#who knew all it took to come out of a life hole was finding out ur fav character died

[iooiu]

it's not chosover until i SAY it's chosover

[peachesofteal]

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby trope Simon Riley / female reader

You’re startled.

He can tell just by the way your eyes pinch at the corners, your shoulders high and tight beneath your ears. You’re flustered, you’re stressed, rubbing small circles on the baby’s back, playing with the hem of the their hat.

Your discomfort, the unease radiating from your frame, combined with the saw blade currently buzzing through his brain, nearly makes him dizzy.

Still, even in this moment, you leave him breathless. He feels the same itch, the same swell of emotion as he looks at you, drinking every single detail in like a starved man.

He tries, and tries to make the connection.

I didn’t know how to contact you.

What does that mean?

It feels monumental, feels like there’s a black hole opening in his stomach, sucking his heart out into the universe to be obliterated.

It’s just there on the cusp, teetering on the edge.

I didn’t know how to contact you.

“I’m uh,” the baby’s tiny arm flings out a little fist towards your chest, and slide your finger into their grip, smoothing your thumb across, what he imagines, is very soft skin. “Do you have a minute?”

He nods wordlessly.

The cafe is quiet.

Simon can’t see the baby’s face. They have your complexion, your hair… but he doesn’t know what they look like. Not really. He doesn’t even know if they’re a boy or a girl.

He doesn’t know anything, and inside this out of control situation, he yearns for it. The plan. The knowledge, the ability to plot and counter plot the next move.

This… instability, this lingering question in the air-

fills him with fear.

An earl grey sits in front of you, spiraled steam curling in the air across the table, where you’re rocking a little bit, side to side, swaying like a sailor.

You worry your lip between your teeth. "I know this is kind of... a shock." He blinks. "I tried to find you, I scoured social media, I went back to the to the pub and asked if anyone knew you, I had them look through all their credit receipts from that night, but... everything was a dead end. It was like you were a ghost." His lips twitch.

"Why?" He thinks he knows, thinks he understands now, but he needs to hear you say it, needs to watch your lips form the words. You stare down at the table before taking a long, deep breath, placing your hand protectively against the back of the baby's head.

"This is your son, Simon."

And there it is.

He's a dad. There's a tiny life, a tiny piece of him, in this world now.

He's a father. A father, to a son, just like his brother was. A father, to a son, like his own father was, and his father before that. A vicious, endless cycle. One his brother vowed to break, and did.

One that terrifies Simon now.

The first words out of his mouth are unintentional, and cruel. "Are you sure?" He winces as soon as it splays out in the silence, and you wilt into a shade of embarrassment.

"I uh, yeah. I'm sure. The pill isn't foolproof and we weren't exactly... careful. I... um... there's no one else." You grimace, averting your eyes, and his stomach clenches.

"I didn't mean-"

"It's fine." You wave it off, keeping him at arms length. You keep your gaze down, and he curses himself. Making a mess of it already.

He's very good at compartmentalizing. It comes with the job, always has, but in this moment, he's struggling to stopgap the flow of consciousness that seems to be melding together by the minute. Worry, panic, fear all roar at the forefront, but beneath them, buried by mountains of darkness- shines something unexpected.

Happiness. Hope.

A baby.

Something possessive thrums inside him, beats in the veins of his heart. It's reverent, identical to way he felt the first night he met you, the night the two of you made him. Together.

You had his baby. You did. The girl who was everything. The sweet girl who took him like you were made for him.

No matter what happens, no matter where you go, he'll always be the man who gave you a baby. Who gave you his son.

It's sick, how pleased he feels. How satisfied. Something long buried in the genetics of human beings, now rearing its head inside his own.

You were everything, and now- you always will be.

His throat is suddenly very tight, nose stinging with effort to allay his emotions. "What's his name?"

"Orion." You smile, timidly, but tears shine in your eyes. "I really like stars. I used to tell him all about the constellations when I was pregnant. I call him Ry for short." Orion.

"I like it." He tells you gently, and you smile again, more confident.

"I'm glad." He studies you. You're beautiful, possibly even more so now, but there's a thread of exhaustion pulling across your face, like you haven't slept in a year.

A new realization settles in his bones like a chill, and his stomach pitches. He thinks he might sick.

You said there's been no one else, so you've been alone? Did you do this on your own? Do you have family, friends? Anyone to help you?

He's no fool. He watched Beth go through it all, struggle through it all, even when she had support.

And he was the asshole that walked out of your life that morning, not caring for the consequences. Not caring for you.

He missed it. He missed all of it.

"I'm sorry I left that morning without... saying anything. I'm sorry I wasn't here. I'd take it back if I could." Your lips part in surprise, and then you nod.

"I- thank you." The baby fusses, tiny cry sounding from your chest, and you fidget with the carrier, pulling him free. "Do you want to hold him?"

Orion fits against his chest perfectly. It's like he was always meant to be there, nestled on top of his forearm, staring up at his dad. Simon is painfully and hyper aware of the little activity in the cafe, the people coming and going, but it does nothing to stop the tears that wet his cheeks.

"You're a natural." You whisper from your new seat next to him, hand smoothing over the back of the baby's head. "I knew he had your eyes, I remembered them so clearly. When he was born, it felt like I was looking into them all over again."

There are a million things he needs to say, to explain, and a million questions he needs to ask. Already the clock is ticking down to the time that he'll need to report on base. Already, the curtain is closing on this tiny piece of heaven he's found himself inside. He needs to tell you, have a frank conversation with you about his job, his life, everything.

But when he looks down at Orion, slowly falling asleep in his arms, and then looks up at you, he decides everything can wait.

The world looks different now, and he's never been more grateful-

and terrified.

[beautysamour]

sub miguel begging to cum after edging him? or any kind of sub miguel tbh.. please please PLEASE i need it for my health 😭🙏

edging miguel o’hara and having him beg ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨

— a/n: i got a little carried away…

warnings ﾟ𐦍༘⋆: vulgar language, miguel has the time of his life, quite literally fucking him stupid, miguel likes when you make him feel stupid while he’s needy

“Please, amor, just put them back in…” Miguel lifts his hips up trying to entice you to put your skillful fingers back in his ass.

His hole clenches and unclenches as he bucks his hips and tugs against the handcuffs restraining him from reaching out to you. You raise a brow, his attempt is futile.

“Amor,” he pleads, “I was so close—“

You made an obnoxious sound as you stretch your arms, Miguel’ heartbeat drums loudly in his ears. You remain in front of him, back straight and eyes on his dick, “Having you cum would defeat the entire purpose, right hermoso?”

A throaty groan leaves his throat at the nickname. He hides his face in the bicep of his left arm and pathetically bucks his hips trying to give you an easy way to his ass.

You snicker, it was always so satisfying to watch Miguel break in the palm of your hands. People looked up to him, figuratively and literally. Some admired, and some feared. Most were just intimidated, but never you, no.

How could you when all it took to have him withering underneath you was a finger?

His entire body jerks as you circle the head of his cock, “Miguel,” you purr. He bites down on his lip, drawing blood, at the way your voice circled through his head like a sirens song—tempting and dangerous.

He gasps at the taste of his own blood.

“Wanna see you Miguel.” You draw small hearts on his tip as your other hands rubs his hole, “You’re so pretty baby, don’t hide yourself.” You press a kiss on the insides of his thighs and a feeling a pride surges through you when you hear another part of him crumble underneath your hands.

The tip of your finger easily makes it way inside of his hole, a heart wrenching moan is heard by the man who owns it.

Your panty gets stickier with each moan, and whine, and whimper your man makes.

He bucks his hips when you don’t go further than just the tip of your finger. He’s dizzy, so, so, dizzy. He’s not sure how long it’s been, he lost track after the fourth time you took your, to his demise, talented fingers out of his ass and off his dick. He wants to cry but he won’t—it’s the last thing keeping his dignity somewhat intact even though you’ve destroyed most of it.

It was the one thing he would not give you the satisfaction of having. He tries to keep that thought clear in his mind but it’s hard when you circle your tongue around his pretty, red tip.

“Y/N—“

He bucks his hips towards you as you shove your entire finger along with a second one into his ass. He loses the ability to breathe as your fingers find his prostate immediately, “Is it good?”

You smirk as the back of his head flops onto the pillows, his face exposed for you to watch.

Yes. Yes it was, it’s always good because it’s coming from you. But he couldn’t say it—your voice swirls through his head and it renders him helpless. All thoughts in his head are about you—all he sees is you, feels is you, and hears is you.

All he can say is your name, and he moans it out for you to hear.

Your heart skips a beat and it’s tempo matches the pulsing of your pussy. “That’s good to know, hermoso.”

If all his thoughts corrupting into you and his lack of breathing made him feel helpless—it was nothing compared to now.

You carefully watch his expression as he pretty cock stands up straight, the tip so beautifully red, and his hips sporadically bucking up as you abuse his prostate.

You rub, and poke, and thrust your fingers in and out of his ass—your eyes darken with lust as you watch his face, you shove your hand down your panty and start to finger yourself— fuck, Miguel knew what to do.

Miguel arches his back, eyes rolling to the back of his head as you play with his prostate. He felt stupid, he had no thoughts in his mind but you—only you and all that was coming out of his mouth was your name as his ass chased your fingers every time you nearly pulled them out.

Mierda, you were so good. So good, it feels so good, so good, so good, so good, so good. His eyes crossed as you quickened your pace and dragged him closer to the edge, his ab muscles start to contract and—fuck, just a little more, just a little—

You started to laugh. Laughed at the way his mouth hung open, at the way his eyes crossed and rolled to the back, and at the way tears welled in his eyes.

This was so fun.

And gods did he sound beautiful as he begun to wept.

Miguel couldn’t remember what he was supposed to be thinking about. Everything before this moment was gone from his mind—his own name foreign to him. It hurt, his body was burning and his dick was so painfully yearning for your touch that he might never be graced with, and he wanted to cry.

He felt a part of his soul shatter as his tears wet the pillow beneath him.

He chokes on his sobs. He tries to reach out to you as you start to pull your fingers out of his ass, but his handcuffs restrain him and more tears escape him, “No puedo más, no puedo más, no puedo más,” he cries, voice coarse.

He nearly full on sobs when all you do is hum. He looked wrecked, his hair sticking to his forehead with sweat and eyes unfocused as he deals with the damage of not being able to cum again.

He pants and rolls his hips as you hum a sweet tune to him, caressing him everywhere except the place he wanted you to touch.

“Yeah?”

He sobs, “M—mhm.”

His hips buck up when you wrap your hand around the base of his dick, you push his hips down with your other hand to stop him from being greedy but it doesn’t stop the twitching of his body.

He chokes on his saliva when you take his tip into your mouth, and suck. You run your tongue all over his tip, going back and forth between kitten licks and circling around it.

Every few seconds, you’d drag your teeth around his sensitive tip as your hands went to his balls—Miguel felt like he was going to pass out.

You take your hands and mouth off his dick in one sudden movement, he whimpers and sobs as you deny him of heaven once more.

He got to the edge a lot quicker than you thought he would’ve, and if you were a second too late, he would’ve came.

That sensitive, huh.

You thrust to fingers into his mouth as he opened them to complain, “Miguel,” you purr and he looks at you like a wounded puppy as he softly sucked your fingers. “Do you want to cum?”

You pretend to ignore that fact that you put him in the situation, that he desperately wanted to because of how much you played with him.

He nods, moaning your name softly around your fingers as proof.

You smile, enjoying how sweet he was being. It almost made you want to let him cum right at this moment, but he wasn’t desperate enough. You’ve successfully broken his pride, you’ve made him cry and give up all the power he could’ve had over you, but he hadn’t realized something you wanted him to know and accept.

Something that would really prove he is yours.

You move away from his body, enjoying the way his head follows you like a lost puppy, and sit down on the pillow next to his head. You spread your legs pulling your panty to one side, quietly gasping as the fresh air hits your warm, wet pussy.

You tap your pussy, “Come here.”

Miguel looks up at his handcuffed hands then back to you, his eyes stupidly asking you how he’ll be able to move. You raise a brow making him feel more stupid.

You take note of the way his dick twitches and his mouth slightly opens

He tries to use his pussy filled brain to figure out how to get up, he rolls to his side and tumbles onto his front. His eyes roll to the back of his head as the smell of your pussy reach his nose.

He lifts his ass in the air, allowing him to push himself onto his knees and he crawls. He crawls until he’s in front of you and drops himself right in front of your pussy—you grab onto his hair as his warm breath hits your pussy rendering the cold air useless.

“Good boy,” you whisper. You whimper as his mouth fully wraps around your clit—“Fuck, Miguel!”

You laugh as you moan with how good he was moving his tongue, “You’re doing so good,” you praise as you start petting his hair. Miguel chokes against your pussy but doesn’t pull away.

Your head hits the headboard as nudges his nose into your pussy. You tug on Miguel’ hair—pulling him closer—as you groan in unison with him, the vibrations making your mouth drop open.

“Ye—yeah, right there Miguel, right there—!”

He grinds the sheets hoping that he’ll be able to catch up with you— “Amor,” he mumbles into your pussy, “Can—can I—?”

“Yes,” you moan, “Yeah, you can. Good boy, my good—good boy.”

Miguel stops moving his tongue and opens his mouth a little more when you squeeze your thighs around his head, he wanted to swallow every last drip of your cum. You tug his hair and he closes his eyes as you reach your peak.

You let out a string of curses as your vision goes white, Miguel may have no coherent thoughts right now, but he definitely remembered how to fuck you.

You shakily grind against him as you finish cumming in his mouth. His tongue is stagnant and you ride it through your orgasm. The moment is almost perfect until you realize Miguel is crying against your pussy.

You immediately snap out of your pleasured daze, genuine worry taking over your lust. You tug on his hair, lifting his face away from your pussy, and you try to ignore that feeling in your stomach when you see his beautiful, fucked out face with tears running down the sides of it.

However your worry diminishes when you look past his face and see how he’s still grinding against your shared bed.

Oh.

“Miguel,” you say softly, filled with love and care, “How do you feel?”

He looks up at you,“Can’t,” he mumbles.

You tilt your head to the side, “Come here.” You reach down to his upper body area and wrap your arms around his chest like a hug. You lightly pull him towards you and he crawls his way into your lap burying his face into the side of your neck, you reach for the keys for his handcuffs and unlock them. His hands and arms immediately go around your torso as he nuzzles his head against your neck.

“What do you mean “can’t” hermoso?”

He bucks his hips showing you the obvious problem, “Can’t cum.”

Oh.

You feigned ignorance, “What do you mean?”

He cries against your neck, he was too frustrated, too on edge.

He couldn’t cum. Not without you.

“I—I can’t cum. No—not without feeling you.”

There it is. The realization.

Your silence prompted him to continue, “It’s not the same, no—nothing feels as good as you—nothing can compare. Not ever since I met you, amor. Nothing is—!”

Miguel moans against your neck as he came in your hand. He twitches, and bucks his hips as his cock pumps out loads and loads of cum over your hand and lap. You look down, not that surprised at what happened.

All it took for him to cum was a simple pump from your hand. But you couldn’t care less about the mess.

What mattered was that he was really yours.

[the-californicationist]

The Powder Keg

John Price has just spent the whole afternoon teaching his new recruit how to shoot, and after pining for her all day, he’s about ready to burst, just like a powder keg…

Hot, steaming water sprayed out of the shower head and soaked his burnt, pink skin. When he took in a deep breath, it was humid and heavy, filling his lungs with more moisture than air, leaving him panting and weak from the heat of it. But, he let it suffocate him. He allowed it to obfuscate his senses, to coat his mouth like a gag, to stop him from calling out for her. John Price was so damn close to forgetting himself. He pulled his imaginary muzzle tighter, just in case.

He’d spent the better part of the day in the frigid sands in some Urzikstani Green zone, teaching his new sergeant to shoot his M-16. She was a good marksman, but she was unfamiliar with the desert’s unforgiving winds, and she needed to see how he had set his sights. It shouldn’t have taken so long for him to help her, and if he was before Peter at those gates of pearl and splendor, forced to tell the truth, he had chosen to keep her there. He’d been selfish, preferring to watch her laying there, prone and panting, firing bullet after bullet, all to please her captain. It was the betrayal of the sun that had ruined his gluttony. It had set behind the dunes, forcing John to come indoors and try to wash off all of his sin. 

Price had been hard all day. Seeing her plump arse in those canvas pants, looking down at her, concentrating and vulnerable in the sand… it was enough to drive him wild. Now, here he was, gripping his heavy rod like a teenager, squeezing himself tight enough to see stars. 

The soap and the suds had all washed away, but the billowing steam had remained. He felt each scalding droplet stinging against his sun-ravaged skin, and he used it like a million little flogs, punishing himself for his thoughts of her. She, in the inky blackness of his mind, had been… everywhere. She was stripping for him, peeling away each article of clothing, each layer of her uniform with calculated effort, revealing herself to him bit by bit. He was watching as her fingers dug into the band of her pants, sliding them down her thick thighs, showing off her tattooed skin, uncovering scars like tiny secrets. Secrets only he could know. 

She was grabbing his cock. It was her hand tugging him hard, not his. Her palm slipping over his rosy head, her fingers slipping his foreskin down his shaft, her mouth…

“Unghh…” John leaned against the cold tile, trying to calm himself down. His forehead dug into the white ceramic, rolling across it, trying to find some relief to his torment.

He knew her mouth would feel so sweet. She would plant a delicate little kiss on the top of it, wouldn’t she? She was so kind. She would be so kind to him. An old dog who didn’t deserve it. Not one lick. And yet, she would lick him. Her tongue would lap around his thick base, purring at his size, gassing him up, pumping his ego. Maybe it would be the truth. Either way, he’d buy it; hook, line, and sinker. 

“Baby, baby, baby…” He’d name her. She’d be his. His woman. His everything. She’d steal his breath like this impenetrable steam.

The tip of her tongue would find that ridge, the one tucked under his head, the one just below his hole, and she’d suckle at it, just as if she was pulling venom from a snake bite, like his life depended on it. And maybe it did. 

Maybe she would be willing to sit across his lips, giving herself to him like a feast to a starving man. She would taste like nectar, and it would coat his tongue, sticky and cloying, painting his palate and filling his nose. He would learn her scent, burying himself into it, finding himself within her taste and her warmth. 

Then, mercifully, perhaps she would take him inside of her, deep into her body. He would sink into her, down into her depths. Engulfed. Surrounded. At her mercy. Perhaps she would use those soft muscles to hold him in, to clutch at him like a hungry, suckling mouth. 

His hand tightened around his head and the rhythmic milking noises of his self-made pleasure filled the tiny shower like a perpetual echo. He began to fuck his grip, rutting wildly into his palm, coating his callused skin in precome. He was dripping from the shower, but nothing was slipperier than his wet pleasure. It made his cock slide even faster through his huge hand, helping his head burrow itself into his fingers. 

John wanted it to be real. He dreamt, with his eyes squeezed shut, of the way her legs would part for him, spread like the petals of a flower, soft and pliant like a little, pink rose. As he jerked his hand across his pulsing head, he imagined what it would be like to rub himself amongst her delicate folds. He almost came from the thought, shuddering, catching himself against the wall, whimpering like he was pressing into a bruise. 

A little faster. A little more friction. He grunted, unable to hold his voice inside of him, desperate and feral. 

Her eyes, gleaming and beautiful, looking up at him, calling his name. 

And that was enough to do it. He came, crying out for her…

“Oh, fuck… baby…” 

“Captain?”

His blood went cold, and when he heard her voice, he froze, letting his come leak out of his balls, coating his hands and flooding over his knuckles. 

The curtain hissed as she pulled it away from the wall, her eyes traveling all over his body, appraising him and approving. She smiled, a little coy,

“Got room for one more?”

[twizzie-lairs]

My Darling, My Honey

Alastor X Fem!Reader (Part 2)

Part 1 | Part 2

Quick Notes:

This is when both reader/you and Alastor are both alive. (... we'll probably end up in hell later on btw so stay tuned...)

Reader is an artist/painter.

Part 2:

Every day and night you had to stay trapped at home, it felt like nails on a chalkboard after that one fateful meeting that night.

The only thing that made the time bearable was the radio. Alastor told you he hosted a radio show. As so, you soon became one of his most loyal listeners. Anything to relive the moment when you felt like a person again.

So when the night finally came, that you could escape to Mimzy's establishment the next town over, you were over the moon at the chance to see Alastor again.

Luckily for you, your husband was going to be away for a week this time.

That night, you made it to the bar a bit later than usual, you had to be extra sure that it was safe to leave town unnoticed after a close call of almost being discovered by some relatives that lived nearby.

When you enter the bar, you hear some piano music. It wasn't unusual for Mimzy to invite musicians or let patrons play some music at the piano that resides in the bar, as long as they didn't get boo'ed off the stage. But this music stirred something in your soul, making you hurry into the bar.

It was Alastor.

You gasp, your heart beating a million miles a minute. You were so drawn to him. In this moment, the jazzy music that filled the air and filled up all the holes in your heart. You were captivated. So captivated, that you forgo greeting Mimzy and the bar entirely, in favor of walking over to Alastor at the piano.

He gives you a surprised look before smiling and immersing himself in the music once more.

You smile back and you can't help but sing along to Alastor's piano playing. The song was a classic, and also one your personal favorites.

As you sing, you sit down on the piano bench next to him. You notice he doesn't open his eyes, but the smile on his face deepens as your duet continues.

When your song comes to an end, it feels like you came back down to earth. The bar erupted in applause, the embarrassment flushing your whole face pink. You look over to Alastor who's looking at you with such a warm expression.

"My dear, what a lovely voice you have. Your talents truly seem boundless. I am quite surprised you knew that song."

You spend the rest of the night tucked away in a private corner talking with Alastor about all sorts of things, interests, likes, dislikes, deep conversations about life, and even your fears. But never once did you mention your home life, you'd rather die than let Alastor find out. The last thing you need is for him to treat you differently.

When you mention you listened to his every show ever since the night that you first met, his eyes light up and something in him clicked. He took your chin gently in his hand and brought your face closer to his, "Oh my, I have never met a finer woman with even finer tastes in entertainment~" which caused your heart to flutter like never before.

The tension and feelings between the two of you were palpable. It was clear to the rest of the bar that the two of you were smitten with each other, something akin to love at first sight. You tow were inexplicably drawn to each other.

You wish you didn't have to leave and go back home. But you knew you had to get home before dawn, even if you were going to come back the next day/night anyway. Relatives and in-laws usually liked to stop by unannounced and if they found the house empty, you'd be in for a world of punishment and pain. It happened once, and you would rather not relive that experience ever again.

So even though it pained you greatly, you had to say goodbye to Alastor. As you stood up to leave, Alastor's hand still held yours, you could tell he was reluctant to let you leave. Very rarely did he have the chance to enjoy such cultured and lovely conversation. With a sad and somber expression, you walked away, his hand slowly sliding out of yours.

"I hope you come back to me, ma chérie ..."

-> Part 3

[keerysfreckles]

cookies — luke castellan

pairing: luke castellan x hephaestus fem!reader

summary: in which luke finds y/n, in order to tell her something he's been meaning to for the past two years

warnings: use of y/n and she/her pronouns, i think thats it ??? making out/kissing

a/n: I FINISHED TLT TODAY- idc if luke is evil (if evil why pookie)

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱

y/n l/n thought her life at camp half-blood would've felt like a fairy tale. two years later, she was deeply misguided.

the camp experience itself wasn't bad. she loved meeting the new campers, and bonding with her cabin mates, and seeing luke from time to time.

but even when she got claimed by her father, hephaestus, y/n still felt like a square trying to fit in a triangle hole. hephaestus was the god of forge. fire. craft. creation.

when y/n first arrived to camp, she met luke. he didn't know why, but out of all the campers in hermes cabin, he felt as though he needed to protect y/n the most.

two and a half weeks after meeting luke, y/n had been claimed by her father. the boy was sad to see her leave, but glad as well, due to her being claimed to a new cabin.

as soon as y/n and chiron entered the doors of hephaestus cabin, the duo was met with seven boys. five of them were around the same age as the girl, and the other two looked no older than ten.

this made y/n feel even more out of place. yes, they all made her feel at home, and they still do. y/n just can't help but feel isolated.

less than a week after y/n was claimed, she unfortunately found out forging wasn't the exact type of creation she was skilled at. she tried pottery, metalwork, jewelry making, and even knitting. the girl was crushed when none of the activies suited her.

until one afternoon, she was in the kitchen after helping bring in dirty dishes from lunch. a few ingredients caught her eye, and she instantly started bringing them together and made something delicious. chiron soon came inside, and was both surprised and pleased y/n had found her activity. cooking.

this leads y/n to where she is right now. the camp kitchen. ever since the fateful day she discovered her gift, she rarely ever left the kitchen. y/n was considered the new cook of camp, and she enjoyed everything about it.

recently, the girl has taken baking into her small circle of talents. which explains why all day y/n has been baking cookies for tomorrow. it was percy's birthday, and annabeth asked her to make blue chocolate chip cookies for him, one of percy's favorite foods. she had to make enough for the whole camp. almost one hundred cookies were already baked and cooled, and she had one hundred more to go.

annabeth kept checking on y/n every so often, to see her progress (and to make sure she took breaks and to not overwork herself). two times the younger girl came in the kitchen, her and y/n talked for a bit. y/n kept teasing annabeth at all the staring she'd been doing towards percy lately. to be fair, it was annabeth's idea to have the cookies for percy's birthday, so y/n knew something had to be going on between the two tweens.

y/n doesn't notice the person who had entered the kitchen. she heard footsteps, so she guessed it was annabeth.

luke stood in the doorway of the kitchen. he took a moment to admire the girl in front of him. y/n stood behind the kitchen island, with a metal bowl, a baking sheet, and other multiple baking utensils layed out over the countertop. luke could smell a batch of cookies in the oven at the right of the kitchen, along with the fresh ones all placed on the counters behind y/n.

luke finally knocks on the door, making y/n look up from rolling balls of cookie dough. a smile was quick to fill her features, "hi luke."

luke walked over towards her, leaning on the island, standing across from her.

"how are percy's birthday cookies coming along?" he asks, seeing the girl still at work.

y/n nods, "they're going," she laughs, "that's for sure."

"i was looking for you earlier," luke admits, as he continues to watch y/n at work.

looking up from her blue stained hands, y/n sees a small blush covering luke's cheeks. "oh yeah?"

it's luke's turn to nod, "yeah, but the hephaestus boys said you'd be in here."

y/n chuckles, before the two sit in a comfortable silence for no less than a minute.

"did you need me for something?" y/n asks, as she takes two baking sheets to the oven. luke only laughs while watching y/n open the oven with her foot, as her hands were full.

"i just wanted to come check on you," luke moves to side of the kitchen island y/n was previously on. "you have made quite the mess in here."

both luke and y/n look at the batches of cookies, the reminants of cookie dough on the counters, empty bowls in both of the sinks, and flour on the kitchen island and floor.

"what's the real reason you wanted to see me luke?" y/n asks the boy, knowing that he had a tell when he was nervous. he always licked his lips before speaking.

"what? i can't just want to see a dear friend of mine?" he jokes.

"oh you can," y/n responds, "except, whenever you visited me you always wanted seconds, or an extra dessert."

luke doesn't repsond right away, knowing y/n had a point.

the boy licks his lips, nervous from what he's about to tell y/n.

"do you ever wonder why i might've been more protective of you over the other campers? when you first joined hermes cabin?" luke asks, catching y/n off guard.

y/n shakes her head, "no, i never really thought about it before."

luke takes a deep breath, "you seemed more special to me."

y/n's eyebrows furrowed, only making luke continue.

"you just seemed so different from the other campers i've met. special. i just had to protect you. i still feel like i have to."

"luke, i don't get what you're trying to say," y/n admits. luke's confession is only making her confused.

"then i don't have to say it," luke's voice is soft.

y/n's confusion returns, but only for mere seconds before she feels luke's lips on hers. she pulls away from the him, out of shock at what he had just done.

his eyes instantly met hers. his filled with worry as if he messed everything up the two had between them.

before luke could start to overthink everything, y/n leaned up to kiss him. his eyes closed, and his hand went to both sides of her face.

y/n's lips tasted like sugar, with a hint of salt. luke guessed it was from tasting her cookies to get them as perfect as she can for percy's birthday.

luke's lips tasted like a campfire. y/n could only assume it was from the smores hermes cabin had after winning capture the flag that day.

y/n's hands were still blue, and in order to not stain luke or his clothing, she opted to wrap her arms around his shoulders. she felt luke's hands on her waist, only pulling her closer to him.

soon enough luke's tongue pushed through y/n's lips, which caused her to giggle. luke loved her reaction.

before anything could get more heated, a timer goes off in the small kitchen. the loud shrill made luke and y/n stop their movements. y/n only looked at luke sheepishly. the girl leaned in once more and pecked the boy's lips, before retrieving the cookies out of the oven.

"do you want any help?" luke asks, watching y/n again as she started rolling out more balls of cookie dough.

she nods, "if you don't mind your hands getting blue."

luke laughs, "i'm willing to take that chance."

[coco-loco-nut]

loml

pairing: max verstappen x reader

summary: a journey through your relationship with max

a/n: so for a little background... my ex (he wasn't an F1 fan, it was never gonna work, let's be real) broke up with me the night before this album was released, so writing this series has been very healing; however, this one was extremely difficult to write bc it's the only song i can't analytically listen to and find the deeper meanings yet, especially after losing your first love. sorry for the rant and making this short🙃

tw: emotional abuse, manipulation

masterlist ttpd masterlist part two

________

You and Max were fan favorites, it was evident to anyone with eyes who had eyes. But they say you never know what happens behind closed doors.

“She’s the love of my life,” Max would always say about you, looking at you like you held the universe in the palm of your hand. His fans could recite your love story by heart from how much he loved to talk about you. It only made sense that he could shatter that public opinion.

“Y/n and I have divorced, I would like to ask for privacy as we navigate the changes,” Max posted one day, his socials wiped of everything. Your accounts remained the same, your last post being from the fateful race months ago. You haven’t posted since. The fans should’ve realized when the WAGs and George unfollowed Max.

Your apartment was full of things that reminded you of Max, every time you walked in it reminded you of every memory. He was embroidered in everything. You look at a printed photo of when you first met him. Despite it being six months later, you couldn’t get rid of him.

~~~

All it took was locking eyes with him across the pier for you to fall in love on that breezy summer day. He walked up to you and asked you to join him, and you did. You kissed him at the top of the ferris wheel later that night, and you didn’t even know he was famous all you knew was that he made you feel safe. The breeze reminded you of the warm ocean breeze from that day, one you called the winds of fate.

Despite being young, you married him after a year of being together. Things weren’t perfect even then, he could be incredibly mean, but he was also a standup guy when it mattered. That erased any wrongdoing of his.

“You have made me a better man, you reformed me, the love of my life,” Max had said that fall evening, repeating the one line that brought you back to him every time.

You believed his words, his lies spun to make you believe the hell you were living in was actually heaven. When he takes his anger out at you, doesn’t defend you against his father, you start to second guess him but he calls you those four words.

“I’ll never leave you, Schatje,” Max holds you in his arms, your back against his chest as you both look at a tv in the Paddock. The fans loved that photo, calling your love legendary. They didn’t know about the growing hole in your heart.

Your marriage was looking like one of those black and white movies you and Max watch on snowy winter afternoons. You and Max had been talking about starting a family, but you couldn’t get pregnant and you were watching everything you loved slip away.

“God, Max, you are like a con-man. I feel like I’ve been sold a get-love-quick scheme. What happened to you?” you ask, voice laced with hurt, during an argument about it. Max just ignored you, pushing past to stream with some friend. He ignored the sobs coming from your bedroom. He told the chat that you are the love of his life when asked about you.

“Y/n, we need to talk,” some of the WAGs pulled you aside during a race. They told you how Max was shit talking you to other drivers, saying you were a waste of a wife for your inability to get pregnant, saying he should’ve never married you, pointing out every flaw he told you was beautiful when he was lying to your face. You stand up and leave, not saying a word even when the girls try to stop you. Max is confused but simply responds to your text saying you were sick with an okay.

You are laying in your bed sobbing when Max gets back from the race. You face the terrace, where you and Max would dance under the stars. You can see the ghosts of it through your tears, and you wished you could un-recall when you thought you had everything.

“Please get out of bed,” Max says, his concerned tone laced with venom. Maybe the ghosts of your relationship are embarrassed by the scene on the other side of the glass.

“No,” you cry, mourning the loss of your counterfeit relationship.

“I’ll be back in a few hours,” Max sighs leaving the room. You sent a text to the WAG group chat who helped you remove all your belongings from Max’s apartment into George’s apartment that he wasn’t using at the moment.

Your phone is flooded with messages from Max, so you turn it off unless you are talking to your lawyer. Max finds a divorce petition and your apartment key on the dining room table when he comes home from training a few days later. The relationship that had such a valiant roar ended with the blandest goodbye.

You sit in George’s apartment with Carmen and Lily drinking wine. You took over George’s lease after they insisted that you did.

“For someone who claims to be a lion, he sure is a manipulative coward,” Carmen says as the three of you comb through the years of lies he spun.

You took the dreams that you thought you and Max wanted and lit the match to destroy them with your divorce papers. Despite your somber eyes, you seem more at peace, even with the sadness you will carry with you until you die.

“He’s the loss of my life.”

part two

[ghoulphile]

no use cryin' over spilled milk | c.h./the ghoul

➥ pairing | cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader ➥ word count | 2.8 k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; dirty talk, frottage, lactation kink, pregnant!reader, fingerfucking, praise kink, breast play, the ghoul calls reader pretty mama, he's a pervert who wants to lend a 'helping' hand ➥ summary | based off this ask; oops being an experiment from vault 4 where you may be the first rad resistant human pregnant with a possibly rad resistant baby, and you come across the ghoul who helps you get to a safe place but then he gets attached with you and the baby 🥺 (this is just me trying to insert a lactation kink somewhere i'm sorry) ➥ notes | uhhhh pls let me know if i missed anything, my brain is dribbling out my ears (its 3:44 am and i have work at 8 am rip) but the parasites persist. i'll do the tag list when i wake up ❤️ masterlist | feel free to send in thots, questions, requests! | feedback is always appreciated ❤️

Going topside wasn’t an easy decision.

In fact, bile bitter regret often lingers in the back of your throat - a lump that stifled the air in your lungs.

And while you might’ve been bioengineered to survive better under these harsh wasteland conditions, every time you find yourself in a less than ideal situation, you're catapulted headlong into paralyzing self doubt; alone and rudderless.

No one lives in the vaults - not truly.

Birdie (and the others) warned you of what awaited beyond those lead-lined walls. But you couldn’t abide spending the rest of your life trapped in a cage, albeit a gilded one.

Not anymore.

Oh no, you wanted to feel a real breeze instead of air pumped through the HVAC. Experience the sun baking warm into your skin like fresh bread instead of the artificial heat of the UV lamp used for mandatory light therapy sessions. Complain about the chafe of sand in your shoes and hear the crunch of dirt under foot instead of a hollow clunk of sterile metal.

To witness first hand all the sights, sounds, and smells this world offers. 

Only… you didn’t expect it to be this hard.

Nor did you expect to be pregnant when setting off into the great unknown on your own (a definite oversight on your part [you really shouldn’t have had one last hurrah before hitting the road]).

Through trial and error, motion sicknesses that swing into crippling nausea as manic energy - your first taste of true freedom! - dwindled into dragging fatigue, you found a happy medium. None of which would have been possible had it not been for the most unlikely of companions.

Ghouls; who knew, huh?

Sure, you’d heard of them from the rotating door of visitors that found themselves at Vault 4, but you’d never seen them. While you grew up surrounded by visible mutations, seeing the battlefield of his body was off putting; how a person could survive a patina of burns and patchwork slices without unraveling at the seams was beyond you.

And kind of frightening.

But he took it in stride, introducing himself as Ghoul. Refused to divulge anything else of substance no matter how much you poked and prodded.  His life pre-bomb was a complete mystery filled with plot holes and unanswered questions (which is exactly what he preferred).

You learned to be comfortable with his meandering conversations, and all the words he spoke that said much of nothing. And what you did glean, you did so through observation alone. 

He was alone - had been for a very long time.

He was very old - one of the last of his kind.

And he was, in his own way, very kind - at least by wasteland standards.

“The fuck you doin’?”

Pausing, you stop mid push and hover awkwardly on your hands and knees. The vault suit pulls taut across your hips, pinching behind your knees uncomfortably. Your toes squeak in your shoes, socks thoroughly soaked through with sweat.

It’s been unseasonably hot (or it’s the hormones). Whatever the case, this is the first semi-decent lodging you’ve camped in for weeks, and you’re not about to miss an opportunity to freshen up.

And maybe find a way to soothe the building ache in your tits - flesh swollen tender and nipples rubbed raw.

“I’m just, uh, gonna,” you motion towards the back of the house, the askew bathroom door clinging to its hinges by a corner, “y’know, f-freshen up. See if they don’t still have some water.”

The Ghoul scans you up and down, gimlet-eyed. “S’that so?”

You huff, your knees starting to ache.

Being five months pregnant throws your center of gravity for a loop, the atmosphere weighing extra heavy on your bones. It doesn’t help that the baby’s decided sitting directly on your bladder with a foot tucked under your ribs is the best position.

“Didn’t know I needed permission to take a piss now,” you snipe. Usually, you try to reign in the hormones but the day’s been too long and you’re in pain. Anyone would be a little snippy (right?). “Can I do that on my own or do you need to watch, Mr. Ghoul?”

A faint smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, his gaze glinting from beneath the rim of his hat as he tips his head. “Better watch it, sweetheart,” he says. “Otherwise, I might have’ta wash your mouth out with soap.”

Pushing yourself up with a grunt, you determinedly ignore the raspy chuckle that follows as you waddle towards the bathroom. Cussing him out all the while in your mind.

While he’s been ‘nicer’ today - stopping for extra breaks, even packing it in several hours earlier than usual because he noticed how weary you looked - he’s still an asshole.

The toilet’s gone, the tub’s tipped sideways, the linoleum’s cracked, and closing the door sounds like a pack of howling mole rats but its functional. When you catch your reflection in the spider web fractures of the mirror, you grimace.

The wastes have certainly left their mark on you. Gone is the prim-and-proper vault dweller, replaced by a gremlin of a woman Overseer Benjamin would surely scowl at.

A true ‘surfie’ now.

“Great,” you groan, scrubbing a palm over your face. “Just - ugh!”

You’re caked in grime, a steak of dirt smeared across the bridge of your nose. Mysterious stains darken the blue fabric, the golden stripes of your suit an off-putting grey.

Your hair clumps in greasy chunks. You’re glossy with sweat, and while your curves have plumped up over the last few months, you didn’t realize just how much until now.

The vault suit’s always been tight - now it clings and creases in unflattering places. And there’s nothing you can do about it, unless the Ghoul is willing to spare a sewing kit.

You could let the waist out some…

What the hell am I gonna do if he won’t? There’s no way I’ll fit if this baby gets any bigger. Shit, I look like a fucking sausage. Your hand cradles the side of your stomach, stroking over the bump with a frown. This is all your fault, you little parasite.

“You better be so fucking cute - the cutest goddamn baby in the wasteland. Or I will riot.”

Tugging down the zipper over your breasts is heaven, the swollen flesh spilling out of the parting fabric, no longer compressed. It’s almost enough to make you cry as you struggle to tug the lycra off your shoulders, the fabric putting up a fight.

After some awkward contortions that pull uncomfortably at the muscles of your shoulder blades, you manage to wrangle yourself free.

The temptation to burn the stupid goddamn suit is almost too much to resist, but then you’d really be traipsing around the wasteland in the nude and just… no.

Peeling off your undershirt is another story altogether, the soft cotton feeling like sandpaper as it scrapes over sensitive skin. Your nerves tingle with awareness, bolts of pain shooting through your nipples with every shift.

Quick like a bandaid, you think, taking a steadying inhale.

It’s a miracle you don’t scream.

Tears cling to your lashes, your nose running as you toss the shirt to the side with one hand and cradle your chest with the other. Sure, you’ve had tenderness with your period but this kind of pain? A whole new level.

You almost don’t know what to do with yourself.

How is this fair - aren’t you suffering enough?

Sniffling, you peer down at your tits and gingerly cup them with your palms. Swollen hard and warm to the touch; a heavy weight crushing your ribs.

Do I really have to milk myself like a fucking brahmin? Another bolt of lightning crackles through your nerve endings as if in response. Fine. God, this is embarrassing.

Only any attempt at touching your nipples produces pure agony, shards of glass biting into delicate skin.

No matter how slight your touch, no matter how gentle your fingers - it doesn’t work. Leaves you more distraught and in pain than when you began as inflamed nerve endings crackle and burn.

And when the tears truly start, the dam breaks. It’s not long before they drip down your cheeks in fat rivulets, your breath hitching from you in pathetic little exhales.

Your fist shoves against your mouth in an attempt to smother the sounds, teeth sinking into your knuckle until you leave sore indents.

But you should know better, not only does the Ghoul have heightened senses (he’s taunted you constantly with this fact like the asshole he is), but he’s uncannily perceptive in a very annoying way.

You don’t hear the squeal of the door, but you do sense his presence behind you; the rad warm burn of his body as he stops a scant few inches away. You feel his breath against the nape of your neck, the barest brush of his chest as he inhales.

“You ready ta stop bein’ stubborn?” he hums. “I thought I told you not ta wait s’long.”

Your voice warbles from you, “G’way.” You curl into yourself, shoulders hunching as you hang your head. “Don’t need your help.”

The Ghoul snorts. “Cuz you doin’ so well on your own, huh?”

“I resent that.” You shoot him a weak glare, the animosity ruined by the crumble of your lips. “I really, really do.”

You hate always having to rely on him, so desperate to prove that you can take care of yourself only to have every effort to do so thrown back in your face.

Shit, you hate how right Birdie was, “Honey, you won’t last five minutes on your own. Please stay here with us where it’s safe.”

“Well, maybe so. But pickers can’t be choosers, sweetheart,” he shrugs with a languid roll of the shoulders. “Ain’t no use cryin’ over spilled milk. C’mon, the longer you wait, the worse it’s gon be.”

“I just - you don’t understand…”

He reaches around you to set his hat on the sink, the dwindling light of twilight creeping in through the holes in the roof to bathe him in its bloody light.

He looks like a grotesque demon that clawed its way from the depths of hell. It gets your pulse thudding, electric awareness an unwelcome visitor as it roosts behind your navel.

“I understand plenty. Now, let me.”

Not an offer - not really.

More akin to a demand, one wrapped up pretty like a gift. You’ve been here many times before, and while the Ghoul proffers his help under the guise of not wanting to hear your bitching and moaning, the hungry gleam of his eyes as they rake over your face say otherwise.

If it’s one thing you’ve learned in your travels with him, it’s this: he is entirely self-serving. He offers because he wants to suck on a set of pretty tits. If you happen to cream your panties while he does, well, he counts it as a win-win.

Quid pro quo.

And what you hate more than how utterly correct everyone is about life on the surface, is how needy he makes you. How desperate and dumb and dripping he’s got you by the end, drunk off the flick of his tongue and the rasp of his touch.

Because it’s so hard to be strong in the face of pain when the solution is right there; open-palmed.

“...Fine, just don’t - don’t leave marks this time, okay?”

A slow waking smile creaks across his face, and he says, “I ain’t makin’ any promises, sweetheart.”

Your stomach swoops, and your thighs clench.

Shit.

Scarred lips work over tender flesh as a talented tongue flicks and swirls over the bumps of your areola, the tip digging into your nipple and drawing the swollen nub into a hot mouth. You whimper, arms tossed over the Ghoul’s broad shoulders.

Cold ceramic digs into the base of your spine, your body crowded back against the sink as he plasters himself to your front. Cuts off any escape routes and refuses to let you squirm away from the overwhelming sensations as he suckles.

Heavy palms grope at the plush curves of your hips, fingertips digging into the fat.

His lips pop off your nipple with a sticky smack. “Always taste s’fucking good,” he groans against your sternum. “Got the prettiest set a tits in the wasteland.”

“Hnn! N-Not so hard.”

While you say that, you don’t mean it - not really. Your pussy throbs in time with your heartbeat, clit swollen and aching for friction. Your inner thighs are a mess of slick, your vault suit caught around your knees.

He never touches you below the waist directly (some boundaries still exist between you two), but at this point in your pregnancy, you’re so sensitive a gentle breeze could set you off.

“Heh, ain’t you know lyin’s a sin?” he says.

A scarred cheek drags over the swell of your breast, the rasp of rad burn alighting your nerves. Bolts of desire ricochet down your spine, fizzle like Nuka Cola on your tongue. He presses an open mouth kiss to your nipple, his tongue flicking out to massage the tender bud.

At the taste of your skin, his cock twitches where its grinding against your thigh. You feel him through his ragged pinstripe slacks, his shaft a thick line of heat.

It’s probably the hormones (you refuse to admit its anything else) but just the thought of touching him, of sinking down onto his erection - feeling how fucking good he’d stretch you out and fill you up - makes you dizzy.

You pant, your voice distinctly whiny when you say, “Please, d-do something. It still hurts.”

His grin reminds you of the mongrels roaming the wastelands. “Sh,” he hushes you. “I got you, sweetheart.”

The tips of his fingers brush along the side of your swollen stomach. Your heart flips in your chest, your breath catching as he follows the contours of your body, reaching down to brush over the skin of your mound. This is new, he’s never done this before. It’s simultaneously as arousing as it is terrifying.

“Can smell how wet you are for me,” he says, tone low and gruff. “You gonna be a good girl for me, ain’t you?”

“I-”

Then his mouth is slurping at your tit, his teeth biting down on your nipple gently as those strong fingers dip between your thighs. Blunt nails scratch through your pubic hair, a calloused pad swirling circles around your slippery clit. Your hips jump, your head rolling back between your shoulders as a loud moan rips itself from your throat.

You arch back so far your belly presses against the Ghoul’s, your tits smothering his face.

You think, half deliriously, it’s a good thing he doesn’t have a nose otherwise you might’ve broken it.

“Shit, that’s so - oh, fuck, please, please, please!’

Your legs widen to make room for his hand as yours fly up to grab his biceps, nails biting into the rough leather of his duster.

His tongue flutters across your areola. “C’mon, pretty mama, give it ta me.”

“Oh.” Sparks dance behind your eyes, your knees shaking as the Ghoul strokes over your folds, tests your wetness and the give of your cunt as he plays with your entrance. “Right there,” you gasp. “I’m gonna…”

He grunts, tugging on your nipple with his teeth.

The sharp bite of pain shoots through you, deepens the kindling warmth behind your navel that steadily builds and builds and builds. You feel on the very edge, nerves plucked like the keys of a piano.

So close you can taste it.

Then a tingling starts in the tips of your fingers.

Burns its way up your arms to settle in the weight of your chest, pins and needles pricking across the skin of your tits, lancing through the swollen buds of your nipples.

You tremble, the relief bringing tears to your eyes as tears the heaviness releases in a warm flood, your milk letting down to flow into the Ghoul’s eagerly pulling mouth.

“Fuckin’ finally,” he moans, chasing after the taste by nuzzling into your chest. His cock ruts against you. “Took you’re sweet damn time, didn’t you, darlin’?”

Your head spins, hazy thoughts scattering like confetti.

Endorphins simmer through your veins as you float on a cloud of cotton softness. Reality seems worlds away, your vision blurry as you focus on the points of contact between your bodies. The stretch of his fingers plunging into your pussy to stroke over the front wall.

Mouth slack, your hands creep up the Ghoul’s arms to trace over the sides of his neck, watch the dance of your fingers over his skin. “It feels s’good,” you slur. “Please don’t stop - wanna cum just like this.”

“Heh, wouldn’t dream of it.”

[ozarkthedog]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐃

summary: while doing a deal with Marc, Joel comes to collect your debt.

pairing: (mob enforcer!Joel Miller x afab!reader) x dealer!Marc Spector.

warnings: 18+ mdni. dub con -> read responsibly. alt universe. soft!dark. no physical descriptors of reader. power imbalance. threats. debt to the mob. weed. no m/m. oral sex (f&m). rough sex. dirty talk. spit roasting. shotgunning. aftercare. w.c. 4.2k

author's note: honestly, this started out as pure filth/pwp, then it turned into so much more. there is potential for multiple parts, mostly revolving around Joel x reader. don't hold me to it, but like i said, this took on a life of its own, and now i'm madly in love with mob enforcer!Joel.

huge thank you to @ghotifishreads for beta-ing and being such a wonderful, supportive friend.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ♁ 𝐎𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞'𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

The carpet in your tiny living room was slowly developing a hole from your pacing back and forth. You love this apartment. Sure, the faucets drip, and the dingy wallpaper started peeling the day you moved in, but it was all yours. 

Since you moved to the big city after leaving home, you took any job you could find. You knew starting out on your own would be tough, but you could grin and bear it. Anything was better than small-town life. You wanted adventure, to see what the world had to offer.

What you didn’t plan on was getting involved with the wrong kind of people. 

When you fell months behind on rent, a co-worker mentioned she knew someone who could help. 

It was too good to be true, you thought, as you slowly walked into a smokey nightclub around midnight. Uptempo Spanish music played in the background as patrons drank at the bar, loudly singing and chattering. You tread deeper into the club, entering a VIP section where multiple gorgeous women sat on the laps of intimidating, finely dressed men in expensive suits. 

Various sets of eyes spot you the moment you cross the threshold, but only one set feels like they’re burning into your soul.

An unnerving man with piercing brown eyes holds your wary gaze. He’s draped in a long, brown leather coat, and streaks of gray pepper his temples. He stands to the side, leaning against the wall, and watches with intrigue as you shift nervously on your feet. 

His arms are crossed. A mustache tops his lips, which are etched in a permanent scowl as if he’s a dog that’s been kicked too many times. Still, he’s among the most handsome men you’ve seen since coming to the city.

He pushed off the wall with his broad shoulders, finally breaking his stare, and leaned down to whisper in the ear of a younger man seated at the head of the table, presumably his boss. 

“You need a little help, Sugar?” the younger man asked. 

His dark hair is a mess of curls, and his cheekbones look like they could cut glass. “I could use some help around the club. There’s always a gentleman in need of some company.” His fingers traced along a woman's nylon thigh as he looked you up and down. His coy lips tugged into a smirk as the group quietly laughed. 

The brown-eyed man's face grimaced at the younger man's tone. You want to curl in on yourself. The smoke in the air makes it hard to breathe. “Uh, no,” you start, tonguing your dry lips. “I just need to borrow some money.” 

The younger man purses his lips and nods. “That can be arranged. Joel here will take care of you.” He motioned to the older man on his right and looked you over with a curious gaze before waving you away.

Joel, the mob boss's right-hand man, meets you in the dingy alley behind the club. Water drips off the corner of the rooftop from the storm that blew through earlier in the day. A gust of cool fall air blows through, and you hug yourself to keep warm.

You learn that Joel was a no-nonsense man, straight to the point. Clear and precise.

He thrusts a heavy bag into your hands, and the leather handle creaks under the weight. “You sure you know what you’re getting yourself into?” he asks, lighting a cigarette. Orange hues lit his features sinisterly as if he were a demon or creature from hell's depths.

You stood your ground, but the tremble in your voice gave you away. “Yeah, I know what I’m doing.” 

Joel’s eyes go soft. It’s the first time he looks human since you first saw him. “That’s what I thought,” he muttered, shaking his head. He blows a long gust of smoke from his nose. “He expects to be paid, with interest, by the end of the month.”

You teethe your bottom lip with a nod as nauseous worry swarms your belly.  

“I’ll be keeping an eye on you,” he states, thumbing at his lips. “Just so we know you haven’t run off with our money.”

Your eyes widen, and your knees slightly buckle. “No! I don’t plan on taking off. You don’t have to worry about that.” You trip over your words, frantically making sure he knows you won’t rip them off.   

He chuckles at the sight. It’s a deep, dark rumble from years of smoking and drinking, and it makes your cunt throb. “We don’t think you will, but it’s part of the job. Besides, having to keep track of such a pretty face ain’t so bad.” he muses, a light smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.

An anxious, breathy laugh puffs from your chest. You hesitantly wring the leather handle as your eyes fall to the wet pavement.

A horn blares in the distance. Angry drivers yell into the night, breaking the perilous spell between you and the enforcer. 

“If you ever need help with anythin', let me know, okay?” he offers before turning on his heel and returning to the club.

“How will I contact you? With a bat signal or something?” You asked quizzically.

He chuckled again, and it set your heart on fire. “Just call the club and ask for me, sweetheart.”

You were truly and utterly fucked. 

It was the end of the month. Joel would arrive at 5pm to collect, and you had $50 measly dollars left in your bank account.

You’d squared up with your landlord and then some, paying for a few months in advance to show how grateful you were that he didn’t kick you out on the streets. What you didn’t plan on was getting fired from your job. You desperately tried to find another one, but you knew it was pointless as the end of the month slowly crept.

A knock on the door jars you from your thoughts. You scramble to open it, thankful your dealer was around today. You badly needed a smoke to curb your anxiety and impending doom.

Marc stands on your doorstep, beaming with his classic lopsided smile. “How’s it going?” He asks, making the short trip over to your couch, unbuttoning his long, black, and gray tweed coat before plopping down with a sigh. 

“Uh, fine,” you reply quickly. “You know. Same old.” 

“Same shit, different day, as I like to say.”  He scratches his trimmed beard with a coy grin. He looks really good today. Dark gray hair gelled and tousled. 

Nerves tug at your belly. You can taste the bitter doubt in the back of your throat.

Marc was a decent dealer. He let you start a tab when funds were low and gave you extra lighters and papers when needed. You knew to avoid crossing him, so what you had to do was extra tricky.

You sit on the floor across from him as he chucks a bag filled with joints onto the coffee table. Your body itches to feel the smoke burn your lungs.   

“Wanna hang for a bit? Smoke with me?” you offer, already reaching for the joint with a timid smile.

Marc quirks a brow. He digs his phone out of his tweed jacket and checks the time. “Uh, yeah, sure. I can hang for a bit.”

You try to light the joint, but the lighter won’t spark.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Marc asks, taking the lighter from your shaky hands. 

You silently nod and press the joint between your lips. Just as he lights the spliff, a knock sounds on your door.

You curse under your breath and hand the unlit joint to Marc. “Sorry. I’ll give whoever that is the boot.” He nods and sparks the joint, taking a long drag as you cross the distance to the door.

You yank open the door without thinking. “I don’t want anything you’re selli-”

“Hey there, Sweetheart,” a familiar, deep voice drawls.

You stand like a deer in headlights before the intimidating mob enforcer. 

He wasn’t supposed to be here so early. That’s the last time you open your door without checking the peephole.

“What’re you doing here, Joel?” you inquire, leaning in close so Marc doesn’t hear. "I have until tonight to give you the money."

The older man's leather jacket is pulled tight around his rugged shoulders as he leans in your doorway. His salt and pepper curls look damp as if you were his first stop after he got out of the shower.

“The boss has plans later and wants to ensure you're paid up.”

You wanted to scream. 

“This isn’t fair.” Your fists clench at your sides.

“That’s life, Sweetheart’.” Joel shrugs. “So, where’s the money?"

It takes every ounce of courage you have to stand your ground. 

“No. The boss said I had until 5pm, so I won’t give you anything until then. Now kindly, leave.”

You slam the door, but not quickly enough. A worn boot slides between the frame and the door, halting your escape.

“God dammit,” Joel fumes, shoving the door open, sending you flying back into your living room.

You catch yourself before you fall and watch as the enforcer makes his way into your sacred space. Now you know what it feels like to be on his wrong side. He kicks the door shut with his foot, ready to pounce, but freezes when he sees Marc.

“Miller.” Marc acknowledges from his laid-back position on the couch, joint pinched between his fingers.

Joel’s jaw twitches. “Spector.”

“So, what’s going on here?” Marc asks, gesturing with a curious wave. He then blows a lungful of smoke into the room and flicks bits of burning embers into an ashtray.

“None of your business,” Joel grits before focusing his attention back on you.

You do your best not to cower in front of the large man as he stalks closer. “You don’t want to make the boss angry.” He says, in an eerily calm voice, one that makes your hair stand on end. “Where’s the money?”

“I don’t have it.” You admit, barely louder than a whisper.

His jaw clenches hard. He shakes his head in disbelief, hands perched on his hips. His eyes grow scarily dark. "That’s not what I want to hear.”

“I don’t know what to say. I have a few dollars left in my account,” Your voice wavers.

Joel drags a heavy palm over his face and sighs. “What were you thinking? How were you going to pay him?” He hooks a thumb over his shoulder to your dealer.

“I, uh, I had a plan.” Your fingers wring at the seam of your shirt, and nausea swarms your belly.

Marc stands and finally joins the conversation. “Yeah, I’d like to know how you intended to pay me.”

You shift on your feet, eyes darting between the two more prominent and influential men. 

“I was going to offer to blow you.” The words tumble out so quickly that you wonder if they even heard you.

You wish the floor would open up and suck you in. It was bad enough that you had to resort to blowing your dealer, but now Joel was here to witness everything and most likely drag you to a certain death.

“For fucks sake,” the older man groans. 

Marc’s brow shoots into his hairline. He whistles as his eyes drag down your body. “You sure got yourself into a real jam here, huh?” He licks his bottom lip and steps closer. “I think something could be arranged, at least on my end. What about you?” He claps a hand on Joel's back, barely moving the powerhouse of a man. He was an enforcer, after all. This job wasn’t just for anyone. 

Joel shakes his head in dismay. His leather jacket creaks as he moves, lightning fast, quickly pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Here’s what’s gonna happen, Sweetheart.” He informs, “Since I’ve taken a likin’ to you, I’d hate to see you get hurt. I’ll pay off your debt.”

The heavy weight you’d dragged around for the last week falls from your shoulders. You didn’t realize you’d stop breathing until the sweet air rushed into your lungs.  

 “But,” he continues, rubbing his thumb across your bottom lip, “you’re going to pay me back in kind.”

The heaviness returns, except now you’re afraid the extreme weight will crush you.

Joel notices your racing thoughts. “Shh. No need to think,” he murmurs, letting his hand fall to your hip and making himself comfortable. “Just be grateful you’ve got to deal with only me and Spector.” 

His eyes are solemn and tender, lost in his thoughts; his gaze travels across your face. You raise a cautious hand to his chest, feeling his heartbeat under the smooth leather. That magnetic pull you felt the first time you met him pulsed through your veins again, and you think he felt it, too. 

Then, his features twisted with remorse. "This wasn't what I had in mind, but you've left me no choice, Sweetheart."

In a flash, Joel drags you across the worn floorboards and carelessly tosses you over the back of your couch. The air knocks from your lungs. Your ribs flash bright with pain. He moves too fast for you to protest and tugs your leggings off, throwing them across the small room. 

“Best get to work, Spector, if you plan on getting your end of the deal,” Joel threatens the dealer as he crouches down, giving himself a front-row view of your exposed cunt. 

“Let’s get a look at the goods.” His large, warm hands roughly spread your cheeks apart. “Fuck me. That’s a sweet looking pussy.” He drags a thumb up the slice of you, making your spine bow as your hands press into the cushions. “Already wet, too. My kinda girl.”

Unconsciously, you strike an elbow back, but an imposing figure grabs your flailing limb, halting your retaliation.

You forgot about the other man in the room. 

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t ever wonder how you’d look with my cock in your mouth,” Marc admits while fisting his length out. 

He’s half-hard and already intimidating. You stare up at him incredulously while he grasps his veiny girth and traces your tightly closed mouth with the weeping, dusky pink tip. He smears his pre-cum on your skin, marking you before he begins his corruption.

Joel smacks your ass hard, making you yelp and shoving you onto the dealer’s awaiting cock. You instantly gag as Marc's hips pitch forward once he feels your warm, wet mouth. He curses under his breath, cages your head between his hands, and begins sawing his cock back and forth over your tongue. 

His brute thrusts make you gag and spring tears to your eyes. “Come on now. Why the waterworks? This was your plan, after all,” Marc teases, patting your damp cheek.  

Without warning, Joel’s tongue dives into your heat. A blazing heat erupts in your belly as he licks from end to end, wild and ferocious, not stopping until he tastes every inch of you. 

You instinctively moan from the blissful arousal that begins to pulse from his treatment. He laves at your taint and tickles your untouched rosebud for a beat forcing your mind to somersault before traveling south to circle his tongue around your clit. 

“Could eat this cunt all damn day,” he slurs against your throbbing core like he's drunk off you. “God damn, s’fuckin’ delicious.”

Joel sucks the tiny button into his mouth, earning a whole body shiver as you writhe against the couch. He rubs his nose against your soaked folds, making sure to take deep breaths while he eats you alive. 

Marc leans to his left while he works his cock ruthlessly down your throat, making you sputter as the bulbous head prods your tonsils.

You hear a click. The sound of paper igniting and then a long, deep breath.

Marc leers down at you while holding the smoke in his lungs. He curls a hand around the back of your head and presses until the auburn wiry strands littering his girthy base tickle your nose. Then, he exhales, blowing a long, winding breath like a dragon down into your face. 

Your vision blurs from the vapor. The trapped oxygen burns your lungs, and your body quivers from your helpless position while you gag sickly around his cock. Joel winds his arms under your belly, keeping you steady as you thrash anxiously. 

When Marc finally lets you free, you sputter and suck down as much air as you can. A glossy strand of drool connects your lips to his throbbing cock. You sniff and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand as his fat length bounces in your view. “You look fuckin’ wasted, Kitten.” He quips with a languid laugh and takes another hit. 

Joel stands behind you, knees cracking as he towers over your vulnerable body. You warily look over your shoulder when he grinds his against the soft skin of your ass.

You’re caught in his wretched stare like a deer in headlights. “Best hope this pussy fucks as good as it tastes,” he threatens, tapping his bulbous, weeping crown on your sticky folds.

Joel gives no warning before he steadily pushes his obscene length into your heat. Your jaw drops with a raspy wail, allowing Marc to fill your mouth again and mute your frantic moans. You feel every vein and girthy inch of Joel’s cock splitting you open, as well as Marc's, as he glides his thickness over your tongue.

It seems to go on forever until they bottom out harmoniously. Joel presses his hips against your ass, and his plush lips pull into a sneer as your core stretches to accommodate him. “Oh, Sweetheart. This cunt is practically chokin’ me.” He provokes with a ragged groan, rubbing his thumb along the glistening, excessively stretched skin that embraces his cock.

A high-pitched whine slithers from your throat before it’s quickly cut off by Marc snapping his pelvis. Joel licks his creamy thumb with a dark chuckle before caging your hips in his steely grasp. He sets a steady rhythm, entirely withdrawing before shoving his cock back in, giving you no reprieve as Marc continuously thrusts his dripping length between your spit-coated lips. 

Your body burns. Your mind is warped. Joel's cock keeps brushing against that spongy spot behind your clit. It's all too much. You feel yourself losing strength, giving in. Either from lack of oxygen to your brain or your greedy cunt that's feeding off their wretched pleasure. 

"You gonna come, Sweetheart? Can feel her milkin' me real good. Shit-" Joel hisses as your velvet walls squeeze him tight.

Both your holes lock around their cocks as you come. Your eyes roll back, your spine bending like a bow as the harsh wave of desire ripples through you. 

Both men curse at the sight and feel of you. 

It shouldn’t feel this good being used and tossed around like a toy, but a thick, syrupy heat steadily gathers in your belly. With your head in the drug-induced clouds, every illicit touch sends you higher into a euphoric atmosphere.

“Wanna hit?” Marc offers, holding the joint between his fingers to the enforcer.

Joel finally tears his eyes away from where he’s spearing you open. He nods, stilling his hips, and extends a hand before pressing the joint between his lips. He takes a long drag before splaying his broad body over yours. 

You notice him in your peripheral as he watches you choke down Marc’s cock. “What a fuckin’ sight,” he drawls, joint bouncing between his lips. “Swallowin’ his cock like your life depends on it.” He roughly drives his hips forward, his leaky crown cruelly kissing your cervix, making you gag from the agonizing bliss. “Kinda ironic that it does.” 

You feel their cocks pulse in unison when you start writhing at Joel’s threat. You knew they wouldn’t hurt you, but the thought was too much to bear in your current state. They quickly make work of your flailing limbs; Joel grabs the back of your neck with a heavy paw, and Marc traps both your hands in his own, caging them against his stout stomach.

They set a brutal pace. You no longer feel in control of your body as they use you to get off. The room echoes with the sounds of gluttony, like feral animals staking their rightful claim on lowly prey. 

Marc comes with a growl, caging your head between his hands as you push against his abdomen, and fucks his salty release into your mouth. He collapses onto the couch with a ragged sigh, his engorged cock a shiny mess as he catches his breath. 

“Gotta get used to this, sweetheart,” Joel gloats in your ear, working an arm around your collarbone to pull you back onto his cock, forcing you to meet every one of his brutal shoves. “Your pretty pussy is gonna be ruined by the time your debt is paid in full.” 

Marc cups your jaw in one of his hands and takes a puff of his joint. He slides a thumb between your sticky, come coated lips and blows the smoke into your mouth. You gladly inhale, letting the drug work its magic. Joel grabs your hips and picks up his speed, greedy for his pleasure. 

He comes with a gruff, dark groan, snapping his hips hard against your ass until he's buried to the hilt and pumping his sticky load into your fluttering core. 

You collapsed onto the cushions once Joel let go of your hips, your body too weak and drugged to care to move despite your vulnerable state.

“We’re square, Kitten.” Marc grazes your cheek with his knuckles, and a sly grin tugs at the corner of his lips. “But anytime you want a hit and can’t pay, I’ll be more than happy to help you out,” Marc quips before silently nodding at Joel and leaves with a bounce in his step.

"Come're, Sweetheart." Large hands slide under your belly and help you stand on your feet. His eyes soften as he looks over your puffy eyes and swollen, slick coated lips. He cups your cheek and sighs through his nose. "Let's get you cleaned up, yeah?"

A rush of water hits your ears as Joel turns the shower faucet. You stand behind him like a child waiting for their next instruction before he turns back to you with a slight smile.

"Up and over. That's it," Joel says, ensuring you don't bump your elbows as he removes your shirt, folds it, and places it on your vanity. He helps you step into the shower before he sits on the toilet lid and watches you through the clear plastic curtain. 

Silence falls over the tiny bathroom as he lets you take solace under the stream.

You melt in the warmth. It eases your aches and dulls your overwrought senses. You stay there until your skin prunes and icy cold water pours from the tap.

He helps you step out of the tub, ensuring you're on solid ground before grabbing a towel hanging on the wall and wrapping you in the soft cotton. 

"You'll stay with me until your debt is paid," he said, resting his hands on your shoulders; the weight keeps you grounded as your world turns upside down.

"You won't have to worry about anythin'," he continues, carefully drying your body with a tenderness you didn't expect. "I'll pay your rent, so you still have this place when our transaction is complete." 

You know you should be upset. A screaming, raging mess but seeing such a dangerous man on his knees drying water droplets from your body makes you lightheaded with alarming power.

He stands when you don't outwardly react. His lips are pressed into a worried, hard line, his hands are perched on his hips, and a sharp brow wrinkles his forehead. "Okay?"

The vexation that laces his tone snaps you out of the dumbstruck fog. You knew there was only one right answer.

“Yes,” you rasp, defeated. 

He smirks, softly chuckling under his breath at your submission.

"I'll be back in a few hours," he says, cupping your jaw like he's drinking from a stream; God knows what brutality those hands have dealt out. "I trust you'll still be here when I get back." 

You nod quickly under his grave stare. 

He plants a searing kiss on your lips, making you gasp. It's dominating and possessive, like he's christening the start of your new life together by licking into your mouth and claiming you. 

He breaks the kiss with a grunt and nudges your nose with his own. "Thatta girl." 

He holds your gaze as he slowly walks backward out of the room. "Pack enough for the next week. I'll swing by later to get the rest," he instructs before turning and walking out your door.

You're left standing in your tiny bathroom, panting like a newborn fawn. Your legs wobble as you move to sit on the toilet lid and clutch the towel tighter to your chest; heart smashing against your ribs.

Joel was right. You had no idea what you were getting yourself into.

feel free to scream at me -> 💌

*if you'd like to read more about Joel and reader's new life together, please invade my inbox about them! it helps motivate me!*

->reblogs & comments are extremely appreciated!<-

follow @ozzieslibrary for new fic updates!

[myafterlifeisbetterthenyours]

The angelic peeps (I don’t mind who) with a sinner reader who had been mistaken as angel because of their form. Just them getting shooed inside heaven and ends up being like 👁️👄👁️????

Hell is forever! And Heaven... is also forever?

Adam

Now, when you'd appeared, you had no idea where you were, or what the actual fuck was happening.

So when you witnessed an angelic figure slashing down some creepy little creature, you naturally freaked out.

When you were approached by an angel, if that angel shopped at forever 21.

The Goth angels having their weapons drawn you'd freeze, the two freezing as they stared at you.

"The Hell are you doing here?" One would as with a disnctly feminine tone.

You, completely off guard, would blurt out. "I'mmm... lost?" You speak, feeling like you were playing the greatest gamble of your life.

The two would look at each other for several moments before one would sigh. "Great, a normie?"

"We sure they're a Winner?" The second Angel spoke.

"Mmmm." The second hummed. "You ever seen a Sinner look as good as them?"

The second placed a hand to her chin. "... Nah."

The first groaned, rubbing her oddly yellow Gray face. "If this gets out, this is gonna be a mountain of paperwork."

"Uhhh, we don't have paperwork." The other hummed, raising a brow.

"Yeah well, if Adam finds out about this he'll make us sign autographs for him for the next 3 weeks."

"I don't know why he does that, he's the only one that uses them."

As the two grumbled between each other, you just stood there, waiting and unsure of what to do as the two bitched back and forth.

After a while more of this, they'd snap to you.

"Alright, fine, come on then." The angel grumbled, walking over to you.

You didn't get to react before she suddenly grabbed you, flying up into the air and scaring the crap out of you. It took a minute but they flew you through the massive hole in the sky.

She placed you on the cushy cloud like road, the Angel hushing you as she snuck you past St. Peter, popping open the gate and shoving you inside.

"Look, you didn't see anything. I didnt see you. You didnt see us. Got it!?" She asked coldly.

You just nodded back, the woman glaring at you before shutting the gate, leaving you... somewhere.

That answer was quickly, well, answered, as turning around you found yourself in... Heaven.

Oh, well that's...

Wait?

HEAVEN!?

Did you just... luck your way into heaven?

Apparently you did as you were quickly welcomed into heaven, the populous eagerly welcoming you.

And well... it was Heaven!

Everything was fun and carefree and there was So. Much. Singing!

It'd be when you attended a rock show, you eagerly watching as Adam himself played lead, the whole thing incredible.

Youd somehow end up behind the scenes after the show, a variety of virtue Winners all flaunting over the Band members, especially Adam, the man surrounded by Winners.

Of course, your appearance instantly caught his attention, the man perking right up and the next thing you knew the man was all over you, the man boldly chatting you up.

Now, Adam was... well, he was a prick, but he had a charm to him when he w a s trying to be charming, the man a mix of complements and criticisms, the man always sure to play himself up.

Now, look, your not entirely proud, nor ashamed, but well... you fucked.

And admittedly... it was pretty good. Adam was a dick but, well, he knew how to use his... mostly.

And that's how you fucked the first man.

Now, you have no doubt his initial interest was all about your physical appearance, after all, your body had been what got you into heaven in the first place.

Now you'd think after that first night you'd never see the Man again, expecting to be another one of his 'conquests', before he moved along on.

Okay, so yeah, you had his number.

And yeah, he regularly called you up for a booty call.

But its not like you totally hung out after said booty calls. Eating takeout and casually chatting.

Or just laying on his belly as you scrolled your respective phones, neither of you saying anything as you just chilled.

And you totally didn't perk right up when you saw his caller ID, greeting him as 'dickmaster', the two of you flirting hard before you'd end up at his place.

And sure, you had a drawer at his place, and a pillow, not to mention a bathrobe.

...

...

...

Well fuck.

Okay, yeah, so you were, uh, 'going steady', not that the first man would admit as much, but yeah, things were, well, fun.

Sure Adam could be a dick, but with some strick words, and a smack across the face, the man was surprisingly apologetic. Like, he was still a dick, and an ardent one at that, but behind closed doors he was amazingly simple, the man quite chill as you enjoyed each other's company.

Now, you'd always kept your status as a sinner hidden, I mean, it's not like anyone suspected you, how could a sinner end up in heaven, am I right?

But you were in Hell, and well, he wasn't super open about it, but it was clear Adam detested the Sinners, the man proudly speaking on how much he despised them.

Your relationship would develope on for several months before he noticed something off with you.

"Where's your Halo?" He'd ask so causally after you'd both chewed down on some Chinese food.

You'd freeze, mind rushing as you thought up a valid excuse, going over the several you'd made up in a paranoid stupor.

"It... uh, it's kinda ugly, I keep it stored away."

The man stared at you for several minutes, before shrugging, the two of you going right back to how you were.

And so, you went on for several more months like this, growing even closer, spending a great amount of time with each other.

It'd be one day as the man goes on and on about 'filthy sinners' you unsure how to react, as on one hand you kinda were a sinner, but on the other you could go the rest of eternity without ever broaching the subject.

But well, why make things easy.

So you brought it up, asking him what he really though.

Unsurprisingly, the man had not a kind word about them, so you asked cooly what if you were a sinner?

Of course, you asked it in a flirty tone, the two of you quickly getting playful.

He'd tell you how he'd have to 'punish' you, giving you his 'righteous sword', the two of you having some especially nasty sex.

Your life was good, you and Adam got closer and closer, to the point you ended up moving in with him.

Everything was perfect... and then it wasn't.

You'd been found out. Over something so simple too.

Your blood.

You'd cut your finger.

You bled.

Their blood was gold.

Yours wasn't.

It hadn't come up, but one of the seraphim noticed, and... well.

The courtroom was something.

Adam losing his shit over this whole thing, while you just kept quiet.

Eventually you'd confess, telling them how you'd been ushered in during an extermination, you honestly not even sure where you were supposed to be.

You'd apologise to Adam, in tears as you told him you loved him, and that you never meant to cause any of this.

Now, it wasn't just a one sided argument, Adam as well as many of your friends came to your defence, many pointing out how you'd fit right in in heaven for ages, and now all of a sudden it was an issue?

That would certainly cause some issue amongst Heavens leadership.

Adam was especially vocal, saying he hated Sinners more than anybody but you clearly weren't like the other scum that get spit out into Hell, you were... special.

Now, there's 2 ways this could go.

1. Heaven simply doesn't care, expelling you from Heaven leaving your friends and Adam to fight for you. I doubt Adam would fall for you, but he'd certainly keep fighting for you, ironically, in this timeline, Adam would 100% be on Charlie's side. Man absolutely all for redemption.

Especially if you joined the hotel, you kinda being proof Sinners could live in heaven.

It'd be quite the star crossed lovers situation, the both of you from different worlds, doing your absolute best to be reunited.

Or 2. You'd be put under 'house arrest', you being restricted to a very limit area, I.e. Adams apartment, the two of you under guard most hours of the day while they 'figured things out'.

And youd basically spend all your time with Adam, the two of you growing even closer, and again, he'd be on Charlie's side this time around, man eager not so much to work with Hell, but to see if there was a way to get you in heaven permanently, he'd bloody well fight for it.

Emily

Showing up to heaven, you'd quite literally run into her, meeting Emily, the young Seraphim eager and always happy to meet a new resident of heaven.

Especially one as appealing to the eyes as you were.

You'd have some fun moments, the girl eagerly showing you around.

Funnily enough, that'd keep happening.

You'd find her randomly, or she'd find you, the two of you bumping into each other often as she showed somebody around.

And so, you'd tag along, the two of you often showing new residents the ins and outs of heaven. You gaining quite a large pool of friends for your efforts.

The two of you would steadily grow closer through this, spending lots of time together, you'd developed a fairly flirty relationship, as while she was undoubtedly innocent and pure, she wasn't above some playful flirting, though she always kept it wholesomely chaste.

You'd spend more and more time together,

Spending long periods together, you'd grow closer and closer, you and Emily developing quite the... ship.

I say 'ship' cause it wasn't quite a friendship, nor a relationship. You were in a limbo between the two.

It'd be one day after you stood up for her with a particularly rude arrival, the man seemingly loosing his mind.

Not all too odd. People had very different reactions to finding out they're dead.

But it'd be as you helped her too her feet, gently cupping her face that you'd ask her out on a date. Like, a date-date, kinda date.

And with that adorable blush of hers, she'd agree.

It was a simple affair.

You'd take her to dinner, a simple, humble dinner. Nothing crazy or over the top, just an intimate little thing.

Just like your relationship.

And after walking her home, you started dating with a warm kiss, and not much really changed.

You still spent all day together, showing arrivals around and just having fun.

But now~ you got to kiss. And you had date nights. Your relationship and romance only growing stronger by the day.

You'd actually end up telling Emily about you being a sinner.

It'd be something you wanted to tell her for ages, you telling her about everything.

How you were in Hell, and ended up in heaven, and you'd been there for so long you honestly didn't know where you belonged.

Emily of course was sooooo supportive, the woman promising to keep your secret, swearing to protect you.

You'd honestly live a very happy life with her, the two of you happy with just each other, even as you hid your past, constantly paranoid somebody would realise it one day.

Now there's kind of two ways this could go.

The first; your found out and Emily gets exposed for hiding you. A very serious action, though teeechically not illegal as it'd never been done before.

But still, knowingly hiding a sinner was a serious offence.

So, it could go two ways, either heaven realises that you aren't this evil monster, likely confining you to your home, monitoring you at all hours, likely only letting Emily visit.

It'd be tough, but upon Pentious' redemption the question of you being opened again, Emily being even more eager this time round.

Or they outright exile you, Emily potentially getting into trouble due to it.

Regardless of what happened, you and Emily would love each other, through thick and thin.

Lute

NOW!

I think we all know Lutes opinion on Sinners, an opinion she'd make sure you knew.And while it was a major insecurity for you, terrified she'd find out.

Of course, Lutes wouldn't believe it possible, you being a sinner. You were waaaaay to attractive to be some filthy Sinner.

Yet outside of that, you had such a passionate romance, the two of you doing many, MANY unholy deeds in the bedroom.

Your romance was... let's say physical.

Lute was a dominant individual, forced to be when dealing with Adam most days, as such, easily took charge of most situations.

Now, you'd keep your past hidden, naturally, not wanting to destroy your relationship.

The purges would be... a contentious point. The girl no doubt telling you, either directly or indirectly, and while she thought little of it, it would shake you, knowing the person you loved relished killing souls so avidly.

Lute... well, she'd certainly have a reaction to this.

Having the person she loved challenge her beliefs would leave her a little off guard, the woman forced to really reassess her beliefs.

Now, I don't see her genuinely changing those beliefs entirely, but I could see her toning them down, the woman maybe even a little compassionate to their plight.

Now... there's a reasonable chance Lute would figure out what you were, despite your good looks, the woman has first hand experience with Sinners, so she'd know far better then most on what a sinner looks like.

But she also wouldn't care too much to pay attention to what makes a sinner a 'sinner'.

But... well, it'd come out eventually.

Likely you telling her, confessing to her that your not sure if your supposed to be in Heaven or Hell, Lute completely caught off guard.

She'd likely outright ignore it, shrugging it off, believing it all a misunderstanding. And if you pushed the subject she'd shut you down, telling you not to talk about it.

But it'd be as you held her to your chest, the woman crying as she sat in your lap, arm missing.

You'd tell her your sorry, that you love her, but you were a sinner, and that you understood if she despised you, but you couldn't live a lie anymore.

And so, after caring for her, ensuring her arm was cared for, you'd turn yourself in

Ironically just as Pentious was reincarnated and well, the next step would be on Lute.

Hey y'all, I wanna thank you all for 4 THOUSAND FOLLOWERS!!! I am so honoured so many have deemed me good enough to follow.

(I do want to apologise for taking so long, I've been dealing with a tremendous amount of personal issues and haven't had much time for writing.)

But seriously, I wanna thank every last one of you for being here and supporting me. I love every last one of you and I hope my content has helped at least one of you feel better.

P.s. I would have done more angelic character, and might in the future, but I was drawing a blank and wanted to get this out asap.

[minkieater]

tide | khj

pairing. rich!hj x f!reader genre. non idol au, toxic relationship, soulmates warnings. substances, consumption, mental health, sexual content minors dni PLS wc. 5.5k

♫ — the broken one, qm ft. jiung “when you said that you wish the two of us could die together, i just pat your head and say i know.”

the best way you’d ever described your relationship is adjacent to a children’s movie, and for that comparison you feel wrong, but nothing else comes close. when alice fell down that hole and her entire world flipped upside down, changing everything she once thought she knew, it was the epitome of years of your life spent with him. you being alice, hongjoong being… everyone else. the mad hatter, cheshire cat, the red queen, white queen, the jabberwocky, the rabbit, he was everyone, all the time, all at once. your life, the riddles, everything but nothing making sense at the same time. there was nothing else you could possibly compare it to, two emotionally adolescent humans in adult bodies. 

neither of you had ever been angry people by nature. in fact, you had always been deemed quite the opposite. hongjoong, older and successful, a man consumed by his work but always made time for the people around him — he shows up for birthdays, impromptu get togethers, graduations, backyard parties… despite his ever growing workload, he always put in the effort to be there. and not just be present, either. he’s always been observant, even in the beginning, showing up when you least expected it. after the longest, hardest day, with flowers and your favorite food in tow, he’s always been a true partner. 

you’re not much different. the parties hongjoong always shows up to typically had you behind the curtain. planning, decorating, even picking up the tab… you’re the epitome of loyalty. devotion, creativity, passion. you’d bettered him as a person, in his work, in his relationships, in his productivity. you love to help and you love to love, you surround yourself with people who give that back to you tenfold in a heartbeat. 

in the beginning, you thrived. you worked together harmoniously, you were patient with each other, compassionate, so stupidly in love…

“would you marry me?” a starless night, on the rooftop of his ever luxurious loft. his hair is black, a cigarette between his lips, his sweet chocolate eyes the brightest light amongst the dark, empty air. 

you knew you had never answered any question with such a quickness as you did that one. you don’t think you’d even muttered the word no to him in the six months you’ve been together. 

he handed you the cigarette he knew you were craving, a habit you picked up from him and him alone. one habit you didn’t share before you’d met. his stare is intense, the gleam in his eyes is bold, it’s saying a million words yet not one leaves his rose colored lips. words you know, words you’ve said, words he hasn’t returned. but he does, he will, eventually. 

“we’re forever then,” it could be a question but it feels more like a statement, an announcement of sorts, a promise that you could never break. you had no choice in the matter, not that you needed one, not that you could imagine a life without him after so little time of knowing him. 

it made you smile through the burn in the back of your throat, a long exhale leaving your lips, gray smoke following suit. in went your solitude, out came the pact you made with him under the moonlight. like the smoke, it faded into thin air, never to be taken back. 

“we became forever six months ago,” you handed the cigarette back to him, your fingers touching for a just a moment in passing. his smile reached his eyes, creases in his skin that you would run your fingers over in the dim light of his bedroom. every inch of him, burned to memory. 

“we became forever the day you were born, doll. just took until six months ago to find me,” the tobacco was between his lips again, wrapped around the circular stick, always glossy. never chapped, never dry, always swollen and sultry. edible. 

time went on, days turned to weeks, weeks to months, months to years. you initially thought hongjoong didn’t have a bad side, eternally a happy and exemplary lover. to be fair, you didn’t think you had one either. there’s a saying for that, right? you bring out the worst in each other? but they’re traits that are embedded in you. when the stars aligned the day you were born, you were gifted them, wrapped in sparkling wine colored paper and you just didn’t get around to opening them until someone fought fire with fire. 

you’d never yelled at a friend, let alone a lover, in your life. he’d never once been angry enough to remove himself from an entire room, have to excuse himself from the woman across from him because her voice took up too much space, smothered him in his own home. the one thing that kept you two linked, from the bedroom with the door locked to the couch all the way out in the living room, was how fucking obsessed with the other you were. 

it was sick, the heaviest sensation the two of you shared. lust, love, adoration, codependency, everything came right under obsession if you could even rank your feelings. most days, everything just blended together, anyways. from the moment your eyes met, really met for the first time, it was cataclysmic, the soul you knew just by his gaze that you shared. the click that linked the two of you for life. 

the air of the club was humid, wet and murky, too many people in too small of a space. you were at a sponsored event for work, dressed too classy for the place you were at, all the bodies around you covered in way less fabric. you were one track minded when it came to work — always looking upward, fighting to climb endless ranks, you could never rest. never break concentration. 

until the biggest distraction stared at you three people down, stood around the curve of the bar while you waited on your cocktail. he moved with a fluidity similar to water, a wave, an ocean as he waltzed into your space. behind you, he slipped his card down over your shoulder onto your tab before you could even reach for the cash in your purse.  

“nice play,” you glanced over your shoulder, greeted with teeth as white as snow, glistening hues of pink and blue from the dance floor cascading over the impressive structure of his face, “thank you.”

“a pretty drink for a pretty girl,” you glance down at the red cherries sitting in your cocktail, a mixture of yellow and orange sitting in your glass, mimicking a sunrise swirling around the cubes of ice.

a laugh escaped you, “i’d rate that pick up line a 7, i suppose.” 

he answers with a shrug, “anything above a 5 is a win for me. hongjoong,” his hand reaches out to shake yours and you’re taken aback, almost shocked at the gesture of a simple handshake around the bar at a more than busy nightclub. it told you more than it should, coming up on years of business under your belt, it seemed more like a proposition than an introduction. 

in that moment you saw him, you saw through him, you saw deep down inside and you couldn’t crawl your way out if you scratched and clawed your nails down to stubs. he was like you, apart of your world, higher up, even. he came from class, he came from money, he came from importance. he’s handsome, he’s gorgeous, and jesus christ he’s going to ruin your fucking life if you let him. you’d let him do anything.

your work event was long forgotten the second the two of you made eye contact, your attendance was the only thing mandatory, anyhow. a night of freedom, letting go of subjugation from your company as you spent ages with your back pressed to his front, bodies moving as one to the beat of whatever song played through the speakers. one melody after another, you don’t know how many songs have passed before you've faced him, hands around his neck, one of his legs between yours.

“you’re beautiful,” he says, noses nearly touching, wanting to curse the millimeter standing between himself and the rest of his life. a moment of pressure from you stood over his knee and he decided he’d never needed something so bad, his stomach growling with a hunger he was saving for a single taste of you. 

“yeah?” your smile turned mischievous, a dangerous game you were playing, he’d strip you down in front of the entire club, fuck you in front of every man in the building. that’s if he could live with himself letting anyone besides him see you like that, which he couldn’t, of course. your outfit left too much to the imagination, tight dress pants and a white top that clung to every inch of you. he needed to know what was underneath. he could imagine, picture you beneath the cotton, he could almost feel the soft plush of your thighs on his fingertips. 

“prove it,” was all you said and it sold him of the only thing he had left. his pride, the thing he savored, he’d usually let anyone else take the reins with him, want him first, so he could drop them without a second thought. you wanted me, i never wanted you. always the predator, never the prey, even under the gaze of his evermore. 

anyone that came before you, the several exes, plethora of playthings, he’d easily forget them, leave them all behind for a night with you. he wouldn’t settle for just a night with you, he won’t take anything less than eternity. your thin, tiny square lenses sitting low on your nose, your hair messily wrapped up on top of your head, lipstick still perfectly applied on your lips, the way you were so meticulously put together… it was a primal urge, the need to ruin it, ruin you, keep you forever, just for himself. 

you weren’t doing far off, core aching for a kiss, a touch, anything to take the edge off. something about sharing a soul meant you could see his and it stood tall and red and rippled in the wind and screamed at you to let him make the first move. he needed to lay his cards on the table, make his blood stained soul turn white, let him give himself to you before you gave yourself to him. you listened, as much as it wounded you, his glossy lips begging you to close the distance, to taste him, to hurry up and move on with eternity because time waits for no one. 

you could see his internal battle, there were several going on in the mere moment that lasted for hours. the battle of your beings, still separated not yet merged, yet still transparent for the other to see. the battle of him with himself, his pride, his masculinity, this routine he’s been performing for the past six years. your battle with him, begging him to give into you, to show you what he’s made of, to show you what color he bleeds. your battle with yourself, your self control to listen to whatever is telling you to let him give in first. you knew he would, he knew he would, it was a waiting game. 

once he said fuck it and he raised his white flag, his soul changed color as his lips tasted yours. one kiss in the middle of a crowded dance floor, overflowed enough that other people’s sweat was mixing with your own, music pumping through your veins, the world had shifted. tectonic plates couldn’t compare, couldn’t move you the way hongjoong did in that very moment. 

this combining, this merging, this tasting of his soul, the atoms that make up his very being, you consumed it all entirely. the good, the bad, the complicated, the opulent, the rough, the agonizing, you could feel all of it in him. you needed more. 

it wasn’t always like that, wasn’t always intoxicating, blinding, all consuming. the obsession was beautiful, addicting, similar to the box of tobacco you now kept in your back pocket. it translated to tenderness, intimacy, warmth, it was one of a kind. one that sparked jealousy from others, one that closed its doors on anyone who dared to peer inside. it was personal, only to be enjoyed by the two of you, never shared. no one on this fucking earth could understand you the way hongjoong could, no one could read your mind, fix what needed to be fixed before it was even broken in the first place. he was a lifeline, a savior, a backbone for you. and you were all the same to him. 

he’d never thought he could love anything the way he loves you. his music, his art, his life, he’d throw everything away if that meant one more second spent with you. you were water to him the way he was air to you, the sun to him the way he was the moon to you. in every single lifetime you know hongjoong has been your missing link, two fucked up pieces that finally finished the puzzle. when put together, everything made sense. you were complete. 

“mm, maybe a half an hour longer?” his smile is sheepish, almost embarrassed to say the same answer he’d given you thirty minutes prior. 

a knowing smile grows on your face, how could you be mad at him? your hard working boyfriend, forever sitting behind a screen, making deadlines meet. when he said half an hour, he meant two hours. when he said twenty minutes, he meant an hour. his language is exclusive to only him, it takes someone who really knows him, really understands him for his dialect to be construed.  

you went to bed, surrounded by white walls with monochromatic paintings that didn’t have any real meaning. the room was big, too big to be comforting. too empty to be lived in, especially without him beside you. it’s how the whole loft felt: picturesque, a movie set, a bed, bathroom and kitchen without being a home. you could have a photoshoot here anytime with the natural light pouring in through the floor to ceiling windows, but could you raise a family? could you settle here, in this city?

you kept your eyes closed, searching for sleep that didn’t want to be found. pulling the comforter over you, you nuzzled in, cocooned yourself into the mongolian cashmere that threatened you with its heat. 

“going to sleep this early? that’s no fun,” you heard his voice before the patter of his familiar footsteps, a rhythm you’d memorized months ago. he climbs into the california king, searching for you, finding you, kissing you. “what’s got you wrapped up like this? missed me?” 

you nodded, bottom lip jutting out, feeling so small even with him here, this huge bed engulfing you. you needed his heat, his touch, his skin on yours, you wanted comfort. 

“my girl,” he cooed, fingers running through your hair, messily sprawled across the silk pillowcase, “i missed you too.” 

kisses that were peppered along your jaw turned heated before you could notice his mood had changed. as his tongue licked up the base of your neck you whined, pressing yourself into him, mindlessly begging for more. 

“needy girl,” he teased as he pulled the blankets off of you, mongolian cashmere be damned. you wore one of his shirts, oversized enough to be a dress. he pushed it up past your stomach, pleasantly surprised with the lack of anything underneath. 

“ah, my needy girl is clever, hm? planned this, did you?” his smirk stretched across his face, eyes deepening to the richest, darkest brown, reflecting the ecuadorian chocolates he bought you months ago, a gift on a random thursday. 

“and what if i did?” you’d been pleading for him to come to bed for ages, begging him to fill more space in this empty room. you’d been prepared to try anything, stopped only by his mask of concentration. 

“then you’re in luck,” before you knew it he’d already slipped inside you, your back arching against the texture of the percale sheets beneath you. he’d wrecked you, as he did every time, swapping spit and cum and secrets, exposing skin and feelings and truths. 

every time the sex was this sweet, this melodious, he’d tell you exactly how he felt about you. he’d make you feel it. 

“fuck, i fucking love you,” he was buried to the hilt, holding your face between two cold hands, “could die right here inside you a happy man.” 

you couldn’t do anything but moan, clenching around him, your coming answer enough. 

“want me to fill you up?” he’d asked, thrusts turning rougher, more sporadic, the finish line nearing, “yeah? give you my kids? make you a mommy?” 

you locked your ankles behind his back, this wasn’t the first time you’d done this. an iud sat inside you, still working perfectly fine, his proposal wouldn’t come to fruition with you like this. you still nod, whimpers leaving your throat, low babbles of begs for him to fill you. 

he always did, always carried you to the bath after, always washed your hair, your body, maybe filled you up once more if you felt like it. 

“do you want to stay here? in this city?” the bath had run lukewarm at this point, but you didn’t want to separate, didn’t want to spend a moment not pressed against one another. 

“for now, i think so, why?” his hand was traveling up and down your arm that hung outside the tub, your head laid against his chest. 

“when we have kids… i don’t know about raising them here,” your voice was small, unsure of where his mind would go with your sudden revelation. 

“we have a long way to go before then,” he chuckled, kissing the top of your head. you stayed quiet, fingertips inaudibly tapping the side of the tub. 

“this been bothering you?” his other hand moves to grip your jaw, a light touch to twist your head, making you look up at him. 

“i wouldn’t say it’s bothering me, but anything can happen, i was just thinking about it,” even the bathroom is too big, too lifeless to be a home. marble tile, his and hers vanities, a detached, massive shower, a bidet on the toilet. you couldn’t picture smaller you’s running around in here. 

“we’re already playing with fire, i guess,” he leans his head back on the tub, “where do you dream of going? if i could build a house from the ground up for you, where? what would it look like?”

like a scene from the notebook, your heart twisted, bursting at the seams with the unbelievable amount of what you felt for him. so you told him, a rancher, a farm, somewhere quiet and peaceful. a house that felt lived in, one appropriate to raise a family, one that wasn’t perfectly dusted and organized all the time. picture frames littering shelves, toys randomly left across the house, clothes on the floor of the bedroom. you wanted normalcy, you wanted warmth, you wanted a family. 

he wanted nothing more than to give you that. within two weeks he’d been in contact with several realtors, purchasing land on the countryside, finding the perfect plot for you two to raise your little family. he’d pictured you in a pair of boots, a tee shirt, an old, big pair of overalls. your stomach swollen, hair messily wrapped up, walking in the barn, feeding the chickens. his heart warmed, and his dick so quickly rose again, twitching behind your back. 

how a love so beautiful, so unique could get so fucked up, you couldn’t understand, not even three years later. you didn’t want to understand, though, and neither did he. you don’t care, neither of you do, because the only thing that matters is that he is still near you. close to you. breathing your air, touching your skin, whispering the most vile shit into your ear, he is here. you needed him closer, needed him so close that you merged into one. it’s never enough, it’ll never be enough, more of him, always more of him, always more of you. 

he felt the same way. your breath on his skin, your saliva drying on his neck, he wanted more. he wanted it messier, he wanted it sloppier. he wanted it to never end. but the two of you will never end because you’re meant for each other, right? there’s no one else on this planet for him, billions of people and he’s found his other half already. she’s under him, she’s breathing, she’s screaming, she’s beautiful. he’s so lucky. 

which is why it makes sense to no one that they don’t see either of you anymore. usually one of you, here and there, never together. never holding hands, never smiling at each other, never touching the other one’s hair, never fixing the other one a plate. never together, but yet rarely apart. as far as everyone knows, you’re still together, they think? you are, you tell them that you are, hongjoong tells them that you are, but poor yeosang can’t understand why he doesn’t see his friends anymore. he misses their smiles, their laughs, their humor, their parties, their love. you miss it too, sometimes. 

the truth is, your shared codependency turned into some warped fucking version of destruction where neither of you can stand to see other next to someone else. at clubs, at bars, at those backyard parties with your friends, god forbid you get too close to san. you swear to that same god if hongjoong spoke three more words to mina he’d be sleeping on the couch for weeks. everyone noticed, everyone could pick up on it easily. the side eye, outright glares across the room, hongjoong’s hand around your wrist like a pair of handcuffs. you couldn’t find it in you to be embarrassed at your friend’s glances, their eyebrows furrowing in confusion, their questions that sat heavy in thin air without ever being spoken. you were too worried about what hongjoong was thinking. how angry he’d be, what it’d be like when you got home, if he’d even say a word to you the rest of the night. hongjoong was already cooking up his testimony, ready to tell you to stop being fucking insane and our friends are just friends, yet the double standard was always there. you’d use the same arguments against each other, have the same rebuttals. it got you nowhere, there was no resolution, there was just his california king and percale sheets. the cashmere blanket that laid over every argument, tucking it away tightly until the next time you unveiled it. 

as much as your love fucked you up, made your brain not fucking work correctly, you couldn’t bear to think of a day where you’d be apart. couldn’t imagine your future not spent in that rancher on the countryside, children and chickens running amok. 

when he told you his job was relocating him to the states, yet another huge city, you couldn’t breathe. for a full minute you couldn’t speak, you couldn’t answer him, you couldn’t function. your lifeline, your savior, your water, your moon, leaving you. 

“i’ll start looking for a place for us,” he said so casually, too casually, scrolling on his phone, not even looking at you. the breath was sucked from your lungs, you wouldn’t be surprised if your face was blue.

“no, i won’t go,” you murmured out, clearly, unlike the stumbling of words in your mind, hot tears in your eyes and strain on your voice. you sat up in the california king, goosebumps raising on your bare body in the too cold bedroom. 

“huh?” he finally tore his eyes from the screen, “what do you mean no?” 

“i won’t fucking go, joong! you’re asking me to pick up my life and move to another country for your stupid job?” anger flushed through your veins, your voice raised, fire in your eyes. you turned to him in the bed, not even bothering to cover yourself with the sheets. 

“my stupid job? my stupid job that pays for this place? pays the bills?” he sat up too quickly, his eyes were wide and oh boy was he angry, you hit a nerve there. 

“i can pay the bills just as easily as you and you know that, hongjoong,” you bark back, tears close to boiling as they stream down your face, “i can’t leave my life. my career, my stability, my future, what the fuck did you think i was going to say? huh? yeah sure! let’s move out of the country! are you out of your goddamn mind?” 

“your future? what the fuck am i then? just a placeholder for now?” he’s laughing with wide eyes and oh fuck it’s maniacal, ring covered fingers tugging at his white blonde roots. “i fucking knew it. you never planned a real future with me then, did you? all that talk about getting married, having kids, all of it just a fucking lie? a sick little joke to keep me with you, paying the rent? funding your little shopping sprees?” 

“fuck you, hongjoong, you fucking know that’s not true,” you’re sobbing now, his words hitting their mark. you stood up and walked out to the living room, pulling the white, soft blanket with you. 

your dream, your future, your life, crumbling around you. hongjoong was air to you, your moon, controlling the tide that pushed and pulled you closer or farther away from one another. 

you’d never been dependent on anyone before him, never needed a moon to your sun, you shone brightly all by yourself at all times. even now, with him, you could easily survive without him. financially, at least. even in this big, lifeless loft you could support yourself, you were just as successful as he was, after all. but emotionally? actually living a life that he wasn’t involved in? you don’t think you’d survive it. 

you could leave here, move with him, restart your life somewhere else. you wanted to do that, but in the countryside, this situation is completely different. this isn’t a choice. this is someone else making a decision and everyone expecting you to follow suit. what about what you needed? what about your job, that you adore? spent years climbing to where you are, you now have an entire team working under you. what about that team? your coworkers? your family, living close by? your friends, oh god your friends, ones you haven’t seen in an embarrassing amount of time… only months past twenty six, you could technically restart if you needed to. you just don’t want to. you needed hongjoong to not want to, either. 

a moment barely passed before he’s beside you on the couch, tears pouring down your cheeks, face buried in the crook of his neck. he’s rubbing your back, kissing your head, whispering sweet nothings that’d always calm you when you broke down like this. he knows how to fix you, always stitching back together what he tore apart.

two months later, and you didn’t end up on that plane beside him. he had you really convinced, though, in the same way you convinced yourself: you’d leave your job, find one similar to yours in LA, climb the ranks, and be as successful as you are here, but there. you’d be just as devoted, passionate, happy. 

ultimately, he thought he knew best, like he always does. he thinks he knows you better than you know yourself, sometimes. he knows you love your job, love your team, your coworkers, you love your position. you spent ages crawling your way up there. you love your friends, your family, you couldn’t leave them behind and still be happy. you’re a loyal woman in every aspect of your life, with your lover, your friends, your career. every small string is attached to what makes you, you. he knows you’d never be as happy as you are in this city, but he also knows you’d never let him go without you. so he left without a goodbye, without a parting gift, a farewell kiss, a last departing whisper of an i love you. 

he left you alone, broken, empty. 

a shell of who you once were. 

what he didn’t take into consideration is that you love him more than anything, anyone. you were inconsolable. your friends didn’t know what to do with you. they wondered why you weren’t at hongjoong’s going away party, why they haven’t heard from you, they didn’t know everything he did was in secret. how word didn’t get passed around to you, you didn’t know, you were still furious about it. they didn’t know how to help you, they couldn’t even start to make sense of why your boyfriend of years would leave you without a second word. neither could you. they couldn’t wrap their minds around how you didn’t know he was leaving. neither could you. 

that one long day you spent at work, coming home to a cold, massive, empty fucking apartment. not a trace of him, not one small sign that he ever lived there in the first place. he took all his clothes with him, all of his equipment for work, even his little trinkets… all gone. disappeared into thin air. how could you not fucking know? 

you took almost a week off from work. something you rarely did, you felt like you couldn’t catch up, couldn’t manage your insanely busy schedule if you did take some personal time. but this was different. it wasn’t a week spent relaxing somewhere warm, it wasn’t a vacation, it wasn’t happy at all. you thought you felt your world crumble around you when he first broke the news, this was the real thing. this was the past three years of your life that had been devoted to one singe person, the person that mattered most, the person that you’d cross oceans and go to war for and he plucked himself directly from your life. 

mina, yuna, yeosang, mingi… they were at your apartment around the fucking clock. they didn’t leave you alone, it was suffocating. you hadn’t left your bed for days, you weren’t eating, you weren’t drinking, you were too busy staring at the space above your dresser where a picture of the two of you once lived. 

he didn’t call. in the year you spent apart, while you built yourself again piece by piece, rewiring your very brain chemistry, he didn’t call you. he blocked your number, blocked your social medias, blocked your family. you went through every outlet at first, every friend you shared, trying again and again, begging for just a conversation with him. never once did you get through, never once did you hear how he was, how the states are different from here, how he’s been eating, who he’s been with… god, who has he been with? he’s yours, no one else’s.

you lost weight, you lost sleep, you lost your drive, you lost yourself, fifty percent of you. your soul was somewhere so far you couldn’t feel it, couldn’t access it, in an entirely different fucking country, tens of thousands of miles away from you. bottles of liquor now sat in your pantry, cartons of cigarettes sprawled across the kitchen table, every hour of your free time spent in solitude, months upon months of you driving yourself mad. 

you thought your bedroom felt empty before, unwelcoming, frigid, dispiriting, you couldn’t imagine being there without him, yet now you couldn’t bring yourself to go elsewhere. you took it for granted, having him here, you felt guilty for even thinking that you’d be happier somewhere else when you had the only thing you’ve ever needed in your possession. 

but a year later, he stood on your doorstep, a doorstep you once shared. a doorstep that has seen you pressed up against the frame with his hand inside your skirt, a doorstep that’s listened to your meaningless arguments on your way home from an event, a doorstep that’s watched as you bid visitors goodbye. he’s there, he’s breathing, he’s living, he’s close to you. not close enough. 

the earth had turned gray, the sunniest of days couldn’t make the city look saturated in the year you spent apart. all the usual too loud noise had turned to whispers, all the business couldn’t inflict an ounce of motivation in you. within seconds of seeing his face everything was colorful, the city had sound again, it was if someone flicked a switch sewn into your back. 

“you’re a real piece of shit,” you bark out, opting to shut the door in his face. his foot slides between the door and the frame, his hand lurching forward to hold it open. 

“i’m here,” is all he says, and you pause, looking up to him. he is here, and he’s real, and you can’t stop the tears from forming. 

hi friends! first post of my work on here <3 i have not posted any of my writing since i was probably 16... pls be nice to me

massive shoutout to @chimivx, thank you for getting me back into it and giving me the courage to post :,) love u forever

anyways i love hongjoong hope u enjoyed xoxo

love, t ｡ ★ • *

[kittyscupcakeandbunny]

Made by me

The Masterlist

CRAZY OVER YOU

[HYBRID AU]

[FINISHED]✅

Side Characters: Namjoon/doctor, Seokjin/doctor, Taehyung/Hybrid Tiger, Jungkook/Bunny Hybrid, Hoseok/assistant.

Warnings: Smut, mentions of blood, sharp objects, rut, beast behavior.

Genre: Fantasy, hybrids au, smut.

SUMMARY》 Yoongi is a black mamba hybrid one of rarest species of hybrids, who’s about to be put down due to his lack of interest in living. But everything changes after the new medical assistance (y/n) takes a liking to him. Meeting after meeting he realise his feelings for her are not the only thing growing.

INTRO - In the books they say

ONE - Love at first bite

TWO - Bath me with your love

THREE - Hungry for your love I

FOUR - The truth untold II

FIVE - Bitter taste, Jealousy and bites

SIX - Take Me Home

SEVEN - The last bite

SET ME FREE

[MAFIA AU]

On Going

Side Characters: Min Yoongi as Agust D/Mafia boss, Jung Hoseok as Jack/Concierge, Namjoon/Police detective, Jungkook/Police detective, Park Jimin/thief and gang leader, Taehyung/Mafia member FBI Mole, Paradise owner. Jin/unknown, Busan/Mafia boss.

Warnings: This story contains nsfw content (descriptive blood, gore, etc.) as well as sexual content. Mentions may include violence, consumption of alcohol, explicit sexual interactions, sharp objects, knife play, description of injuries, themes of major horror and also explores obsessive behaviors and codependency, robbery, killing, guns, torturing, fire, toxic yandere men, violence, possessive behaviour, unhealthy relationships.

SUMMARY: You made it. Now a police intern as you always promised to your father before he died, you were more than happy to finally be able to help people like he did. But the law was not what you expected to be like. You did not know how lonely it would be for a young woman to grow her career in this kingdom. Having to take care of your 18 year old brother wasn't easy too and things just got a lot worse when you've met Agust D. The king of the mafia Min. He sure knew how to make a life turn into a hell hole.

INTRO

ONE - Red Chopsticks

TWO - I’ll find you in a dark Paradise

THREE - A deal with the devil

FOUR - Welcome to my world

FIVE - Good girl gone bad COMING SOON

SIX - Dance with the devil COMING SOON

FINAL DESTINATION - LILITH COMING SOON

BREATH OF FIRE

[HYBRID GODS AU]

On Going

Side characters: Park Jimin/White fox hybrid.

Warnings: Mentions of blood, death, violence, sharp objects, suggestive words, smut, alcohol, killing.

Genre: Fantasy, romance, strangers to lovers, R +18.

SUMMARY: Did you know a fox only mates once in their life? For almost 400 years Min Yoongi never mated before, all theses years of emptiness and loneliness. He had tried so many times to end with his own hands. Until one night a hint of sweet and fire blows towards his nose, the smell was something he never felt before. And blood. Running for your life you felt hopeless in front of a lake, two man following you behind. Their disgusting smiles and eyes savoring your female body, you knew what they would do but you'd rather die. It all started with fire.

INTRO - Run little girl

ONE - Wood, cinnamon and honey.

TWO - Please wash away this blood on my skin

THREE - A taste of honey and dreams

FOUR - A Rise From The Shadows (coming soon)

…

FINAL BREATH (coming soon)

BUNNY BUNS

[HYBRID AU]

COMING SOON

Side Characters: Yoongi/black cat hybrid, Hoseok/human, Taehyung/golden hybrid.

Warnings: Smut, violence, mentions of blood. And finally some fluff.

SUMMARY: Jungkook needed to hide. He was on the run. And what better place for a bunny hybrid to hide then a Bunny coffee shop? How could he resist? You smelled sweet and looked nice. All it took was one smile of yours and a bunny bread and he was on all fours for you.

INTRO - Bunny on the run

ONE - Bunnies don’t like water (coming out soon)

TWO - Carrot Cake 🥕: Bunny in the kitchen (coming soon)

THREE - Muscle Bunny to the rescue (coming soon)

FOUR - Bunny Fever (coming soon)

THE LAST BUN (Coming soon)

ONE SHOTS

Coming soon

YOONGI

My Best Friends Crush

Characters: Min Yoongi/music theory Teacher, Jung Hoseok/dance teacher, Jungkook/art and design student, Jimin/danc student, reader/art student.

Genre: strangers to lovers, forbidden love?

Warnings: mentions of explicit language, sexual references(smutty material), consumption of alcohol, age difference.

Summary: “my whole life I always hated rules and protocols, growing to fin comfort on art as I could express myself unapologetically and freely. But there was one rule I made with myself; never fall in love with your friend crush.

With my rebellious nature, it was bound to be broken but I just never meet someone who would take that seriously.”

HOSEOK

JIMIN

JUNGKOOK

JIN

NAMJOON

TAEHYUNG

[raya-hunter01]

Not My Sister's Keeper Pt. 5

Roman X OC(Kara)

Jey Uso X OC (Tia)

Rating: 18+

Warning: Smut; sex, fluff, couple arguing, Jealousy, infidelity, pregnancy

Roamn’s wife recently left medical school and returned home to save her marriage. Upon her return, she finds out things are not what they seem. Her sister is pregnant by her best friend Jey Uso, who is also Roman’s cousin, and her husband is acting suspicious.

What happens when a conversation overhead on a baby monitor blows her world apart?

A Month Later

Roman’s House

“Mama, you saw it for yourself, she slept with Jey,” I said trying to escape her wrath.

“Son, your actions caused that chain reaction, and Tia living here isn’t helping your case to get your wife back either,” my mom said washing the dishes as I fed Logan her bottle.

“Mama, Logan needs her.”

“Logan needs her like I need an enema. She doesn’t even want that baby; she barely interacts with her. How could you let this happen?” she asked as I wished the earth to open up and swallow me whole.

“Mama, I stopped it, I knew I was wrong.”

“But, it took six times sleepin’ with this girl for you to realize that, and then you lied to me. Roman, I didn’t raise you this way,” my mother scolded as I sighed taking my tongue lashing from her.

“Mama, I was gon’ tell you, I just didn’t know how,” I said as she sat down beside me.

“You start by telling the truth….I said some mean things to Kara going off how you were acting. Like when was you going to tell me that you had a child with Kara’s sister.”

“I…I was going to fix it all. I wanted her to be Logan’s stepmom.. I was going to make it right, then I saw red. She let him have her mama, my wife did that,” I said still in shock that Kara took it that far and slept with Jey.

“Roman, you can’t take a child away from her mother and give it to another woman, thinking it will fix the issue. Kara is hurt…Her husband and sister betrayed her, that’s a hard pill to swallow.”

“But look at what she did, like really out of all people it just had to be him. Why would she do that?” I asked, truly wanting to know why.

“To make sure she hurt you deeper than you hurt her, and it worked. Tore you up so bad you ordered a new bus. Got you walkin’ round here like you on life support,” my mom said, my jaw twitched just thinking about them together.

“Then you got that girl sleepin’ here, trying to get her hooks in you.”

“Mama, I ain’t-”

“I don’t care, if you want to try to work on your marriage, Tia gotta go. Her being here is showing Kara you didn’t take your marriage seriously and its disrespectful.”

“Mama, she has nobody-”

“That’s a lie, she got a mama, and a daddy. Tia’s mother was going stay with her for a month to help out with the baby. Rebecca told me, but Tia turned her down. I’m telling you Roman, get her outta here before something bad happens, son”.

“Mama, I tried to talk to Kara, but she’s been ignoring me. She just sits in mediation staring a hole through me,”  I said trying to get her to understand.

“Try harder, tell her what happened so there is no more secrets and hopefully ya’ll can get back on track. Whatever the outcome you owe her, and you know you do.”

“Mama, her sleepin’ wit Jey hurt me bad.” I said pleading my case as she threw her hands up in the air as I frowned at her. Kinda pissed she ain’t more on my side…I am her son.

“Roman, you’re not thinking about what you’ve done to Kara. I swear you are just like your daddy, can dish it out but can’t take it. Go to mediation today and be truthful with her,” she said leaving me alone with my thoughts.

Over the last month Tia being here has been hell. She won’t help with Logan, it’s almost like it’s no bond between them and that is insane to me.

 It’s been all me and mama, so I know I’m in this alone.

Hearing her come downstairs I rolled my eyes. “Morning my logan,” she said kissing logan on the forehead as Logan begins to fuss.

“Roman, I’m glad you’re still here. I thought you had left for the show, she said extra giddy. She really was trying to push something that was never going to be. My mom was right, she needed to go.

“Uh, no I got to go sign for the new bus and I got mediation today,” I said as Tia shot me a look.

“Oh, you’re still trying to beat that dead horse,” she said smartly rolling her eyes as I stood up walking towards her. “Um, what are you doing Roman?” Tia asked worriedly as I placed Logan in her arms. “Letting you bond with your daughter, because she has two parents and not just one,” I said leaving a fussing Logan with her.

“Roman, take her to your mom!” Tia cried as I kept walking, ignoring her.... I had bigger fish to fry.

“Make sure you’re gone by 1:00, my mama is taking Logan to your parents and you to get groceries for your house. I need you gone; Kara is stopping by to get some of her things!” I yelled as I heard her mutter under her breath.

Going upstairs I ran into mom. “Why didn’t you bring the baby to me? I ain’t gon’ listen to Logan cry all day because you left her with the devil,” she said as I snickered.

“Mama, she’s gotta try to bond with her,” I said giving her a hug before I went to get dressed.

----------

Bently Law and Associates

Kara’s POV

“I know you, nor her better be there when I get there,” I whispered as Roman nodded.

“My mom is dropping Logan off at your parents. Ma, can vouch for me,” he said pointing at my mother as she nodded.

“Yeah, Roman called last night and asked us to keep Logan," my mom said as I sighed, not really caring.

“Then my mom is going to take Tia grocery shopping for some things for her house because she’s about to be going home. After this, I gotta go finalize the deal on my new bus.”

“I don’t care where Tia goes, as long as she ain’t there when I’m there,” I said irritated.

 All he had to say was she wasn’t going to be there; I didn’t need an update on his baby mama drama.

 “Nobody will be there sweetheart, I promise,” Roman said as I cringed at his use of his pet name for me.

“Please…Don’t do that,” I said as he threw his hands up and sat back in his seat.

Sitting there in silence, my brain finally caught up to the little information he revealed. He got a new bus…. Smirking I felt a sense of satisfaction knowing he couldn’t shake the image of Jey and I on the other bus.

You could feel the tension as we went to sat with our lawyers. Ten years of marriage, was coming down to being in this office on the 15th floor, sitting around this huge table negotiating assets.

Deven, a mutual friend of ours, who’s also a judge, sat at the end of the table serving as a mediator for us.

“Alright, let’s get started. I wished we were here under different circumstances, but I digress. Mr. Towns what is your client Mrs. Reigns asking for?” Deven asked as I leaned back in my chair trying to relax.

“My client doesn’t want any of her husband’s assets, she only wants a clean break,” my lawyer said as I saw Roman twitching his seat.

“Kara is you crazy? After all he’s done..The devil is a damn lie, she want it all!” my mom said as I tuned her out.

I was too focused on Roman, who had leaned over and was whispering something in his lawyer’s ear.

“Well, my client would like to try therapy before we go this route. It will look good to a judge that you guys tried and could push this along quicker in the end.”

“I want this over,” I said as Roman cleared his throat.

“I want to try to save our marriage,” Roman said as I shook my head.

“I would rather swallow nails and dance barefoot across hot coals,” I said as my mother slapped me on the arm.

“Girl, hush this about getting what you deserve. He owes this to you,” She hissed as I sighed, sitting back and allowing Roman’s lawyer to continue.

“My client wants to also pay for his wife’s medical school expenses.”

“What!” I exclaimed sitting up in my seat looking at my mom who shushed me. “Here him out baby,” she whispered as I took a deep breath.

Bitch, now you want me to go back to medical school, now you want to support my dreams.

 “Like I was saying, we’ve come up with a total of 500,000 that she needs to complete her last two years of education.”

“That’s way too much?” I interrupted as his lawyer looked down at his sheet of paper reading his notes as Roman cracked a small smile.

“Always worried about me spending too much money instead of just letting me take care of you,” he muttered as I shot him a look.

“Kara, look at me.” Deven said as I turned, giving him my full attention feeling Roman’s eyes still on me.

“I talked to Roman and the price he came up with will help you with things you need such as your books, a Condo to stay in, and any necessities you may need.”

“Deven, it’s too much,” I whispered, totally thrown for a loop everything.

“Roman wants you to focus on school and not have to worry about taking up a job. He knew you were going to come in here and wouldn’t want anything from him, but he knows you deserve everything.” Deven said as fought back tears.

“Let him at least do that much, and hear him out,” Deven pleaded as I turned back to Roman and his lawyer, wanting to hear the rest of his offer as Roman sighed in relief before turning to his lawyer.

“Let her know what else we talked about Ryan?” Roman whispered pointing to his notepad as his lawyer looked over, shocked at whatever Roman had written on his paper.

“Are you sure Mr. Reigns? I said we could renegotiate that and bring it to the table later,” His lawyer whispered as Roman shook his head.

“She deserves it and I want her to have it regardless of if we work this out or not,” he whispered as I frowned at him.

“Uh, my client would also like to add an additional three million per year for Mrs. Reigns to do with as she pleases and upon graduation Mr. Reigns will donate ten million towards his wife’s own practice,” his lawyer said as I tried to process what he was offering…

“Jesus, Roman,” my mother said as Roman’s eyes never left mine.

Why was he doing this? Why now?

“My client has also cleared the balance owed from when his wife left school and violated the terms of her scholarship. All her debts are clear, so she can re-apply for school anytime she likes.”

“Why are you doing this? Like why now?” I whispered as Roman leaned his elbows on the table.

“Because I love you, and I miss my wife. I’m trying to make it right, Kara,” Roman said as I felt the room closing in on me.

“Now you want to support my dreams…. Now you want to do right! Now you want to make it right!” I shouted, the look of remorse on his face making it hard for me to breathe.

“I think emotions are high and we should take a break and resume next week. That will give Kara some time to think about things,” Deven said as my mother rolled her eyes.

“Ain’t shit to think about….She gon’ take everything he offering…He owes her that much, all she sacrifices she made for him,” my mom said as I wiped my tears.

“Kara, please take it…Even if you don’t take me back. I want you to have this regardless.” Roman pleaded.

“I need some air,” I whispered storming out of the room.

“Kara! Come back!” I heard him yell hot on my heels.

Picking up pace, I slip inside the elevator, pushing the buttons fast as I could as Roman sprinted towards me, sliding in the elevator  just before the doors closed.

“Kara-”

“Why are you doing this? You can't buy me, I'm not for sale."

“Baby, just listen,” he pleaded pulling me in his arms, cradling the back of my neck, holding me close as I finally exploded.

“NO! NO! Let me go!” I screamed, managing to turn my body away from him, but I couldn't escape his powerful embrace.

“Baby, I’m sorry,” Roman pleaded refusing to let me go, wrapping one arm around my waist and the other around my chest.

 His grip never loosened as he lowered us to the floor determined to not let me go as I fought against him.

“Damn you!...... You broke us! You broke ME!..... I LET YOU BREAK ME!!” I cried as he held me tighter.

“Baby, please forgive me,” he whispered, his silent tears falling on my cheek as he buried his head against mine.

He had officially broken me…And now that he had me broken, he wanted to give me all I ever had asked for from him.

“Roman, just let me go,” I whimpered as he released me, allowing me to slide to the opposite side of the elevator, creating some much-needed distance.

“I’m sorry, I just love so much,” he whispered as the elevator jolted to a stop as I looked around in confusion as the lights flickered, then dimed……

No…Not now…We can’t be stuck in here.

“This isn’t happening,” I muttered as Roman rushed to pick up the emergency phone.

“Hello! Hello……Yes, my wife and I are stuck?” he said as I tried to regulate my breathing.

“An hour!” He said I hit the wall in frustration. This day just keeps on getting worse.

An hour in here….. With Roman..Shoot me now.

“Thank you, thirty minutes sounds better than an hour,” he said hanging up and sitting down under the phone as I took off my jacket trying to get comfortable.

“Kara, I-”

“Please don’t talk to me, you’re taking up all the air,” I said checking my phone frowning at the fact I had no service.

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen, I swear I was going to tell you that night. If you could Just let me explain,” he said as I looked at him.

“Ok, I’ll play along, since you seem like you wanna confess your sins. How did it start?” I asked putting my phone in my pocket, giving him my undivided attention.

Roman seemed shocked at my question, this was not how he wanted the conversation to go.

Roman’s POV

Damn, she didn’t waste any time asking. I knew I had to tell her all of it but I dreaded it.…

“Well, I’m waiting, you wanted to explain,” Kara said as I sighed.

“The first time was on the bus. She had asked for a ride saying her friends had left her. Later that night after you and I talked on the phone, I went to bed. I woke up in the middle of the night and there she was layin’ in bed with me….Naked.”

“Then what?” Kara whispered as I contemplated my next words, but I knew I had to tell the truth.

 “She climbed on top of me, I asked her to leave but it was almost eerie how she looked like you in the moonlight, so I didn’t stop it,” I said as Kara covered her face with her hands, her leg anxiously tapping against the floor.

I hated to tell her, but I knew I had to tell her all of it.

“When we were having sex, I slipped up and called her your name,” I said as Kara’s head jerked in my direction looking at me in disgust and horror, but she didn’t say anything.

“She told me she didn’t mind pretending to be you for me and I called her by your name as we had sex. Like four out of the six times we slept together I did, the other times, no words were exchanged,” I said feeling the bile rise in my throat, for the first time truly realized how sick it all was.

Kara looked at me with a sad smile. “Tia always has to prove a point that she can take away the things that I love, and I guess you were no exception…..God, I think I’m going to be sick,” Kara whispered, as I dropped my head in shame.

“Kara, If I could take it back I would but I can’t. Just please say we can try-”

“Well as a last-minute replacement for me how did she do?” Kara asked interrupting me, as I groaned.

“Don’t do that, you know nobody can ever compare to you,” I said as Kara chuckled, shaking her head.

“Did you even try to use protection?” she whispered as I felt somewhat offended, she would think I would put her life in danger.

The first time we didn’t but every time after that we did. I got tested before me and you even slept together again. I was clean, and I swear it was only that one time unprotected.”

“That’s all it takes is one time Roman, and now you have a child with her.  You still never answered my question…. How was she?” Kara whispered as I felt like I wanted to vomit.

“Kara don’t do this?”

 “No, you already did this when you slept with her and KEPT sleeping with her. So how was she?”

“Like I said, she wasn’t you and since we are on that subject, I guess I could ask you the same about Jey,” I said as the elevator started back up with a soft hum but was moving slowly.

Standing up Kara grabbed her jacket ignoring me, but I blocked her path standing in front of the doors. She wasn’t leaving here until she told me why she picked Jey.

“Move Roman.. I ain't got time for this," Kara whispered trying to avoid looking at me.

“Why Jey, Kara? It could have been anybody, but you chose him. You let him have you, why Kara,” I said unafraid and not ashamed of the tremble in my voice.

I was hurt that she let him have her, that’s all I see every time I pull into our fucking driveway.

“Just tell me,” I whispered making her look at me, her once loving eyes now void of feeling towards me.

I really did break her…I caused this change in her.

Suddenly, I felt like I couldn’t breathe as I remembered something she told me once when we were dating.

"Can you please move?"

“I have to love and trust someone to share my body with them, I don’t just jump into bed with anybody.” I whispered as she seemed shocked that I remembered but recovered quickly continuing to stare a hole through me.

“I guess there’s your answer as to why I chose, him,” she whispered as we stood in silence waiting for the elevator doors to open.

This couldn’t be it….It just couldn’t….We can come back from this…Jey is a non-issue, I’m her husband…

-----

Gulf Shore, AL

Jey’s POV

“Man, gon’ call Kara, and tell her you missed her and want her to come over,” Trin said as I shot her a look.

“I ain’t trying to smother her, I know she has mediation this morning. It takes a lot out of her,” I said as Trin smiled at me.

“That’s an even better reason to call her and let her know you’re thinking about her, Jimmy said as I  found myself blushin’.

I really had been thinking about Kara nonstop since we left a few weeks ago. The facetime calls and texting was and all cool but I wanted to hold her in my arms.

“You never told us what happened when ya’ll went to Roman’s that night either,” Trin said as I put my glasses on acting like I didn’t hear her.

“Oh, it’s like that huh…Fine, I’ll get the info from Kara,” she said as I chuckled.

“I think they fucked,” Jimmy said as I punched him in the shoulder. “Don’t talk about Kara like that,” I said as he gave Trin a knowing look as she smiled.

“Yep…They had sex, and it was good too. She got ya brother even more sprung than before,” Trin said as I pulled out my phone to call Kara, not even bothering to argue because it was true.

I was sprung and I wasn’t ashamed to admit it…

------

Roman’s House

Kara’s POV

I finally calmed down enough to make my way out to the house, and it seems like Roman kept his word...Nobody was here.

 As I got out the car my phone rang, smiling I accepted Jey’s facetime request.

“Where you been all my life,” Jey said as soon as I answered making me blush as I heard Trin and Jimmy awing in the background.

“Well, I always been here, and I’m currently at the house of horrors.” I said as Jey frowned.

“Your where?” Jey asked as I sighed. “I’m at the house picking up the last of my thing I wanted to get and granny’s bracelet.”

“Is he there?” Jey asked as I chuckled. “No, he’s not, he had some business to take care of. We did mediation this morning and it was a mess, but I’ll tell you about it later,” I said as Jey studied my face.

“I don’t like that look, it means when you tell me I’mma wanna beat his ass again,” Jey said as I gave him a small smile.

“What time ya’ll gettin' in today?" I asked as he smiled.

“We should be back in town in about an hour, we makin’ good time, tell the fam, hey,” Jey said turning the camera around to Jimmy and Trin as they laughed.

“Hey fam!” I said happy to see their faces, I really missed them all.

“Hey, Booky! I’mma need you to put this man outta his misery when this is all over with Roman and your ass crazy sister. He’s crazy about you,” Trin said as I blushed.

“Man, stop tellin’ all my business, Kara already knows what time it is,” Jey said as I laughed.

 “I miss you guys and I can’t wait to see ya’ll.”

“You be careful, get what you need, and get out. Dinner on us tonight,” Jimmy said as I smiled.

“I got ya’ll it’s gon’ take ten minutes tops. If I haven’t called, ya’ll back, call me,” I said putting their minds at ease.

“A’ight ten minutes,” Jey said as I smiled hanging up putting my phone in my back pocket.

After that night we never spoke about what happened. Jey was a man of his word; we carried on like our usual selves and for that I was grateful.

Running upstairs, I went into the bedroom and grabbed some of the clothes I wanted to keep, putting them in the box Roman had left on the bed for me.

I felt my anger slowly building as I looked around the room.. Had Tia been in here? Had she slept in our bed?  Roman’s confession on how things went down with Tia really had thrown me for a loop.

“Why couldn’t you say, no?” I muttered as I heard footsteps coming upstairs.

Ugh…

“Roman you said you wouldn’t be here,” I said agitated, opening the door and taking a step back in shock seeing Tia standing there in the sundress I wore the day Roman proposed to me.

“Oh, I didn’t know you would be here Kara. I was just trying to put together a little surprise for-” she started but stopped talking, seeing the look on my face…She realized she had taken it too far.

“You got on my dress!” I hissed as she tried to run but I caught her arm, slanging her in the room, and throwing her up against the wall before climbing on top of her.

“You bitch” I yelled punching her in the face as she screamed in pain.

“Get off! Kara!” Tia screamed as I repeatedly banged her head against the floor.

“I’mma kill you.”

“You ok up there Kara?!” I heard Janice yell as I kicked Tia in the stomach, before running to lock the door.

Nobody was breakin’ this up..She had it coming.

“Everybody always tryin’ to save you….You never face the consequences of your actions,” I hissed as she stumbled to her feet.

Before she could even see it coming, I ran at her, grabbing her by the and hair slamming her face against the wall.

“Kara calm down!" She cried as I backhanded her as she fell against me.

“Calm down my ass, I’m sicka you! Get off me bitch! I screamed, throwing her into the dresser as she tumbled across it hitting the floor hard. Her moans of pain bringing me satisfaction.

“What is going on in there, Kara?!” Janice yelled as I trembled with anger as Tia spit blood outta her mouth, crawling toward the wall trying to pull herself up.

“ Janice, I’mma kill her, that’s what’s going on!” I screamed charging towards Tia, spearing her against the wall as we fell to the floor in a heap.

My phone sliding across the floor in the process

“It ain’t worth it Kara, come on out baby,” Janice pleaded as I fought to catch my breath but I couldn’t reign in my anger. She has taken everything from me.

“I won,” Tia gasped with a smile as I snapped pulling her up by her neck dragging her to the wall mirror in the corner.

“Look! Look at us! Bitch, what have you won! The only reason you even had him in the first place is because you look somewhat look little like me the dark hoe,” I hissed as she tried to pry my hands out of her hair.

“Ain’t nobody tryin to be you! He wanted me because he knows I’m better than you!” Tia screaming as I chuckled letting her go.

“But ain’t you tryin’ to be me, Tia?…..Let’s see….You wearin’ my clothes!...You were fucking my husband and had a baby from him but you ain’t trying to be me.. Bitch, please, just own dat shit,” I scoffed.

“He wanted me Kara…He couldn’t resist me,” Tia smiled as I shook my head. This bitch was loony tunes.

“Oh! He wanted you, huh…Wasn’t he fucking you and calling you by my NAME!  Something you didn’t mind him doing by the way, right? As long as you fucked up my life!” I yelled as she jumped back in shock at my knowledge of what happened during her intimate moments with Roman.

“H- H- He told you?” she stammered as I smirked at her uneasiness.

“Yea, he told me all of it, and who does some sick shit like that? I asked. The tension building as we stared a hole through each other.

“Oh…nothing to say now.. Well, I’ll tell you who does that…A desperate bitch who loves to throw her rank ass pussy at anything that moves!”  I screamed as she tried to swing but missed, the momentum causing us to fall against the mirror, causing it to shatter around us.  

Luckily neither one of us landed on the glass but hit the ground hard.

“Damn it,” I muttered rubbing my head as I heard my phone ringing looking around in a panic, I groaned in frustration as it stopped.

I knew it was Jey calling to check on me.

“Miss an important call,” Tia teased trying to sit up as my phone started ringing again.

“J- Jey,” I whispered trying to crawl to my phone as I felt a Tia jump on my back as we tussled to get to my phone.

“What you mean don’t call the cops! You better get her quick then Roman; they are killing each other in there!” Janice said as she continued to bang on the door.

“Just as I reached the phone, Tia bit my hand and elbowed me in the stomach before grabbing and answering it.

“Jey! Jey, she’s gone crazy! Help me!” Tia cried as I pulled her back down to the ground hitting her with a right hook before slamming her head against the floor again.

“Tia! Where is Kara!” I heard Jey yell as I ripped my phone out of her hands.

“Kara! Kara! What’s gon’ on!” I heard Jey yelling in a panic as I put the phone to my ear.

“Jey….I’mma call you back…I got some shit to handle.” I panted

“Ka-” Jey started but I ended the call before he could finish, seeing Tia trying to run for the door.

“Where you goin’?” I asked, charging toward the door pushing her against it.

“Help! Somebody Help me! Your crazy!” Tia yelled as I turned her around to face me.

“What did you expect after all you’ve done! You’ve made me this way!”

I screamed punching her in the face as she fell in a heap at my feet, leaning down I jacked her up by the hair, tossing her again into the wall

“Bitch you ain’t nobody!” I Screamed gripping her hair as she tried to back away, I began punching her,  on top of her head, only stopping to change course landing a few punches to her face as she screamed trying to cover her face with her hands.

 I got a couple more shots before I felt myself being lifted up in the air. “Let me go! let me go!” I screamed, fighting against whoever had pulled me away.

“Kara, that’s enough baby,” Roman’s voice boomed throughout the room as I stilled in his arms, panting in disbelief at how out of control I was.

“Roman,” I whispered somewhat coming out of my tunnel vision.

“Yes…..It’s me baby, I got you,” he whispered holding me tight as I tried to gather myself as Tia got up of the floor wiping her nose.

“You’re really comforting her! She’s crazy and just attacked the mother of your child for no reason Roman,” Tia moaned, as I winced feeling the pain shoot through my knuckles as I looked down seeing the scrapes and patches of raw skin.

“Nah, I ain’t crazy..You just kept pushin’ your luck, like you always do and nobody was here to save yo’ ass…Let me go Roman!” I hissed as Roman released me, finally taking in Tia’s appearance.

“Why you got on Kara’s engagement dress?” Roman asked, his powerful voice overtaking the room as Tia said nothing.

She was too busy trying to check her face in the only mirror left standing in the room, on top of the dresser.

“Don’t worry, It’s an improvement bitch!” I screamed as Roman sighed gently pulling me to him, trying to check me over.

“Stop, I’m fine,” I said stepping away from him. “You got some cuts, Kara” he said worriedly as I shrugged him off again.

“I said I’m good, but you betta get that bitch outta here before I kill her,” I said pointing at Tia as she smirked, Janice shaking her head in the corner at the scene playing out before her.

“I won…I …ruined…Your …Life and I loved every minute of it…I hate you,” she seethed as I chuckled.

“You hate me….. You hate me!  Bitch, I’ve hated yo’ ass since the womb!” I yelled, knowing it would cut her deep because she would always tell me how she would rub Mama’s stomach and talk to me when Mama was pregnant with me.

“You wanna know why I’ve always made a point to fuck up your life?” She asked I tried to get around Roman.

“Because I wished you had never been born!” She screamed. "Move Roman!" I yelled as he refused, turning to look at Tia

“Shut up, Tia!” Roman shouted as she kept talking.

“It’s true, and she should know.”

“Well, Mama shoulda’ just swallowed when it came to you. Your whole fuckin’ existence has just been you being a living, breathing, pile of disappointment and cum! You gutta slut, I hate you!” I screamed as she seemed hurt by my words.

“Timeout!..... Roman take Kara downstairs for her to calm down…They hittin' below the belt now, ya’ll still sisters,” Janice said as I shrugged Roman off.

“I can go on my own accord. I don’t need him,” I said walking out of the room as Roman’s mom followed me.

“I’ll help you get cleaned up,” she said as I looked at her unsure of what her motive was. I was still pissed by her lil outburst and shots she was throwing a couple of weeks ago.

She betta not start talkin’ out her neck or she can get this work too. I’m tired of the bullshit…And everybody…

Roman’s POV

“I told you not to be here!” I yelled as Tia continued to clean herself up.

“She has to get used to seeing us a family, Roman.”

“Uh, no she doesn’t because that isn’t going to happen. We share Logan together and that’s all. I can’t believe you really came back here after I asked you not too…Just trying to hurt Kara,” I said as she rolled her eyes.

“That wasn’t my in-”

“Tia! You up here wearin’ the dress Kara wore when I proposed to her!…You knew what would happen when she saw you in it."

“She always takes shit so personal,” she said wincing as she touched her jaw.

“It is personal, and you had no right! Look, just get outta my house.” I said just over the day. I feel like the more I try the worse everything gets.

“How am I going to get home?” Tia cried as I walked around for the first time looking at the disaster area, that was once my bedroom with Kara.

“The same way you snuck back here after my mom dropped you off at your house…Hell, walk for all I care and leave Logan at your moms, I’ll pick her up later,” I said leaving no room for argument.

“You can’t just dismiss me like I’m nothing Roman,” she whispered as I turned to look at her.

“My lawyers will be in touch, now get out.”  I said as she sighed limping out of the room.

“This is a fuckin’ mess.”

------

Jey’s POV

“Man, where we at? This ain’t the way!” I yelled as Jimmy sped up.

“We almost there, I took a shortcut,” he said as Trin tried to call Kara back.

“Come on Kara, pick up the phone,” Trin pleaded as I felt myself losing it.

“I just need to get there man,” I sighed as Trin rubbed my shoulder. “Kara can take care of herself,” she said as I sighed.

 “I know that…I just know Kara, she gon’ hurt dat girl.” I said honestly scared about what we were about to walk into.

“Tia been pushin’ and she finally got what she asked for. It’s been coming, and it was no way to avoid it,” Trin said as I took a deep breath.

I was so on edge as we hit the exit to Roman’s house, I probably could have run faster than Jimmy was driving.

Pulling up, we didn’t see the cops or anything but saw Tia coming out with a duffle bag slung over her shoulder.

She avoided our gaze and starting to walk up the road with a slight limp.

“Damn she limpin’ and did you see her face…Man, Kara ate her ass up,” Jimmy said as Trin snickered. “Told you Kara could handle it,” she whispered as I slammed the car door, rushing inside.

As soon as I got to the foyer, I heard Kara’s voice coming from the kitchen.

“Aye, gon’ in there, we’ll look around,” Jimmy said as I went towards the kitchen.

“Roman did tell her not to be here sweetie. I dropped her off and everything,” my aunt said as I hung back giving them space to talk.

 I was just thankful Kara was ok, and I could lay eyes on her.

I watched my aunt clean up Kara’s knuckles as she hissed at the pain. She had a small cut on her lip and a couple scratches on her arms.

“Tell me how you feeling sweetie?  You can’t keep holding this in.” My aunt said as a strangled sob escaped Kara’s lips.

“Do you know how long we tried to have a baby, and that WHORE just gave him our dream without even trying.” Kara cried as my aunt reached over and gave her a hug.

“I know it baby,” my aunt whispered rubbing Kara’s back.

“Wh- What am I supposed to do with that?.…This is all wrong, it’s not fair,” Kara sobbed, my heart breaking for her.

Pulling away, my aunt took Kara’s hands in hers. “I’ll tell you what you do…..Leave him, Kara……Leave this town and allow yourself to heal,” My aunt said as I looked at her in shock.  

She actually told Kara to leave Roman and start her life over.

“How do I do that?” Kara asked as my aunt smiled at her.

“Take it one day at a time,” she whispered as Kara nodded wiping her tears.

“You right, I need to leave…..Cause’ if I don’t leave, somebody gon’ get hurt,” Kara whispered, as I felt a chill run down my spine at the coldness of her voice.

“I know it, baby… I can feel it coming, and I don’t want that,” my aunt said as Kara nodded in agreement as they sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes until my aunt cleared her throat.

“So, do you have any places in mind?” she asked as Kara cracked a smile.

“I guess it’s time to give Boston another try,” she whispered with determination as I smiled.

I knew what that meant...She was finally going to put herself first and go back to medical school.

And she didn’t know it yet, well, maybe she did but I’m going to be with her every step of the way.

There was no way I was losing her now…

When the divorce is final and Kara’s ready….She will become Mrs. Fatu….

Why do I say that?...... Because you can’t run from destiny and Kara was my destiny.

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[trashmouth-richie]

⁂ 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐡 + 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 || a mini series || eddie x you

“soul ties” based but with a spin — part 1

part 2: i’m your dream, make you real

chapter summary: back story on reader and the history of the ‘souls’, the girl sadly wonders why she suddenly can't stop thinking of eddie munson; eddie spends the night nursing a migraine and trying to remember what that girls name was… the same girl who he can’t seem to get out of his head. oddly enough, both eddie and the girl feel terribly ill— a symptom of rejecting the soul tie. also WAYNE! Yay!

 [series summary: reader and her lover are souls bound to one another for eons and eons, they always find their way back to one another no matter how long it takes or what bodies they might be in, but when reader feels the magnetic pull of her other half and wills the girl’s body she is in to find her lover— the body her lover belongs to is a boy— none other than the meanest boy in hawkins, eddie munson] 

trigger warnings: 18+ smut, bisexual! eddie, mean! eddie, shy! girl, smut. etc eddie the girl are both 18 in this story, drug use, talks of addiction, prison etc.

reader (you) are a “soul” in this story, meaning you are only bound to the body you are inhabiting during this lifetime. The girl will have features mentioned— but again— you (the reader) are a soul, which i imagine to be a flame of all colors. 

You had no control over how, when or where you would appear in a new body. It was never the same timeline. one minute you were floating in a sea of stars on a blackened canvas, the next you were viewing their world from the way they envisioned it. 

The body could be brand new, shiny and soft skinned, no marks of life on its petal-like skin. Sometimes the body was weathered, having seen many moons and decades and you arrived when they needed you most. Years before you had come here, the body you lived in was impaired, seeing nothing but marooned eyelids, navigating the earth with the four other senses. 

Shapes and colors could vary from one body to the next, but inside they all remained the same. The only difference were the souls.

Some of the souls you had encountered weren’t pure. They had a darkness rolling through them that made the bodies they live in do unspeakable, horrific things. 

The malum, as they were known were tainted with vile evilness. Instead of being made with licks of pretty sparkled flame, the malum were created with sharp edges, a singular dark hole in the center showing their emptiness. Compassion was lost from them, all they knew was destruction and how to use the body to their own advantage. 

They could change their appearance, tricking others into loving them.  And although it had been awhile since you’d come across one, you were always weary. Hence, the boy with the fast car from last year.

You were even thankful to come to this girl, the sad lonely girl who just wanted to be loved… her heart tie within reach…but then he rejected her!

That stupid boy and his dumb hair was ruining everything! This was wrong— this was all wrong! It never went this badly before. All it took from the others before this girl and this boy was to feel the “special” pull. The tug of that tiny invisible string that was nearly impossible to ignore. 

Different species, different sex, it didn’t matter! The pull always worked. You sat and stewed in the girl's brain, running laps around her mind, showing her images of the boy, the one she was destined to be with. 

It was deeper than love, stickier than the cotton candies of a carefully woven fate, her heart belonged with his! Plain and simple. You hoped your other half was doing the same with that long haired boy, making his head split and pop like a sunflower seed. 

You could bet that he didn’t know how sad she was. He wouldn’t know that she had cut her tutoring lesson short with Max because the concentration for basic algebra just wasn’t there.  

You could do this, you could make them both see how they belonged together, that they fit like a puzzle and complemented each other like the stars do the moon, despite their differences, or walks of life. 

Time was all you needed, and thankfully they both were guaranteed to be in the same building for almost eight hours a day, five days a week. 

“Are you okay?” 

Eddie had been staring at his mac n cheese for nearly ten minutes. Each tick of the clock squeezed his head like a vice. He had been fixated on something he couldn’t quite grasp. As if he were in a fuzzy dream where punches didn’t land and he coincidentally had the winning lottery ticket. 

A name. 

It’s all he was trying to think of, but he couldn’t for the life or death of him remember it. 

Beth? Kay? Maybe… Yeah.. Kay sounds right—nope Kay was that smokin’ hot foreign exchange student last semester. Jesus Christ, who the hell is that girl?

Wayne watched with his bushy eyebrows raised into the sparse bits of hair left on his head as his nephew drug his spoon counter-clockwise then clockwise through the cheesy valley of noodles, not saying a single word other than the occasional grunt or mumbling a series of consonants and vowels through the entirety of supper. 

His head had spun all day. A loose paper boat down a sewer drain to awaiting clown claws had a better success rate in survival than the absolute collegiate level of  nonsense he was trying to get his brian to spark. No matter what he did he couldn’t get that girl out of his head. 

Maybe if he could put a name to her face—he had thought that would settle it. Then he could finally fucking move on. But alas, it was as if his brain left on vacation… or maybe those drug scare ads were right and his brain cells were actually fried.  

“Something wrong with the food, Ed?” Wayne asked around a mouthful, “thought you loved dogs with mac n cheese.” 

Eddie went class by class in his head imagining the seats of every girl who occupied them. In Geography there was Tiffany, Alice, Wheeler, Robin, Barbara, and Chrissy. 

This is fucking stupid, he thinks. She could be a year or two below him in school, but goddamnit what was her name?

He could memorize DnD manuals, a whiz at math especially percentages for his.. hobbies. But a simple name to a girl he’s seen a dozen times falls short. 

Dropping the metal spoon with a loud clunk, he groans, throwing his head in his hands. “I’m fine, Wayne.” 

He wasn’t, along with his head pounding like the hammering tune of a chainsaw, he had felt nauseous all day. Like a hangover that never seemed to end, or that time he had the stomach flu last year and missed a week of school. 

But this wasn’t the flu, and it wasn’t a hangover. It was a nagging feeling in his head and a rip to his gut. 

“You sure?” Wayne tested cautiously, “Y’ know I don’t have many rules here.. and I don’t care that you smoke in the house, but son if you’re doing something… more than that… I…” Wayne shakes his head, his voice growing earnest, “I just don’t want you to end up like your old man ‘s all.” 

“Jesus, Wayne,” Eddie groaned, scrubbing his hands down his face, he hadn’t touched that shit his dad was caught with, and was currently serving a sentence for, ever. 

“I’m not doin’ anything like that, okay? I just… GOD—” he ran thick ringed fingers through his hair and cursed again when the rings got tangled, huffing through his nose like a bull, “I feel like shit!” 

Wayne relaxed a bit in his chair, a chuckle in his throat at his nephew's theatrics, “eat then, you’ll feel better.” 

Eddie shoved his plate away,  synchronizing the metallic dragging scuff from the chair’s legs across the cheap linoleum floor with a grumble of ‘m not hungry. 

His long legs seemed to tangle under themselves as he stood and he caught his shoulder hard on the wall, the drag of soft cotton down a plywood wall muffling his curses as he headed to bed. 

Face first he landed into the worn and spring heavy mattress, the smell of weed and spiced deodorant engulfing him. Leather scuffed boots still on his feet from when he drove to Rick’s for his weekly supply. The pounding against his skull was dull, twisting like a knife and it just wouldn’t quit.

Nose crushed in the misshapen pillow, Eddie throws his hand out hazardly to the nightstand. His fingers skid around the scattered DnD dice, a crusted half eaten sandwich from the night before and the sharp foiled  edge of a ripped corner from a Trojan from when—yeah, whew…that was a great night.

Finally, his fingers wrap around the cool steel of his zippo lighter. 

Without looking up, he flicks the pad of his thumb against the wheel igniting a flame to be sure there’s enough fluid. Groaning again he slides a hand into his jeans and pulls out the little bag he had gotten from Rick.

Movements that were taken for granted were now causing sweat to pool in the middle of his back, his temples dripped as a tickling bead of sweat wove a path down his chin. 

Whatever illness that was currently plaguing him was one like nothing before, and he only hoped his last vice of getting out of his mind with the sweet burn of a joint into his lungs would help. 

Slotting it between his lips he flicked the lighter and inhaled as much as his lungs could take. 

The girl drove home in silence. A salty drip of steady tears stinging her cheeks from the bite of the breeze that seeped through the cracked open car window. She didn’t understand why on this particular day he had burrowed so far under her skin, and even though he was rude, per usual—she couldn’t let it go. 

A horn honked behind her at the stop sign before she realized she had been staring at the steering column, foot pressed on the brake. Tears dripped onto the apples of her cheeks and she wiped at them with the sleeve of her cream colored cardigan, leaving flecks of mascara behind. 

Blowing out a blubbery sigh she eased her car forward and drove along the wet pavement of Hawkins, vision blinded by traitorous tears for the boy who didn’t deserve them. 

She ate her supper in a sad silence— fork balancing green beans gone cold. The girl sighed with a hand resting into her palm, watching the fall leaves plucking themselves free in the front yard. 

Her mind played that scene at Eddie’s trailer over and over. The way he practically bit her head off, how easy it was for him to dismiss her as a nuisance. She could feel the heat blossoming on her cheeks, how it had practically burned like his eyes did when they looked at her. 

Eddie was like that with everyone at school, so it really shouldn’t have been a surprise to her. But it was. And tears started again as she thought of why he was so mean.

“…see Mom! She hates green beans so much she’s crying about them!” 

The girl shook her head and blinked back the tears, “‘m not crying you little turkey,” she bites back, shoving her younger brother with her elbow, “just.. had a long day, ‘m tired.” 

“Well,” her mother protested, pressing a cloth napkin to the corners of her mouth, “why don’t you run a bath and go to bed early?” 

Nodding, she excused herself quietly from the table and walked the plush carpeted path to the upstairs bathroom. 

More tears began to roll down her cheeks as she climbed each step, a tingling in the nape of her neck made her skin feel boiling hot. The further up she went the worst she started to feel. 

I’m probably getting the flu. She thought to herself, Hawkins High had more than fifteen students out with it last week, and it would make sense that she too would fall victim to it. But the flu wouldn’t make her cry for no reason, no— a sickness wouldn’t have her feeling like she was nothing. 

But those dark brown eyes could. 

Thinking of her encounter today just made it worse, but she couldn’t turn it off. She welcomed the warmth from the water to seep through her bones after the tub was filled and she slipped gingerly into the water. 

Hoping the steam would will away the awful empty feeling in her stomach,  she let herself fully submerge, her wet brown hair feeling like the bottom of a silky moss covered lake. 

She laid under the water for what felt like hours, no sound, just her racing thoughts to keep her company.

Maybe I’m getting my period? She thought after taking a few winded deep breaths and sitting up in the water. 

It would explain why she was so irrationally upset about all of this. It was plausible. And maybe the burning flames of hell's butterflies in her stomach was because she had barely eaten anything for supper.

It definitely wasn’t the fact that Eddie seemed to radiate like a neon light in space the second he opened that door, and she was like a moth to his flame. One that was quickly swatted away. 

Eddie Munson. 

Standing and wrapping a towel around herself she hit the drain and stepped from the tub onto a peach colored bath mat. 

His face played like a movie in her head. A montage of him and only him. The cocky gait he strutted down the hallways, hollering at the jocks to get the fuck out of his way. The jingling swish of that chain linked wallet in the back pocket of his jeans, a soft black bandana in the other. 

Eddie. 

Wiping condensation from the mirror she shakes her head. What the hell? Never. Not once in her entire life had she thought about Eddie Munson. Even thinking his name made her stomach lurch like she might be sick. 

Wait. No, she was going to be sick. 

She makes it just in time to lift the seat on the toilet before she vomits violently into the bowl, tears leaking from her eyes with every retching heave her body produced. 

She hears her name buzzing in her ear. Once, twice, three times and she knows her mother is behind those calls on the other side of the door.

“‘m okay, Mom,” she gasps, “just the flu, it’s been going around—” 

And normally where her mother would have come in to rub her back, ask if she needed anything— she doesn’t. 

Flushing the toilet she looks over her shoulder, “Mom?”

No answer.

Rising from her knees she walks to the door and opens it, “Mom?” 

Nothing. 

Maybe she was hearing things, but she swore her name was said loud and clear. 

Smoke billowed around Eddie’s room, hanging like dense clouds from an oven fire. Either his tolerance was higher or the bud from Rick was skunked— because after smoking three joints back-to-back-to-back, he still couldn’t feel anything. 

Not even a tiny little buzz or the hazy droop of his eyelids forming into slits. That sickening pounding kept its beat along his chest and into every vein in his body, unrelenting in its ravage upon him. 

He thought of the times he had seen her. Where was he standing? What section of lockers was she shoving books into? 

Sandra? Beth… no he already said that. Fuck. 

It’s not until he laid flat on his back a few minutes later, the short remnants of paper flickering from the last bit of the joint burning close to his fingers. Eddie closed his eyes in complete solitude, and that’s when it clicked. 

Shuffling on what felt like broken legs to his closet, Eddie wedged the door open on its broken track. Every muscle in his body screamed in agony, he felt as if he had ran a marathon, backwards. 

His tongue was out between his lips as he concentrated on his task at hand. Rifling through heaps of clothes, old shoes, playboys with dog eared pages. He was elbows deep in the depths of his closet, searching for what he had tossed in here at the end of last year. 

The pads of his fingers feel the textured cover under a halloween mask and he yanks it free stumbling backwards and tripping over his amp, landing hard on the floor. 

He doesn’t wait to be in a more comfortable position on his bed or even sitting up straight before he holds the book over his face and flips open the cover of Hawkins High 1985 Go Tigers!, his yearbook. 

Pages and pages he skimmed through. Freshman class, Sophomore class, pictures of every sport from Fall to Spring, Band, Choir, The school newspaper… he was about to give up after he saw his own picture staring at him from Junior year.

And he would have missed it if his thumb hadn’t suddenly stung. As if a bee or a strike of lightning went through him and he had to adjust his hold on the book. Where his thumb had been pressed into the page, was the girl. 

Just a few down from his own school portrait, she sat smiling shyly at the camera with closed lips, silken voluminous dark hair, a sparkle in each eye. 

Eddie’s stomach plummeted, his pulse speeding up as each letter of her name danced behind his irises, and his lips tingle when he finally says her name. 

Mickey 

thanks for reading💋

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[gallavichsreddie1128]

Trapped (Art Donaldson/Patrick Zweig)

Description: Y/N is in love with Patrick but when she thinks that he doesn’t like her back she starts hooking up with Art who is in love with. When Patrick tells Art he likes Y/N without knowing Art and her were hooking up, Art will stop at nothing to make sure they don’t end up together.

Word Count: 3,859k

Author’s note: I didn’t put the warnings because it would be a spoiler. Also I still can’t comment anything on my own posts but I appreciate all the compliments! Thank you sm!! I don’t know why I can’t comment

When Y/N first met Art Donaldson she didn’t think anything of him. He was a well known Tennis player at Stanford and was on his way to becoming big. Art was nice and caring. But Y/N had her eyes on his best friend Patrick Zweig. Patrick was a bit of a player but had her heart. He constantly flirts with her but never makes an actual move. Resulting in Y/N and Art hooking up. Art was attractive Y/N never thought otherwise and when she realized that Patrick probably wasn’t into her she fell into the arms of Art.

Someone who was into her. But it was just sex. Great sex but still sex. After they had sex Y/N would get up and leave his dorm while Art stared at the door praying that Y/N would come to her senses and realize that he was the one for her. Y/N was his best friend besides Patrick and she never mistreated him and almost gave him everything he wanted. But yet he was ungrateful. Anytime he saw Patrick and her talking and laughing he was scared that Patrick would make the ultimate move on her that would end whatever they had going on.

Y/N was at all of his games alongside Patrick cheering him on. When he won (which was almost every time) she would give him the best blowjob of his life. “So are you and Y/N…” Patrick trailed off as him and Art ate lunch together. Art looked at him and laughed. “Why? You finally into her or something?” God he hoped not. Patrick shrugged and it took everything in Art not to drop his smile. “I feel like I should have made a move on her a long time ago.” He said, Art nodded. “Yeah she’s an amazing girl.” Art said.

“Do you think she’s still into me?” Art looked at him and shrugged. “She never talks about you.” That was a lie. Y/N constantly talked about him. To her understanding there are no feelings between her and Art. “Well I guess there’s only one way to tell.” “What are you going to do?” “Talk to her later you dumbass.” Art hummed and felt sick. He almost had everything and Patrick was going to ruin it. 

Y/N gave Art a key to her room. He had a few hoodies there that she had taken from him that he told her he wanted back. She found it odd since he never cared before but gave him the key. As he entered the room he took in the scent. He loved the smell, it reminded him of her. He wasn’t sure where the hoodies were so he went over to her dresser. That’s when he saw her birth control.

He stared at it for a good few minutes before he thought about it. If he gets her pregnant she can’t go be with Patrick. She’d have to stay with him. But that was wrong and he knew it. He grabbed the pills and put them in his Tennis bag. He found the hoodies and left her room, guilt consuming him. “So we are going to have to be extra careful when we fuck because I can’t find my birth control pills and I don’t have time to get a refill so buy some condoms.” She told him as they walked back to her dorm. “Got it.” He said. “Well I guess I’ll see ya tomorrow.” She said and he nodded. 

The next night they fucked for the first time without her being on the pill and to make matters worse Art poked a hole in the condom before she got there. He prayed that this worked. After he came he pulled out and quickly threw away the condom. “Art why does it feel like you came in me?” She asked. He looked at her confused. She reached her fingers down and gasped as she felt his cum leak out of her. “Art holy shit.” She sat up quick. “I don’t understand. I wore a condom.” He said. “It must have broke without either of us noticing.” She said and went to his bathroom to clean herself up. 

The next few weeks Art made sure not to do that for a while so it wasn’t so obvious what he was trying to do. One day Y/N didn’t show up to his game or class. He was concerned and went to check up on her. She was sick. She had been puking all morning and felt terrible. “I think maybe I’m just ill.” She said but how? Y/N was very healthy and never got sick. “I’ll take you to the doctors, come on.” Art was keeping Patrick updated on the situation. Patrick really wanted to talk to her but she was so busy. “Well Ms.Y/L/N you’re pregnant.” The doctor told her. Her jaw dropped and she felt tears in her eyes. She nodded and left the room to go find Art who was waiting in the waiting room.

He stood up as he saw her, “Are you okay?” She shook her head and started crying. He hugged her as she cried. “What’s wrong?” He asked. She pulled away from the hug and sighed, “I’m pregnant.” She whispered. He wanted to celebrate but knew that this wasn’t something planned by the both of them. “What?” He asked softly. She nodded. “And it’s yours.” He gave her a soft smile, “wow.” “Art we aren’t fit to be parents, we aren't even together.” She said.

“We could be.” He said and she shook her head. “We just fuck and I like Patrick.” That annoyed him but he kept it together. “Patrick doesn’t feel the same way Y/N plus you deserve better.” He told her. “How do you know?” She asked him, “He told me.” “No how do you know what I deserve?” He was speechless. He wanted to tell her that he loved her but wasn’t sure that was the right answer. “Can you just take me back?” She asked after silence. He nodded and they left. 

It was a few weeks before Art heard from her. She cried and sobbed for weeks not knowing what to do. Art felt terrible for what he did but he could never tell her. Patrick was upset that she was pregnant and it was by his best friend but he didn’t find that out from Art. He knocked on Y/N’s door worried about why he hadn’t seen her in a while. She answered the door and she looked like a mess. “Holy shit are you okay?” He asked her. She shook her head and let him in. “What happened?” He asked as he shut the door.

She sat on the bed and cried. He sat on the bed with her and pulled her into his chest letting her cry. He rubbed her back and tried calming her down. “Patrick I love you so much.” She said through tears. His eyes widened and he looked down at her. “I know you don’t feel the same way but I needed you to know that.” She said. He smiled and laughed, “are you kidding me? Of course I feel the same way.” Her heart broke. “I’ve been meaning to tell you for awhile now.” He said and cupped her face.

At any other time she would have been so happy and smiled but she didn’t. He leaned down to kiss her but before he could she whispered his name. “I’m pregnant with Art’s baby.” He pulled away and looked shocked. “You and Art had sex?” He asked hurt. “We’ve been hooking up for awhile now but only because I didn’t think you liked me back and he confirmed that to me.” She said. “Y/N Art told me you didn’t have feelings for me.” They both look at each other and realized. Art was a shitty friend. 

Y/N banged on Art’s door. He quickly got up and opened the door. There stood a fuming Y/N who had tears streaming down her face. “Hey where have you-“ She smacked him across the face. “You asshole.” She yelled. He was taken back by her sudden anger towards him. “You told both me and Patrick that we didn’t like each other when we did.” She yelled. “You talked to Patrick?” He asked annoyed.

“Is that all you heard? How about the fact that you’re a shitty friend?” She screamed. He looked down at her words, she was right. “Why the fuck would you lie?” She asked. He didn’t say anything and kept looking down. She pulled his chin so that they were making eye contact. “Answer me.” She yelled. “Because I love you!” He yelled back. “And I want to be with you but you want him and he doesn’t deserve you.” He yelled.

“Art, it’s not your place to say whether or not he deserves me.” She tells him. “I know but I can’t, I can’t live without you Y/N. When you told me you were pregnant I was so happy because I thought that finally we could have a shot but no matter what I see now that you will always choose him.” He had tears streaming down his face. Her eyes softened. “Art.” She whispered and walked over to him. “I get it just go be with you him. Just let me see the kid.” He said. She shook her head and cupped his face. “No.” She whispered. She leaned in and kissed him. He was shocked but kissed her back. He pulled her closer and deepened the kiss. This was all he ever wanted and he got it. 

Y/N finished her first years of college before dropping out. Art stayed in college and managed to become a pro in Tennis. They got a house together near campus so he could still go while she stayed at home. He worried for her and never wanted to leave her alone. Patrick and him were no longer friends. Art got Tashi Duncan as his coach who also helped Y/N. She never judged Y/N for getting pregnant at 19 unlike her family. She made it so Art could continue school and not have to worry. 

Y/N was about ready to pop any second it seemed. Her due date was near so she and Art got everything ready for when the time was to come. It would be in the middle of the night that Y/N woke up screaming in pain. Art freaked out but took her to the hospital and called Tashi. Tashi was there at the hospital as Y/N got ready to push. Art held her hand as she screamed and cried as she pushed out his baby for dear life. Art looked as he heard the baby cry and saw her. He started crying seeing his beautiful baby girl. Tashi smiled as she saw the baby and congratulated the two. 

Playing Tennis and raising a baby was hard but they managed to do it. They both always talked about how she was gonna love Tennis and want to play. She looked just like Art but was a mommy’s girl. 

“Are you sure everything’s okay?” “Yes Babe Tashi is with her, she'll be fine.” Art assured her. She smiled as they walked down the beach that her Art and Patrick used to walk down all those years ago. Their daughter was almost 2 now and everything was perfect. Well almost. Art had a ring in his pocket that he kept playing with out of nerves. “Are you okay?” Y/N asked him as she noticed how nervous he looked. He smiled and shook his head, “I’m perfect.” She smiled but Art stopped walking.

Y/N turned to him confused. “Y/N, I love you so much more than anything on this planet. I couldn’t imagine a life without you or Y/D/N.” He got down on one knee. Y/N covered her mouth with her hand as tears formed in her eyes. “Will you marry me?” He asked. She nodded and smiled, “Yes Art.” She said and pulled him up for a kiss. He smiled into the kiss and pulled away to put the ring on her finger. 

The wedding wasn’t anything crazy just a simple one with close friends and family. Their daughter was the flower girl and Tashi was her maid of honor. Y/N sighed as she stood staring in the mirror as she got her wedding dress on. She looked beautiful. “Are you nervous?” Tashi asked. Y/N looked at her and shook her head, “Nope. I’m so excited and happy.” She said and it was the truth.

She knew that her and Art were meant to be. She had no fear or cold feet. Art stood in the mirror at the same time as her except he was nervous. Y/N hadn’t seen him without his curls as he just got his haircut today. He tried to push in the back of his head what he did years ago. He sighed and stepped away from the mirror. 

Y/N’s father walked her down the aisle. She sighed and looked around at everyone in the chairs staring at her, some in awe. She looked at Art and gasped. He cut his hair. He looked really good. They smiled at each other and what felt like eternity she was finally down the aisle. She faced Art and they both stared at each other in awe. I like your hair, she mouthed to him.

He smiled and thanked her as the priest talked. The phrase “you may now kiss the bride.” Couldn’t come fast enough but when it did. They both laughed in relief and kissed. They sealed their love with a kiss and the crowd cheered. 

Art wasn’t at his best and Tashi couldn’t stop giving him shit for it. She had put him in a challenger claiming that he needed his confidence back. “She says I’m not confident enough.” Art told his wife as they got in bed. She turned to him, “Is she wrong?” He shook his head, “I don’t know.” “From what I know you’re one of the best.” She said and winked at him. He laughed and pulled her on top of him. She leaned down and kissed him. 

“Patrick Zweig is here?” He asked in anger. Tashi nodded and looked over at Y/N who didn’t look upset at all. “Yes but you can beat him.” Tashi told him. Could he though? Y/N never was sure about that but maybe all this anger he had towards Patrick would help or would it distract him? 

“I feel like she planned this.” Art said as they walked into the hotel. “Doubt it babe it’s just coincidence.” She said. It was also a coincidence that Patrick was at the same hotel at the bar. Luckily Art didn’t notice but Y/N did. “I’ll meet you back in the room I’m going to meet up with Tashi.” She told him. He kissed her and entered the elevator. Patrick didn’t see her but she walked up to him. “Patrick?” He turned around and his jaw dropped.

“Y/N.” He exclaimed and hugged her, she giggled and hugged him back. “You look amazing.” He told her. “You do too.” He did oh god he did. He looked sexy. They stared at each other for a while, no words exchanged. Patrick saw the wedding ring on her finger. “So you married him?” He asked trying to hide the disappointment. She nodded, “yeah I did.” “How’s he doing?” “Good.” He nodded. “I don’t have a lot of time Pat but I just wanted to say Hi.”

“I’m glad you did.” She walked away but he called her name again. She turned to face him, “Do you ever think about what would have happened if you never got pregnant?” She didn’t answer him she just looked down. “Goodnight Patrick.” She said and walked away. 

She stared at the ceiling wide awake as Art slept next to her. She couldn’t stop thinking about him. Patrick. His question. Of course she thought about it. How could she not? It was sick to say but that was the only reason she gave Art a chance. She doesn’t regret it though but of course the what if? Crossed her mind. 

She cheered as Art won over and over again leading up to the finales. Tashi may have been hard on him but it paid off. Y/N hadn’t seen Patrick since that night. She wondered how he was doing, she never got to ask. She didn’t tell Art that she saw him let alone talked to him. That would make him more mad than he already was. It was the final game before the finals. It looked like him and Patrick would be facing off.

“Hey Art forgot his bag can you go grab it for him?” Tashi asked. She nodded and walked off to the locker room. She went to his locker and grabbed the bag. She smiled as she saw it was the one from college. She swung it over her shoulder but heard what sounded like pills? She put the bag down and looked in the bag for what that noise could possible be. She shuffled the bag again and opened the front pocket. She pulled out pills. She was confused until she realized that they were birth control pills. WTF? She thought.

She gasped when she realized that they were the ones she lost. Why did Art have them? She never took them around him. She shook her head and put them in her pocket and took the bag to Art. “Hey I’ll be right back.” She tells him and she walks away. She takes the pills out of her pocket trying to figure out why he had them. She sat on the grass and thought really hard. She gasped as she remembered how Art hated the fact that she and Patrick liked each other. He lied to both of them about the other's feelings.

Y/N remembered the time he asked for her keys and after that day she couldn’t find the pills. Art took them. She felt sick as she realized. Tears were streaming down her face as she realized that Art planned her getting pregnant. She got up and put the pills back in her pocket. “Hey.” She looked up and saw Patrick. “Hi.” He could see her teary eyes and walked up to her. “Are you okay?” He asked her. “Can you pick me up at midnight?” She ignored his question. “Sure…but are you okay?” He asked her, “we will talk about it.” She tells him and walks away. 

Art had won and was in the finals with Patrick. She hide her sickness towards him and congratulated him. Art hadn’t suspected a thing thankfully. 

“Promise me that if I lose tomorrow it won’t matter.” Art stood in the bathroom doorway. She looked at him confused. “What?” “If I lose tomorrow, promise me that it’ll be okay. We will be okay.” She stared at him, “Why wouldn’t be?” “Baby please.” “Yes Art everything will be okay. I don’t care what the outcome is tomorrow I will love you no matter what.” She tells him and unfortunately that was the truth. She’s grown to love him and even though what he did was awful she still did love him. 

Patrick smiled as he saw Y/N run to his car. She got in the passenger seat. “Drive.” He pulled away from the hotel and drove off. “You wanna tell me what this is about?” He asked. “Pull over first.” She told him. He turned into an empty parking lot and parked. He turned towards her. She looked at him and handed him the pill bottle. He looked at it, “birth control pills? Why are you giving me these?” He asked her.

“I was taking those all through high school and college and never once missed a beat.” She tells him. “Okay?” She sighed, “Remember when I got pregnant?” He nodded. “Art took those from me so it would happen.” Patrick’s jaw dropped, “what? Are you sure?” She nodded. “I found those in his Tennis bag he had from college, he brought it with him and I never took those in front of him. One night I give him my key so he can take back his hoodies and after that I couldn’t find them.” “He hated that we liked each other.” Patrick said, “he lied about it Patrick.

He wanted this. Hell when I went to his room to confront him he guilt tripped me. I wasn’t going to be with him just cuz he got me pregnant. I loved you.” She exclaimed. “Y/N?” She looked at him, “do you still have feelings for me?” 

Patrick looked over at Y/N as he bounced the ball. Y/N kept a straight face as he bounced the ball a few times. Art watched as Patrick put the ball to the center of the racket. Art’s face dropped and he looked at Y/N. She wasn’t even looking at him. He looked at Patrick who nodded and smirked. “Fuck off.” He yelled. Patrick hit the ball and Art didn’t hit it back. Y/N held back tears as she watched Art’s world crumble. Why did she feel bad for him? 

Y/N hugged Patrick after they both came down from their highs. He inhaled her sweet scent. “I’ve dreamt about doing that.” He said in her neck. “In your stinky car?” She joked. He chuckled, “not exactly but it works.” He said and pulled away from her neck. She kissed him and it wasn’t full of lust. No it wasn’t something else. Love? He kissed back. 

They played Tennis like they hadn’t played Tennis before. And it was a great scene. Art was definitely angered but felt like it was deserved. Patrick was on top of the world that he got to sleep with Y/N. It was a crazy thing when at first it wasn’t clear who won. 

Y/N laid on Patrick’s chest as they laughed. “So you and Art had a secret way of telling each other when you fucked someone?” She asked. He nodded, “Yup. I almost wanna do it tomorrow.” “Will he know it’s about me?” “He should.” “Do it then.” Patrick looked down at her, shocked. “Really?” She nodded and looked up at him. “But I still love him.” She said softly and Patrick nodded. 

Art entered the hotel room with Y/N walking behind him. “So Patrick and you?” He asked. She nodded, “Why?” She took out the pills and gave them to him. His face turned more white than it already was. “How did you find these?” He asked her. “Your tennis bag is the same one from college.” She told him. “You hate me now don’t you?” He asked softly. She shook her head, “ No. I should but I don’t.” He looked up at her with relief. “You’re a piece of shit Art.” She tells him and his face drops. “But I’m willing to forgive you if we can add Patrick into our relationship. I’m not an idiot, I know you two had a thing for each other.”

[hellokittyyyysblog]

𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓸𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓫𝓻𝓪𝓲𝓷/ part 2

Pairing: vampire!𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚊 𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

- - -- -- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -- -- - -

You couldn't sleep all night. Tossing and turning in bed, every small detail of the previous night played on an endless loop in your mind. The window into the world of the supernatural had been thrown wide open, and nothing could have prepared you for the realization that everything you had read in books as a kid was real. But the revelation wasn’t enough—you wanted to know more, needed to know more. The red-haired woman who had saved and threatened you consumed your thoughts. Who was she? What was her story? How many were there?—These thoughts kept you from sleeping until you eventually drifted asleep due to exhaustion.

The day after your chaotic brush with death, the office was abuzz with an uneasy energy. No one knew why there were cops on your floor, but the sight of one of the cleaning staff wrapped in a shock blanket painted a grim picture. Despite your own innocence, you were racked with guilt. You knew the truth about Davis, and only you could provide closure for his friends and family. But if you said anything that resembled the truth, you'd die. So, instead, you listened carefully, curious as if someone would remember that you'd been in Bowman’s office the night before. Though if no one said anything, the cameras would likely enlighten the detectives.

Your mind drifted to your red-haired savior and would-be killer. She said she'd come to you again, and though you knew nothing about her, you felt it was wise to trust her word. You wondered and hoped she'd at least let you beg for your memories. You didn't like being able to remember the fear you'd felt, and your survivor's guilt was creating a hole in your stomach, but it was real. You wanted to know the bigger truth: humanity wasn't alone, and supernatural existed.

The knowledge struck you cold with something akin to fear, but you wanted to cling to it. Now you understood why people in horror films made terrible and irrational decisions.

Naturally, as you thought about the existence of vampires, you began to daydream about the way the redhead had stood before you. Her skin was flawless, her green eyes piercing into your soul, her jawline appeared as though meticulously crafted by an artist, and her lips were plump around the fangs you assumed had ripped into countless humans. The woman in her fitted black outfit had carved a space out for herself in your mind, and you doubted she intended to. Even in your confused terror, you had made a note of the vampire's form.

It was embarrassing how being in extreme peril couldn't thwart your libido. You'd heard something about fear response and sexual response being quite similar; you hadn't paid much attention, but you grabbed onto the idea to make yourself feel better about lusting after who you sensed was an incredibly dangerous being.

"No one's seen Bowman" a woman whispered interrupting you from your noisy thoughts.

A voice from the adjacent cubicle replied, "I’ve heard the night staff found a body in there. Could be his.”

Though you weren't a part of the conversation, you followed the instruction all the same and looked towards the elevators reliving the haunting and life changing events of the previous night.

Suddenly, Ava snuck up behind you by touching your shoulder "Did you hear what happened?" she asked, her eyes wide with concern.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. "Jesus , Ava, you almost gave me an heart attack” you confessed putting on a fake smile— “uhm yeah I heard people murmuring about the night staff finding a body" you replied, feeling the weight of the lie. You felt bad for lying to your friend, and lying about something this important, but you couldn’t say a word to anyone. That was the price you had to pay for knowledge. And if that included a dreamy redhead, then you were more than willing to pay that price.

Ava nodded, glancing around nervously. "I talked to Louis, and he knows nothing either."

"That's strange" you said, trying to keep your voice steady. "I wonder what's really going on."

Before Ava could respond, two people with 'Coroner' jackets wheeled a gurney in the direction of the office. Immediately, it struck you as odd. As far as you knew, there were two dead bodies to be found. Your mind began to theorize as to why only one body would be left behind and whose body it might be.

The HR manager and building manager stood outside Bowman's office, frantically whispering to each other. Then, a man you'd only seen in emails and charity events emerged from the office with a hanky over his mouth. If it was a crime scene, surely he, the CEO, shouldn't have been in the middle of it. He looked like he regretted going in—if it was in the state you assumed it was, you didn't blame him.

Though he'd never set foot on your floor, he waved his hands around for everyone's attention. An officer emerged behind him to add effect.

"While I am sure that you are curious as to the events of this morning, we are going to ask that everyone goes home at this time."

The officer put his hand up to add, "Stay in the area; do not leave town in the next few days." They were going to interview people, but they didn't know who to call first.

"So no one is going to tell us what is going on?" A voice pressed.

"You will learn the important and relevant information as we understand more" the investigator replied. He really couldn't tell you anything because any information would have to be reported to you by the company board, and they loved to play keep-away with facts. You'd likely be the only one who ever knew the truth, and you only knew some of it—the cops may never know the disturbing reality behind it.

Though there was grumbling and whispered questions, your coworkers did not wait around. They gathered their belongings and left willingly—they didn't want to stay and work when they could be dismissed for something that concerned someone else. Selfish but nosey people, you thought.

"Do you need a ride home?" Ava asked you, concern etched on her face.

"Don't worry about it" you replied. "I have errands to run anyway"

"Alright, but keep me updated, okay?"

"Of course” you said, forcing a smile —"talk to you later."

You waited until Ava left, then made your way to the restroom. You knew you'd never hear the whole truth about Bowman's demise from the higher-ups, and perhaps that was for the best. But acknowledging this didn't satiate the curious feeling. Whose body was going into the body bag, and what happened to the other one?

As far as plans went, the one you devised was comically simple: stay in the restroom and wait until the cops took a break. Then, you'd steal away into the office and do some investigating of your own.

The restroom was quiet, save for the occasional drip of a faucet—you paced back and forth, your mind racing with possibilities. You couldn't shake the feeling that something important had been left behind, something that might give you more insight into the mysterious red-haired vampire’s world.

You bit your bottom lip as you remembered the hallway cameras. Nothing would make you seem more like a person of interest like sneaking into a crime scene. Maybe you could lie and say that you'd left something inside the office, something that would show that you and Bowman were having an affair. It was a gross lie to imagine, but people loved a scandal, and presenting an 'embarrassing' story might get you out of suspicion.—everyone loved the chance to gossip—But the more you considered it, the less you could live with the lie.

Getting caught couldn't be an option. You had to be careful.

Minutes felt like hours as you waited, ears straining for any sound that might indicate the coast was clear. It was close enough that you could hear the louder officers. Of course, it was still difficult to know the actual moment the scene was left unattended.

Your head began to rob with tension, for something that seemed so simple, it felt increasingly impossible.

It took twenty-three minutes for one of the beat cops to loudly announce that they were breaking for coffee. You counted ninety seconds and then you emerged from the stall—you washed your hands—you hadn't actually used the toilet, but you'd flushed—which meant the noise had to be followed up with the noise of a faucet. It was expected bathroom ambiance. You'd seen how movies went, it was the little things that got people caught.

The moment you entered the hall, you saw something that would change your plan for the better, the absolutely better. For lying on the floor, was a cop’s badge. Some careless detective, Jonathan Herrera, had dropped his badge. His loss was your gain, but you'd think about the incompetence of your local police department another time—a lost badge gave you a reason to double back to Bowman’s office.

Sure, you might appear nosey in the process, but you'd have the badge to return so you'd be a nosey do-gooder.

"Hello?" you asked cautiously, making sure that you weren't entering an occupied crime scene.

You were hyper-aware of the cameras at your back. No one was watching you, but all it took was a rewind button to rat you out. You did your best impression of someone who didn't want to do exactly what you planned to do.

No response—you didn't know if you were relieved or upset that you couldn't be stopped.

Inhaling deeply, you opened the door to Bowman’s office. The scene was far less horrific than it had been the night before. The blood on the desk and floor had dried, and the coroners had already taken the body and any additional remains. If it weren't for the smell, you could pretend you were seeing a painting session that got out of hand. What really struck you was the singular outline that laid upon the desk. It was Davis’s outline— it marked where you'd seen him. Bowman’s body must have been missing if he'd been killed there at all.

There would have been larger stains for a body's worth of viscera explosion. The absence unsettled you and shoved more questions into your already spiraling curiosity.

Before you could tumble too far down the rabbit hole, the desk began to vibrate. The sound was unmistakable— a phone was ringing somewhere in one of the drawers judging by the way the vibration was muffled. You could hear that the phone was bouncing around against wood.

Police were meant to thoroughly search a crime scene. Clearly, the ones assigned to your workplace case had missed something. You wondered if it was the responsibility of the man whose badge was still in your hand.

You hurried to the desk and found that the drawers had all been opened and rifled through.

Papers and pens were askew. The police had searched the desk, yet the phone, which you assumed was Bowman’s was still somewhere to be found. The muffled vibrations seemed like they were coming from the long drawer directly underneath the center of the desk. Carefully, you felt underneath the drawer with your fingertips. It was very likely that the cops had done the same move, if it was obvious to you, it was likely routine for them.

Nevertheless, they had missed something— and something that was so well hidden had to be noteworthy.

Stilling your fingers, you felt the vibrations coming from the underside of the desk. Yet as you looked, you saw nothing. The drawer had a false bottom. When you placed your hand on the inside of the drawer, you could feel the vibrations underneath the wooden board. They were strongest near the back joining of the drawer. Again, you wondered about the usefulness of the police in your area. However, once again, police incompetence was working in your favor.

You felt a catch, a small hole that was just big enough to be felt by your fingertip. By applying a little pressure, you triggered the false bottom to shift slightly. The shift revealed the seam of a small panel. Quietly, despite the noise from the phone bouncing around, you slide the panel to the side. There, underneath in a small secretive pocket, was a phone. Whoever was calling, they were serious and Bowman didn't have a voicemail set up. You turned the phone off and stashed it in your pocket. In addition to the phone, a money clip was sitting inside the hidden compartment.

You took that too and without remorse. Bowman’s had threatened to kill you, the money clip was deserved—Or was it? nobody deserves anything after all; it’s simply a matter of who’s willing to go and take it for themselves. No one is just a victim or a victor. Everyone is somewhere in between. People who go around casting themselves as one or the other are not only kidding themselves, but they’re also painfully unoriginal.

Feeling that you had a live bomb in your pocket, you knew you needed to leave the office. Any other spoils would have to go unclaimed. You were certain that you had the jackpot anyway— a secret phone in a vampire's desk was sure to have all sorts of juicy information for you. Even if your memories were wiped, you'd have proof in your possession waiting for you to learn once again.

You sped towards the door, fully prepared to seem 'confused' and 'in search', but you nearly collided with a detective. He instantly frowned, but luckily for you, you recognized him—his face was in your hand. "You!" you said excitedly, though you wanted to vanish into thin air.

You brandished the badge. "I was looking for you. I found this" you handed the item to its rightful owner. At that moment, you realized how to turn suspicion into guilt; some of you're more overbearing family members would be delighted. "I didn't want to leave it with just anyone because I'd imagine it's pretty embarrassing to lose your badge.”

You laid it on thick, eyes wide in false innocence like the liar you knew you could always be. The detective hurriedly took the badge from you with a hushed ‘thank you' and a soft smile. After that, you both went your separate ways. He had a job to do poorly, and you were meant to be on your way home, a place you genuinely wanted to be.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

It was there that you were able to snoop through Bowman’s mystery phone. The money clip didn't actually hold money. There were some tickets or passes inside, to something you knew nothing about.

What you found on the phone on the other hand, made you immediately regret snooping, but the more you discovered, the more you realized that you had found a way to keep your memories. Not only did you believe that you had found your saving grace, you believed it could keep you in contact with the red-haired woman. Time flew by as you imagined the possibilities. You never saw yourself as a sidekick, but perhaps it would suit you. You hadn't been this interested in someone since high school. Yes, you have had your share of crushes on boys and girls, but you never acted upon them. You were never interested enough to take it further than friendship. You weren’t that interested in knowing about people's lives—but now, you suddenly were. But this wasn’t a crush you reminded yourself, this was just you being reckless and wanting to discover things that didn’t belong to you—to your race.

"Human" the voice was like a purr, but the sudden noise made you jump.

You looked up to see that at some point, the red-haired vampire had entered your apartment. At first, you stammered, wanting to figure out how she'd achieved the feat, but your attention was stolen by the way she stood before you. Wearing a black leather jacket, black t-shirt, black jeans and black boots. She was confident, and you could practically feel the power swirling around her. You knew it was appropriate to be afraid of such a woman, and you were, but you were also captivated by her very existence.

"I have a name" you replied, hoping she'd inquire. You assumed, based on nothing, that it would be harder to kill someone if you knew their name. You wanted the woman to know your name.

“I would assume that you do, but it is unknown to me, so I call you what I know you to be."

"What if I called you 'Vampire'? It seems offensive." you say.

"Only because that is a name given to us by humans and not what I call myself" the woman replied.

Her eyes glanced around the room, studying your living room.

"Wait how did you...aren't I supposed to invite you in?" you asked—certain that you'd heard the rule many, many times. And if it appeared in countless stories and films, it had to be based on something true.

She arched a brow. "I've never understood that one" the woman replied, "as if my legs are bound by a spoken statement. I go where I please. I did tell you to expect me." She walked around the room, touching your things as she clearly studied you. Then she stopped at your library, taking in all of your books. Your most precious possessions.

"How old are you?" you asked abruptly, surprising yourself.

"This is rude" she replied. "You have someone into your home for the first time, and you ask them, 'how old are you?'"

Though her tone was fairly light, you wanted to apologize. Many people would have taken offense to such a question. You'd been impulsive, and it made you nervous that any additional poorly asked questions would put a preemptive end to your plan to endear yourself to the vampire woman. Your jaw began to fumble at the words of your apology.

"The less you know about me, the better." she said whilst she picked a picture from your bookshelf—you watched her look at the photograph with a quizzical expression. It took you a whole ten seconds to spit out another invasive question.

"Do you show up in photographs?"

"Why would I take pictures of myself? So others can find out that I don't age as they do? Why would I do this to myself?" she asked.

"But you could? If you wanted to?"

"You've been watching the fairy tales, darling" the woman said, slightly chiding you in her faint Eastern European accent. The pet name made you flinch. It sounded so good coming from her mouth. Okay, that’s enough. Control yourself, you thought.

"Have you also considered why you were able to see your boss during the day? Surely that must have given you reason for concern."

"Yeah, I did actually. Why is that?" you asked while she stopped examining your household and came near you.

"Human" the vampire said firmly. She seemed unwilling to offer you any genuine or in-depth answers. "You do not seem like a person who has changed their mind."

"Well, about that." You clutched the phone in both of your hands. "I got a hold of Bowman’s phone. Not the one he used for business, but one he had hidden in his desk, in a secret compartment. You would think the police would have found it before me, but they didn’t." you said with a proud smile.

The woman was next to you, the phone in her hand before you could utter another syllable. You spoke to her as you remained at her side. Even the shock of her speed didn't deter you—you wanted to stand beside her. It gave you the opportunity to really take in the features of her face.

"He's been in contact with others. They've been rounding up humans to trade for a fighting ring, and what I'm assuming is a slave trade. If you're worried about sloppy vampires getting found out, this is probably something you'd want to look into" you said.

By the way the woman looked at you, you could tell that she wasn't buying your selfless informant act. "How did you find this?"

"I told you…he had a secret compartment in his desk."

"Why were you in his office?"

She asked something so simple, but you didn't have an answer. You didn't want to lie, but the truth would sound so bad. You'd seem so desperate. You tried to modify the reality to save as much face as possible.

"I was curious to see what happened after I left."

"Please do not make me read your mind" she said arching her left brow again, apparently she seems to do that often, and you seem to notice every small thing about her.

"I’m telling the thruth" you grumbled, as your hand began to rub a phantom neck pain—"I needed to know what happened. Even if it was just for a little while. I went in, and then I heard his phone from some unfound place in his desk. You may not know this about us humans, but we're often slaves to our own curiosity."

Again, you left out the part where you studied the phone like a possessed woman in order to find a bargaining chip. However, you could tell that she knew. Even if she wasn't reading your mind, she could tell you were gearing up to negotiate.

The redhead sat down on your couch—despite meeting her less than twenty-four hours earlier, you'd pictured her on your couch many, many times.

"We knew he was reckless, but this is new information. I do not recognize all of the names here; this is most likely purposeful." The woman looked up from the phone and saw you standing.

"This is your home, sit" she said, smirking at your hesitation. And you did. You followed directions to sit on your own couch. "I assume you want to make a trade for this information"

"You assumed right" you confirmed, "But, I don't want anything tangible. I'd like," You took a breath, "I'd like to keep what I've learned. All of it, I don't want you to take my memories away".

The woman looked at you, she really looked at you. This made you feel vulnerable, exposed, and oddly hopeful. She hadn't immediately told you off for your attempts at being crafty. That had to be a good sign.

"I could take this phone, your memories, and you'd know nothing" she admitted honestly with a small grin.

You fell silent, unable to even hear your breathing.

"Why do you wish to keep this knowledge when I can feel your fear?"

"Truth is truth, and I want to know the truth even if it's terrifying."

"I have seen what this knowledge does to humans, you would not like it. You would assume anyone who acts a certain way is forever living and therefore a potential threat. You'll think you ought to convince someone else so you feel less alone with your information. This knowledge will devour you."

"But at least it would be my choice to make" you responded honestly.

“This knowledge, these truths, can put you in the path of things far more dangerous than you realize; and this knowledge will never be enough for you. You will crave more.” She says with a stern look.

"The truth may set you free, but first it will shatter the mirror you hold to your soul." you murmur with a soft fake smile.

Natasha arches her brow and lips curled into a mischievous smile, a glint of amusement dancing in her eyes.

“It’s a quote from..” before you could finish to explain, Natasha cuts you off “Oscar Wilde, ‘The picture of Dorian Gray’” she interjected smoothly, her tone nonchalant yet laced with subtle amusement. “I noticed it on your shelf earlier”

Her confession caught you off guard, making you realize how observant she truly was. "You noticed?"

“Of course, I notice many things, darling”

Her teasing nickname and confident demeanor added to the mystique that surrounded her, realizing that Natasha's keen perception extended far beyond her supernatural abilities. She was not just a vampire with god knows how many years of experience but someone who paid attention to details that others might overlook.

"Well, I suppose you do" you murmured, a mix of fascination and admiration coloring your voice.

Natasha leaned back against the couch, her gaze holding yours. "So, about your insistence on getting involved..."

You closed your eyes and sighed, "I want to remember for me. If I utter a word of it to anyone else, I give you permission"—you shouldn't, you really should have kept your mouth shut— "to do what you do...to me."

"Kill you, you mean." She murmured whilst another smug smirk appeared on her face. It was almost as if she was enjoying this way too much.

You nodded with a cringe. The woman's face was unchanged as her hand reached out to you.

Gently, she curled her fingers under your jaw and traced your chin with her thumb. Her hand was cool to the touch, but not cold like you assumed she would be. Her eyes were deep pools of green that made it impossible to think of anything else but her presence.

You stopped breathing as her eyes penetrated yours, her fingers gently caressing your chin, sending a shiver down your spine. You had never felt like this, this vulnerable. Her touch was a paradox, firm yet tender, shattering your preconceived notions with every passing second. You would think a vampire wouldn't be this gentle, this soft—but now you realize how little you actually knew about her, and vampires in general. Maybe this was just a facade—you wanted to know more about her though; you ached with an intense desire to truly know her.

“Breathe” she murmured, a soft smile curling at the corners of her lips.

You exhaled sharply, realizing your body had instinctively halted your breath, captivated by the spell of her touch and gaze.

"Human, you're asking for far more than I think you realize. But I will honor your request for now. You did right to give this to me." Your heart felt like it was going to burst from your chest in an extremely dramatic way. "I will take this information back to my people. Did anyone see you get this phone?"

"No, and only one cop saw me in the office. But I had a good excuse to be there"

The woman didn't seem like she approved of the news, but made no efforts to chastise your behavior. She didn't need to, you could feel her disproval. She stood up from your couch, phone in hand. "I'm going to take this. Leaving it here will only draw attention to you. And I worry you may not have been as elusive as you would like."

"You don't know that" you said with a small frown.

Assuredly, the woman replied, "I do." She headed to your front door. "I will be in touch."

"Do you think...I should be worried about the people Bowman was texting?" You asked, trying desperately to seem less concerned with the possibility than you were.

"Yes." She didn't mince words. "But I can take care of them."

Your stomach flipped in your abdomen. "How will you know? How can I get in touch with you?”

"So many questions. You're asking me to trust you, human. I am asking you to do the same without asking so many questions with answers I will not answer."

You said your name, just your name. If the woman was going to return, and if she was going to be concerned with your well-being, she needed a name, and so did you. "That's my name..."

"Figured”— “You may call me, Natasha" she said looking at you intensely one more time, and then she left. She offered no, 'good-bye', but at least you'd gotten a name; a name as gorgeous as she was.

Upon realizing that you had one final question, you hurried into the hall to catch Natasha before she departed. But the door had been a formality, and you found no trace of her.

It didn't matter; by the sound of it, you'd have a few more chances to ask Natasha about herself.

And she would have plenty of opportunities to refuse to answer any your questions.

- - -- -- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -- -- - -

Note:

hello!

this was originally part of the first chapter, but it became too long, so I've decided to split it into a second chapter.

please, let me know if you have something to suggest or to say, because i have literally no idea of what im doing. lol. This is my first attempt at writing after I don’t know how many months or even years…aaand English it’s not even my first language, soo pls bare with me, I can be very paranoid:)

xx