.. how would you have felt if the situation was reversed? Would you have sat idly and watched me go back to my abuser?" Your voice trembled as you spoke so he walked towards you and cupped your cheeks, placing his forehead down on yours he closed his eyes, just having you this close to him again felt surreal. If the situation was reversed he never would have allowed you to do this.

"Why did you ever love me so deeply you sweet sweet angel of mine..I don't deserve it"

You wanted to hold him and tell him why, you could have described a million reasons why you loved him but then you knew at the end he'd hurt you again.

"I told you I was afraid of losing you and then you abandoned me the next day. You can't be here Daemon you have to go..you need to leave.. please just go"

He let go of you as you said that and turned around to leave. He knew neither of you would be able to control yourselves if he had stayed any longer and he didn't want to use you like that, he had caused you enough pain already.

When he came back to his condo that night Samantha was just glaring at him with a look of suspicion on her face.

"Where were you?" She asked him as she walked towards him,

"Work stuff" he walked past her to go to his room. He wasn't in the mood to deal with her today.

What he didn't know was that Samantha had followed him that morning and she had watched him meet you in the diner and then the apartment, she couldn't have that now could she? She had to make sure he was all hers now but she also knew that it won't happen as long as you were still here in this world. He'd always run to you as long as you were in his reach.

A few days later after work you were crossing the street when a car came speeding towards you with no time for you to react. The impact caused you to fly through the air before crashing onto the pavement.

As you laid there, stunned and disoriented, the last thing you remembered was the feeling of being pulled onto a stretcher before the darkness consumed you

🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

Taglist (please check your setting if I’m not able to tag you)

@simbaaas-stuff @ajthefujoshi @witchybitch2 @hypocritic-trash-baby @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @thefallenangel21n @kmc1989

@stupidthoughtsinwriting

#daemon targaryen x female reader #daemon targaryen x reader fluff #daemon targaryen x reader angst #daemon targaryen x reader smut #daemon targaryen #non canon au #modern au #read the warnings

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steddiebang2024 · 3 months ago

Text

Return to Sender | Explicit | 56, 918

Author: @steviewashere

Artist: @maikaartwork

Beta Reader: @billystarpip

[Link to fic] | [Link to art]

Pairings: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington & Steve Harrington’s Mother, Eddie Munson & Wayne Munson, Steve Harrington & Robin Buckley, Past Steve Harrington/Original Female Character(s), Steve Harrington & Original Child Character(s)

Characters: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Wayne Munson, Steve Harrington’s Mother, Robin Buckley, Original Female Character(s), Original Child Character(s)

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Future Fic, Slow Burn, Drama, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, POV Alternating, Parent Steve Harrington, mailman!Steve Harrington, retired rockstar!Eddie Munson, Second Chances, Getting Back Together, Middle Aged Steddie, Tender Sex

Trigger Warnings: Cancer Diagnosis in Secondary Character, Mentions of Past Spouse Death, Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Addiction, Referenced Drug Abuse/Addiction

↳ Keep reading below for a summary!

Grabs the stack of mail that he needs, but realizes he also needs to grab a hefty package. He clambers into the back, hefts the last package in his truck, and gently grasps the rest of the mail, stacking it on the very top of the box. When he finally places his feet on the dirt and gravel path, he makes a steady effort to keep his head up, line of sight straight on. But then the stranger’s head whips up from where they’ve been looking down at their feet.

Steve is a very graceful person. Has been. Continues to be. Needs to in order to do his job. The sight of this stranger, though, nearly makes him drop the contents in his arms.

He’d recognize those damn soft brown eyes anywhere.

Stopping himself from going further, he stands roughly five feet away from the guy. Blinks. Blinks harder when said guy doesn’t stop staring at him. “Holy shit,” he breathes. “Eddie…is that you?”

#steddiebang24 #steddie #steddie big bang #steddie fanfic #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddiebang24 masterpost

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treacheryinblue · 5 days ago

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「 ON DISPLAY 」 noah sebastian ⨯ f!reader

▷ chapter two

noah is your neighbor and your new favorite view thanks to his lack of curtains. you're pretty sure he prefers it this way. but the man you've created in your imagination is nothing like reality and you soon find yourself falling prey to a past lifestyle you had been desperately on the run from. trigger warnings : language, eventual smut, violence, mention/flashbacks of abuse, alcohol and drug use, sexual harassment/assault (nongraphic). word count : 7.1k a / n : we're really setting the scene and the vibes with this one. more noah time will come in the next chapter, both in person and through the infamous window. do not fret.

masterlist

FLASHBACK - READER

“Why are you looking at her? Huh? You look at me.”

The guttural tone of Vane’s voice that only reared its ugly head when he was angry made your skin crawl. It didn't matter that you were tucked away in his SUV because the response it coaxed from your body was nothing short of fearful. You had been on the receiving end of it many times before but not this time. No, this time it was one of his business friends, colleagues, whatever they were to be called. The man in question had been eying you from the open trunk of his own vehicle while showing the new merchandise to Vane. He obviously hadn’t been very subtle about it. This didn't stop your heart from racing nor did it prevent your palms from clamming up. You were still very much aware of what sort of hell Vane would rain down when pushed.

“Why did you bring her along, Vane?” The man spoke through clenched teeth as if you were a threat. Between everyone currently present at this business exchange, you were the last one to worry about. You had no weapons. No phone. No way of tattling on any of these unsavory men even if you wanted to. Who would you tell anyway? The only person who had the means to protect you was your father and he was already in the know of your whereabouts. He and Vane had probably discussed it over a nice glass of bourbon earlier in the day.

“Don't fucking question what I do. You got a problem? Just say so and we can handle it right here.”

You heavily sighed at Vane’s overly dramatic show of dominance while leaning further back in the passenger seat. He was such a joke when he put in hours - always so over the top and a show off - and the one time you confessed this to him had landed you on the floor with a busted lip. Vodka made you mouthy and gave you a hefty set of balls apparently. That wasn't a mistake you made again.

Vane may have been a son of a bitch but he was willing to act, typically before thinking. He didn't hesitate to reach for the gun tucked in the back of his pants, though he didn't pull it out. The shift of his arm was enough to set the man straight and return the conversation to what was important: Vane’s merchandise.

“Pack this shit up,” he commanded after a few beats, his annoyance towards the man evident. The seller stammered over his words but Vane was quick to cut him off. “Stop your goddamn blabbering, Diego. I'm taking it but that look you stole of my girl is gonna cost you two grand off the price.”

And there it was. The real reason why he dragged you along to these deals. Honestly, Vane wasn't very smart most of the time but he knew who he could shove around and who he needed to back down from. Diego was not the latter. Shit, you probably could've gone out there and gotten him to knock even more off the price just by flashing him a smile. You had no desire to get in the middle of Vane’s dealings, though, and he was also far too possessive to allow anyone beneath him to live if he caught them staring your way. He was a menace in a knock off suit.

“Load it all up.” Vane further demanded while he was tossing his cigarette out and stomping his way back to the SUV you occupied. You forced a smile onto your face because you knew better than to let him see your true feelings towards all of this. Drugs. Weapons. All of it was a one way ticket to jail or possibly even the grave. Neither outcome was one you had any interest in living out. He made you an accomplice simply by having you witness the deals. Just another way to keep you under his thumb.

As he slammed the car door, he immediately reached across the center console to roughly grab the back of your neck. Although the dig of his fingers was painful, you kept your expression neutral. His mouth was soon on yours, one hand squeezing your nape as the other firmly grasped your chin to keep you in his hold. Vane tasted like smoke and shitty beer – both of which you hated. Unfortunately, that didn't stop you from kissing him back. Not like you had any other choice. You really put on the performance of your life when you were with him.

“I've got a good thing going here for you, baby,” he muttered against your swollen lips. “Don't fuck it up by getting that annoying self righteous look in your eyes.”

Okay, maybe you weren't ready for your Oscar win just yet.

PRESENT - NOAH

There was the lingering threat of cutting himself every time he fidgeted with his knife, the swift back and forth motion of opening and closing the blade making those around him nervous. That's what he enjoyed about it though – keeping people on edge. Noah couldn't even remember the last time he accidentally drew his own blood and the pain would be fleeting even if he did happen to nick himself.

That wasn't stopping Jolly from shifting uncomfortably in his seat. It took a lot to make the boss squirm, but Noah sure was a pro at it. He attributed this to his years of practice in the field.

“Everything is on time?” Jolly cleared his throat, his eyes shifting back and forth between the glint of the freshly sharpened blade and Noah’s relaxed face.

“Aye, sir,” Noah mocked just as the knife clicked shut for a final time. “Truck hit the last checkpoint around midnight, so the shipment should be arriving within the hour.”

No one knew that Jolly had recently taken over for his father. The older Karlsson made a point for the shift of power to be kept hush with only the inner circle being made aware. Everyone knew that a transitioning empire would have a moment of turmoil before everything went calm again, but they weren't currently in an area of peace where their empire in particular could handle the shakeup. If it wasn't for Jolly’s father being a little worse for wear, then they would've still had at least a decade to prepare for this. It was a good thing that Noah could remain calm amongst chaos.

Jolly released a sound of irritation while shuffling the mouse of his computer to wake the screen. “Don't fucking call me ‘sir’,” he grumbled. His face was then illuminated in a wash of blue from the multiple feeds of their security cameras before a few additional clicks threw the images to the large television screen mounted on the wall. They both watched in a momentary silence, Jolly’s eyes shifting between each feed while Noah focused in on one specifically.

You were balancing a tray of drinks, hips swaying in a natural motion before bending at the knees to pass a table of business men their order. Noah could tell that you were trying your best to smile but he had been watching you enough to know when it was genuine versus forced. He felt a pull to swoop down and rescue you from the hustle and bustle of the long Nocturnal nights but he had a job to do and being your knight in shining armor was not one of them.

“Are the girls getting along better?”

“In the Garden or in main?”

“You know they're too preoccupied in the Garden to give a shit about petty drama.”

Noah did know this because there was rarely an issue with the dancers. The servers on the other hand…they were as catty as could be. He shrugged, his tattooed hands intertwining to tuck behind his head. “It's improving by the day.”

“Are you sure about that?”

Another click of the mouse and the squares of different security footage became only one – the feed that was directed at you. There was no audio but Noah didn't need sound to know that you were having a heated exchange with another waitress that he knew as Charlotte. Your jaw was clenched, grip tight on the edges of your serving tray that the bartender was currently filling with an order. Noah had to give you props for fulfilling your duties in a timely manner once the final drink was passed along with the bleach blonde still shrieking.

Nevertheless, whatever the argument was about, it needed to end. Nocturnal was not going to become one of those clubs, not on his watch. He had helped build this place to what it was today and he would rather die than see its crumbled remains.

Before Noah could get a word out, the scene that unfurled next played out in slow motion. You were unloading your tray when Charlotte walked by, her hip pointedly jutting into your backside to send not only your tray, but also the remaining drinks crashing down to the table. You fumbled from the impact in an attempt to right yourself but it was too late. You didn't stand a chance against the sneak attack.

“Goddammit.” Noah groaned, Jolly exhaling one of his own in tandem.

“Go fucking handle it! Bring them both up!” He hollered.

Noah wanted to argue that this immature nonsense was way beneath his pay grade but he wasn't going to pass up the chance of seeing you up close again. He was still trying to get the color of your eyes just right in his memory.

READER

Everything was soaked in a mixture of different alcohols. You, the table, the highly irritated men now hurling a combination of insults and complaints at you. You were frantically trying to clean things up by reaching for toppled over glasses and promising a drink on the house – if you could even do that – but nothing was helping with lessening their anger.

“Fucking amateur.”

“Can't even serve a drink.”

“Shitty fucking help.”

There was a part of you that was plopped right back down to a year ago when everything you did was heavily critiqued by your ex boyfriend. He always had something to say about the way you held yourself, the foods you liked, your choice of makeup style. Nothing was ever to his standards unless he was the one to choose it. You fucking hated feeling like that helpless girl again, and by a group of strangers no less.

“I'm so sorry, gentlemen!” you repeated again and again. “I must've slipped.”

You hadn't slipped. You had felt the way Charlotte shoved into you and if you didn't need this job then you would've been whacking her across the head with your now empty tray right this very second. The men continued to rant and you continued to ignore them for all of your sakes.

Squatting down in the most ladylike way you could, you carried on with cleaning the area. Your hands were shaking, your nerves beginning to get the best of you. Anxiety had only recently become a problem for you and being the center of attention in this regard worsened the effects. You kept telling yourself to suck it up, that these guys weren't Vane, but your brain refused to follow through with the order. There was never a moment that you weren't expecting to look up and see his face staring back at you.

A hand lightly touching your shoulder caused you to jump and nearly fall over to the now sticky floor. Thankfully you caught yourself at the last second. Your head whipped around, breath catching, just to see hot neighbor towering over you. Fuck. Your fight or flight had just almost kicked in. That really would've been embarrassing.

“Boss would like a word.” He retracted his hand when he noticed the bewildered look in your eyes, a curious yet concerned gleam flashing within his own at the sight.

“But, I - uh…I'm cleaning up –”

“It'll be taken care of. Head for the back stairs and Shauna will show you to his office.”

Slowly you stood back to your full height, nodding at his instructions. Your hands smoothed down over your skirt to straighten it out, followed by a slight tug at the hem as if that would help further cover the view of your legs from the angry men now narrowed in on you.

“She looked better on her knees,” one of the men murmured to his pal at his side, both of them erupting into laughter. It was like you were up in VIP again with Marcus taunting you. Why were all men such assholes?

You bit your tongue to prevent yourself from saying something you may regret. Choosing between your livelihood and your pride was difficult but you knew you would be no good to anyone, not even yourself, if you landed back on hard times. Taking in a deep breath, your eyes cut over to hot neighbor who now appeared to be rather…angry? The lights of Nocturnal encompassed him in red, but something told you that his skin would still be the same shade even under horrid fluorescent bulbs.

“Now.” He demanded in a deep voice, his head nodding in the direction you were meant to go. The tone he used was frightening, this being more than enough to light the fire beneath your ass that had you quickly scampering across the club to the opposite side where the stairs sat. Just as he had said, Shauna was waiting at the base to guide you up.

“What did you do to get King all in a tizzy?” Shauna laughed during your journey up the narrow staircase that would've been otherwise hidden had your new tour guide not been waiting.

“I didn't do anything,” you shrugged. “Who is he, by the way? King?”

A glance was taken back at you, the same amused expression you were used to seeing whenever you asked a question present across Shauna’s darkly painted lips. “He's the head of security…technically.”

“Technically?”

“He wears a lot of hats around here,” she sighed. “Security, second in command, amongst many other things, and now apparently a waitress wrangler.”

The small jab made at your expense wasn't lost on you, but it was just one more thing you preferred to stay silent on. You were already stirring the pot a bit too much to have only been employed at Nocturnal for a week and you didn't need to further add to it. This must've been a new record since Shauna had mentioned in passing once that the turn over rate wasn't high. The workers loved it here, yet of course you were the only one having issues.

Shauna’s pace slowed the further she led you down a dimly lit hallway. You had come to the conclusion that they didn't like light around here. Abruptly stopping in front of a door at the very end of the hallway, she turned to look at you, her eyes immediately sinking into yours. It appeared as if there was something she wanted to say by the way her lips faintly twitched, but she decidedly covered it with another smile.

An arm extended off to the side to plant three firm knocks on the door, the sound of the lock electronically unlatching following seconds later. “Don't ask too many questions,” Shauna lowly added before she was sidestepping you and strutting back down the endless hallway, but only after she had twisted the doorknob and pushed the thick barrier open a couple of inches.

X X X

You felt small standing in front of the boss. He was finely dressed in a black suit, a cross earring dangling from his ear, and his long hair secured back into a bun that sat low on his neck, while you were…well, you currently resembled a wet dog after having an entire tray of drinks find their way onto you.

His face was emotionless as he stared at you, silently sizing you up, but you refused to be intimidated. So, you held his gaze despite the way your trembling fingers were anxiously fidgeting with each other. He must've noticed because he only chuckled and shook his head before releasing a deep breath you hadn't realized he had been holding.

Well, fuck. Had that been some sort of test?

“Genevieve…” he slowly spoke, sounding out each syllable to himself.

“That's not my name. I mean, not really, that's just what I chose to go –”

A hand was lifted to motion for you to stop and his head turned in a single shake. “I know that's not your real name. Everyone here has a chosen alias. Some for fun and others for safety precautions. Doesn't matter to me what you choose to call yourself.”

There was an accent attached to his words, though it was one you couldn't quite place.

“What does matter to me is how you choose to conduct yourself in my club. And what I saw tonight doesn't reflect too well on my business.”

There wasn't yet a chance for you to defend yourself and tell your side of the story because the door opened and your conversation was immediately overtaken by Charlotte’s nails-on-a-chalkboard voice. You didn't miss the way the boss let a cringe briefly overtake his otherwise stoic demeanor.

“I didn't even do anything! She was standing too far out and I accidentally ran into her! It's not my fault she likes to stick her ass out like some feral cat in heat!”

King was right behind her, the same annoyed expression plastered across his own face. He didn't say a word as he crossed the office to take his place beside where the boss sat at his desk, leaving both you and Charlotte standing on trial before them.

Your arms crossed over your chest to hug yourself, a chill setting in from all the different beverages soaking into your clothes. Maybe if you let Charlotte keep talking then she would dig her own grave deeper and deeper until there was no way for her to get out. She was already doing a pretty bang up job of it. At least that meant you could get out of there faster.

Charlotte stepped up beside you with her hands on her hips, one leg extended out a bit further. As if on instinct you shifted a bit to your left, purposely placing a little more space between you and the loud blonde. When you looked up, hot neighbor was watching you, the same curious gleam in his eyes as it had been moments prior. It seemed as if he was always watching you, even when you weren't fully aware of it. You would never forget the way it felt to have his eyes raking across your skin whether it be from a security camera, in person, or from your open window.

“What happened?” Boss asked, his fingertips lightly planting against the top of his desk. Charlotte immediately raced to recite a scenario you were sure wouldn't be the actual truth, but she was stopped within the first word by the boss holding his hand up to her. “Genevieve.”

You looked back and forth between the two men watching you. You were expecting to feel uncomfortable beneath their gazes but the only thing bringing you discomfort in that moment was your wet bra. Maybe your naive brain wasn’t scared of them, your intuition telling you that they were not your enemy, or maybe you just hadn't yet clocked them as a source of fear.

“I was serving my table and she purposely ran into me which caused me to drop my entire tray.” Simple. What more was there to be said on the matter?

“What prompted the argument you two were seen having beforehand?”

You could sense Charlotte tensing beside you, the toe of her shoe beginning to lightly tap against the floor in quick succession. She knew this was where she was going to go down for what happened because she couldn't explain it away as an “accident”. That is, if they believed you. Charlotte was a seasoned veteran at Nocturnal, whereas you had only just started. They were already more likely to take her side based on that alone.

“She…um…she was accusing me of flirting with someone she was interested in.” Your eyes did a quick glance to King since he was the someone in question. “I wasn't, of course, because I've only had one conversation with the guy and she just…assumed.”

Charlotte witnessed the little run in you had with hot neighbor on your first shift after he had escorted you down from VIP. She found joy in riling you up about it ever since during every one of your shifts, and typically you ignored her, but tonight you had been fed up and finally started trying to defend yourself head on. People, Charlotte specifically, thought you were weak merely because you were quiet. You wanted them to know that it was best not to underestimate you. You just knew how to pick your battles.

“You made her drop her drinks because of a guy?” The boss was now looking at Charlotte. His tone read as calm but you could tell by the widening of his eyes and the way his hand flattened on the desk that he was growing more and more irritated by the second. “This isn't high school, Charlotte, so why are you acting like an immature child?”

Charlotte opened her mouth to speak but King’s heavy sigh of boredom put a halt to her attempt. “We don't have time for this,” he exclaimed after taking a glance at his watch. Boss looked his way and hot neighbor raised his brows, both of them partaking in some sort of private silent conversation that you weren't privy to.

“Your tips are paying for those lost drinks.” The boss concluded after a few beats. “As well as their replacement ones.”

“What?! Nothing happens to her?!” Charlotte scoffed, her voice again piercing your ears and making you lean back a bit.

“It's not up for debate! Now out! Get back to work!”

You were quick to head for the door behind Charlotte, who was grumbling angrily to herself, despite having an eerie feeling that the blonde was going to make the rest of your shift a living hell. Maybe even all of your shifts for the foreseeable future. You had one foot out the door when a hand secured around your bicep, firmly stopping your motions forward. “Not you,” his low voice sounded in your ear, a chill immediately radiating down your spine.

King was gentle as he pulled you back a step and used his free hand to close the door. He was so close that you could feel his breath fanning your hair and making it tickle your neck. The slightest tilt backwards and you knew his chest would connect with your back, and honestly, you were very tempted to do just that. You had been imagining the way his body would feel against yours for over a month at this point, never once thinking it would actually come to fruition, but now here you were. The only reason why you resisted was because you weren't alone in the room and you didn't need your boss witnessing you becoming a complete puddle for his right hand man.

“Jolly just wants a few more minutes of your time.”

X X X

King. Jolly. You felt like you were in some dark fucked up version of Candyland with those names, but instead of the Lollipop Woods and princesses, it was nothing but tattooed men and their load of secrets. Not nearly as tasty as the candy would've been. Well, at least not until you'd become knowledgeable of these secrets.

You strolled into your apartment a little after 2am, your new boss - Jolly - allowing you to leave early since the entirety of the last bit of your visit with him had consisted of you sitting in front of his desk and shivering. King passed you a Nocturnal t-shirt at some point in an attempt to help warm you but it didn't do nearly as much as either of you were hoping. You swore you saw him briefly contemplating giving you the jacket he wore, though he did a quick glance at Jolly before ultimately deciding against it. You couldn't say you blamed him.

The quiet of your apartment was welcoming, this finally giving you a chance to hear your own thoughts and actually process the night. Jolly merely wanted to chat with you, your new hire file laid out in front of him, since he hadn't been given the chance to formally introduce himself as he usually would when new employees began. He explained that his father had been the original owner of Nocturnal but he now did the majority of all the work that went along with the club since his dad had his hand in other things. You politely smiled and nodded, unsure as to why he was choosing to tell you this. All in all, he was nice. There was a kindness to him that wasn’t overtly obvious but you could sense it.

Hot neighbor only spoke up a few times, instead opting to remain seated back in the dark corner with his feet propped up versus at Jolly’s side. This probably meant that you weren't deemed as a threat. He held the same knife from VIP the entire time, and you knew this because the blade would occasionally catch the light and shine on you. Each time it would and you'd glance his way, he would greet you with a barely-there sideways smirk. Fifteen minutes later, he was looking at his phone and then springing to his feet with a reminder to Jolly that they had a shipment to receive. And that was that. End of meeting.

It was all so normal, the interaction, but you couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. What? You had no idea.

After your entirely too long and too hot shower, you took solace in front of your open window. His was open as well, as it always was, but there were no signs of movement. This wasn't unusual since you knew he had business to tend to when you left, though you were still curious as to how late he was usually at the club. Was that where he always was when he wasn't home? That's what you were going to tell yourself was true.

You remained awake for an hour longer, occasionally glancing at his window, but everything remained still.

X X X

“Come out with us! Pleaseeeee! Please please!” Mel begged via FaceTime, a dramatic pout pulling at her lips. You could see the usual crowd behind her as she walked down the street, the group headed towards their normal haunt for a few drinks before eventually finding a club. It was the same weekend routine every time. Normally you would attend but you weren't feeling it that night. It was your first day off, as well as night, in awhile, so you were going to take some much needed alone time.

Your nose scrunched and you shook your head at the phone camera. “I'm really just not feeling up to it,” you explained in a playful whiny voice of your own. “The club has been kicking my ass and I have to be at Red’s bright and early tomorrow.”

“Ugh! Just tell me you're actually having a steamy affair with hot neighbor! Tell me you're going to his place to let him absolutely ravish you!”

“Yeah, that's totally what's happening,” you joked. “He's getting the whips and ropes ready for me right now.”

This was even funnier to you because you hadn't yet revealed to Mel that you worked with hot neighbor now. There was no real reason for keeping it from her. Just that it tended to slip your mind when the two of you were around each other.

“That sounds so sexy! The fuck!” Your best friend squealed, the loud noise causing you to pull the phone back a bit.

“Okay, you go enjoy yourself! I promise I'll come next time.”

“Fineee! Love you!”

The FaceTime call ended with Melinda then laughing at something someone around her said before it all went dark. You sighed softly to yourself, your gaze remaining on the blank screen for a long moment. You were tempted to say ‘fuck it’ and go out but the exhaustion was really starting to hit. You would be no fun.

As the silence set in, that's when you found yourself wondering about King. All day you had managed to avoid looking at his window because you weren't going to let this random guy be a defining moment in your life. Plus, he was your boss. Kind of. Second in command definitely made him your boss in a way, right? But now that the sun was setting and your loneliness was creeping in, you couldn't stop yourself from glancing over.

A big part of you was hoping he wouldn't be there. After all, it was the weekend. Okay, it was Sunday, but you knew that was still a busy day for clubs when it came to the city. Nevertheless, you couldn't get involved with him. It wasn't smart for so many reasons and you were really working on trying to be smarter these days. Why did that have to be so hard?

Taking in a breath, your eyes danced along the other windows of different apartments before ultimately landing on his. No curtains still - go figure - but the space wasn't empty as it had been the night before. There he sat, drink in hand, his focus on the large screen television mounted on his wall. You could barely make out the images but you did know it was some sort of cartoon. Your chin propped comfortably in your hand the further you sat up until you were on your knees leaning over the back. Very similar to how you were positioned the first time you saw him.

The only difference was that now you didn't care if you got caught watching him.

When he didn't look your way within the first few seconds, you shifted your focus to the darkening sky. Deep pinks and oranges swirled around, fading into the blue that would soon fully overtake the sky. You couldn't see too much because of the position of the apartment building, but it would have to do for now. You could remember staring at the sky for hours on end in your previous life. It was all you could do when Vane was working and you had no choice but to tag along. You weren't allowed to have a phone to keep you entertained back then. Not even just to play Candy Crush or some nonsense like that. Look at you now, still staring at the same sky, thinking the same wonder-filled thoughts. Old habits truly did die hard.

It was the slight motion in the corner of your eye that brought you back down to the present. King was looking at you, his hand waving to help draw your attention. When he noticed you looking he offered a friendly smile, one you returned without hesitation. The fact that he seemed much nicer outside of the club confused you, but you were going to continue to believe that he was wearing a mask at Nocturnal. You at least hoped that was the mask and this version of him wasn't. Not that you cared…since you were being smarter and all that…

King raised his hand to his head, his fingers shifting so that his thumb was at his ear and his pinky at his mouth. The universal symbol for ‘phone’. Was he asking for your number? Your brows furrowed slightly, your thoughts running rampant. This was not something you had seen coming. At least he was asking instead of simply taking it from your file, though.

Nodding, you brushed your hair away from your shoulder to ready yourself for the task of using your hands to communicate your phone number. You slowly tossed up each number, hot neighbor looking from you to his phone every time until he had all the information he needed. Seconds later, your phone vibrated, a message from an unknown number popping up. You immediately saved it under ‘hot neighbor', naturally.

HOT NEIGHBOR: Hello, neighbor.

You arched an eyebrow at the simple greeting, your eyes briefly glancing back up to where he still stood across the walkway. He was looking at you, phone in hand, patiently waiting for your response.

YOU: Caught you staring.

HOT NEIGHBOR: I decided to take a play from your book.

HOT NEIGHBOR: Seems like it worked.

You couldn't fight the smile that spread across your lips. Your teeth sunk down into the lower tier while you simultaneously shifted so you were sitting down on your couch again. Your back to the window to keep the view of your face hidden. The last thing you needed was hot neighbor seeing you smile as you made the mistake of getting closer to him.

YOU: Are you watching cartoons?

HOT NEIGHBOR: I'm an adult, Genevieve. It's anime.

The use of your work name made your lips twist in distaste. You were already pretending to be a different person in your day to day life. You didn't need to mix things up even more with the addition of your Nocturnal alias. Something about it just didn't sit right with you.

YOU: You can call me by my actual name when we're not at work.

Funny, since even that also wasn't your actual name.

HOT NEIGHBOR: I guess that means I should extend the same courtesy to you.

YOU: Is King not your name?

HOT NEIGHBOR: It's a nickname from when Jolly and I were younger.

The gray typing bubbles continued to pop up and disappear, as if he was unsure of what to say. You watched them do the same dance a few times, your curiosity rising by the second. What could he possibly be typing?

HOT NEIGHBOR: My name is Noah.

X X X

Three hours. That's how long you spent texting with Noah the previous night and you were definitely feeling it. Two Red Bulls, a cup of black coffee, and a couple of pieces of some weird energy gum Mel had told you about wasn't even enough to keep you from yawning every few minutes. Yes, you were exhausted, but you didn't regret a minute of it. Maybe you would one day when you were forced to remember why getting close to people was a bad idea, but you were going to live in ignorant bliss until then.

“I told you not to run yourself into the ground.” Red wagged his finger at you like a stereotypical grandfather would. “It was going to come back and bite you in the ass.”

You laughed, shaking your head at him. You continued to go through the motions of folding his linens as he hobbled into the room with the help of his solid wooden cane. Red was a kind man, at least from what you could tell. He enjoyed reciting stories to you from his heyday and introducing you to new foods that his personal chef would whip up. You disliked a lot of them because of how picky you were but Red got a kick out of listening to your outlandish comparisons.

“I know, I know,” you heavily sighed. “I was off from the club yesterday, but I still stayed up too late.”

Red released a breath as he lowered himself down into his favorite sitting chair. His eyes remained on you, a knowing smile occupying his lived-in face. “You're too young to get caught up in the headache of boys. Or girls. Or whoever you're interested in. You need to live a little first.”

You both laughed as you set the neatly folded sheets aside and began working on the basket of towels. If only Red knew that you had ‘lived’ enough for multiple lifetimes. None of which you had any desire to relive. So why were you going down the same path with Noah? Of course you didn't want to believe that's what was happening because it felt so good in the beginning stages like this, but you knew better than anyone how it could abruptly turn and crash. You had the scars to prove it.

“I'm not getting caught up. I promise. I'm just…making friends.”

“Friends,” Red snorted. “That's how I ended up with five kids, by making friends.”

“Red!” You lightly smacked his arm with the towel in your grasp, your lighthearted laughter continuing. It felt good to be able to have a relaxing conversation like this, even if it was with an older man pushing eighty. In your opinion this only meant he was better at giving advice than anyone else in your life.

Still grinning, he reached for the remote on the side table by his chair and turned the TV on. Before you knew it, a CSI rerun was on and Red was leaned back, lightly snoring.

X X X

HOT NEIGHBOR: What are you doing?

You used one hand to retrieve your phone from your back pocket as the other placed a small pile of washcloths in the hall linen closet. Your heart began to race when you saw who the message was from, cheeks instantly reddening. Well…fuck. That wasn't a good sign for your mental well being.

YOU: Folding an old man’s laundry at my day job. Yes, it's just as exciting as it sounds.

HOT NEIGHBOR: Drop a pin and I'll bring you coffee.

You had to give it to him, he surely was straight to the point. You did as he said because what harm could come from a quick coffee visit? Plus, you desperately needed more caffeine. You would take an IV of it straight into the vein if it was offered to you.

Half an hour later you received a message from Noah saying that he was outside. You took a glance at Red’s still sleeping form as you tip toed out of the house, carefully maneuvering your way down the narrow stone path that led to a small black wrought iron gate. It was only waist high, but it was a nice little touch in front of his city mansion. Typically flowers would be lining the path as well, but the frigid air kept them at bay for now.

Arms crossed over your chest, your eyes zeroed in on Noah who was standing on the sidewalk. He was once again wearing his usual black on black attire, black gloves, and a black coat to finish off the look. How was he so effortlessly attractive? You could assume he was heading for the club based on his outfit alone. Not only that, but he appeared perplexed. His brows were furrowed, his eyes constantly looking up and down the sidewalk like he was on the search for someone.

“Hey,” you breathed out into the cold as you stepped closer after latching the small gate behind you. Noah extended the second coffee to you which you graciously took and immediately sipped from. You didn't even want to know how he knew your coffee order. Sure, it was simple, but how did he get it so perfect?

“This is where you work?” He motioned to the large brick building behind you. You glanced back at the house along with him, nodding.

“Yeah, it's pretty easy. I'm basically a glorified errand runner slash housekeeper.”

Noah slowly nodded, though his puzzled look refused to break. You weren't at the point yet where you could call him out for it, at least not in the way you would've wanted by just being straight forward.

“Everything okay?” You eventually asked, to which Noah relaxed his shoulders and smiled at you.

“Sorry, yeah. I was just remembering something I needed to do at the club.”

“Oh, okay. Well, how much do I owe you for the coffee?”

“What? No, you don't owe me anything.” He was now peering at you as if you had two heads. “Consider it an apology for keeping you up so late.”

“No apology needed.” You wanted to tell Noah that you actually enjoyed talking to him. He made you feel comfortable, as odd as that may have sounded since he was still practically a stranger. But you didn't. You skirted the topic completely. “Did you want to come inside? I didn't mean to leave you standing out here in the cold.”

“I've really got to get to the club. I just wanted to see you for a minute”.

“Well…you've seen me.” You laughed, your hip dipping a bit and your free hand motioning towards yourself. Fuck, that was so lame. Hopefully it wasn't too obvious to him that you were completely out of your comfort zone. You weren't good at this sort of thing. You couldn't even remember the last time you had tried genuinely flirting with someone.

Noah's dark eyes focused on yours, his look intense. You felt bared beneath his gaze, vulnerable, but something about it kept you hanging on.

“That I have.”

NOAH

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

He tried not to seem too flustered as he said his goodbyes to you and headed down the street. The further he walked from your eyesight, the faster his steps became. Noah hated leaving you like that because he could sense your confusion but it was for the best. There was no telling who within that house was watching you with him and he didn't want to put your well being in danger anymore than he probably already had.

As he turned the corner, he quickly pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed Jolly. It only took two rings for him to pick up because Jolly knew better than anyone that he didn't call people. He actually despised talking on the phone. He would only do it for Jolly and now maybe you too, if that's what you wanted.

“We have a problem,” he breathed out the moment the call connected. Dark eyes continued to dart about, every nerve in his body on edge.

“What kind of problem?”

“Our lovely little Genevieve is working for the enemy.”

There was a long moment of silence and then Jolly sighed. “Which enemy?”

“The worst one.” Noah didn't need to give any further explanation. His best friend knew how hard it was for him to think about the past, let alone talk about it. After all, it wasn't everyday he was plunged back into the memories of the night his parents were killed.

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mar3ggiata · 2 months ago

Text

professional help, c31. Four or five.

simon riley x original character.

trigger warnings: violence, sexual assault, mentions of rape, trauma, sexual themes, swearing, use of alcohol and drugs, EDs and death.

song to listen to when reading this: Lo que puede, puede. Ca7riel, Paco Amoroso.

abstract: Simon here. You're following the story alright? Good, cause I'm not. Getting more and more confusing and everywhere I go, she's following. I can't get her to stop invading my space, it's getting repetitive.

'Oh yeah?' What a stupid fucking thing to say, Simon get it together. She looked at him, beautiful, tired siren eyes, beautiful long lashes, sad gaze. She nodded. She knew his family was dead, she knew cause he told her. How they died, she didn't know. Addiction? Something else? 'Yes, 'twas a…', lie Alba, '…drunk driver'. He nodded, his eyes still on her. He felt sorry. Why didn't she talk about her family more, why did she move away? Why was she so far from home? 'It's tough.' That's all he could say. I lost all my family, he could have said. But how do you explain something like that, how do you even say it out loud? How can someone like her understand what happened to him, how can someone like her comprehend. What happened to him was out of this world, his family, death, the bodies, what he had been through. It wasn't the same, sure losing a family member was awful, but it wasn't the same. They weren't the same.

He got up from the chair, taking a step away from her. He couldn't even look at her, he mumbled something about not staying at the base at night. And he was gone. She wasn't mad, she wasn't offended. She cursed herself for saying that thing about her brother, wanting him to feel like he could share parts of his past. It was probably too much, too soon. But still, if he wanted to, he would. Especially after throwing that tantrum at her place on the 24th. Don't expect me to listen to you bitching and moaning about my lifestyle and your brother and not wonder about it.

She went home soon after, she wasn't concentrating on her tasks, she was too tired. A walk with the dog, dinner, a shower. Things were only getting more complicated. She laid in bed trying to put the pieces together, the gentle snoring of the dog in the other room, the wind outside the window. How she was gonna manage to stay on top of things and stay sane, she didn't know. She had a meeting with Price on Thursday, three days after her chat with Simon. Didn't go well. She was sitting with her back straight, hair in a slick bun. She had a skirt on, a turtleneck, big chunky glasses. Her, Roman and Honey were academics in a room full of soldiers and men of war. With their stupid dictionaries and stupid papers, all written in gibberish. Price was mad. Honey, who took control over the situation, was trying to explain their findings to the captain. Behind the three, stood Scotland, Simon and Kyle, along with two other people. Scary stuff, it felt like they were being interrogated. They got new information about the mission. First of all, the Serbian group was talking about transportation. They were talking random numbers, they all suspected drugs. 160 grams per unit, 663 grams per unit. They started wondering which substance they were talking about, since the shipping was intended to reach different countries, and it was going to be pricy. One hundred thousand per unit. Cocaine, meth?

'So you have no idea what we're dealing with?' asked Price.

She was fed up with the captain verbally abusing her and her colleagues, so she spoke, 'You know, they're not talking about shipping tons of heroine like they're talking about football captain', she was raising her shoulders, 'They're discreet.'

'Okay, what are you suggesting we do then, Jude? You guys have made no progress.'

She stopped him again, 'We did, we just told you…' she pointed at Roman's notes in front of her, 'they're shipping single units in separate containers, they're using trucks to make separate shippings, we know it's something expensive…'

She was calm, collected, she was fucking hot as hell. Simon stared at the back of her head as she controlled the room, she was assertive. She was tense, he could see the muscles in the back of her neck. 'You have two days', Price had said. When she got up from the chair she was too mad to even acknowledge him. She turned towards the other two translators, he didn't know who they were. They said something in italian he thought, they all knew italian? They left together. All three.

She didn't even look his way. What, cause she was pissed at Price it meant she was pissed at him as well? What did he do? He thought they could maybe talk, she could share more of what they found... Maybe these two new friends she was working with were taking his place, she didn't need him anymore. He watched her leave the room like they didn't know each other, and he felt a strange pressure on his chest. She didn't look his way, like she didn't care that he was in the room. And she was the only thing he was concentrating on every time they were together so... What a shame.

It all happened so fast, one random Tuesday at 5pm. Honey tapped his hand on the desk three times, she immediately turned around, getting tangled in her headphones. Roman spilled some tea in the attempt of running from his desk to Honey's. 'Shit shit shit', someone whispered. Honey took off his headset, turning up the volume so that everyone could hear. It was a male voice speaking, he was speaking broken English.

'At four, пет, не знам.'

She glanced up at her colleagues. She understood what they said. They said 'four or five'.

'They want job clear and fast, да, добро'. Clear.

Honey was scribbling on a piece of paper, trying to get everything down as the man spoke.

'Read that, да, not many men. како се каже, English… code, secret. Secret.'

He went on for a minute, when he finished they all went back to their stations, at the speed of light. The reason was, if some soldiers went to different rooms to speak about the attack that was just announced they could share thoughts and information, they had to be at the top of their game for the next thirty minutes. She put on her headset, trying to calm the beating of her heart that she thought could explode out of her chest. She heard Serbian, she heard English. Someone said Видим се. See ya, that was the translation. 'Alright…' someone whispered.

'Oh, oh porca troia raga…', that was the clue for Honey and Roman to quickly turn towards her.

Her eyes luminescent, her ears burning, quick fingers typing on the Word document in front of her.

'A job at four or five, don't know the date, they're shipping something to Iran, circa 20thousand maybe more, cocaine and something else, but I'm not sure…' It was Madison, she guessed, referring that information to them. He was whispering into the recording device, speaking quickly so that he could leave that spot without being suspicious. 'Sending you a copy of the paper, gotta go, they have prisoners, poor people, they're all sitting in a room…they're killing them, they want to kill them…' He soon after stepped out of the toilet.

She finishes writing, and got up. She looked at the two other people in the room, just as surprised and shocked as her. Shocked and happy, they finally got something. Shocked at what they just heard, people, prisoners…

'Job at four or five, are they selling drugs?' Roman asked. 'To Iran?' She tried, Honey understood immediately what she was on about. 'No way! Fuck, poor people in a room?' He covered his mouth with his right hand. She had never heard him swear, or lose composure. 'Honey, they're doing something for the Iranian at four or five, they're paying them to do something.' She got up from her chair. Poor people in a room…

'Holy shit…' That was Roman.

'I thought they were gonna attack them, sell the drugs at higher price'

Poor people in a room…

'Hold on, sorry…' Roman got up as well, a piece of paper in his hand. 'What we heard on Sunday, about the shippings. They're selling stupid amounts, look…' He got closer to the others, a paper with translations and calculations in hand. 'They're shipping to loads of countries, nearly 5 pounds, 4 hundred thousand for 5 pounds of what, heroine? Why are these prices so high?'

'Cause they're not talking about drugs. It's the poor people in the room.' She got it.

Her blood went cold. It was true, they had been going on about refrigerated containers, moving trucks that could fit tons and tons of materials inside, too large to go without being checked, too risky to use for a bit of marijuana. They were dealing with larger objects. Pricier material, fewer pieces. They had people to kill… No… They had prisoners, people in a room. The Iranian paid them cause they had the people. She clicked her tongue, shook her head. This was above them, this was… too much. It was the people.

'It's organs. It's organ trafficking.'

'Oi are you even listening?' Ghost turned his head towards the voice on his right, Johnny was walking beside him heading towards the hangar. 'Wot?' He said, an annoyed tone. 'I asked how many?' He wanted his head to explode, he had a migraine, he was tired, Johnny was speaking… 'How many what?' He raised his voice. He had things to do, reports to finish, he had to pack cause he was about to leave, and he didn't even know if he was deployed, they just told him 'in case we need help' and it was fucking stupid, did I mention he was tired? 'How many units per container, why are you not listening?' He rolled his eyes, they were walking towards Kyle. 'They're late cause of a bloody sandstorm', he informed. They had to wait for all the soldiers who were still in Al-Jareena to come back, they would have a meeting with Price and apparently Shepherd was back for a while.

'Where's Thomas?' Johnny asked, Kyle shook his head. 'Couldn't make it again, he still has problems with his back.'

'Ah shit'

'Oi, did you get that email about that human rights convention and what not?' They were walking beside him, they were not shutting up. He craved his bedroom, his childhood bedroom in the UK, he craved silence, he craved warmth of a fireplace and a steak…

'Did you get it L.t.?' I didn't. I don't care. He said no.

'You never answered my question, I was trying to do the math'

'What question?'

'How many units of drugs per container did they say, heroine or cocaine, cause the weight would be different...'

'I don't know, whatever Alba said.'

The ceiling collapsed, the floor crumbled under his feet, his body falling though the abyss of Hell. Blood rushing to his ears. He watched as the two men's faces went from shock to fear. They stopped in their tracks.

'What the fuck?'

'Who the fuck is Alba, mate?'

'How do you know?'

'No way, Jude is Alba?'

'No fucking way, it's her you've been seeing?'

'What do you mean, you're going out with her?'

Before he could register the immense mistake he had made, he heard a voice. A sweet, sincere voice. He heard the voice he normally heard in his dreams, in his mind. The two men were soon forgotten, she was coming his way. 'Hey!' She shouted. She stood in the middle of the hangar, making a few men turn towards her. Her, in all her grace, her dark aura, her aura of power and knowledge. She looked pale, she looked… she was crying? She looked scared. Watching all three soldiers stop and look at her, she signalled them to follow her with a single nod of her head. Come with me, that was the signal. 'All three' She said. They followed like they were some damn dogs.

'Are you out of your mind!?' Price's voice was loud, his hands on his hips. They were inside the listening post room, him, Johnny, Gaz, the captain and the three scientists. 'What?' She raised her voice as well, he had never heard her like this before. 'Literally, what is your problem?' She spoke to the captain, crossing her arms. Price went on for a few minutes scolding the three academics. The accusations and the theories on organ trafficking were serious, and they had always talked about drugs, why were they abandoning that route? 'Because it makes the most sense, captain.' Tried Honey. He showed Price the list of all the weights and measurements they had heard about, which, as they discovered, fit quite perfectly the average weight of kidneys, lungs and hearts. 'That explains the refrigerated containers', she chirped in. 'And the prices', Soap, unexpectedly, gave her a nod of credit. 'And the poor people', finished Honey.

They explained it wasn't rare for poor people to get into situations such as organ and human trafficking. They could make a lot of money, they were easy to convince, easy to manipulate and desperate. It all started to make even more sense when they found information in Serbian news articles online about people disappearing in the latest few months. They found many individuals started reporting to be victims, or suspect family members to have had illegal surgeries for organ trafficking. 'They said they're receiving a note with a code of some sort', she was standing on Simon's right, near her desk. Her hair was messy and undone on her shoulders, she glanced at the time on her phone from time to time. Have you got somewhere to be? 'Probably containing information on when the shipment might be made, or what to do with the people they're gonna take the organs from'. The room was filled with silence. It was sad, really. They were glad they made the discovery, but overall, not good news. Price crossed his arms, looking down at his feet. It was clearly more than they were expecting. Simon would't take his eyes off Alba. He was proud, he was sad she had to deal with this tremendous job. She looked at him. He gently tilted his head foreword, as to say, you're good. He didn't know why it was so important for him to let her know that he supported her. She gave him a small smile. He felt they were feeling the same emotion somehow.

'Will you be able to translate the code?' asked Price.

'Sure, yes, we'll do everything we can.' Honey.

Price sighed.

'Good work.'

notes: massive chapter, sorry!!!

taglist:

@ghostlythots @sweetfemmefatal @natxpat @chavarriakeren647 @ravenmoore14 @farther-than-pleiades @internallyscreamings @hwromi @atoxicrat @cuti3maddi3 @deafeningkittenblaze @its-celeste @serene-hills @lexidoll12 @poohkie90 @lunatiquess

@warmedbythebody @katzykat @iristhemuse @azkza @keiraslayz @abbyandermine @jennyjencakes @dest-nai @corset-briefs @nutze-kekse @ilytsukiw @b3anspr0ut

@pondsblog @missyouzoe @fallenkitten @bigauthorrascalturkey @bethtay @angelynn-nicole @starluv @stargirlisworld @giyuuslittleslut @impossiblecupcakelight

@rkrivees-blog @ghosts-hoe @kam1snotverysmart @gauky76 @freyjaaasstuff @spicyspicyliving @scottpilgrimvsmyfists @courtney0-0 @shinchanboi @darling006 @my-therapist-hates-me

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diffidentphantom · 3 months ago

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Built For Sin - Husk x OFC - Chapter I

Summary: Mystic is a fox sinner who has been in hell for 44 years. Like most sinners who have been around for a bit, she has seen and done a little bit of everything. But after finding out about the Hazbin Hotel, from a long-time acquaintance of hers, she goes there to seek redemption. (Or see if that could be possible for someone like her.) What she didn't didn't expect to find there though, was the now ex-Overlord who had owned her soul. Nor did she expect to see him have seemingly turn over a new leaf. Will Mystic be able to learn how to forgive and forget? Or will she stay stuck looking back at the past?

will contain Dark!Overlord Husk in flashback scenes

Story Rating: M For Mature - 18+ Readers Only!!! -

Please Read the Trigger Warning's Down Below to Decide if This Story Is Right For You!

Trigger Warning's: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dark Themes, Dark Romance, Enemies to Lovers, BDSM, DubCon, Alcoholism, Gambling, Owning Another's Soul, Master-Servant Relationship, Depictions of Physical Abuse, Depictions of Sexual Abuse, Depictions of Sexual Harassment, Mentions of Genocide, Mentions of Cannibalism, Mentions of Torture, Depictions of Drug Use, Mentions of Drug Overdose, Blasphemy - will update the warning's as needed

Author's Note: This story was inspired by a post that was written by @trashogram. Their original post containing the idea can be found HERE. I have their full permission to use this idea for this fanfic. Please consider checking out their stories too.

Story Posted: 09-25-2024

Publishing Schedule: Updates for this story will be every other Friday.

Word Count: 919

Husk let out a tired sigh as he wiped the inside of another glass at the bar located inside the Hazbin Hotel.

It had only been a few weeks and a couple of days since Alastor returned from his… sabbatical. A few weeks and a couple of days, since Husk had been pulled from his own life and dragged into this new scheme for entertainment. And while a majority of him grumbled about being back at the red-haired prick’s beck and call, another smaller part of him was grateful that Alastor was back.

As soon as he was out from under Alastor’s thumb, Husk quickly fell back to some familiar vices.

Gambling.

Booze. (both the expensive or cheap, depending on how much he had won in a game)

And of course, every now and then when the urge hit him, call girls. Or men. Depending on the mood.

Now, stuck at the ‘Redemption Hotel’ - Husk’s pockets were empty, and the only booze he got to enjoy was the cheap shit that was given to him by his boss.

— He didn’t have an issue with cheap alcohol. It worked great in a pinch for an alcoholic like him to satisfy the craving. But Husk, more often than not, missed the days when he had his private stash of the expensive stuff that he could access 24/7. (He mourned the loss of his imported beer, wine, and spirits from the human world. Small comforts of home that Alastor had quickly confiscated for himself, as soon as a metal collar and leash were wrapped around his throat)

Letting out a sigh and mumbling lowly in irritation, Husk took the rag out of the martini glass before slinging it over his shoulder. He then grabbed said glass and put it back into its proper spot. Eyeing the bottle of open beer he had left on the counter, Husk swiped it and began to guzzle down the liquid in large gulps.

It was honestly no wonder he was so easily frustrated and grumpy than normal. Cutting an addict off from most of their vices cold turkey is not a fun process to go through.

(The only company he also got nowadays, was platonic in the form of the other demons inhabiting the hotel. And he for sure, was NOT going to ask any of them to ‘canoodle’. Whether they were single or not.)

“Heya, Whiskers.” A male baritone voice with a Brooklyn-Italian accent greeted, as a familiar white and pink spider sinner entered the lobby.

Husk glared as he put his bottle down and wiped his mouth, with his forearm.

Angel Dust was one person in this hotel he wished he could avoid sometimes.

Husk disliked the porn star’s over-eagerness to please, the constant dirty jokes, and always getting into his personal space to the point it almost bordered on sexual harassment. (Not to mention the late nights, when he came to the hotel from his job, limping, exhaustion washed over him like a blanket, and bruises that were carefully concealed. Seeing the spider sinner like that, took Husk back to his early years in hell. Reminded him of-)

“What do you want?” Husk growled, his voice rough with barely concealed hostility. As he gripped the underside of the countertop in a tight grip. He couldn’t think of her right now.

But Angel shook his head and grinned as he plopped himself into a barstool. “Nothing besides water for me right now, Husky.” He teased using the stupid nickname curated for him.

Husk let out an annoyed huff but got out a new glass and filled it with water anyway before handing it to the arachnid. After he passed the drink, he leaned back against the liquor shelf behind him and stared at Angel. Contemplating.

The bar area was silent for a full two minutes. An air of tension hovers between the two male sinners. And then Angel Dust spoke up.

“Didya’ know we got a new guest?” He asked.

Husk raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t known that which was surprising for several reasons.

“Did we?” He replied, tone curious as he reached for his bottle again. “When?”

This time instead of gulping down the drink, he took a small - but generous - sip.

“Some time last night.” Angel Dust supplied with a shrug. “She knows Smiles though. They at least seemed to be acquainted with one another.”

Husk rolled his eyes and took another swig of his bottle. He really didn’t need to know any more of Alastor’s friends. Rosie and Niffty were special cases. Rosie because she was an old friend of his as well, and Niffty because…well, she was NIffty.

Husk watched as Angel opened his mouth to say something, but cut himself off when a mix of voices rounded the corner.

“—and of course, we have the lobby area with the reception, lounge, and bar.” Charlie’s voice informed (who Husk guessed was) the newest hotel resident.

Husk had just taken another swig of his drink, when Charlie rounded the corner with a large smile her arms extending wide, as she did a twirl while showing off the space.

“Well,” an eerily familiar female voice spoke up. “The hotel is really…something.”

Husk choked on his drink, causing him to splutter and cough in surprise.

Four heads turned to look over at him.

Charlie and Vaggie gazed at him in concern and confusion.

Alastor in open mockery and amusement.

And…the one face that haunted his dreams in pure, unadulterated hatred and shock.

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lemonluvgirl · 1 year ago

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The Miner's Wife by MockingJayFlyingFree (Review)

Hello Hunger Games fanfic readers, this week I am reviewing the wonderful and compelling tale of The Miner's Wife written by MockingJayFlyingFree. (Trigger warnings for Drug abuse, alcohol abuse, forced prostitution, non-con, and mention of abortion.)

I picked this story first to review because it's at the top of Everlark Fic Questions Top Ten Fics by Statistics and because I've read it before so I figured reviewing it would be easier since I was familiar with the story. So with that reasoning explained let's get down to the review.

The story is set in Single Victor AU where Prim was never reaped but Peeta Mellark was. Peeta went on to win the 74th Hunger Games by himself and Katniss stayed in the Seam and married Gale at age 18. She had two children with him before a mine accident killed Gale and left her financially ruined and starving. In a last-ditch effort to feed her children, she turns to prostitution and finds some unlikely help in the form of the two District 12 victors.

One thing I really liked about this story was the setting felt a lot like the original trilogy. There's a certain grimness and desperation that makes it feel very authentic but the stakes are more adult in nature. There is also some extra world-building. We get to see the before-unseen shady dealings of the Capitol Elite who were not as prominent as in the original trilogy, as well as more of the Vicors/Mentors (from the Quarter Quell) who were previously one-dimensional characters in the original trilogy. By changing the timeline when the story takes place, 12 years after the 74th Hunger Games we get a different view of some very familiar characters, and different perspectives on some characters who were never fleshed out in Suzanne's Catching Fire.

Like the original books, the story starts in District 12 which is a microcosm of what is happening to Panem at large.

Peeta Mellark is back home after weeks of mandatory attendance at festivities in the Capitol. The district is dirty and grey, the people struggling even more than usual. There has been another large mine accident and many families have been affected. Including one familiar protagonist.

Katniss is all grown up with a family. She is once again thrust into the role of sole provider and head of her household. Except this time going beyond the fence to hunt won't save her family in time. She is forced to make the hard decision between her family's survival, staying true to her own values, and holding onto her dignity. Once again she chooses to do whatever is necessary to ensure her loved ones can live another day, which echoes back to the part of Katniss' character we saw in the original trilogy on the night before the start of the Hunger Games where Katniss said she couldn't afford to think about the moral quandies of killing other children because she had her sister to consider. The meaning implied is that Katniss' mindset going into the Games was doing whatever it took to win to get back home to her family because they were counting on her.

On the other side of the equation, we have Peeta Mellark. The story actually starts with his point of view and right off the bat we see that this story's version of Peeta Mellark is more in line with the hijacked version we became familiar with in the Mockingjay novel. Peeta is worn out and barely hanging on. It's been over a decade since he won his games. He's been mentoring children and watching them die for years and he's been sold as a prostitute in the Capitol for almost as long. The story delves into his depression and his alcoholism, as well as his dependence on drugs. It also touches on his past suicide attempts and his suicidal ideation. Yet through all of that, his desire to protect the people that are important to him is still there.

We see from the get-go that even though Katniss never had to go into the arena and Peeta made it out alive, they are still fighting a battle for survival mentally and physically every day. They have both been exploited in different ways and are dealing with the lingering effects of trauma. Katniss with the trauma and grief of losing both her father and the father of her children to the same mine that has killed so many Seam people, and Peeta with having to endure the horrors of being a young and desirable victor sought after by the Capitol elite, as well as mentoring a new crop of tributes every year.

The human tragedies playing out in District 12 set the stage for Katniss and Peeta's paths to cross again merge in new ways and evolve from what we saw in Collins' books. The struggles they face may be slightly different from their teenage counterparts in the original trilogy but one thing I think MockingJayFlyingFree does well is stay true to the inner core of these characters. Katniss is still a consummate survivor who in the right circumstances with the right people is won over by compassion and empathy. While Peeta goes through a horrible ordeal of having his humanity stripped away and becoming a ghost of himself, he is brought back by those who understand his pain, and his mission of trying to save the girl he threw bread to when he was eleven.

Their struggle to stay true to themselves, and find freedom and peace under an oppressive totalitarian regime is very inspiring and at moments heartbreaking. While this story does not have a clear-cut happily ever after it does end on a hopeful note and readers walk away with a very authentic and thought-provoking experience.

I enjoyed reading this story immensely and I can completely see why it's on the list of top ten Huger Games fanfiction stories. I highly recommend this fic to readers who enjoy the grittiness and high stakes of the Hunger Games.

#thg #everlark #fanfiction #lemonluvreviews #LLreviews #THG reviews

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enhalusional · 4 months ago

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Chapter 1

Sohee has a chance encounter with someone who has an enhypen fansign ticket. Fate was dangling the opportunity in her face. Why would she let go?

Words: 1.7k

Trigger warnings: Physical abuse, indication of assault, theft, mentions of alcohol and drugs.

Series masterlist

The door-bell chimed loudly, indicating the arrival of a new customer. Sohee willed herself to put on a smile despite her clearly evident tiredness. She had been working double shifts for the past two days in the same café on top of her 3 other jobs. Sleep had been reduced to a mere three hours a day. She badly needed a day off how else was she supposed to make her ends meet? She envied all the people her age who were able to go to college. They had their lives on track. And here she was, not knowing if she would eat the next week. College was out of question. She was grateful for knowing how to read even.

She made the order for the girl who barely looked sixteen years old. The girl had on a white undershirt with a beige tunic cinched at her waist with a white belt. Her smooth and silky hair was left open in waves.

Old Money.

Rest under the cut

Sohee was sure of it. After being the barista in this place for more than a year now, it was easy for her to judge people through their clothes.

Don't judge a book by its cover.

But that was exactly what Sohee did. Clothes and how they carried themselves in it. It kept her mind off of other things. Like her addict of a father at home who must be waiting to suck her dry of today's tips. Or the due payments to be made to the landlord before they were evicted. The landlord had pitied her enough and given her extensions. And four months was stretching it.

She wondered what this girl was doing here in the first place. Not that it was her business. But she felt bad for any possible encounters the girl might have to face. Sohee sighed for the nth time that day. It was 7:45 PM. Her shift ended at 8. She bobbed her head to the music playing in her ears.

I would give up heaven if I had to

Just to get another taste of your...

Right before the beat drop, the girl in front of her started yelling into her phone. Irritation shot up in Sohee. It had to be now. Did she not deserve to at least listen to her Idols in peace? Enhypen was the only thing that stopped her from doing something awful. Because if something happened to her, how will she listen to their music? See their pretty faces and smiles? Enhypen was the only good thing in her life. The only thing she was the sensitive spot she had. And she went berserk when she was interrupted in her alone time with them. The mental image of Enhypen's body rolls faded away. Her ears picked up on the girl's conversation.

"I can't wait to see them. I'm sure Niki remembers me...I know I am, aren't I? He even calls me Riyu Noona...like of course why wouldn't he? He might be used to pretty faces but none like me."

Of course, everyone was meeting them except her. She was the unlucky one here. Sohee cursed her fate. How can a girl younger than her have everything she had ever wanted? Money, a good house, probably a good family as well and the most important thing, her idols. Life was cruel. But the next second, Sohee heard something that made her eyes go wide.

"I just brought the tickets you know? Premium seats that too...uh huh...you bet I'm wearing that one. As much as I love Niki, I'm also looking forward to catching Heeseung's attention as well..."

She just brought the tickets? Sohee concentrated on her face and her clothing once again. They were ruffled. Her face was a bit tired. She had been out for a good while. Did that mean she had the tickets on her now? Inside that pretty white purse?

Sohee's breathing turned ragged. This could be her chance, right? A young girl was of no match to her strength. But she was rich. Influential probably. Sohee pocketed her phone. Her latest phone that she had recently got.

Or...stole.

She needed to be careful. The girl was leaving already. Sohee bounced in her place and looked out frantically. Why was her coworker always late? She watched in frustration as the girl started fading away from her sight in the night fog.

Shit, Shit, Shit...

From a distance, she saw her coworker approaching. Sohee immediately threw her apron aside and got her bag from the shelf. Without even waiting for her coworker to come in, she dashed out.

"Emergency. Sorry." She told her coworker in a hurry when they met at a distance.

Not hearing her response, Sohee ran towards the empty streets. She frantically looked around trying to spot the girl. She was betting all of this on the assumption that the girl had the tickets in her purse. God forbid, she didn't. All of this would be in vain. After turning the corner, she heard someone slurring. Cracking her knuckles, she inched forward to peep.

"Hey pretty, what are you doing here this late at night? Did your driver not arrive yet?"

You bet he didn't. Sohee thought.

But it was a relief. Both that she had found the girl and that she didn't have to get her hands dirty. She put her hood up and wore her mask. She peeped again and saw the girl whimpering in the corner. One man. She could take him out easily.

She walked over without making a noise. The man got close to the girl, his hand now on her shoulder. A predator. Not a thug. This was going to be fun. The girl saw her through the tear strained face. As soon as the man turned around, Sohee punched him in the eye and kicked him in the balls. Once he fell, she stomped on his balls again for a good measure. The man cried and cursed at her. In the meanwhile, she went to check on the girl.

"There, there. It's alright. He won't do anything now..."

In the process of consoling her, Sohee's eyes fell on the purse beside her. In an attempt to give her a reassuring hug, Sohee swiftly and discreetly reached inside the clasp. She had to suppress the cry of joy when her hand closed in on the stiff paper. She pulled it out carefully and patted the girl's head.

"Be safe. This isn't a good neighborhood. Lots of thugs and delinquents."

And I'm one of them.

Sohee started walking back to her house. These alleyways were her routine. Living here taught her many things. Things that she wasn't proud of. But it was either fight or death. She might've been dead a long time ago if she hadn't adapted. She opened the door to her house. The shabby two bedroom apartment reeked of alcohol. An outsider would've puked at the smell. But over the years, she had gotten used to this. This and the small particles of leftover white powder on the table.

Her father was nowhere in sight. Maybe he left. She wished he wouldn't comeback for another few days. She went to her room and immediately locked the door behind her. But she wished she hadn't. He was one her bed. His big unkempt beard hid the permanent snarl on his face. The drawers were open, the little contents strewn on the floor. Most of them being idol photocards and little pieces of jewelry she had stolen over the last few days.

"You hid the money from me, you bitch." He said.

"I don't have anything." Sohee countered.

"That's a lie." He said. "What use are you even making out of yourself? At least that pretty face gets you tips. Empty your pockets."

Sohee took a few notes out of her pocket. "Not a lot of customers."

Her father cornered her. She held the money up in hope that he would leave soon. But instead, he slammed her into the wall and started choking her.

"Lies. I give you a roof and all you do is lie."

He started going through her pockets in search of money. But instead he pulled out the tickets.

"What is this?"

Upon seeing Enhypen's faces, anger simmered in his eyes.

"Someone you're whoring yourself to?" he asked in contempt.

Fear crept up in Sohee. Her sole joy was in his hands. If anything happened to them, she had no idea what she would do.

"N-no. Please..." she whimpered.

His eyes glinted with delight. He slowly started to crumple the tickets, taking full satisfaction from the panic in her eyes.

"Money! I-I'll give it to you." she said frantically.

"Good girl." He cooed at her and left her throat.

Sohee fell to the ground and scrambled to get the rest of the tip from her inner pockets. But her father wasn't satisfied. He tore a little piece from the ticket with a short laugh.

"No! Wait." She stumbled over to the drawer and opened a hidden compartment. Holding out a bundle of notes, she pleaded him to let it go.

As soon as he saw the huge bundle, he snatched it from her hands. The tickets fell to the ground and Sohee made a dash for it. She hid them behind her and her father smirked at her.

"I'm in a good mood today. You can keep those."

He slammed the door behind him. Sohee rushed forward and locked it shut. She breathed heavily and turned the tickets over. They were torn from the corner but nothing important was amiss.

Good. The staff will surely miss the tear. It's not that big of a deal, right?

She sacrificed all the money she was saving to get out of there. Surely life wouldn't be so cruel to her and take away her hope and love at once. She deserved a break from reality. And she was going to get it, by fighting tooth or nail.

#enhypen #enhypen heeseung #enhypen jake #enhypen fic #enhypen jay #enhypen niki #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen sunoo #enhypen au #enhypen angst #sunoo fic #sunoo imagines #kim sunoo #sunoo

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