#Trigger Warning: Deceit

[fangswbenefits]

The Arrangement (12) - In the Beginning

Chapter summary: Astarion meets up with Ava and it triggers something deep within him.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Astarion's POV. Mention of masturbation. Dissociative episode. Bloodlust.

Word count: 4.8k

Series Masterlist . Ao3

He should have known this would happen eventually. 

His love affair with the sun had reached an unavoidable end. Yet again. Luck had seldom ever been on his side, so this shouldn’t sting this much.

But it did.

His eyes darted to the half-moon window high up above through which scorching shafts of sunlight tore and lit up the dingy cellar.

Revulsion stirred within him and the flares of anger threatened to consume him whole.

The very same sun rays in which he had bathed for weeks were now a sore reminder of his true and inescapable nature.

He titled his head back against the wooden crate, his eyes fluttering shut in defeat as he sat on the cold floor.

Astarion had served his purpose and was now cast to live in the shadows once more, bound to his hunger and to all the inconveniences of being a vampire spawn.

The pain of being scorched by the sunlight had been revived in his mind after weeks of freely strolling around the Sword Coast in some impromptu quest to save Baldur’s Gate whilst having to deal with an inconvenient wriggling dweller inside his head.

But all the physical pain of being burnt mercilessly paled in comparison when his ears picked up approaching footsteps.

He knew who they belonged to.

The sound was carved into his mind like a dagger that wouldn’t budge.

You.

He winced as the squeaky door was pushed open. 

“Astarion?”

He gritted his teeth, silently praying you’d simply walk away and leave him to his misery. 

But his prayers had never been answered before, and that wasn’t about to change now, least of all when it concerned you.

In truth, he doubted any God above would be able to keep you from plaguing his thoughts.

“Astarion, I know you’re in here.”

Then leave.

He remained silent, eyes fluttered shut and an urge to be swallowed whole by the ground below.

Light and careful footsteps drew near and only came to a halt as a swift rush of air indicated to him that you were crouched in front of him.

Shit.

“Hello,” you said and he could hear the warm smile in your voice.

Slowly, he opened his eyes and he was sure that if he had a beating heart, it would most likely skip a few beats. Instead, he felt his stomach lurch as hunger simmered dangerously.

Your kind eyes met his and he craved nothing more than to have you be gone. 

From all the afflictions he was yet again a slave to, you were by far the most painful one.

“Did you come here to mock me?” he spat, the poisonous words leaving his mouth before he could hold back.

Your eyes widened slightly. “Mock you? Astarion–”

But he cut you off like a knife through flesh. “Spare me – I saw the way they laughed as my skin crumbled to ashes. So if you’ve come here to have your share, you can just leave.”

He was being unfair and he didn’t need your wavering smile as proof.

After all your travels together and his unrequited feelings towards you, he couldn’t fight his arrogance from surfacing.

But you never gave up on him – through deceit and manipulation, you were unmoving and relentless in your loyalty to him.

“I’ll have you know that I scolded all of them for doing so,” you said firmly. “It was uncalled for, especially after everything we’ve been through together.”

His jaw clenched harder and his eyes narrowed. 

Oh, he couldn’t stand it. That look on your face – pity. It immediately triggered a visceral reaction deep within him, and when he saw you reach out to him with your hand, he flinched away and recoiled against the crate behind him. 

“Don’t touch me.”

Your hand immediately stilled before dropping to your knee, and he saw a glint of sadness cross your eyes.

It wasn’t disgust or anger that caused him to utter such words.

He just knew your touch would ruin him and that he’d allow it.

“We can find a way to solve this,” you tried again with newfound determination. “We will find a way.”

He scoffed, averting his gaze.

Unfortunately, the laws of the worlds didn’t bend to the whims of lesser beings without compromise. 

And he soon realised what really bothered him was how vulnerable he felt – how exposed and weak he surely looked in your eyes.

Pathetic.

Useless.

Tainted.

Broken.

“Do you trust me?” 

He remained silent.

“Do you?”

Your insistence gnawed at his nerves, causing him to lock eyes with you again. 

“It goes beyond trust, darling. If walking in the sun again – or curing vampirism altogether – were that easy, I would not be here in the first place.”

Even through his snarky remark, you found a way to hold a smile and it immediately disarmed him. “Astarion, if there is anything our travels together have taught me is that we're quite good at turning the impossible into possible,” you said with conviction. “If there is a way to help you, we will find it.”

In another lifetime, he would have called you a foolish human who uttered big words without knowing their meaning.

But in this one, he did know you didn't extend promises lightly.

And if there was a sliver of hope he could cling to, he'd take it, especially now that Cazador was no longer around to compel him otherwise.

“Well, who's ‘we’, exactly?” he asked, easing himself against the crate.

Your face lightened up. “You and me, of course.”

The two of you. Just the two of you?

Oh, he liked the sound of that. Very, very much. 

His jaw slacked as hope kindled inside him, soaring dangerously high.

“Well, and Wyll – he's offered to help.”

Said hope plummeted back to the ground, shattering.

He scowled with a click of his tongue. “Did he, now? How chivalrous of him.”

You nodded. “I'm sure the others will come around, too.”

Astarion supposed this was a decent prospect, but almost grimaced when you extended your hand to him.

“Deal?”

He wanted to believe your relationship with him surpassed a mere friendship value, but he had grown tired of hoping for more.

Still, he would greedily take anything you would offer him.

Whether it was an indication that you craved more than friendship, or a simple handshake.

As such, he took your hand in his, revelling in the familiar warmth. “We have a deal, darling.”

Once he entered The Blushing Mermaid, it was evident that the presence of six Flaming Fists was not welcome at all.

Bork immediately asked for only two to stay inside as they were beginning to frighten the clientele.

But, much to his convenience, he immediately found who he was looking for, sitting in the furthermost corner of the lounge area.

Ava.

The plan was simple: try to get a confession from her – if applicable – but they would still be bringing her in for questioning as Rob Sorel, her lover, awaited her with Wyll.

A measured smile spread across her face as she noticed the fists behind him.

He slithered to her table with determined steps, aware that there was a possibility that this conversation would lead nowhere.

He slowly took the seat across from her, casually placing his twin daggers on the chipped table.

Ava's eyes dropped momentarily before meeting his again. “Oh, Astarion. Offering a silent warning with poison-coated blades? You needn't do that with me.”

Astarion's lips twitched upwards in silence.

He knew this dance better than most. He could read others quite efficiently when it came to sudden shifts in body language, and he had noticed Ava sitting straighter and her saccharine smile wavering all of a sudden.

And he had her right where he wanted her.

“You can't be too careful. Isn't that what some say?” he said, absentmindedly drumming his fingers along the handle of one dagger.

She took a sip from her cup before tilting it. “I'd order one for you, but I know this isn't your drink of choice – unless you brought her along for a sip, that is.”

Her taunt was enough to set him ablaze and the tip of his blade was immediately carved into the wooden table, earning a jolt from her.

“You do not get to goad me with her,” he snarled, gripping the handle so fiercely he might snap it in half. “She is off limits and you were delusional to even think you could bring her into this without consequences.”

Suddenly, her face twisted into a hard scowl and whatever traces of sweetness vanished. “I would not do anything with her without talking to you first.”

“You still offered her a deal, thereby roping her into something she is not to be a part of,” he retorted. “Her blood is off limits. She is off limits.”

Ava leaned back with a roll of her eyes. “Is this a case of you not wanting to share? Not even if that could be beneficial to you?”

His grip loosened slightly as his brows furrowed. “What is your point?”

She took another sip. “Her blood mixed with yours could be beneficial to my experiment and, thus, to you and even that massive horde of spawn in the Underdark.”

Of course Ava would want to play her cards right to keep him around.

It was a temptimg prospect, and he would never consider it at your expense.

He was no fool and you were no bargaining chip.

“I could never ask that of her. She stays out of this.”

She forced a yawn. “Have you forgotten your arrangement with her? Her blood for your good behaviour? Or does all sense of reason rush to your cock when you feed on her?”

Ava's words slashed through the air and he was momentarily taken aback.

The nature of your arrangement with him was vastly different. It wasn’t as simple as him being kept in line like some obedient pup. He could have turned the offer away and live exclusively off boars and deers – much to his horror.

The difference was… well, you.

Your unwillingness to let him go.

Your blood.

Your insistence on helping him keep his mind clear by allowing him to freely feed on the blood of a thinking creature.

And not just any thinking creature.

You.

His first.

The only blood he craved to the point of madness.

“Though, I can tell you haven't fed in a couple of days,” she went on with a dramatic pout. “A lover's quarrel, hmm?”

Oh, she was vicious.

This was the same woman who had shared a bed with him to ease him coming to terms with intimacy. For the most part, her simply being naked by his side hadn't helped much, but it seemed enough, and he was desperate to overcome the prison that his mind had become.

However, this was also the same woman who slayed her kin without hesitation.

She could go from being as kind and sweet to holding a stake to his chest.

Astarion felt a sense of dread wash over him as he realised he had greatly underestimated her.

Now, he needed to tread lightly.

The blade sunk deeper into the table as he leaned closer. “You wanted her blood in exchange for information.”

“Yet it is a far less selfish bargain than your arrangement with her, is it not?”

He ignored tar taunt. “Who is after me?”

“I do not know yet.”

He gritted his teeth. “Lies.”

Ava's face softened and he watched her slip into her usual overly sweet demeanour. “Astarion, we can be here all night hurling accusations and witty remarks at each other,” she said with a sigh. “Or we can approach this in a more sensitive manner.”

He didn't budge. “Who is after me?”

“I do not know who is after you,” she said. “Someone is, but I have yet to find out who.”

There was something in her tone that felt disingenuous. Almost as if she hadn't expected him to press her on this.

“Or there is no one at all besides you,” he said casually.

Her eyes widened slightly. “Me? And what would I gain from doing such a thing? Your blood is an integral part of this experiment. Locking you up in a prison cell would prove to be a nuisance.”

His patience was wearing thin.

“Darling, I've been around long enough to know people lie – you are a pristine liar, but a liar nonetheless.

In truth, he was merely bluffing in an attempt to spot any cracks in her story. He needed anything he could get from her.

And a part of him still hoped this was all a misunderstanding.

She cocked an eyebrow at him. “I can see what you are trying to do and it won't work.”

He thought as much. Still, he had to give it a try.

“What about Waterdeep?”

For the first time that night, Ava looked genuinely dumbfounded. “What about it?”

“No casual killings over there, hmm? In the past hours – accidental ones, perhaps?” he pressed.

She frowned deeply in response. “What are you accusing me of, exactly?”

“Someone was murdered and I am simply trying to rule you out as a suspect,” he said, feigning concern. 

“You overestimate my reach outside Baldur's Gate.”

He scoffed. “But not the reach of a certain patriar who so happens to be your lover.”

Ava's lips parted but she didn't utter a word.

“Rob Sorel has dealings in Waterdeep and knows which strings to pull to order a murder.”

She was visibly agitated, but he couldn't tell the cause. Was it the mention of a patriar? Or was he simply nearing the truth?

“Who was killed?”

It was all pointless.

A shame.

He merely turned in his seat and motioned for the two Fists at the door. Both immediately approached with the Mage Slayer right behind.

By this point, Astarion wasn't sure if Ava was even involved in this at all, but he couldn't take any risks. She would be taken in for questioning regardless of his judgement.

“Astarion?”

The room was immediately plunged into silence as multiple heads turned to watch the scene. From behind the counter he spotted Bork shaking his head in clear disapproval, visibly displeased with the ordeal.

“Astarion? What are you doing?”

His eyes met hers as he sheathed his daggers. “The right thing.”

He was known to do that from time to time, even against his better judgement.

She rushed to her feet, clawing at her dress in search of her own dagger. “Astarion!”

He could hear the rising panic in her voice, and he silently watched as the mage cast Hold Person on her before she could so much as blink.

She was instantly left petrified in place as the violet sign on the floor caged her in.

Gasps echoed around him and the two Fists promptly rushed to her side.

“We'll handle it from here,” one of them told him.

There was a part of him that vaguely wondered if this was the correct approach. 

A part of him that hoped for Ava not to be involved in any of it.

And then, from across the room, he saw you.

He blinked twice, thinking his eyes betrayed him, but there you were, standing by the door with a Fist at your side, staring back into his crimson eyes.

And it was as if he had been mentally slapped.

Ava had dared to involve you.

You.

And it had been his fault.

The unruly and dense crowd in the room wasn't enough to contain him from darting hurriedly to meet you.

Annoyance hit him first and it was woven into his words once he was in front of you, gripping your forearm. “Why are you here? I told you to let me handle this.”

You immediately yanked free with narrowed eyes. “I wasn't trying to interfere. But this idiot,” you said, pointing to the Fist who merely shrugged, “pushed me inside and – wait! How did it go with her?”

Astarion caught hold of your shoulders, pulling you to the side as Ava was carried away through the door.

As soon as it closed behind them, the fanfare commenced once more in between heated whispers and glares from those around the two of you.

“Marvellous as you can see,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “She didn't confess to anything, and I had limited time.”

You pushed the door open once again and he promptly followed you outside, until he felt a hard shove from someone's hand.

“Move, spawn.”

He glanced over his shoulder only to see a frowning Fist right behind.

“We are not cattle to be ordered around,” he spat, adjusting his vest. “Honestly, Wyll ought to have you all stand trial for severe lack of manners.”

“It's Duke Ravengard to you,” the Fist growled, hand on the hilt of his sword.

Astarion clicked his tongue humorously. “It's Wyll to me and Duke Ravengard to you, Fist.”

Before tensions could escalate any further, you were already tugging at his sleeve, and dragging him across the wooden pier.

Just as the Fist opened his mouth, a myriad of clashing and banging sounds were heard from inside and he turned to open the door.

Probably a tavern brawl.

What fun!

Seconds later, the armoured man was toppled to the ground as the door burst open with people yelling profanities and slinging fists at each other.

“I'll kill ya! WHERE IS MY CHICKEN, YOU OAF?” a drunkard missing most of his teeth yelled, holding a frying pan in his hand.

“YOU ATE IT, YOU IMBECILE!” said another, stepping on the fallen Fist and nearly losing his balance.

Behind them, Astarion spotted several items being tossed whilst Bork's voice begged for order.

He almost clicked his tongue.

Tavern brawls were too much fun and he always adored adding fuel to the fire by standing on the side and instigating these drunkard fools.

But a quick glance at you and he could tell you wouldn't approve of such activity, so he remained at your side.

The other two Fists that were standing guard nearby, clumsily rushed to the entrance.

“Go call for backup!”

The youngest nodded and nearly bumped into Astarion as he tried to keep his helmet steady.

“Oh! Do not leave! Do not move!”

Astarion immediately raised both hands innocently. “Wouldn't dream of it.”

“Right. Thank you!”

Idiot.

Surprisingly, you hadn't let go of his sleeve and your hand moved to his wrist, pulling him to cross the road until you reached the metal balustrade that allowed a privileged view over the Grey Harbour Docks.

It was far away from the chaos that had erupted, but not quite far that would potentially get you into trouble.

Although… “Maybe we should leave.”

Astarion arched an eyebrow at you. “And going against the voice of authority?”

Your face dropped and he fought the urge to pinch your cheek teasingly.

You were so easy to rile up.

“You scheming little delinquent, you,” he said with a devious smile and a chuckle. “I'm all for acts of rebellion, but we ought to stay nearby this time.”

“Do you think we should go help them out?” you asked, glancing over at the rising commotion nearby.

The two of you exchanged looks before shrugging.

“No. They can fend for themselves,” you said, leaning over the fence, eyes set on the lulling sea that spread vastly into the distance.

“Actually, they're quite incompetent, but I don't feel like creasing my shirt,” he said with an annoyed click of his tongue, inspecting his sleeves as he joined you. “Let them fight off the drunkards. We get to collect the scattered coins on the floor afterwards.”

You shot him a curious look. “You do that?”

“Well, obviously? I put the gold to good use, at least.”

“Embroidery?”

That tugged a genuine smile from him and he caught himself staring at you under the moonlight.

Gods.

He would never tire of admiring your beauty and how it was almost embarrassingly too easy for him to get lost in your eyes.

It also didn't help that he hadn't fed in a few days.

Bloodlust clouded his mind and made his insides turn.

It was the soft sound of your voice that snapped him from his thoughts. “What now? I mean… Ava.”

He cleared his throat. “Well, they are to interrogate Rob Sorel and see how both their stories hold up.”

You heaved a deep sigh. “So we wait.”

“We wait.”

Astarion had grown used to the silence that would often settle around the two of you. It wasn’t an uncomfortable one. It was the kind that he had never experienced before.

He wasn't sure there was a name for it, but he knew the feeling attached to it all too well.

The silhouette of passing ships on the horizon, dancing along the calm waters added to the overall soothing atmosphere.

He could stay a while longer like this.

With you.

His eyes eventually darted to the side and he nearly jolted when your head turned to him, as if you had felt his burning gaze.

“You can feed on me once we get home.”

He wanted that.

He needed it.

He craved it.

But… “I can do without your blood for a while longer, darling.”

A white lie.

He could feel his mind spotting and blanking at times already, especially when near you. Maybe he had gotten too addicted to feeding on you to the point his body could no longer go extended periods of time without blood.

Your blood.

And as much as he appreciated your offer, he needed to withstand his hunger.

Ava's words echoed in his mind and he almost felt repulsed from having allowed himself to be so dependent on you and putting you through it in the first place.

“Are you alright?” you asked, visibly worried.

“Yes – of course, darling,” he forced a smile to curl his lips.

Your hand came to rest on his forearm. “Astarion, you can feed on me. I mean it.”

His eyes dropped to your neck, the symmetrical puncture wounds still visible from when he had last bitten you.

Hunger swelled to the point of agony and he could almost smell your blood and feel it coursing through your hand.

You gave him a reassuring nod, which only made it harder for him to resist the urge to give in.

“I should go hunt, actually,” he eventually managed to say and his words felt like ash in his mouth.

You chuckled slightly, squeezing his arm. “You'd probably have to bring a Fist with you.”

He grimaced, but appreciated your attempt at diffusing the tension. “They would end up being the ones hunted by some beast in the woods, and I would have to step in and save the godsdamned idiot.”

Your eyes widened and then you laughed.

Hard.

And it was the most comforting sound he had ever heard in a long while.

It was enough to steer the bloodlust away and he laughed with you.

“It reminds me of the first time you fed on me,” you said, wiping off the teardrops that had formed in the corners of your eyes from laughing. “Remember? When you drifted off into the woods to hunt for something more ‘filing’?”

Oh.

Shit.

His smile wavered and you immediately caught on to the sudden shift.

“What?”

He thought he had told you what truly happened that night….

…. he hadn't?

“Well… I…” his words failed him and as he pondered how he should approach the topic.

Concern suddenly splattered across your face. “What is it? 

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“I didn't exactly go hunting,” he said with a tense chuckle.

You remained silent, waiting for him to go on.

“I just had to get away from you… to… uhm, well – take care of a little problem that stirred whilst I fed on you, if you catch my meaning.”

He allowed the implication to dangle from his words, and it wasn't a particularly subtle one.

And then your eyes widened once more in sudden realisation.

“Oh… it makes sense,” you said all flustered, withdrawing your hand from his arm. “You did say my blood feels really good.”

‘Good’ was an unfair understatement.

It always felt divine.

“Don't misunderstand,” he quickly added. “It was totally out of my control. I was quite surprised when I realised just how…” hard he had gotten.

“Just how…?”

“Just how much your blood affected me.”

He could remember it clearly in his head.

How desperate he was to slip into the woods and find a secluded place so he could see just how much of a mess his trousers were.

He could feel it, obviously, but he wouldn't know the extent of the ‘'damage’ until he undid his trousers.

“Did you… get…. really hard?” you drawled out in a hushed tone as if scared someone other than him might overhear you.

Astarion figured this was the last topic he expected to be addressing given that the background noise consisted of screams and threats and loud noises and glass smashing.

Hardly the right ambience.

“Yes.”

He could almost remember the feel of the bark of the tree digging into his back as he hurriedly undid the lacing at the front until he was able to free his cock.

“And what did you do?”

Were these merely questions that stemmed from curiosity or were you trying to stir something else…?

“Well…” he started, “you can't expect me to reveal such things aloud.”

He watched you swallow hard as you nodded. “You can say in my ear, then? If you want to, of course,” you quickly added.

You were too adorable and he was in dire need of a distraction from his bloodlust.

This would suffice.

He leaned closer, and pressed a kiss to your heated cheek before his lips grazed the shell of your ear.

“I had to take care of it.”

You shuddered.

His cock had never been as hard and as thick before he had fed on you. It had made him utterly speechless to see all the precum dripping from the tip.

He had been almost too scared to even touch it.

But when he did….

The groan that had erupted from his throat had been too difficult to rein in. His cock had felt warm and it had throbbed from your blood coursing through it, giving it a faint pink tint to it.

“In the woods?” you asked, gripping the railing with both hands.

“Yes.”

He could hear the faint beating of your heart increasing. “What if someone had run into you?”

His cock twitched.

Innocent, little pup…

“Why, darling… did you want to run into me,” he lowered his voice as his lips brushed against your ear, "and witness my despair as I touched myself?”

You gasped.

Despair didn't quite cover it. 

He couldn’t remember a time when he had ever felt like he'd implode lest he reached climax.

It was a novelty and he had felt… alive. 

He had heard of how delectable the blood of thinking creatures could be, but he had never anticipated this feeling of fullness and how addictive it could be.

“It was so warm… from your blood, sweetheart,” he purred, feeling himself getting carried away.

You bit your quivering lip before replying, “Did it feel good?”

Maybe too carried away.

And when you shuddered again under his faint touch, it was as if he had been slapped back into another plane of existence.

He suddenly straightened himself and blinked.

What was he doing?

His abrupt change in demeanour was enough to earn a reaction from you, and he could see lust in your half-hooded eyes as you stared at him in confusion.

And just like a tidal wave that one couldn't hold back, he felt disgust and revulsion lacing themselves into a powerful mixture that caused him to take a step back.

His mind was flooded with Ava's accusatory words and the memories of him seducing you for his own benefit.

“Astarion?”

Your voice was miles away and he couldn't even bring himself to blink anymore.

The nauseating feeling was heightened by the fact that he had a very inconvenient erection strained against his trousers, begging for attention.

“Astarion… what is it?” 

Your voice seemed even more distant than before, as if he had been plunged into a well and couldn't get out.

Why couldn't he get out?

Why was his cock so hard, but his mind so repulsed by it?

And the impending feeling of dread began to slowly overtake him like storm clouds rolling over the mountains, bent on flooding the land below.

And when it began to rain in his mind, it poured.

He needed to get away.

He needed to get away from you.

You tried reaching out to him with your hand, but he flinched away. “Don't touch me!”

And he could see it in your eyes.

Pity.

Again.

“I – I must go.”

And he didn't look back.

TBC

[fear-is-truth]

𝓓𝑬𝑳𝑬𝑪𝑻𝑨𝑩𝑳𝑬

— kai anderson x f! reader | nsfw ⨟ mdni | wc. 1k

𝜗℘ WARNINGS : fem! reader. oral (f! receiving). dirty talk. daddy kink (sort of). english is not my first language & i’m too lazy to proofread | 18+

note: i’m really rusty so.. pls be nice ok

𝜗℘ taglist form | masterlist

The breath left your lungs as Kai shoved you backward, pinning you against the cold surface of the break room wall in City Hall.

“Kai!” you hissed, but he was already shutting the hardwood door behind him, the click echoing through the room. Eyes ablaze, Kai was electric, crackling with the residual energy of his recent triumph. The crowd had devoured his campaign speech, hanging on every one of his carefully woven webs of lies and deceit. It was a side of him you rarely saw, reserved for moments of victory or, as you knew all too well, after a particularly successful murder mission.

“Did you see me up there? They fucking loved me! They ate that shit up!” his smile was nearly splitting his face in two as he grabbed both of your hands. You nodded enthusiastically, mirroring his excitement.

“You were amazing,” you said softly, heart swelling with genuine admiration.

“Fuck yeah I was!”

He barked out a laugh, his grip on your hands tightening for a brief moment before releasing them to slide up to cup your face. His touch was surprisingly gentle, thumbs tracing the curve of your cheekbones.

“I knew I could count on you to help me nail that speech. Couldn’t have done it better without you,”

Before you could squeeze in another compliment, Kai leaned in and captured your lips in a tender, almost chaste kiss. Slowly but deliberately, his lips moved against yours with a surprising tenderness. When he finally pulled away, he kept his forehead pressed to yours.

“Maybe I should reward you...” He tilted your chin up, pressing his body up against yours.

“…I’ll give you a treat. Anything you want.”

“You, you’re all I want,”

you breathed, blinking up at him through your eyelashes. Kai chuckled lowly at your response, his chest puffing with satisfaction. You knew the effect it would have on him, stoking his already inflated ego.

“Is that so?”

His lips grazed the sensitive skin at the junction between your shoulder and neck. Then he nipped at the tender flesh, gently biting down before pulling away. As he retreated, dark eyes locked onto yours, a devious curl of a smirk forming on his lips.

“But you’ll have to be more specific, doll...”

You swallowed nervously. The second Kai mentioned the “reward,” you’d already known what exactly you wanted.

“C-can you use your mouth on me? Please?”

The words spilled out of your mouth before he could change his mind or tease you further.

“Hm. You were such a good girl, I think we can arrange that.” he cooed, his breath warm against your lips. Kai gently moved his hands down to your thighs, lifting you up off the ground easily and moving to set you on the table in the room.

“You’ll have to be quiet though... think you can do that for Daddy?”

His choice of words triggered something in your brain, desire dripping into your loins like molten honey. Feeling that familiar pulsating need between your thighs, you nodded. His hands traveled up the length of your thighs until they reached the hem of your dress, drawing out a needy whimper from your lips. Then he pushed it upwards so it bunched up around your waist.

“Good girl. Let’s see just how quiet you can be.”

Swiftly, Kai moved downwards, settling between your legs and spreading them wider. He pressed his nose against the mound of your sex and inhaled deeply, hot breath blowing over your clothed cunt.

“Hmmm, already so wet and I haven't even touched you yet... naughty girl,”

He gave a low chuckle, hooking a thumb under the waistband of your panties.

“Lift your hips for me, I need to get this out of the way.”

You obeyed, allowing him to slide the lacy garment effortlessly to your ankles before tossing it to the ground. Planting both hands on your thighs, he pressed his lips against your sopping folds, eyelashes fluttering as he closed his eyes. At the contact of his tongue, the whole world tilted on its axis. Your hands instinctively found his hair, fingers tangling in the silky strands of his neatly tied man bun.

“That needy, huh?” Kai muttered against your skin, sending vibrations through your body. He gave it a long, flat lick, causing your thighs to tremble slightly against his face.

And just like anything else he set his mind to, Kai was brilliant. He started by exploring his way between your sopping folds, occasionally teasing the delicate bundle of nerves with lazy flicks of his tongue, as wickedly clever as it was when he made speeches in front of hundreds.

The tip of his finger pressed slowly inside you, and despite your best efforts to stay silent, an especially loud moan escaped your lips when he sucked on your clit rather harshly. Kai stiffened in response, pausing to nip sharply at your inner thigh before pulling back. His hair was mussed up; strands of blue falling on his face and you could see your glistening arousal coating his chin as he shot you a warning look.

“Christ, woman. Do you want them to hear you being such a slut?” he chided, but there was a sordid amusement in his tone as he inspected your pussy like an art critic.

“Keep those pretty moans to yourself… I’ll make you scream once we get home.”

Then he ducked his head back down in between your thighs, going back to work with a renewed vigor. Keeping up the ministrations of his tongue, Kai slid one thick finger inside your weeping hole, sinking to the knuckle and curling it in tandem with his tongue. Hips bucking shamelessly into his face, you felt the pressure in your centre build, higher and higher as he continued to work you with his mouth.

“Oh! God– Kai, haah— m’ c-close-”

Head dropping back against the wall, you used the last vestiges of your willpower to keep your moans at a minimum volume. Kai continued to slide his tongue– that skillful, glorious, devilish tongue in and out of your searing pussy, pressing in once he found the sweet spot that made your toes curl and the edges of your vision go blurry.

Faint noises escaped your lips, but it was hard to discern whether they were repetitions of his name or just a stream of incoherent babble. Most likely the latter. It felt as if your brain had short-circuited, with white-hot euphoria coursing through your veins as Kai continued to work his tongue, coaxing out every last drop of pleasure from you. The slurping noises he made as he devoured your pussy were nothing short of obscene and should’ve brought you shame, but you were too blissed-out to care. Once you had come down from your high, Kai pulled away with a satisfied hum, sitting back on his heels and looking up at you.

He rose to his feet, licking his lips as he studied the way your chest rose and fell with your breath. He leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to your forehead, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear before tilting your chin up.

“That pussy of yours is fucking delectable,”

Then he smashed his lips against yours in a searing kiss, thrusting his tongue into your mouth and forcing you to taste your own come.

“Once we’re home and I’m inside you, you won’t need to hold back those moans,”

let’s ignore the shit writing. oh and thank you for sticking to the end pookie, you’re a real one <3

TAGLIST— @burningsinner @evanpetersmybf @alittlesil @kaiandersonsdevotedwife @ellaaaaa44 @newwavesylviaplath @warrenlipkaswife @slvt4jamesmarch @kaismanwich @maddaline @evpeters87 @lacucarachapisser @howtobesasha @lissasharp @feefymo @mariposa-nova @nickrhodeslittledarling @bluerthanvelvet444 @r8ttenapples @nahoyasboyfriend @kai-slut @lak3cityqui3tpills @coentinim @doll3tt33 @taintandviolent @violet1737 @sukirosiac @slutforgarlogan @90sbr1descake @am3ricanh0rrorwh0re @k31sley @violet-harmon2011 @luuuuucyscorner @starry-eyed-wild-child @viscerati @colinzabelswife @cultw3b @babydollxxblood @evanpeterspeter @dangeroustaintedflawed @evanpetersbf @joshlmbrt @ggenyxxo @evansonlylove @xxfolkloresxx

[shegatsby]

Not sure exactly what you’re okay/not okay with as far as requests go, but I’d like to request a Hannibal x AFAB reader (or gn if you prefer) where the reader has a crush on Hannibal and discovers that he’s a serial killer and tells him she’s more attracted to him because of it. I’d prefer it ends up in the bedroom (wink wink) but it’s up to you :)

A/N; Hello love, thank you for this request I certainly enjoyed writing it. Enjoy!

Warnings; Hannibal killing a man, a little smut

First time you saw him was something else. You almost became a victim of a serial killer but thankfully a team of FBI agents and Dr. Hannibal Lecter saved you. Turns out this killer was on the loose for months and you dropping your phone in his car made them catch him, you were forever grateful. Dr. Lecter was a psychiatrist who was helping the FBI with their serial killer cases and he was also collecting data for a research of serial killers and he offered free therapy sessions in exchange of information. Seemed like a good deal.

It had been few months since you started the therapy and it was going smoothly for him but for you, you had to keep pressing your thighs together every time he played with his pen or grabbed something. Over the weeks you saw and observed tiny changes in his behavior. He started to loose his tie around his neck, rolled up his sleeves, gave your lingering looks. You also had minor changes, such as; wearing clothes that fit your body perfectly and showing your womanly figure, curves and all. You knew that revealing clothes won’t make him come to you so you started to dress elegantly, just like him.

One time you mentioned how much you like baking and he asked you to bake something for him and you did.   The next week you brought chocolate chipped cookies and he opened a bottle of wine.

He surprised you by having a cabinet in his office dedicated to all kinds of wine and you surprised him by fulfilling your promise of baking something for him. Hannibal Lecter never relied on anyone ever since he was a child, he never believed promises of people, even the ones he who are close to him because life thought him that people are deceitful animals. However, you managed to surprise him, it felt like a date but neither of you said anything about it.

Weeks went by and you kept surprising him with small things. One day, you baked a cake, it was the anniversary of you meeting him. You went to his office without telling him, it was suppose to be a surprise. Before you knocked on the door you heard some noises, a man coughing and things falling to the ground so you quickly opened the door to see the scenario.

Dr. Hannibal Lecter was on top of a man who was equally tall and strong as him and Hannibal’s big hands wrapped around that man’s throat, you halted in your steps. Your hands which were holding the container of the cake were shaking, your fight or flight response was triggered. You didn’t know what to do, in that moment you could feel everything and see, hear everything that was happening such as your soaked panties sticking to your core. You could feel your cheeks heat up, your heartbeat rising, Dr. Hannibal Lecter was murdering someone right in front of you and all you could think about or fantasies about how would you feel if his hands were wrapped around you, on his table..

When the man stopped breathing and struggling Hannibal bolted to his feet and turned to face you. His maroon eyes were startled at first but you could see his dilated pupils roaming on your body.

He didn’t  say anything, his chest heaving up and down, he closed the door and locked it, he came to you and held your shaking hands, put the container aside, ‘’Shh, I’m here, calm down.’’ Now that he was close you could see the bruises on his face, dry blood on his plump lips, blackened left eye, scratches here and there. His fingers went to put a strand of hair behind your ear, even under this strange circumstances, his eyes were soft as they addressed you.

He guided you to the couch. He sat next to you, his eyes never leaving yours. ‘’Now,’’ he breathed, ‘’What shall I do with you, little dove?’’

You didn’t respond, you were a deer caught in the lights. ‘’He attacked me, you saw what happened. I was defending myself.’’ He was so calm a sudden thought crossed your mind;

‘’This isn’t his first time.’’

Your body shivered, you knew what he wanted. He wanted you to tell Jack Crawford and others what you saw but an altered version of it, all you could do was to nod and let things happen.

It had been few weeks since that incident and you avoided your sessions with him. You made up excuses, one week you pretended like you had the cold, the other week you said you were out of town etc.

Every week he sent you a present, the week you were supposedly cold he sent you soup and warm bread, it was handmade. There was also a note; ‘’Get well soon, dove.’’

Your knees went weak with that note and gesture, the other week he sent you flowers, elegant and pure white bouquet of peony. Last week you’ve made up a lame excuse of not being in the mood and he called you on the phone.

‘’Hello Dr. Lecter?’’ you answered in a calm manner, ‘’Hello dove, I was wondering-‘’ he paused for a second ‘’why are you avoiding me. Well, I know the reason but I want to hear it from you.’’ You felt your heart go faster, subconsciously your thighs were pressing hard, ‘’It is best that I don’t join the sessions anymore Dr. Lecter.’’ You said out of breath, hearing his voice after a long time did something to you. He let out a devastatingly long sigh, you felt it in your core. ‘’I was hoping it doesn’t come to this.’’ He sounded tired and defeated.

You imagined him sitting in his office, sleeves rolled up, playing with his pen while talking to you. You wanted to rush to his aid, he was a busy man with a hectic schedule, you wanted to give him something to come home to. The thought of it made you get wet.

‘’Thank you for testifying on my behalf.’’ He sounded genuine.

At first he thought you would tell the truth but when you told everyone exactly what he told you he was impressed. There was something about you that he couldn’t put his finger on. He sometimes had this urge to pull your brain out and study it because you fascinated him profoundly, but then the thought of physically hurting you made him feel disgusted, which was rare in his case.

‘’You saved me,’’ you said remembering the night, he was the one who wrapped you in a blanket and carried you to the ambulance, he was the one who sat and waited by your side in the hospital.

‘’and I saved you, the debt is paid.’’ Your free hand slowly went to the waistband of your pjs, sid in and found your aching core, he cannot possibly realize can he?

‘’My little dove, hearing you say this breaks my heart, your life is not a burden.’’ He knew how you feel about yourself, a freak, a burden..

You loved the way he said ‘’dove’’ his accent thick, you wondered what else is thick about him. You wanted him to keep talking to you.

‘’Where are you right now? And be honest.’’ His tone had a warning, such dominance.. ‘’H- home.’’

Hannibal wasn’t a stupid man, he admired your boldness, talking to your therapist while touching yourself.

‘’Good girl.’’ He loved your honesty, maybe you were the only person who was honest to him from the start ‘’What are you doing?’’ he asked, even though he knew it.

Your panties were soaked, ‘’Laying on my couch.’’ You managed to say, his hand went to stroke his clothed member, he swallowed, ‘’I was asking as in.. action wise.’’ He teased. You were rubbing your wet cunt slowly, you let out a sigh. A pornographic one to be exact. ‘’Nothing-‘’

He didn’t let you continue, ‘’Tell me, do you always dream  of me when you touch yourself? His question shocked you, at first you thought you heard him wrong, but the silence continued. Cat was out of the bag, he caught you. ‘’Yes.’’ You said. Hannibal could feel himself getting harder. He stood up, locked his office door, you heard it. He sat back and unzipped his pants, he never thought he would be doing this in his office, well, he also never thought he would kill someone in his office but here we were.

‘’What are you wearing?’’ he asked, feeling like a school boy but it excited him. ‘’Nothing.’’

It was right, the second you heard him lock the door you took off your clothes, ‘’Clever girl. I assume you’re dripping wet, I have neglected you for so long, keep touching yourself.’’

Hannibal leaned back, stroking himself, his tip leaking, ‘’How do you dream of me?’’

One hand in your core the other touching your boob –he was on speakers- you spoke, ‘’Sometimes on the table, sometimes on the couch or in your bed. Pushing me down and taking me..’’

You remembered the scene, he was on the ground on top of a man and choking him. It made you moan. Your soft whimpers and divine voice made him stroke himself faster, ‘’Put two fingers inside sweet thing.’’

You could feel the shift in his voice. You moaned louder than before as you inserted your fingers, you were so wet he could hear it clearly. ‘’Every time I come from your office I touch myself.’’ You confessed, which made him growl, he was regretting that he didn’t take you before. He knew that you were interested in him from the beginning, he thought it was because you were in shock –due to your unique condition which is almost being murdered- and you were seeking shelter. He assumed over the weeks your fascination with him would disappear but he was wrong.

He was about to lose his mind because of the sounds you were making ‘’Stop!’’ he ordered and you followed. ‘’Wait for me.’’ And he hung up.

Never in a million years he would think of sleeping with a patient but you changed his mind, he got into his car and drove.

[bones4thecats]

Them With A Reformed Sinner! S/O

Type of Writing: Random Idea Name: Them With A Reformed Sinner! S/O Characters: Adam, Lute, and Emily Idea-Giver: Random Thoughts

A/N: This is mainly about how they meet and my take on how Season two may go, y'know with God being introduced and holding a meeting on what happened during Extermination Day. Anyways, have a great rest of your days/nights!

⚠️ Trigger Warnings: Mentions of Death and Non-Canon Events ⚠️ Spoilers for: S1 ⚠️

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Reformed Sinner! Reader ; 'Died' with Sir Pentious ~ Fox-Demon

🎸 Adam, despite what many in Heaven think, doesn't bother memorizing all of his descendants and what they do. He only sees them after they die during the Extermination

🎸 You were one of Sir Pentious' helpers when it came to making his creations, such as the Egg Boiz for example. And, when he had begun his charge up his ship to take on Adam head-first, you were one of the people inside of the ship, holding his hand as he said his so-called final words; Fire.

🎸 When you both awoke after falling onto a ground, you couldn't lie, you were horrified. After all, who just dies from being blasted by an angel and suddenly appears in a new land?

🎸 It took you a little more processing than your college, but, when you did finally come to terms that you were in Heaven, due to your actions in Hell against Adam, you were quite pleased

🎸 This action just allowed Heaven to realize their faults in judgement; Reformation was possible!

🎸 You and Pentious were taken to the main judgement room where Charlie and Vaggie were months prior and that was where you met your unknowing future spouse

🎸 Adam had just barely dodged the attack from Niffty and escaped back to Heaven with Lute on his tail as he swore revenge on the residents of the Hotel

🎸 He had then healed up and was required to go to the meeting where their Father, God, had set up to discuss the day's events and whatnot. And anyone could tell that he was both pissed and pleased

" And Adam. What in the name of Earth were you thinking?! I only allowed Extermination on the one condition that is happened when I decided it to be necessary, not for you to do it six months prior! Without my knowledge nonetheless! And, who are these two?! " " They're the first reformed sinners! My Father, meet Sir Pentious and Y/N L/N. "

🎸 Adam glared at you two, remembering how you stood beside Charlie as they declared war upon one another. And he remembered how determined you stared him in the eyes as he blasted you two nothing alongside your friend

🎸 Once God had calmed down and motioned for you, Pentious, and Adam to step forward and announced for everyone else to exit the room, the first man and grown more nervous than before

🎸 When the creator of life had placed you three at a table and told you guys to speak to one another without any malice or hatred, and, in turn, basically apologize, Adam straight-up asked why

" Because Adam. They are new members to our home, and that means we must treat them with the same amount of respect that we treat the natural Winners. Now, apologize. " " But- I- Ugh... fine... I'm sorry... " " Apology- " " Forgiven. And we apologize for attempting to kill you in return. We just- felt the need to protect our friends more than we had any value for each other's lives. "

🎸 He was shocked, you were apologizing for trying to kill him?! He had tried killing you! You must have been trying to deceive him, that is what foxes were known for; deceit.

🎸 Forcing a smile despite his confusion and wish to throw out colorfully decorated questions at you, Adam just pushed through the meeting second by second. But, he'd have to ask you questions later on. He just had too.

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Reformed Sinner! Reader ; 'Died' fighting along Alastor ~ Chickadee-Demon

🗡️ She did not want to be here in the slightest.

🗡️ Why was she needing to tell her side of the story?! You and your little friend, Alastor, had attacked Adam, nearly killing him in the process, much to everyone's shock

🗡️ Lute was not amused with how you kept a small smile when mentioning your fight against Adam and how you had stood your ground during, smiling with full teeth- ones matching the Radio Demon's, though yours were more white

🗡️ The Father of Humanity just looked at you and your snake friend before smiling gently and motioning you and him to come closer so he could look into your eyes

🗡️ He could tell when someone was lying by looking deep into their eyes, it was something about their soul being based off of a piece of him that made it work

🗡️ Lute watched with narrowed eyes and your wings come flying backwards with force as your eyes turned white with black spots littering, oh how she hoped you and Pentious were banished back to Hell

" They pass. Their seems to be no amount of sin left within them, well, there is a hint, but a hint I can forgive. " " WHAT?! "

🗡️ Smacking her hands to her mouth, Lute slammed her head into the stand's top, making a loud thump echo throughout the room signalling her shock if the word was not enough

🗡️ The exorcist looked at you and Pentious and gritted her teeth as he began to tear up with joy as God summoned his little Egg Boiz back into existence, though they took on a more heavenly-egg form than an demonic-egg one

🗡️ Looking at you especially as a small bird landed on your large piece of feather-like hairs that stood up from your head, her heart began to pound heavily as her mind screamed at herself for the interior action

🗡️ Why in the name of Heaven was her heart pounding at your smile and gentle nature with the Egg Boiz and your little bird friend?!

🗡️ Whatever the reason was, she didn't want to think about it anymore. After all, such an action could be perceived as unholy, resulting in her demise to Hell

🗡️ Holding her spear closer, Lute nodded as God dismissed everyone and Emily hugged you and pet your bird as she spoke to Sir Pentious, asking you guys some stuff about the Hotel and who you guys believed could be redeemed next

🗡️ Lute almost bumped into you, but she stopped herself, allowing one question to burn in her mind as she began to walk away to where a certain female demon was;

🗡️ Why did you seem so cute?

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Reformed Sinner! Reader ; 'Died' protecting Charlie from Adam ~ Hyena-Demon

💞 You were known to be very aggressive around those you deemed not worthy of your presence, and as one of the most dangerous demons in Hell when angry, even those in Heaven saw this come out

💞 This happened when Adam had tried to lay his hands on Charlie during the meeting, though you were far faster and more dangerous than Vaggie when it came to this time

💞 You had jumped the gun and kicked the first man away, shocking everyone. And when you barked for the two females to be sent back with you to your home, Sera just nodded and made a portal for you guys to leave, much to Adam's annoyance

💞 Emily had barely even met you, and it saddened her. But, seeing you defend Charlie from such a powerful heavenly figure made her heart skip a couple beats

💞 Wait- why was she thinking you looked amazing protecting the Princess of Hell?! Was this unholy?!

💞 She hadn't heard about or from you until Extermination Day, which was when Adam and his exorcists had descended to attack and kill as many sinners as they could

💞 And in Adam-ly fashion, they had went to attack the Hazbin Hotel first, much to everyone else's annoyance

💞 You had noticed that Adam was about to kill Charlie, so, you threw yourself in front of her, making his large attack hit you and in-turn kill you, and that action prompted the angry outburst of your closest friends, Alastor and Charlie

💞 Surprisingly though, you and Sir Pentious, who had also died protecting the Hotel and your friends, had appeared in Heaven before Sera and Emily

💞 Emily had looked at you both in awe, adoring your new look; your fur and tail was more well-kept and your ears were fluffier with the skin inside being shaped like tiny pink-tinted hearts to match your hand's markings

" Y/N! Oh my goodness, you got reformed! How awesome is this?! "

💞 The angel squealed and hugged you as you chuckled nervously, still adjusting to the bright surroundings. To be honest, you expected to close your eyes and never open them again

💞 Sir Pentious held onto you from behind as you led him throughout the building and during the meeting with your Creator and the rest of his heavenly council, and you had to admit, watching Emily gleefully talk about you and your friend was nice

💞 Maybe you could get used to your new afterlife here?

💞 Maybe Emily could hang out with you even more!

💞 Maybe this could be the start of a whole new relationship? Oh no she's going full on romantic, isn't she?

[violette-hue]

Amortentia

Summary: Pansy forces a secret out of you, and you’re strongly debating which curse/jinx to use on her.

Trigger Warning(s): Pansy (mentions of her), one (?) curse word, mentions of pure bloods (purebloods?), mentions of the future, love/strongly like

Word Count: 749

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

“It’s a nice out tonight.”

You sat down on the edge of the astronomy tower next to Draco. The summer breeze danced across your heated cheeks, cooling you down. The events from twenty minutes ago still boiled your blood and you wanted nothing more than to go back to the Slytherin common room and give Pansy a good wack. Maybe even a curse or jinx.

“What do you want, Draco?” you asked, not daring to look over at him.

“What’s Pansy talking about?”

You took a deep breath. Apparently Draco wasn’t going to beat around the bush with this. You could see him looking at you from your peripherals, his blue eyes haunting in the moonlight. You debated your options. Tell Draco what started this mess, or pretend like you didn’t know. Instinctively, you wanted to choose the latter, but Draco knew you too well, and he’d know you were lying. Even without looking at him. You pursed your lips.

“Remember the Amortentia potion?” you started. You didn’t give him the opportunity to answer as you continued. “I didn’t smell my boyfriend – ex-boyfriend. I smelled you.” You kept your eyes on the moon, ignoring your peripherals. Ignoring your body tingling as Draco scooted closer to you. “Pansy asked me who I smelled. She found out, somehow. I didn’t even tell her, didn’t want to.”

“You always were a bad liar,” Draco said softly. You noted the way his fingers twitched where it rested on his leg, almost as if he wanted to touch you, but decided against it.

“Yeah,” you responded. “I am.” Your heart beat in your chest wildly. Of all the things he could have said, he decided to point out your inability to lie? Had you not just dropped a bomb of information on him? Did he not even care? Your stomach flipped at the thought, legs tingling. What if he didn’t care? What would you do? Would your friendship be over?

You dared a peak at Draco. He was looking at the moon now, admiring her glow. Her haunted rays of light made Draco almost glow, the light bouncing off his light blonde hair. He looked almost like an angel. A haunted, fallen angel. You looked away from him and focused your gaze on the ground hundreds of feet below you. You’re not even sure if you could see the ground properly, or if that was just a thick layer of mist.

“It’s a good thing for me, though,” Draco said suddenly, breaking the awkward silence. Or maybe the silence was only awkward for you?

“Why?”

Draco looked at you, a small smile playing on his lips. “Because I like bad liars. I like you.”

Your eyes met Draco’s and you searched for any deceit. The only thing you saw was sincerity and…longing. Had he always looked at you like that?

You shifted under his gaze and returned your eyes to the floor—or the mist—whatever that was.

“You don’t have to pity me, Draco.”

You heard him scoff. “I was never taught to pity anyone. I’m telling the truth, Y/N, I like you. More than a friend. And I think you like me more than a friend, too.”

It was your turn to scoff now, only when you did it, it sounded more like a weak laugh. “What gave it away — the amortentia?”

Draco smiled and moved closer to you. “Something like that.”

You returned the smile and rested your head on his shoulder. You took a deep breath of relief and contentment. Apples. Leather. Galleons. Just as you had smelt in the potion days ago.

Perhaps a part of you had always known your feelings for Draco were beyond that of friendship. He was the closest person in your life, had been there the longest, too. Whatever shit was going on with your parents, you had always found each other. It seemed fitting you would find your way to be together, and you were sure your parents would have arranged it anyways. Purebloods, they would have said, are meant to be together. That didn’t matter to you. You were with Draco because you wanted to.

You looked up at him through your lashes to find that he was already looking at you. Without missing a beat, you leaned forward and kissed him. His lips were soft and a bit dehydrated, but it felt right. This felt right. You both were still children in society’s eyes, but you knew, somehow, that this would last.

[1-800-local-slut]

Decisions

Rio x Black! Fem! Reader

Warnings: fluff, angst, sad ending, lies and deceit, mentions of drug and alcohol abuse, broken family, break ups, arguing, reader has a bad mom, mention of smut, kinda creepy Rio, abusive childhood, suicidal thoughts, recreational drug use, mentions of sex but no smut, Rio calls Beth annoying but make no mistake I love me some Beth, slight canon divergence, not proof read we die like men 💪🏾

Rio get’s close to the reader, due to him having an issue with her mother. He falls for her and they start dating but 8 months into their relationship she finds out the first six months of their relationship was a lie. She realizes she can’t trust him and dumps him.

PSA: The reader has an abusive mother and no father, there's only one mention of the reader getting punched in the face. If that's something that would trigger you then please don't read for your own sake

Please let me know if you guys enjoy!

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When he saw her for the first time, it was dark out. She was standing under the streetlight, waiting for her bus and Rio was standing in the bushes behind her. The light above made her luminescent, giving her dark skin and gorgeous glow. He didn't even know why it shocked him to see her there. He had been waiting for her after all.

It was a chilly April night, she was shivering. Rubbing her hands together and exhaling a puff of cold air. He even remembered thinking that it was weird how cold it was for April. She held her phone in her hand, her headphones lightly bled music. Rio could've stared at her all day, if only he wasn't here on business.

He needed to put some pressure on someone and this was how it needed to be done. Stepping out of the bush, Rio slid close to the target of the evening.

His eyes scanned her up and down, looking for some sort of entry point. She didn't notice him, he wasn't standing too close to her yet. With a final scan, he noticed the Jordan high tops that hugged her feet. Perfect.

Taking another step, a bigger step, he made sure his presence was known. Her eyes glanced up at him, a natural response. She carefully observed him, like she was deciding if she should take a large step away or just ignore him. The leaking music shut off and Rio fought back a smile. Best not to freak her out. It was time to finally put things into motion.

"Those shoes are nice, I was looking for a pair for my cousins quince gift but I couldn't find any in her size." Of course there was no way to start a conversation with a woman this late at night in t he middle of nowhere waiting for a bus without sounding like a creep but Rio was pressed for time.

She raised an eyebrow, and glance him up and down before she glanced at the time. Checking how much time before the bus came, smart.

"Thanks. I picked them up last week." Curt and to the point. Rio admired how quickly she went on the defense.

"They suit you. The color I mean. If you don't mind can I ask where you brought those? I just moved here, and I don't know where anything is." Her plump lips pushed into a straight line as if she was contemplating.

Mentally, he willed her to just go for it. Just take the bait, so the guy he had in the bushes who was about to take a few pictures for evidence could get something.

"Yeah, you just have to head to the store on 83rd. There's a place called Sole Symphony. You can get a good deal if you talk to the right person.

"Oh I passed that place on my drive in. I'm Rio, by the way." Extending his palm, Rio heard the bus pulling up behind them. Sure, he knew her name already. But what if he wanted to know more than just her name?

As she placed her hand in his and said her name, the doors of the bus slid open behind the two.

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"Baby what do you want to eat?" She was leaning on the arm of the couch, while Rio rested his head on her lap. Clad in one of Rio's black t-shirts, and a pair of his boxers that outlined that ass he worshipped. Under the lights of her living room, she still looked radiant.

"What, you can't cook?" Rio teased, only to be playfully swatted on his head.

"Stop being annoying, I'm ordering dinner because someone's stupid self forgot to go to the grocery store."

"I forgot to go because you wanted to play around all day, so had to I come home and handle business." Rio smiled, a true smile. A smile he hadn't had in a really really long time. She giggled and bent her face closer to his, and hummed. She rubbed her thumb over his forehead, in a way that made Rio shudder.

"I only did that because you finished all my weed and then got me the wrong strain. So maybe that's your fault?" Rio rolled his eyes playfully, and accepted the soft kiss she planted on his lips.

It filled him with a warm, thick feeling. If someone made love into soup, it was filling his stomach at this very moment. Giving him a full, heavy feeling that Rio never wanted to lose. After a second they pulled apart and Rio stared deeply into her eyes. She did the same, like she could see Rio baring his soul to her.

Every now and again though, he remembered though that this was merely temporary. He never, and he cannot stress how much he means never, let himself fall for someone he was using for business. Still, some rules were meant to be broken.

Whenever he remembered that fact, when he remembered that once his debt was settled with her mother (the whole reason he approached her at that bus station in the first place), his heart died a bit.

The past four months had been nothing but a mix of stress and bliss. Stress, the stress of accidentally hurting the person who broke into his heart. Bliss, from laying with her just like this. Every night, or going to dinner with her. How six months could change a man so much was beyond him. Just being with her, even if it was technically for leverage. Though he would never hurt her.

Still, if she knew, it would hurt her more than anything. It would be like a knife, piercing her heart before twisting and causing her to bleed out unstoppably.

Realistically, speaking anyone would be. If you knew your drug addict mother got herself in too deep and your boyfriend was only with you for leverage against her, you'd be pretty cut up about it, wouldn't you?

The drug addict mother, who started exhibiting psychotic jealousy at what seemed like the moment you turned 12 , and who punched you in the mouth after you refused to be nice to her new boyfriend, who you fought so hard to get away from after your nightmare of a childhood? Who told you everyday that not only were you not shit but you'd never be shit? The mother you don't even tell people you have, like the father you never met?

How would you feel to find out that after fighting your entire life just to live a life that wasn't filled with filth, bearing your entire being to someone (the only one who knew the truth), that finally when you found happiness none of it was real? All because of the mother who you don't even acknowledge, after fighting tooth and nail to get as far as you could from, was still giving you grief.

It killed Rio to know all of this too. To see the scars that she trusted him enough to explain. To explain why she's afraid to have children of her own, to understand what made her into the beautiful, strong and confident woman she turned into too. How could Rio hurt someone who accepted him so wholly?

It made him sick to think about. Honestly, he felt like a toxic rapper who does his woman wrong and everyone but her seems to know. He felt like the definition of shit.

"...be?"

"Huh?"

"Is thai food alright with you, babe?"

"Yeah. Yeah sorry I just dosed off for a moment." Just like that, her voice was like a light shinning through the dark. Her face reflected concern, and she ran a manicured nail over his cheek. On instinct he clasped her hand in his.

"What's wrong with you?" Her voice an even whisper. He wanted to tell her. He wanted to tell her literally everything, and he meant everything. Everything about himself, not the partly fabricated tale he told her about his life for the sake of keeping her at an arms length.

Closing his eyes for a moment, Rio gave a small chuckle.

"Nah just thinking about you mamas." Rio smirked up at her and saw her playful eye roll.

"Boy, if you don't do something with yourself." She laughed with a the smile he'd fallen in love with, pinching him on his chest and he winced before letting out a laugh. Rio grabbed his pants from the side of the couch where he hastily threw them when he came home to 'handle business'. Pulling out his wallet, he plucked his credit card out of the folds. He chuckled and handed it to her, where it was gracefully accepted. Within seconds, Rio felt like he could feel the money being pulled from his heart and his card.

"I'm gonna go take a shower, you keep an ear out for the food." She announced, slipping out from underneath him and leaving his head to connect with the couch.

"Without me though?" He watched her walk out of the living room and to her bathroom, sliding the boxers off in the process. If anything she was relentless in her desire to tease him.

"Don't be gross." She chastised, tossing her shirt off behind her and Rio admired her perfect body before she was out of sight and the door behind her closed.

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"Flowers?" Beth raised an eyebrow at the large bundle in the back of his car. Rio glanced back, the flowers and immediate reminder of what was waiting for him right after this. He couldn't even fight the grin. This girl had him feeling butterflies, kicking his feet and giggling when she wasn't even there and it was only eight months.

"For my lady." It was Fall now. The changing leaves reminded Rio of his changing heart, his changing mind. How he changed so much in the last eight months in so many ways that he couldn't even describe.

Coming up on their eight month anniversary and Rio wasn't even close to playing when it came to celebrating. That big ass bouquet was just the first part. He had a pair of matching necklaces for the two of them, a set of twin cuban links with a nice romantic saying, 'Semper Fidelis' (Always Faithful) carved into them.

Especially since his relationship with Beth had been a recent source of anger between the two. In all fairness, Rio told her he was involved in the stock market, which technically wasn't a lie. She knew he did something illegal though and didn't seem to care as long as neither of them got arrested.

What he didn't explain was what a big tittied white woman was doing calling his phone in the middle of the night and why she sounded so upset when she answered instead of him. Or why there were so many calls between the two of them when Rio was at work when Rio requested she don't blow his phone up when he's at work. Or why when he came home early to have lunch with her he had to leave in the middle because Beth had been blowing his phone up during their entire meal.

Honestly though, Rio knew better than to trip about it. Shit, Rio knew he wasn't even feeling Beth's annoying ass like that. If it was him, some dude called his girl in the middle of the night then had the audacity to sound annoyed when HE answered the phone? He would've flown off the handle before the call even hung up. He'd be out of bed, pulling up his pants and boxers, grabbing his gun and his keys and half way into his shoes.

"You have a girlfriend?" Beth asked, eyes bugging out of her head, mouth open in shock. Why did she look like a salmon?

"You sound shocked. I got game, Elizabeth. Anyways, about your issue tell your FBI man that I hit or whatever." Pushing down the button, she still sat there gaping at him.

"What...?" She blinked, hushing her voice as if someone was gonna hear them. Part of him wanted to tell her to get the fuck out so he could get the fuck home. But in the past eight months, he learned how to have a bit more patience.

"Tell him we made love." Wiggling his eyebrows he made a motion for her to get out of his vehicle and she made her way out. Thank God.

Turning on his engine he winded down the window of the passenger window.

"Make me sound good." And with that he was gone.

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As crazy and inebriated as her momma was for most of her childhood, sometimes she was smart. Like when she taught her how to fight when those girls at school wanted to jump her. Like when she taught her and her sisters to never and she meant NEVER leave your sister in a pinch no matter whats going on between you three. When she taught her how to hot wire a car, and especially when to know if a man was lying.

There were more life lessons, like how to make a crack pipe on the go or how to hide from the police but what can you really learn from someone who was drunk as shit most of your life?

So imagine how shocked and confused she was when she realized 'dang. my momma was right, all niggas are liars.' because her boyfriend had been lying to her their entire relationship? Was it lying or omission? Was she gonna pack her shit and leave without a word to his no-good-low-down-lying-scheming-dirty-bastard self, or put hands on him and go to jail? Lots of decisions for a girl to make in one night. One thing she did decide on the moment she got that phone call from her mom this morning, and got those photos that were taken that first night they met: it was over.

She wished all she felt was anger but that was a lie. With Rio, no Christopher, things were easy. She really was in love, he made her heart swell up like a balloon. When she was at her worse, he was right there and understood and helped her in the best way he could. Understood her anger, understood her sadness. Whatever choice she made, he stood behind it no matter what. He wasn't the type of guy (maybe he could've been, it was clear that she had no clue who he really was) to just sit there and act like he always knew better than you. No, he listened to her, gave her an ear and when she asked for it advice.

This hurt. This wasn't just sadness and betrayal, it was despair. To know that after she fought to get away from her mother. After she got up, walked out that house with nothing but the clothes on her back and said 'if i'm homeless i'm homeless, but its better than being with you' and never saw her again it was only because of that woman that she met someone who she was so head over heels for.

Because of that woman she was sitting here, heart broken. She was sitting here, after sobbing her eyes out in disbelief, after deleting every single picture of the two out of her phone. She was sitting here drowning in rage and betrayal. No. No for once, she couldn't put all the blame on her.

Christopher made the choice to play in her face. He made the choice to waste eight months of her life. To lie, and say he loved her like would be the only woman for him. He probably was cheating on her with that white bitch (with a name like Elizabeth she had to be) and they were probably laughing at her for the past eight months cuddled up together. He made the choice and she fell for it. Outside, the lights of his car pulling up roused some sort of rage deep inside of her. A little voice in her head spoke, it said take a bottle to the backside of his head.

Taking the bottle of liquor next to her, and rearing her arm back over her head she pondered if she was really going to listen to that little voice.

It an easy decision to make.

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"You stupid fuck! Really Christopher, this is what we on?" The scream, and the bottle hitting the wall right next to the door was his greeting. Not a 'hi baby, how was work' like usual. He could already guess he was not about to hit tonight.

"What the fuck? What is your problem?" He yelled back, in this instance he was justified in his screaming considering the murder attempt.

"My problem? My problem? You dickhead, your my fucking problem! You thought shit was sweet? You thought I was just gonna let it slide?" She laughed, anger literally rolling off her.

Taking a moment to look around Rio noticed a few things: the photo of them that was on the table next to her couch was tipped over, the glass shattered the frame on the ground. There was a half empty bottle of wine and a broken glass in the sink. There was a manilla folder, one that he was praying he didn't recognize (but he was starting to think he did), clutched in her shaking hand. Her curly hair was a mess, like she'd been tugging at it in anger.

Sure he knew she'd always been a little bit crazy, he was actually really into it, but did he think this was how their eighth anniversary would start? Nope.

His stomach started to drop. It had been a few months since his business with her mother ended and he was truly hoping from the bottom of his heart hoping she would never find out. He ruled out her mother somehow finally worrying about her enough to tell her.

"What is that?" Rio asked, slamming the door behind him and stepping into the apartment fully. Her neighbors only needed to hear the first part of their exchange, nothing more. She took three defiant steps backwards. The lights were all off, and only the TV was on.

"Got this in the fucking mail today." She growled, throwing the packet at his face. Clear as day, the pictures he had taken of them. For proof. One the first night they met, two on their first date, three when they went to the arcade together and played every game you both could manage and he found himself really trying to impress her. That was when he realized her had a bit of a problem. Then a few more, but eventually they stop after the first two months of their relationship.

The next four months of them being together he resorted to threats and by some miracle her mother found a way to pay off her debts and he was done with her by month six. But not using her for only two out of eight months of their relationship was not a good look.

An awkward silence settled over the two, his stomach feeling heavy. He started to feel warm from shame and fear. The room felt like it was spinning and his mouth felt dry. Even before she said it he knew that he just lost the best thing in his life.

"And some phone calls. Not only did you fucking use me, you also threatened my mom and found my sisters houses?! You dickhead, I'll kill you." She roared, throwing a near by object, which he narrowly dodged.

"Why did you play in my fucking face? For eight fucking months you decided to play in my face and be laid up with me and act like you love me, are you serious?" His head hung low, shame and disappointment and anger. Anger because he knew one thing for sure, this was no ones fault but his. He made the decisions he made. That was on no one but him.

"What you can't fucking talk now? You don't know words? But when that hoe Beth called you could sit up on the phone with her about bullshit right?" She yelled. Rio couldn't even find words. Where should he even start? Beth seemed like the worse place to start.

"Right?" She yelled again, getting in his face before stepping back and breaking into deranged laughter putting a hand on her forehead in outrage. He was panicking. What did he do? Yell at her when he knew he was wrong? Yell at himself for hurting her? What was he even supposed to do in a situation like this? A dry and tear-filled laugh shook him from his thoughts.

"Why though? Why did you do this, I trusted you. I gave you my heart, I gave you my fucking everything. If you can't trust you, then what can I trust?!" The broken sob cut through Rio like a knife. She threw her arms out and drunkenly staggered a bit. She stared, eyes pleading for an answer. An explanation. Anything? But for the first time in a long ass time, Rio had no idea what to say. He felt his palms sweat, gaze still fixed on the photos.

She would never smile at him the way she was in those pictures again. And she grinned as bright as the Sun in each photo except for the first.

When she was still met with silence, Rio resigned. He wanted to say something. Damn, why couldn't he speak? Why was he just sitting there? She was just as confused (surely more confused) as Rio.

"I can't believe this. I let you in and you really sat there and played with me. And you really don't got shit to say either? Well guess what nigga, it's done. I'll die before you hear my voice again, before you ever seem me again. And I could sit up here and yell and scream at you but you know what my momma taught me? As worthless as she was she taught me one thing: the best way to hurt a man is to move on. Get the fuck out." And just like that, before Rio could even say a word it was all over.

The next few minutes were a blur. A trash bag with all his shit was thrown out the window after he was shoved out of her apartment. All the gifts he'd gotten her, the shoes, the jewelry, even her cart that had her name custom printed on it, were tossed out there too. Rio sat out there, outside her apartment complex for what felt like hours.

Shit it probably had been hours. The flowers in the back taunted him. He wanted to stomp on them, he wanted to kick and scream at the world. Why did he fucking do that? For his job of course. Fuck that job, look where it got him. Standing outside the apartment of the love of his life.

Worse, he didn't even speak to defend himself, and she tossed him out so quick that it left his head spinning. He wasn't even sure how he walked to the elevator and made his way to his car. He wanted to die, he wanted to collapse, he wanted to go all the way back in time and tell himself to call off everything and meet her some other way. Now he lost everything that could've been lost to him.

And it was all because of his decisions.

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@eddiemunsonreader

[morallyinept]

Adrift With You - A Frankie Morales Series - Chapter 3

Summary: Heading away on a work re-location, Frankie embarks on a flight, but unbeknownst to him, his life is about to change forever. For starters, he will need to fight for it; harder than he's ever fought for anything else before.

Marooned on an isolated island in the middle of the ocean, still recovering from an addiction, his chances of survival are bleak; but he’s not alone on the island, and soon he’s running towards a different kind of life - a life with fellow survivor, Jude, fighting right beside him every step of the way.

And if they can both survive the island together, they can survive anything, right?

Pairing: Frankie Morales x OFC Jude

Chapter word count: 4.9k

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

☝🏻See Series Masterlist for full smut warnings & triggers in this story. Chapters that contain smut or triggers will be highlighted in the chapter notes below. 👇🏻

Chapter notes: Frankie and Jude both step onto the plane not knowing what awaits them. Descriptions of injury, blood, death and a plane crash.

Enjoy! 🖤

Chapter 2

Present Day...

Overhead storage on a plane is a pointless endeavour. 

They say your bag has to be a certain height and width, and you go through that whole rule abiding rigmarole of sticking to a tiny bag - despite not being able to fucking pack anything of use actually in it - and the sucker still doesn’t fit in there just to spite you. 

Jude shoves it with her fist, practically punching the bag in whilst having a mild breakdown in the process until she’s composed herself and slumps into the window seat and buckles in, tasting wisps of her hair in her mouth. 

She’s seated at the very back of the plane; the last row that backs onto the emergency exit in coach, and will give off the subtle feculent stench of the toilets right behind her throughout the flight.

The faint cries of a grumpy toddler down the front somewhere can already be heard droning, even over the hum of the engine as the plane is loaded up with bleating passengers ready for the eighteen hour long flight. 

It was an easy decision to make; an unconscious autopilot. Jude had some savings and decided to quit life for a time out and take a break from the aftermath of Nate's continuous infidelity. The destination was purely left to the spin of her old, antique globe on her desk, having racked up nearly forty-nine countries already in her career, and wherever her finger landed, that’s where she’d go.

It landed on Madagascar and that was it, decision made. Ideal opportunity for some relaxation, to forget that shit-stain Nate, and maybe take some photographs whilst she was at it. Or maybe she would just mellow out on a hammock on the beach for two weeks, forgetting the world and plying herself with strong drinks until she forgot her own name. She'd carefully packed minimal camera gear into her carry on regardless - old habits die hard and her camera was like a limb, essential.

She checks her phone one last time before switching it into flight mode. The constant barrage of calls from Nate has died off somewhat since her stark warning in the café, but he’s still haranguing her by text message, or Whatsapp, or via any other social media platform he can try and reach her on to just ‘talk to me’ or ‘give me another chance, please babe.’

But holding strong only works if she is strong. And that's questionable right about now.

The temptation to listen to him to explain his deceitfulness all over again has been there swilling around the sides of her bandaged heart and rational thinking, and rather than risk the fallout of letting the scumbag wheedle his way back in with his Machiavellian falsehoods - like he usually does knowing Jude's backbone is already at breaking point - it’s best to scarper and seek some clarity in a foreign sunny land and have some much needed alone time to regroup and plan the next course of her life, without Nate. 

Plan B always sucks, but you definitely have to have one, right? 

She scrolls through her Instagram feed; her thumb hovering over Nate’s profile, hesitating and then clicking on the unfollow button, followed by the block button. If there had been a button to Taser in the balls, she’d have clicked on that one too.

Jude's seat is moderately comfortable, with just enough legroom for her to sit cramped up without developing DVT. She glances around and observes fellow passengers stowing their carry-on luggage in the overhead compartments, some enduring the same frustrating battles as she did, and settling into their seats.

The air inside the cabin carries a distinct blend of aeroplane air - a mix of recycled ventilation and a hint of the disinfectant used to clean the aircraft. The subtle scent of lemons fills her nose.

She hears the gentle murmur of the flight attendants as they go through their pre-flight routine, checking the cabin, demonstrating safety procedures, and preparing for take-off. The occasional announcements over the intercom remind passengers to fasten their seatbelts, stow their tray tables, and turn off electronic devices.

The empty seat beside Jude is soon filled with a middle-aged woman embracing a plethora of gossip magazines to keep her entertained during the flight, to which she's thankful for; polite, strained conversation with a stranger that has absolutely nothing in common with you, and an unhealthy penchant for dried cheese crackers, is never an entertaining feat at thirty-odd thousand feet.

Jude simply puts in her ear buds and sets her phone’s Spotify playlist to uber loud, waiting for the classic rock tunes to fill her ears and block out anything else, and sits back in the seat shutting her eyes and grinding on her teeth. 

Further down the plane in business class, Frankie drops his worn backpack at his feet whilst he fishes out the contents of his jeans pockets, glancing down at the oversized seat he’s to be glued into for the next eighteen hours or so. 

Plenty of legroom is waiting for him and it’s a surprise, and a relief, that he won’t be cramped up in economy. Dustin had done him a real solid. 

He zips up his pack after depositing his iPhone - which flashes up a number of unchecked voice messages from Eddie - his wallet and all manner of random things guys feel the need to carry in their denim pockets, such as crumpled bar receipts from months ago; a night out with Benny and Will and a few games of darts, and ultimately the last time he had seen Will.

Frankie’s mind casts back to them talking about how things were different now that Tom was no longer around to hold them all together. How there were less of them now to have bar nights with now that Santi was shacked up comfortably in Australia with his lady and her millions, and how Frankie had also inadvertently exchanged more of those nights out with the Miller brothers for nights alone in his Pickup with bags of powder as his only company.

As Will scratched away at the layers, trying to push his way in, conversations had turned sour about how different Frankie had seemed as his addiction metastasized; Will regarded him with a concerned look in his frosty blue eyes. 

I’m worried about you, Fish. This ain’t like you. 

It’s just a rough patch. I’ll get through it. I’m fine. 

You’re not fine.

I’m handling it. It’s none of your business- 

It is my business. I care about you. We all do. Does Carla know what's going on?

I'm dealing with stuff. It's my problem.

It stops being just your problem when it starts affecting everyone around you. We care about you, Fish. I care about you. But I can't stand by and watch you self-destruct like this.

Then fuckin' don’t! Frankie had simply snapped at him.

It followed a heated argument, a threat of spilling over into the physical when Benny warned Frankie to leave, and held his brother back as Frankie cussed him out for interfering. He usually wouldn't talk to a friend like that, the way he so belittles himself at times, and he knows that Will meant well, somewhere in the recesses of his befuddled mind.

But that’s the cost of addiction, in the end you end up with nothing and no-one. 

In the aftermath of Will's expression of concern, an uncomfortable gap settled between them. It was a silence charged with the weight of unspoken truths, an acknowledgment of the growing distance that addiction was creating between Frankie and his friends. And Frankie left the bar that night to retreat into the safe confines of his own slow destruction.

In the depths of Frankie's life, an insidious force had taken root, spreading its tendrils like an unseen cancer. Addiction, the silent invader, had established its presence in the once quiet corners of his existence. It had started subtly, unnoticed - a small, hidden malignancy that grew and thrived beneath the surface.

The root of origin unknown, but the talking therapy he was forced to endure had convinced him that things had all finally gone to shit when Tom had died on that damned mission. The cherry on top of a mountainous cake of years and years of unresolved trauma carried over from his time in Delta Force.

Leaving behind the regimented world of Special Operations felt like stepping into an uncharted wilderness, once a bastion of discipline, had unfolded as a chapter of his life marked by growing solitude and abhorrent self-discovery. The decision to leave the elite forces wasn't an easy one, but it was one they all had embarked on together. Shit just got too dark. 

The camaraderie that had defined his military experience became a distant echo, replaced by the isolating silence of civilian life. The transition was akin to leaving the tight confines of his cockpit and soaring into the open sky, uncertain of the turbulence that awaited.

As Frankie navigated the challenging terrain of civilian life after leaving Special Ops, his reliance on the Veterans Affairs system for support became a crucial aspect of his journey. However, what he encountered was a bureaucratic landscape that often left him feeling more stranded than supported.

The VA proved to be nothing but a labyrinth of paperwork, long wait times, and un-clippable red tape. Despite his sincere efforts to seek help, Frankie found himself grappling with a system that seemed ill-equipped to address the complexities of his post-military challenges.

He couldn't help but lean into the bitterness at how easy Will and Benny seemed to have found the transition. On the outside, their lives seemed far more rosy compared to his. They had each other to lean on, after all.

The system that was supposed to provide a safety net for veterans transitioning back to civvy life became a stumbling block, adding an extra layer of complexity to Frankie's journey. In facing the inadequacies of the VA, Frankie discovered an unexpected coping mechanism of his own which seemed to work far better - cocaine. 

But it was one that spiralled out of control when he came back from Santi’s stupid mission that left him even more lost. In something he once dabbled in for a fun high now and again, albeit causing him to lose his license when he was caught smuggling it in for some extra bucks, soon became a daily habit that chipped away more pieces of him.

The bond that Frankie had sorely missed since leaving Special Ops seemed to rekindle in his connection with his sponsor Eddie for a while. Their alliance wasn't forged in the crucible of combat but in the shared struggles of recovery. The Special Ops ethos of "leave no-one behind" found new meaning in the context of addiction, and Eddie became the embodiment of that commitment.

But as Frankie delved deeper into the challenging journey of recovery, a subtle shift occurred in his relationship with Eddie. The once unwavering connection began to fray as Frankie found himself instinctively starting to avoid the very person who had been a crucial anchor in his battle.

The avoidance didn't happen overnight. It began with subtle excuses - a missed call here, an unattended meeting there. An extra shift in the workshop that soon piled on top of his already weakened shoulders. Frankie soon learned that if he kept busy, kept tinkering, kept his mind on something else other than the constant yammering thoughts about coke, then he wouldn't be tempted to give in.

Thus finding his own solution to his addiction, which was akin to slapping on a flimsy plaster over a deep gunshot wound - it would only be a matter of time before it fell off. 

I care about you. But I can't stand by and watch you self-destruct like this...

Will's words linger in Frankie's memory like an indelible mark besmirching all the memories that he'd filed away as once good. He shakes his head despondently as he recalls the concern that seems to have faded into ignorance now.

It feels like a long time since Frankie's heard Will’s voice or seen his face. He bites down on the inside of his cheek.

He finds loose change, a shit ton of lint, and his sobriety coin in his pocket too. A small but potent talisman, speaking volumes about the milestones he's conquered on his journey toward recovery, even if it feels like a lead weight in his pocket most of the time.

It nestles comfortably in the palm of his hand, a tangible reminder of the strength he’s summoned to break free from the chains of addiction, even if he doesn't know where that strength has come from. Frankie knows without a shadow of a doubt that he isn't strong. Never has been.

The coin, worn smooth by the constant touch of Frankie's fingers, bears the tactile evidence of countless reflections and countless moments of considering just throwing the towel in. It doesn't seem worth it in the quiet masochistic tendrils of his thoughts.

He squeezes it in his palm tightly, feeling the indents of it bore into his skin. Six months and what does he have to show for it? 

He runs his hand over the sparse layer of fluffy stubble covering his tired face, a physical manifestation of the days when self-care took a backseat to the relentless pursuit of an unyielding high, and he's just let it grow out now.

His jaw sets firm before shoving the coin back down into the trenches of his pockets and placing his bag in the spacious compartment above his head. 

Frankie sits back in his seat buckling up, and a peppy stewardess, doused in way too much perfume that makes the insides of his nostrils sting and itch as he inhales, approaches him and enquires about what he would like to drink immediately after take-off.

He orders a beer and a bottle of water and sits back staring down the aisle from his single, plush seat, people watching as the other passenger’s faff around with their laptops and briefcases as they fill up the cabin, which makes Frankie feel even more like he doesn’t belong, in his scuffed jeans and faded salmon shirt and worn in cap. 

As the plane begins to taxi, he looks out the window, watching the terminal and other aircraft pass by. The distant sound of luggage being loaded onto the conveyor belts and the low hum of the engines create a sense of morbid anticipation; a feeling that causes his fingers to shake as he balls them into a fist and takes a calming breath. 

The cabin lights dim slightly as the plane approaches the runway, and Frankie settles in, ready for the long, arduous journey ahead.

Hours later into the flight, Jude stirs in her seat with the heavy feeling swelling in her bladder again, and excuses herself to her fellow passenger, who is crunching loudly on the unbuttered crackers, so she can get up to pee.

Well aware that this is the fourth such instance and that she’s probably annoying the fuck out of the woman, but when you gotta go, you gotta go. 

The plane judders slightly as she makes her way towards the tiny cubicle that smells of stagnant piss. The mirrored panel above the sink reflects a condensed version of Jude’s image. She catches a glimpse of herself - perhaps a bit dishevelled from the hustle of the day's travels thus far - but something else lingers in her worn features. 

Her reflection is sleepy in the small mirror and the heat of her cheeks paramount as she’s been overheating in her sweater whilst snoozing. She removes it, leaving her in a flimsy t-shirt, and sits down on the toilet staring at her battered Chuck Taylors and thinking idly that it’s probably time for a new pair soon.

Washing up, she glances at her reflection again, revealing the innate vulnerability she’s been trying to hide that hits her. It’s been a minute, since the break-up, that she really stopped to take herself in.

Pronounced tears well up in her eyes. She leans against the cold, metal interior of the cubicle, her breath shaky and uneven. The subtle vibrations from the plane match the tremors of her own emotional upheaval as it pours out of her, seemingly from nowhere.

Vile images of her and Nate in happier times plague her thoughts like sharpshooters as it all crumbles away. It was all bullshit wrapped up in pretty crepe paper bows. 

The metallic surfaces seem to close in around her, mirroring the claustrophobic ache shoved in her chest where a heart once beat. Tears stream down her face, leaving streaks of mascara like war paint on her cheeks. The mirror, once a reflection of ordinary moments, now bears witness to the shattered remnants of her composure.

Jude’s hands tremble as she clutches at the sink, knuckles turning white with the force of her grip to stop her from collapsing onto the floor and screaming unrestrained like the toddler down the front of the cabin. 

Her body convulses with the force of her sobs as she throws her arm over her mouth to muffle them, fingers clenching into fists, nails biting into the palms of her hand. It's a gut-wrenching, primal expression of heartache, the kind that leaves no room for pretence or restraint.

The slow, tumultuous purging of that asswipe out of her blood. Or at least the start of it anyway. It pulses through her veins like poison. Disbelief, heartbreak, and the indignant rage that comes with the sting of betrayal flood through her limbs; a future paradise shattered into a million fragments as she envisions punching the mirror in - she can’t bear looking at her face anymore. 

The restroom seems to close in around her, mirroring the suffocation she felt when confronted with the undeniable truth fucking into another woman in their bed. A truth she had always known, but perhaps ignorance really was bliss for a while. 

And where has that got you?

With shaky determination, she wipes away the evidence of her breakdown, acutely aware that the scars of betrayal will linger long after the tears have dried, a harsh velocity of time she’ll have to endure and navigate through. 

Once back in her seat, her sweater stuffed in the overhead with her crushed bag, Jude glances out the window at the billowy dark gray clouds that are passing underneath the plane mirroring her own self-contempt. 

She sees lightning flashes pulse like a camera now and again and rolls her eyes with a deep lacerating sigh. The plane rumbles once more.

It better be fucking hot when we land...

She asks for a bottle of still water from the passing flight attendant to refresh her cottonmouth, but they return with sparkling instead. Before she can ask for another, the attendant disappears off, hurrying down the aisle out of sight, and she’s left to make do with a tight frown. 

Sparkling water tastes like licking TV static; such a pointless endeavour, but Jude drinks it anyway, the woman sitting next to her eyeing her oddly as she makes disgusted noises whilst swallowing it down.

Frankie sips at his third beer quietly as he watches a lame comedy film, that doesn’t even make him snicker once, on the screen to the right of his seat; his headphones plugged into it so only he can hear the sound.

He watches without any real enthusiasm, trying to pass the inevitable boredom that accompanies most of the commercial flights he’s endured in his life. 

He’s still feeling jangled and all manner of anxiousness swills around him about being somewhere hot and isolated sooner rather than later, so he can throw himself into some work with helicopters - which admittedly has been something he’s looked forward to since Dustin mentioned it - and to forget his troubles and woes for a short time. A rest and recharge of those Morales batteries that have been running on empty for a long time. 

His mind does that ominous thing of wandering into territories it shouldn't just to mess with him, and he realises he hasn’t heard from Carla at all since she’d left. He wonders if she had indeed been back to his apartment and cleared it of all her belongings; erasing herself from his life as though she was never there to begin with. 

He’d arranged with Benny to be there, albeit through short, clipped texts, to ensure she didn’t cut up his clothes or destroy his shit like some warped revenge fantasy that women harbour when they feel they’re slighted.

It seems weird to think of her now as merely an ex too. At one point Carla was his better half, he’s sure of it. The half of him that propped him up. Frankie engages in unspoken conversations with the ghosts of his past love. Imaginary dialogues played out in the confines of his mind, expressions of sentiments left unsaid.

And it still seems odd to put it together and work out where things had gone so drastically wrong between them to the point they had ended up so far off course.

But he knows why. Knows it’s him. It's all his fault. All she did was have the audacity to love and care for him, and that makes it all the worse somehow. 

He finishes his beer a little later, feeling slightly gassy as the bubbles rumble under his sternum, and it's soon cleared away by the pretty steward who offers him another, but he declines reaching for the bottle of water instead and holding in a fizzy belch inside his cheeks until she leaves. 

The plane jolts again; this time a little heavier and the steward grips the back of the seat in front of him to stay upright. The smile on her face reassures him it’s just normal turbulence and she then continues on her way with his empty beer bottle back down the aisle; his eyes drop to her ass absentmindedly, tightly bound in her skirt.

Frankie's just swallowed another mouthful of water when the plane judders harshly again and this time his stomach goes with it completely. The seat belt sign flashes on and he looks up at it and its faint yellowing light seems like it’s burning slowly into his retinas.

While Frankie maintains an outward appearance of relaxation, a mild concern lingers in the background. The rhythmic bumps of turbulence become a reminder of the unpredictable nature of the skies; a reality he’s intimately acquainted with from his days in the cockpit himself.

But his eyes, scanning the cabin for the reactions of fellow passengers, reflect a nuanced awareness of the situation. The subtle tightening of his grip on the armrest betrays the reflex of a seasoned aviator attuned to the gradations of flight, even when occupying a passenger's seat.

The plane shakes harshly again and the heavy, grating sound cuts through all rational thinking.

It takes him a moment to register the sounds of screaming, and the sensation that the plane is now descending - and descending real fast. 

Frankie looks down the aisle and sees the pretty steward with the ass on the floor in a heap before he’s blinded by the oxygen mask falling into his face. 

The seat belt sign flashes on and although Jude’s already buckled in tight, the passenger beside her stands up and heads off towards the toilet, she can only assume. There’s always one, isn’t there?

Sighing, she rests her head back against the headrest and shuts her eyes, letting the loud guitar riffs fill her ears. 

The unexpected jolting and commotion as though the plane is dipping forwards a mere few seconds later causes Jude to yank her ear buds out of her ears, one of them rolling out of her grip onto the floor, to be met with the sounds of screaming and hysteria. 

The heavy resonances of the turbines and engines whirring seem to shriek behind her at a deafening pitch, and the smell of aviation fuel and burning wafts into her nose sharply.

Jude pushes against the seat in front of her with both hands for support as the plane takes a nose-dive forward on a dangerous slant; a wayward drinks trolley shifts past her sight down the aisle, clattering and making a hell of a racket as it goes. 

The oxygen mask flaps in front of Jude’s face and she’s not sure how long it’s been there. She scrambles for it, panicking and fastening the elastic around the back of her head. Her fellow cracker addict is still nowhere to be seen. 

Jude glances quickly out the tiny window again and the sight of the ocean coming up fast is the last thing she sees before it all goes black. 

When a plane hits a body of water, it invariably breaks apart.

The fuselage splits, the wings crack, practically disintegrating for all intents and purposes, and the tail often breaks off completely. Essentially, it shatters fully on impact and often the fuel tanks will explode. 

When a plane hits water, an incompressible fluid, the water hits back at it and causes the aircraft to decelerate. That's all fine and dandy for the plane, but your body is still "flying" at the same speed as the plane was before it hit water, and well... objects inside the fuselage becoming embroiled in a kinetic tornado, are about to make you decelerate too, in a very violent way.

Let’s do the maths, shall we? The equation F=maF=ma simply means that for constant mass, FF is proportional to aa, and so a bigger aa also means a bigger FF. A bigger FF doesn't sound too good, does it?

Did you get that? No, me neither. Basically, you’re up shit creek without a paddle. 

Most passengers on the plane will die from blunt head trauma. If they’re lucky it will be quick. A quick bop and you’re gone bye-bye so to speak. Some will be fortunate enough to pass out before their inevitable death through sheer terror alone - lucky bastards. 

If you haven’t died before or after impact, your chances of survival then become bleaker as time wears on. Head trauma is the most common fatal blunt injury in a plane crash, followed by injuries to the chest and the abdomen.

Thirty-six per cent of head injuries, and twenty-seven per cent of chest injuries will have associated cervical and thoracic spine fractures, respectively. A slow, painful death would await you as you suffer from internal bleeding. And that’s before you drown. 

Remember, you’ve just crashed into the ocean, bub. 

It’s all very doom and gloom isn’t it? But Frankie’s flight is currently in pieces, some aflame, and he’s swimming against the current, equally difficult because the impact has created a swirling whirlpool that keeps trying to pull him under within the vicinity of the main body of the plane.

His long arms are striding away and he splutters and coughs as he’s pulled under constantly despite being an adept swimmer. 

His skin is burning around his neck; he can see a slick, shimmering gloop mixing in the water’s surface all around him and the stench of aviation fuel and barbecued skin fills his nostrils. 

He turns back to see the water literally on fire, and is convinced he can hear some distant screams for help, before he dives under and swims away from the fires before he burns up with them. 

His ears are ringing, his sight is blinded continually by water splashing over his face whenever he surfaces for air, and as he swims away to a safe distance, that’s when the shock bites into his body and begins the slow onslaught of trying to drown him. 

The freezing stab of the water is what rouses Jude awake and she’s still fastened in her seat; the water pooling at her ankles, soaking into her battered Converse and rising.

She’s unaware at first that blood is blinding her right eye, as she rips off the oxygen mask and claws at her seat belt to unbuckle it frantically. 

Oh God! Oh God! Oh Shit!

Jude glances across the aisle and half of the cabin is missing; she gasps out as she can see a couple of the passengers slumped over in their seats, but the rest of them are gone.

She can no longer hear the screaming toddler piercing her ears.

The water is rising fast and is covering her thighs now. She stands up on jellified legs and rushes to the passenger opposite and tries shaking him awake, but he’s unresponsive. 

She tries another, but it’s fruitless. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knows they’re already gone, but it takes her body a moment to catch up. She wipes at her face and the slick, ruby red that coats her palm panics her further as she observes her trembling hand that now looks like she’s wearing a scarlet coloured latex glove. 

But there’s no time to dwell on the root of that blood loss now; the water is already up to her hips.

She wades towards the side of the fuselage in big, quick strides, climbing over seats with limp bodies strapped into them, and takes a deep breath before she jumps into the water on the other side of the gaping tear in the cabin. 

Jude cries out as she feels something sharp rip at the back of her calf as she plops ungracefully into the water and begins to swim away, grunting and gasping with sheer terror. 

Swim! Swim, come on!

She can smell burning and turns back momentarily to see flames on the water in the distance making the horizon wobbly and opaque through the smoke. She tries to call out for help, but she’s certain no-one is alive to hear her; her mouth keeps filling with rancid sea water as she splashes about frantically.

Jude bobs around on the ocean’s surface, her arms and legs kicking and keeping her afloat and calling out again for help. She shouts as loudly as she can, but is met with no response. 

Whimpering, she latches onto a nearby piece of scorched debris and clings onto it for dear life. She wipes her face again and more blood rinses off in her hand. She feels all around her head and the searing pain makes itself known at the top side of her right temple in her hair line, just above her ear. 

Shit!

Bewildered and panicking further in the process, Jude tries to scan the horizon behind her to see if there is anything, anyone; a hint of land perhaps that she can swim towards.

The thought of barely floating here on the ocean’s surface holding onto a small piece of rubble to keep her suspended births all sorts of nightmarish outcomes that her brain processes in a quick blur; the most notable being a shiver of sharks circling her below because they can smell her blood from miles away.

Her body is buffeted by the currents, causing her to grip onto the makeshift float desperately until she can't feel her fingers anymore, but the numbness doesn’t register.

Her heart races, pounding against her chest. In the midst of the chaos, a primal instinct for survival kicks in. She scans the vast ocean, searching for signs of rescue, grappling with the overwhelming uncertainty of her situation.

The taste of salt on her lips, the sting of the wind against her face, and the weight of her own mortality converge in a disorienting mix of sensations that render her still, frozen in her own paralysis of fear.

There’s nothing as far as the eye can see; absolutely nothing at all except for the burning plane wreckage that makes Jude’s wide eyes glow in terror.

To be continued...

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Thank you for taking the time to read my story; it really means so much to me. I'd love to know your thoughts, and I'd really appreciate a re-blog so others can enjoy this story too. Thank you so much 🖤

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Stranger 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Destroyer!Chris

Summary: A stranger buys the farmstead nearby and disturbs your sleepy village life.

Part of the Backwoods AU

Note: My first time writing this character!

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Your nails are crusted in dirt as you kneel in the garden. You grunt as you wrestle the roots of weed from the soil and toss it aside. You wipe your forehead with the back of your glove as you hear the screen door snap shut. Your grandmother stands on the stoop, her hand on her achy hip.

“Did you hear, dearie?” She calls in her creaky voice. “Someone’s moved into Clyde’s old house.”

“Huh?” You catch your breath as you gather up the broken weeds, “it’s half ash.”

“Suppose they’ll fix it up,” she mutters as she leans on the narrow iron rail along the side of the backsteps.

“Suppose,” you agree as you stuff the green and brown foliage into the paper bag for the compost. “Who told you that?”

“I was just talking to Lynette on the phone. She also said Molly’s having her fifth.”

Five kids? You hide your chagrin at the thought. You don’t mind kids but that’s a lot to handle, let alone the pregnancies. Molly balloon’s up so big she can hardly move. Her last shower, she sat the whole time. Not much different than you, you guess. You sat in the corner and watched the silly games

“That’s exciting,” you say as you stand and dust off your knees, crumpling the top of the bag in your other hand.

“Ah, I’m sure you woulda loved to have four sisters? Maybe brothers? It’s a pity your mother never gave me any more grandchildren.”

“Mmm,” you suppress a frown, “yeah, well…”

“Anyhow, enough talk of spoiled milk,” she waves off, “I got a pie in the oven. You can take it over the Clyde’s once it cools.”

“I… why would I do that?”

“Oh my, don’t be ridiculous. We have a new neighbour, we have to be polite and welcome them to the village. It’s probably a nice family, or maybe someone your age. A friend?” She suggests, “I’d do it myself but I don’t think I’d make the walk…” she looks down at her hip, theatrically rubbing it. 

“Right,” you agree, the prospect of strangers making your tummy lurch. “Well, that pie will take some time.”

“Long enough for you to put on something clean,” she tuts as she looks down at your dirty jeans, “my lord, what would they think?”

“Yes, gramma, I’ll change, once I get this in the compost.”

“Good,” she smirks triumphantly and turns to swing open the screen door, the hinges whining shrilly.

You sniff and cross the yard. It’s not often there’s new faces in Hammer Ford. The village is a tourist trap at best and not a very lively one. Everyone calls each other by name and it’s second nature to stop and say hi. But that’s because you know each other; you have for years.

You lift the lid on the large bin and empty the bag into it. You could always lie and hide the pie in some bushes. Your deceit wouldn’t be hidden for long. Even in this sleepy place, word travels fast and someone always seems to be watching and waiting to pass it on.

🥧

You head out with the pie in a basket like some fairytale. You’re only short a red hood and a big bad wolf. You set off down the country roads, following the lazy curves towards the horizon. It’s after noon and the sun’s turning mild as it drifts across its pale canvas.

The old homestead is the second closest to your grandmother’s. The homes around Hammer Ford or sprawled out amid the plowed fields and green meadows. The cluster of old pines loom over you as you pass in there shadow and crest the hill that marks the edge of the property. Clyde’s tractor used to sit there, just by the broken down fence.

Ahead, down another stretch of road, this path unpaved, stands the decrepit house. The tragedy still singes the memories of the villagers. That night comes back to you in a blaze of orange and the smell of cinder. Poor old Clyde was buried behind Sacred Stave church.

You search the overgrown grass for a sign of life. There’s a black truck by the caved in garage but that’s about it. It might not be a family. It’s a lot of work to do with little ones around. If anything, it would only be the parents as they rebuild. Your mind wanders, wondering who would buy the old farm and why.

You come down the path, just along the ditch that dips behind a cluster of brambles. There’s a snap and a crack and you skid to a halt on the stones. You spin and look around, a heavy breath pluming into the air. Like the fire reawakened.

“Can I help you?” The deep timbre rolls through you and you step back on your heel as you face the man down in the ditch. He peers up at you above the scraggly top of the brambles.

“Uh,” you gulp and stare at him dumbly. He might think you’re lost. Or worse, trespassing.

His hair is short, only an inch on top and shaved even shorter around the sides. His beard is thick around his mouth, growing sparse across his cheeks, and two vibrant blue eyes beam back at you. The way he looks at you makes you want to shrink away. You can sense the city radiating off of him. He scares you.

“Hello? What’s up?” He waves as if trying to wake you up.

“Um, pie?” You say, cringing at your own speechlessness.

“Pie,” he repeats flatly.

You hold up the basket and blink. You never were very good at introductions. You were the only girl at school without friends. You were just sort of there.

“Pie,” you echo once more and hold out the basket.

He tilts his head, curiously, and huffs. He juts out his jaw and grunts as he pushes the brambles apart and climbs out of the ditchy. His denim jacket is streaked in dirty and pollen.

He takes the basket by the handle, his rough finger brushing yours. He peels back the cloth and to peek inside, “pie.” He utters the syllable a fourth time between you.

“Yeah,” your voice is wispy and small. “Bye.”

You let out a strained breath and spin, keeping yourself from breaking into a sprint. You stomp away frantically, smacking yourself internally for being so awkward. Well, maybe that’s a good thing. He’ll have no reason to talk to you ever again.

[cemeteryspider]

Ballet on the Bayou ~ Pt. 2

Alastor x Ballerina! Reader

Summary: The rise and the fall of an up and coming ballerina

Trigger Warnings: Graphic injury, bullying, physical pain, hospital setting

Word Count: 1516

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Ballet on the Bayou Masterlist

Practice had left you a tad sore and achy but that went away, as you peeked from the wings into the crowd. The place was practically packed with people. The speakers rang with static and announced the beginning of the show in a moment.

The lights in the crowd dimmed and you ran towards the backstage and allowed a deep breath to escape your lips, and you awaited your queue.

~~~

Earlier that same day...

"Ladies and Gentleman, Alastor signing off for the night but before I go, we have a truly special performance at Louisiana's favorite opera hall tonight, the Orpheum Theater, for a timeless classic. The Magnificent Swan Lake, starring up-and-coming ballerina Y/n L/n"

~~~

Alastor and his mother sat in the very middle of the audience. He hoped to never miss a moment of you. He had already called up a couple of friends and had a special gift sent to your dressing room after the performance.

They sat down before the lights dimmed, and his mother watched in awe as the curtains parted revealing a sparkling moonlit forest scene. Some dancers of the trope glided across the stage with the same grace as the swans they were dressed as.

Alastor looked carefully at every dancer, suddenly angry that he forgot to ask the beauty her part in the show. Then in a moment, the star of the show appeared onstage, and it was you.

You transform the scene and the other dancers gather round to create a captivating ensemble. The ensemble dances with such grace and unity it could be mistaken for a kaleidoscope of shapes.

You begin a graceful solo, dancing to the melancholic orchestra below. With a swift crescendo, the villain of the story jumps in, and Alastor could only assume, with his limited knowledge of the ballet, that turned you into a swan.

~~~

After the first act, you quickly rush into your dressing room to change into your Odile costume. This was the most stunning costume you had ever put on. You hoped that Alastor was in the audience to see it.

"Ah, while it isn't the perfect person to play to a two-faced bitch"

Louise said, barging into your private dressing room. Followed closely by her two friends whose names were never offered to you. You only knew Louise because her Daddy paid a fortune to have her be in the running for the two leads of the ballet. However, when the casting directors saw your performance they immediately put you on for both roles, as was tradition.

Trying to be civil you said, "Louise, it is a pleasure to see you as well".

"Yes well, I just wanted to stop by and tell you to break a leg this weekend" She giggled a little and stalked out of the room. Leaving your brows knitted together in confusion. The show must go on, however, and you finished getting ready for the rest of the show.

It didn't even come to your mind that Louise's jealousy could bubble so close to the surface.

~~~

Once again sitting in his seat after helping his mother to get a drink of water and stretch her legs, he quietly anticipated your return to the stage.

Again the lights dimmed and the curtains parted to reveal you dressed in black immersed in the blue lighting that surrounded you. With an air of mystery, you began your dance. Your legs were a symphony of strength and elegance, that wove a wonderful tapestry across the stage. The fluidity and grace you possessed were mesmerizing as you danced across the stage.

When you looked into the audience he could only hope you saw his awe in the darkness. Your eyes held so much passion yet an air of deceit from the character you portrayed. Every pirouette beckons the audience to come closer and experience the darkness and desire you emanated.

Then you made eye contact with the prince onstage, and your movements somehow became more intoxicating. The tempo quickened and when the music was at its loudest you started a series of dazzling turns that left not a single jaw dropped.

Your final pose was one of power and passion, and you held it as the last notes of the music lingered. The crowd left only a moment between the end of the number and a thunderous applause. Alastor happily joined in.

~~~

After bows, you ran into your dressing room quickly to touch up your makeup before going out and looking for Alastor. On the little vanity in the room was a dozen red roses with a little notecard, From Alastor. Your smile widened infinitely as you rushed out of the dressing room to go find him, forgetting completely about the makeup.

In the foyer, your eyes looked frantically around as other dancers looked to the more wealthy patrons of the opera house for a drink or two. You almost went to join them when you felt a tap on your shoulder.

You were greeted with a wide smile and a hand held out for yours.

"You were just magnificent, mon cherie, just brilliant"

You let out a small embarrassed chuckle, as you turned to face him fully.

Once your hand was held in his, he kissed your knuckles just as he had the night before. A small blush crept up your cheeks and you began asking him all about the show, and his favorite parts of it.

~~~

Alastor did not miss a performance the whole week you were there, his mother sadly did not feel up to going to any more of your lovely performances.

Time after time, there would be a new dozen of red roses in your dressing room after your bows, but never at intermission. You would have to ask him how he was doing that. Each night you became more infatuated with the man coming to your shows.

With every bouquet Alastor sent you, something pulled on his heart strings. He knew you would not be in town forever, and he would need to discuss your plans for the future. He hoped he would be included in them.

However, during the last performance you had in New Orleans, something unexpected happened. One of the swans in the opening scene had stuck her leg out in front of one of your beautiful turns. She had a sly grin on her face as she watched you fall, her friends faces mirrors of her own.

Alastor heard the sickening crack as your ankle bent a way it should never bend. Alastor's eyes widened, and his breath caught in his throat as he witnessed Y/n's fall. The gasp of the crowd drowned in the turmoil of his emotions. A sickening feeling settled in the pit of his stomach, and he couldn't tear his gaze away.

Never in his many years did he think an injury would make him squirm, especially considering his hobby, but this made his insides thrash in his stomach.

You did not make a peep, you just allowed yourself to be gracefully carried off stage by the man who played the prince.

~~~

Once the backstage door closed behind you, you let out the bloodcurdling scream anyone in the hallway had ever heard.

Your foot dangled from your shattered ankle bone and you saw everything you worked so hard for disappear in front of your eyes. Tears rolled freely down your face and Charles set you down in a chair. He gave you a sad look as he ran back to the stage to see if the show would go on.

You knew that it was Louise's foot that caused your fall, and you knew it would be Louise who would go on in your stead. A wave of dizziness washed over you as Alastor came into your line of sight.

Alastor's voice, usually calm and composed, betrayed a hint of urgency as he spoke."Cher, they've already called an ambulance. It's on its way. Darling, I am so sorry" He knelt next to you and put a cold soft drink bottle against your ankle. You flinched slightly, but Alastor put his hand on your leg to keep you still.

"I shouldn't have shown her up, Alastor, otherwise I would still be on that stage, on any stage"

"What do you mean?"

"Louise, she did this, she wanted my part"

Louise was the bitch who tripped you and caused your "accident". He kept that name in mind for later, but now you were his only priority. He saw the wagon-looking car pull up outside. Gently he set the bottle down and hoisted you into his arms.

As you made your way to the ambulance with the help of Alastor you couldn't help but think of what you were leaving behind. The pain in your ankle mirrored the pain in your heart as you were carried outside. How could everything you've worked so hard for be gone before it could even really begin?

You tucked your teary face into his chest, and for some reason, he did not seem to mind it at all.

[queenshelby]

Our Little Secret (Part 46)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Infidelity, Age-Gap, Triggers

A week had passed since your abrupt departure from Los Angeles with your daughter Mara, spending all your savings on an earlier economy class flight to Dublin. 

You had to get away from Cillian as quickly as possible for now, to clear your head, and to decide what your next steps would be. 

Cillian, of course, had begged you to stay while he attended a few more press events and interviews, but you didn't even wait for him to explain himself to you. Immediately after hanging up the phone with Amanda, you had stormed through the hotel suite, bursting into tears silently as you packed a small bag, preparing to leave.

Over the next few days, right after you took the long journey back home with Mara, you struggled to process everything that had happened. Cillian tried to call you over and over again, but you never answered his calls. 

You wanted nothing more than to scream, to cry, to break something—to do anything that would allow you to release the intense pain that he had caused, but you knew that Mara was depending on you.

***

"It's just you and me now babygirl," you whispered into Mara's ear one evening as you tucked her into bed, trying to embrace the role of a single mother bravely. After all, you always knew that this possibility loomed in the background, even when you naively thought that you were destined to be with him forever.

You couldn't believe how blind you had been, allowing yourself to fully invest in someone who had already shown you time and time again that he couldn't be counted on.

You couldn't stop thinking about the way he had looked at you, promising you a future together, making you feel cherished and loved, only to betray your trust in the most deceitful way.

You felt a hot tear trickle down your cheek as you buried your face into Mara's soft curls. It wasn't fair. You didn't deserve this pain, this heartbreak. But, as you listened to Mara's steady breathing, you knew that you couldn't give in to despair.

"Karma is a real bitch," you then thought to yourself, seeing how Cillian and you had started out as an affair too. He was cheating on his wife with you and now you were the one who was being cheated on. 

The raw pain cut through you like a hot knife, sharp and searing. Cillian's face flashed through your mind, taunting you with the broken promises and lies that only the innocent fall victim to.

Returning to the living room you noticed a vehicle parking outside on the street in front of your little terrace house. It was a small Crolla, a car that was very familiar to you and which belonged to no other than Cillian's sister Siobhan. 

You weren't expecting a visit from her, especially not in the wee hours of the night, but you didn't mind. She was one of the rare people you could count on these days even though she was a member of Cillian's family.

Quickly, you dried your tears and went to open the door. Siobhan stood there with a serious expression on her face.

"Hey," she greeted, but even her warm voice did nothing to mitigate the heavy feeling that pressed onto your heart still. "Can I come in?" she asked, and you stepped aside to let her walk past you.

You noticed that she was carrying a bottle of wine and two glasses in her hands. "I figured we could both do with a drink tonight," she added while she placed her possessions on your dining table.

You hesitated for a moment before closing the door and joining her. "You have no idea," you sighed, leaning against the back of one of the chairs.

Siobhan gave you a concerned look before pouring you a generous glass of wine. "Oh, I think I do. I saw Amanda today and, fuck, Cillian didn't even tell me about any of this because, if he had, I would have come to see you sooner Y/N. I am so sorry," she  muttered, exasperated.

"It's okay, really. There was nothing you could have done," you shrugged, sipping on the wine like it was water. It burned your throat as it went down, but it somehow made you feel a little better.

"No, it's not. I know how much this must have hurt you Y/N. My brother can be such an idiot sometimes, but he does love you, you know?" Siobhan told you, causing you to cry and laugh all at the same time.

"If he really loves me then , why did he cheat on me?" you asked, your voice cracking with emotion.

"Because he was hurt when you knocked down his proposal," Siobhan told you, explaining Cillian's turmoil to you. "And he acted impulsively which, really, is no excuse for what he did. It's just an explanation," she told you, but you no longer cared. 

"Well, it doesn't change anything now. I'm done with him," you informed her, your voice shaking a little as the reality set in.

"But-" Siobhan started to protest, but you stopped her.

"No. This is not what I want anymore," you sighed, running a hand through your hair as Mara slept peacefully in her bed upstairs. "I am better of alone and, honestly, our arrangement still stands. He will support me and Mara financially and he will get shared care, just like I had promised him. Nothing more and nothing less,"  you concluded firmly while taking another sip of your wine, watching Siobhan frown concernedly in return.

"You know Y/N, I never gave you enough credit in the past for how mature you actually are, especially for your age. You are much more of an adult than most of my clients and you are certainly much more mature than my almost fifty-year-old brother,"  Siobhan finally shared, but it wasn't enough to stop you from hurting still.

***

The following days passed slowly, with you trying to rebuild yourself and your life. It hurt like hell, to be back in the city that reminded you so much of Cillian and the times the two of you had spent together, but you didn't have much of a choice.

He came over one day to pick up Mara just as you had agreed upon when he came back from LA. Wen he arrived he also wanted to talk to you about what happened but you refused and did not even let him through the door. 

"No Cillian. Like I said in my text message last night, all that matters now is Mara," you told him face to face now that he stood in front of your door. "You can see her three days a week, no nights for now and I do not want any contact with you unless it relates to our child," you continued with a clear, firm voice, making a strict compromise so that he could spend at least a little time with Mara until she was ready to stay at his house over night. 

Cillian nodded and seemed surprisingly accepting of your conditions.

"Okay," he told you as you both stood at the front door of the house for a minute before Cillian finally reached out and gently touched Mara's cheek. 

"Do you want to take her while I get her pram and bag?" you offered to Cillian who, again, nodded silently.  With a heavy heart, you handed Mara over to the man that you loved dearly, but who had betrayed your trust.

Cillian took Mara into his arms and looked down at her happily as she babbled at him, giggling after he spoke her name. "She has grown so much even in those few days," he remarked, his voice thick with emotion. 

"She sure has," you told him. "Now, do you have enough milk in the freezer for her? I left some there the last time I visited you last. It's all dated and labelled, just make sure you heat it up right, okay?"  you added, trying to keep your voice steady and authoritative, even though you wanted nothing more than to break down and weep.

Cillian looked up at you with a pained expression on his face. "I will make sure to do that," he told you, tears welling up in his eyes.

You nodded and turned away from him before he could see the sadness creeping up on you. "Okay Cillian. I expect her back by seven. Don't be late," you said softly before pushing the pram and baby bag on to the front porch.  Cillian took them without a word and stepped outside. He looked at Mara again, a lingering longing in his eyes, a feeling that was all too familiar to you.

You closed the door softly and leant your head against it. The emptiness in the house suddenly felt bigger, suffocating almost. But you had to get used to it now. This was your life from now on.

***

The next few weeks were tough, but you made it through them with the support of Siobhan and your mother as well as your best friend Emma who suggested a night out while Mara had her first sleepover at Cillian's house, which was something that made you panic.

You never not had Mara with you over night, it had always been the two of you, or sometimes even the three of you. But, after careful consideration and speaking with Cillian about it, you finally agreed to it with a certain hesitancy.

As you stepped out of your house, ready to meet Emma for your long-anticipated girls' night, you took a deep breath and tried to remember who you were before Mara entered your life.

The thought caused a wry smile to grace your lips and, with a spring in your step, you continued down the path towards the small car that your friend drove as she picked you up along with some other girls from her class.

They were all about your age, but none of them lived the way you did. You were a single mother living in the suburbs while they were all single and sharing a flat in the city.

They were out partying and hooking up with guys while you were home, changing diapers and reading bedtime stories. They were having the time of their lives, while you often wondered if this was all that life had in store for you.

But as you slipped into the passenger seat of Emma's small car, you felt a sense of excitement that you hadn't experienced in a long time. You were ready to let loose and have some fun, and you knew that Emma and the others would make it an unforgettable night.

"Holy shit, you are looking good," Tina, one of the other girls you still knew from school days, remarked as she climbed into the backseat, and you couldn't help but feel a little boost to your confidence. You thanked her with a smile while Emma glanced at you from the driver seat, smirking triumphantly while you pulled out your phone to text Cillian, ensuring that Mara  was comfortable and okay.

"She will be fine, Y/N. She is at her dad's house, remember? He is old enough to look after her. You need to stop worrying," Emma assured you as she navigated through traffic, making her way into the heart of Dublin, where the bustling nightlife came alive.

"I know, it's just -" you started to mumble but then stopped, letting out a quiet sigh. You couldn't deny the fact that leaving Mara behind on her first sleepover with Cillian was hard. It was unfair, you thought, that parents shouldn't experience the pang of abandonment when it comes to leaving their child behind while Tina chimed in, quickly changing the topic after Emma told you again that Mara would be just fine. 

"Hey Y/N. I am curious. Does he pay for your house and car?"  Tina asked, a hint of jealousy tinging her voice. You weren't close to her, but you knew that, especially after your public appearance at the Oscars, which had now been almost ten weeks ago, many of the girls you knew had been talking about nothing else but you and Cillian. After all, he was super famous now and you had his child and not many women could claim that status.

"Well, yes he does, because I am a student, just like you Tina," you replied, suppressing the irritation in your voice. "And we had a child together, so it seems fair," you justified yourself and feeling a little nervous about exposing too much information and stirring up unnecessary envy among your former classmates.

"I suppose you have it easy then," Tina said, still showing an envy-filled tone in her voice. "My mother never even got child support from my dad,"  she added, causing a heavy silence to fall over the car as Emma glanced at Tina sternly in the rearview mirror.

"Things are different now, Tina. Cillian is -," Emma chastised but, before she could continue, you interrupted her. 

"Can we just stop talking about my ex now and focus on our night out?" you requested, hoping to steer the conversation in a different direction.

Emma nodded in agreement and changed the topic, talking about her last date and the awkward ending that it had while the girls in the back seat listened attentively and added their own commentary on the subject, making jokes and trying to make each other laugh.

You tried to focus on the conversation but couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of sadness as you thought about Cillian and the life you had once imagined for yourselves.

You had hoped to grow old together, raising Mara and making memories as a happy little family, but fate had other plans.

Your mind wandered as you entered a crowded dance club, clinging to your drink as you tried to push aside the thoughts that threatened to consume you. The beat of the music pulsed around you, vibrating in your chest as you moved to the rhythm, trying to lose yourself in the seductive sounds filling the air.

But the despair that tugged at your heart wouldn't let you go, no matter how hard you tried to shake it off.

It clung to you like a persistent shadow, a constant reminder of what you had lost, and you pulled out your phone again, texting Cillian, to see whether Mara was fine.

He quickly responded, of course, telling you that she had already fallen asleep and that he was having a great time, spending time with her. It was then, in the dimly lit club, that you realized that this was your new reality, which is when, suddenly, a young attractive man bumped into you, spilling his drink all over your black dress.

"Oh, I'm so sorry! Here, let me help you clean this up," he said, sprinting away to the bar and returning with a wad of napkins and a sympathetic smile.

The unexpected kindness in his large, green eyes touched you somewhere deep within your soul, and you couldn't help but feel a tiny spark of warmth and attraction ignite between you.

"Thank you," you murmured as you took the proffered napkins, still feeling the anxious tension of uncertainty in your stomach after receiving Cillian's text about your adorable daughter sleeping soundly in his arms and it was then when he even sent you a photo of her, a gesture which you appreciated. 

Just as you looked at the phone the man nodded with a reassuring smile, his eyes sparkling with interest and curiosity as, at the same time as handling your phone, you nervously tried to dab the spilled liquid from your dress without causing further damage.

"You look like you're having quite the night here," he persisted, attempting to keep up a friendly conversation as you glanced at your phone before putting it back into your handbag. 

"Yes, I haven't been out in a while," you replied, smiling at the stranger's persistence as he still stood there, looking at you. 

"Really?" he asked. "Why?" he asked, genuinely surprised by your admission as you continued to wipe away the residual drink stain on your dress.

"Well, I had a baby -," you began to say before shaking your head, realizing that this must have been the worst pick up line ever.  The man blinked a few times, his eyebrows shooting up towards his unkempt brown hairline, but he didn't falter. Instead, he dug his hands into his jeans pockets and rocked back on his heels, a friendly half-smile on his lips.

"You had a baby? For real?"  he inquired inquisitively, maintaining a friendly and interested facial expression. "I mean, you don't look a day over twenty-one," he complimented you.

"Well, I am not," you chuckled. "I am twenty-one, actually," you  confessed, feeling vulnerable and exposed all of a sudden.

But the stranger, who introduced himself as Sean, only seemed more intrigued. "Wow, you had a baby already? That's impressive," he admitted, hoping he hadn't dwelled too much.

You nodded, flustered by the attention. "It's not easy but, hey, life happens," you shrugged, determined to keep it light.

"I assume you don't have kids?" you asked, curious, wondering out loud without considering the fact that this topic might be slightly weird for a twenty-something year old man.

"No , I don't. Not yet anyway," he answered with a small laugh, shaking his head ever so slightly, causing his mop of hair to bounce wildly on his head.

"Well then, I guess I just told you way too much about me, huh?"  you asked, feeling a hint of shame creep up your neck and onto your face.

Sean smiled at you genuinely and kindly, his eyes fixing on yours, a connection forming between you two. He shrugged.

"Not really. I mean, you know, things happen and I -," the man began to say before awkwardly telling you about himself. "I am 27 and just finished a degree in engineering. I only just moved to Dublin a few weeks ago and, uhm, I am single and would really like to buy you a drink, if you let me," he stammered. "Unless, of course, you actually have a man in your life, because you had a baby and stuff, so if the father is around then forget about what I just said,"  he added, catching a whiff of disappointment in his voice.

You smiled and shook your head. "My daughter's father is out of the picture," you told him honestly, softening your eyes as you observed him moving closer to you. 

"Great, so what are you drinking?" he asked and, with that, you knew where this was going.

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[gothcsz]

♰ 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐅𝐀𝐑𝐄. A JAVIER PEÑA FIC. ♰

PAIRING: Javier Peña x Original Female Character

SUMMARY: After being reassigned from Colombia to a small town in rural Texas, former DEA agent Javier Peña takes on the role of Deputy Sheriff to tackle a series of mysterious murders plaguing the community. As rumors swirl about a sacrilegious group lurking in the shadows, tension mounts among the townsfolk. Amidst the chaos, Javier finds himself drawn to Paloma, the sheriff's daughter, who captivates him not only with her beauty but also with her enchanting performances at a local bar. As Javier delves deeper into the investigation, he becomes increasingly entangled in the complexities of the case and his relationship with her. Inspired by Ethel Cain's album 'Preacher's Daughter,' Javier navigates a web of deceit and intrigue, uncovering shocking truths about the town and its inhabitants. Religious Horror!AU. Thriller!AU.

RATING: E. 18+ Mature topics such as sex, drugs, murder, the occult, religion, cannibalism and other triggering matters will be explored in this body of work. More specific tags will be listed on chapter posts.

DISCLAIMER/WARNINGS: The Javier Peña referenced in this body of work is solely based off of the character that appears in Netflix’s Narcos and not the actual person. Very canon divergent and I will tweak things as I see fit to compliment the narrative of this story. While efforts have been made to be accurate in terms of canon timeline, a lot of details will be fictionalized, including the usage of the song(s) that Paloma will perform throughout the story.

BANNER CREDIT: @asmodeus-psd

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. (𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐆)

♰ indicates smut cw

prologue

chapter one

chapter two

chapter three ♰

chapter four

chapter five

chapter six

chapter seven

chapter eight ♰

chapter nine ♰

chapter ten

chapter eleven ♰

chapter twelve ♰

chapter thirteen

chapter fourteen (coming soon)

or read on ao3. (the chapter numbers don't match across platforms but it's all the same)

𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐎𝐔𝐒.

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[rinbowaman]

ↀOUBLE IIROUBLE - CHAPTER TEN

Its here!!!! Sorry it's not proofread, i finished this while i was eating dinner. lol.

Warnings: Mentions of murder and kidnapping, Stockholm Syndrome, confrontation, slight bits of voyeurism (not full throttle like MRE, but still...) smut...lots of unprotected smut, mentions of lying and deceit, forced love, punishments (mentions of) yandere love, unhealthy and toxic relationship, abuse of authority in the relationship, dom! hee-leads, sub! y/n....cursing, and i think that's it. enjoy!

“Fuck it good for me baby…you’re doing so well.” Breathlessly, Heejeong groans each word as he stabilizes the cadence of your movements. By the foothold of his established grip, he simultaneously bounces and rocks your hips, rolling them forward and back, ensuring your silken walls massages every inch of his length. Dipping and lifting, you’re pleasantly left at the mercy of his stamina, taking in each pump he gives, watching as you take one right after the other. “Go faster…” he demands, yet you could never figure out why he, or his brother at that, berates and tells you, for each time they bounced and filled you up,  they never left you with much choice or freedom to stir the motions and set the pace.

Perhaps it was just the pressure of intense ecstasy that would trigger them to speak out at random, either way, their words were always followed by a level of action through their hold on you, moving your body in the direction of how they wanted it, practically fucking you around like a ragdoll. After all the time you’ve spent with them, letting them fuck you every which way but loose, you learned and valued the aspect of a healthy relationship with great sexual desire and result, despite falling into a weakened emotional and mental state of mind, losing all will to fight and escape. Instead, you found yourself fully enveloped by the effects of Stockholm Syndrome. It’s been half a year since they’ve essentially restrained you by taking away your freedom. Through all the punishments, the constant supervision, and heavy effects of their obsession and showering affection, you caved in. You had become theirs and accepted the fate of being a prisoner in their house, your own home. The only difference between now and the start of it all, was that you not only accepted their love, but returned it. Perhaps it was just the pressure of intense ecstasy that would trigger them to speak out at random, either way, their words were always followed by a level of action through their hold on you, moving your body in the direction of how they wanted it, practically fucking you around like a ragdoll. After all the time you’ve spent with them, letting them fuck you every which way but loose, you learned and valued the aspect of a healthy relationship with great sexual desire and result, despite falling into a weakened emotional and mental state of mind, losing all will to fight and escape. Instead, you found yourself fully enveloped by the effects of Stockholm Syndrome. It’s been half a year since they’ve essentially restrained you by taking away your freedom. Through all the punishments, the constant supervision, and heavy effects of their obsession and showering affection, you caved in. You had become theirs and accepted the fate of being a prisoner in their house, your own home. The only difference between now and the start of it all, was that you not only accepted their love, but returned it. 

Could anyone blame you? Perhaps. It’s not everyday you find a woman or man in a relationship that encompasses the major highlights of love and passion. Everyday, they glazed you with their intense love and sweetness; since you had become obedient and accepting of their rules, ceasing in putting up a fight or attempting your escape, the two boys were able to focus in showing you nothing but their obsessive love, and it truly was an amazing feature to experience. By day, you were cherished and pampered, practically smothered by it; yet at night, they tainted your body, bellowing out their lengths into you like a whore, fucking you until the moon was laid to rest. The most blissful switch that you ever dreamed of. 

“Oh fuck!...I’m cumming…” embracing you, he tightens his arms around your waist, coiling one over the other as he pulls you in and buries his face into the gaping crevice between your breasts, immediately kissing the spot. His tongue leaks out and paves the way to your nipple, slobbering over the areola while he tenderly sucks it in, feeding off of you while keeping your legs strapped around his waist and straddling his lap. 

When all was said and done, Heeseung steers the car and pulls up into the driveway. “We’re home. Did you both have fun during the ride?” he teases out as he flashes a wink through the rearview mirror, in which Heejeong catches and returns it with a chuckle as he regains his breathing. “Oh yeah we did, didn’t we?” he looks up into your eyes, reaching forward to move the bits of hair that stuck to the sweat glistening over your skin. 

Once inside, the boys carried out the normal routine of cleansing your body in the shower, by caressing it. Nothing out of the ordinary, it was now normal to find yourself getting dicked down between the two, either five or six times a day, sometimes more. Finishing it all off in the shower went without saying. You lost count of how many times you asked them politely for a break, desperately needing time for the soreness and increased sensitivity to wear off before succumbing to their passionate wrath. Contrary to how insatiable they were with you, they always respected your wishes, announcing how they hated to see you in pain, unless it was them who granted it, and they always did. After each break period, the longest one being seven days, the boys would always reach a breaking point and lose control. Each time they reignited that physical passion, the balance of lovemaking was nonexistent. It really wasn’t their fault, after all, you were everything to them and they couldn’t bear to go one day without touching you, let alone multiple. So it was no surprise that the moment you begin to feel better, they made up for lost time and fucked you relentlessly on the first day, and that’s where the pain was birthed. 

…………………

“Fuck baby….”

“N-no more! It hurts! Please…please go slower….”

“I know baby…believe me I’m trying…I just miss being with you like this, you have no idea….to watch you everyday looking so pretty but not being able to touch you…shit baby the effect you have on me….just take the pain for now. I promise to kiss it all better once I get this out of my system. Pinky promise…ah…God baby, fuck that dick. Fuck it until it smothers you with my kids.” 

………………….

And of course, you can’t have one without the other taking his turn, pumping your already cum-stained walls with his own length. 

………………….

“Please! Oh my God…please….ugh! I-I can’t take it anymore!”

“Shhh…baby, you keep talking like that, it’s only going to make me stay hard. Come here and kiss me…kiss me and take it like the champ I know you are….you fucking beautiful thing. Oh shit baby…I have to fuck you faster and harder, come here…” 

………………….

Of course they secretly found it sexy to instill you with sexual pain through acts of pleasure, they’ll never admit it aloud but it was obvious to tell through their dashing smirks and lip-bites during the act. However, they knew that the pain wasn’t at all pleasant, so they would make up for it through their tender acts, always treating you like the queen you truly were to them. No one would ever be able to witness it, since they loved the privacy and the idea of having you all to themselves, but should anyone be lucky enough to see, the twins had a custom built lounge chair built for you, resembling a royal throne. Made of Mahogany cherry wood, and beige damask, silk-threaded upholstery, it was made in the design of regal Victorian fashion, and was nicely stationed in your room. Why would they ever get the idea to get you such a piece was beyond you…until later that night when they had you sit on it. 

……………….

“Sit up straight baby…slouching is bad for you.” 

“Ugh! I….I can’t….mmm…”

“You like that, don’t you?”

“M….mmhmm….ugh!”

“Cum baby…we wanna see you drip.”

………………

It’s such a beautiful chair, and you feel bad for ruining it by chipping bits out of the wooden arm rests each time you dug your fingernails in, but again, could anyone blame you? Of course not, not if they had seen the most sickening yet sweet acts they performed white you were on that chair.  Some nights, you helplessly watched as both faces shove their way in between your thighs, holding your legs spread and open as they orally attacked your maidenhood through licks and kisses. Then there were other times you found yourself leaned over, kneecap firmly planted on the seated cushion while you gripped the armrests, getting pounded from behind in a near violent momentum. And of course…how could you ever forget the nights when one of them would sit in your throne, sliding your legs through the loopholes under each arm, forcing you to straddle their laps as they controlled the pace and movement, while the other penetrated you simultaneously. 

………………

“Wait! I-I can’t take both at the same time.”

“Wanna bet, sweetheart?” 

“Heeseung don’t be so brash. Come here baby, you should know by now, our sexual engagement lacks filters and boundaries, that’s what makes it beautiful…like you. Now be good, and let us both do what we live for….let us both fuck you to sleep tonight.” 

………………. 

Of course the first time wasn’t at all the most pleasurable experience, you could never forget that type of pain, it was unlike any other you’ve felt before. But you had to hand it to the boys, after breaking you in, dragging you to the lowest point sexually, they’d praise and tenderize you with so much love and devotion. Each time they both took you all at once, the pain would gradually fade and was replaced with ferocious orgasms, bursting one after another. Ever since, you’ve never felt intimidated by the idea of being open minded, and gave yourself fully so they could sexually devour you any which way they could. Maybe one of these days you’ll ask them to take you to the library, because in all honesty, you’re curious to see just how many positions of the Kama Sutra you three had covered. 

………………………..

“This is Lisa from Channel Hybe News, here to bring you the latest on the mystery behind the killings of the young women local to the area, that has riddled the entire city in constant fear for the last two years. Authorities have revealed through their public statements, that some of the victims were as young as sixteen years old, causing an emotional uproar in the nation. Police have searched each crime scene thoroughly, yet still haven’t found any evidence or leads directing them to a prime suspect. So far, the country mourns over the loss of twelve victims, whose bodies were all found in a gruesome state. Meanwhile, the latest disappearance of the 24-year old local college student has attracted the attention of detectives and authorities, igniting a mass wide search. We can only hope that she will be found unharmed and alive.” 

Walking down the stairs, you rub your eyes and hazily make your way into the kitchen. You didn’t bother getting dressed, deciding to save that for after you have your morning coffee and shower, besides, the boys loved seeing you in one of their tee-shirts. Since the fit was larger and longer, each one fitted you like a gown, a short one at that. Looking over to the smart TV in the kitchen wall, you sighed while grabbing the remote, shutting it off. It was all too depressing. For the last two years, way before you had inherited your step-brothers, a series of young women had disappeared and were later found dead; their bodies horrendously mutilated and displayed harsh evidence of unspeakable torture. The age ranges were anywhere from teenagers to women in their mid to late twenties. You recalled the times before the wedding, how your mother worried for your safety when you traveled lonesomely by public transportation to and from work or school. Naturally, once she married Danny and found out that you were “moving” in with your two brothers, she felt relieved. Of course, if she had known the truth of you living in their massive house, her fears would have been replaced with a new set. Had she ever found out  how you were hijacked from your own apartment with Wendy, and forced to move in with the two people that you were quite sure had something to do with Jeff’s murder. You weren’t oblivious, the man insulted and harassed you, and that didn’t sit well with the two. Hell, you had to beg them through tears and constant pleas to stop Heeseung from making his way over to Kurt that day, six months ago, all because the two couldn’t stand that the man had feelings for you. From the way they would speak and all the things they’ve ever said, you felt deep down that despite their affection and possessiveness over you, they were quite dangerous, but what could you do? After foiling your attempts to escape and find help, they punished you countless times, “trained” you to become more obedient and loyal, and it worked out in their favor. The human mind can only take so much, so you gave up and always remained careful, ensuring to avoid everyone so as to protect them from the raging obsessive love that Heejeong and Heeseung had for you. 

…………………

“You belong to us….we know that you love us too. If you break any of the rules, you already know–...our punishments will help you understand and realize your love for us. And if anyone touches or talks to you….even if they so much as look at you the wrong way, we’ll do alot worse than what we did to that asshole. Because no one….no one will disrespect you or harm you….not under our watch.” 

………………….

You never brought yourself to ask or clarify on who the “asshole” was, though you assumed it was Jeff. Nonetheless, you felt it better to not know the facts, because once you confirmed that you were loved by a pair of murderous boys who were infatuated with you, and loved them back, you weren’t quite sure if you could live with yourself knowing that. Sure, it was screwed up…but so was this entire situation. All you could do was to make the most of it and continue living, because no matter what, they were always going to find and keep you. Might as well make it easier on yourself and wave the white flag. But what scared you the most out of all of this, was that knowing full well that they were responsible for what happened to Jeff, you sometimes wondered….did they have any part in the murders of these women?...They were capable of murder…you’ve caught them breaching it but successfully stopped them, all through luck. But, how were they before you met them? What did they do before your mother married Danny? Seeing how much they detested their own girlfriends, you wondered if Sa-Ra and Yeon-jin were both potential victims ... .but again…you can’t think about that or confirm, because once you knew, you wouldn’t be able to live.

Your eyes began to glisten and sting; you were on the brink of tears just by questioning it, when suddenly a pair of strong arms wrap’s your waist from behind. A pair of lips cements itself on your cheek, planting a dramatic kiss. 

“Mmmmmmmmmuah! Sleep well baby? I know we got home kind of late from dinner last night.”

“Oh no….it’s fine, I slept in a little bit this morning.” 

“That’s good.” Patting your rear, Heejeong remains pressed against your backside, reaching over to grab the sugar spoon and preparing his own cup of instant coffee. You aid him by pouring the hot water, and stirring it, all the while presenting him with a sweet smile. God that smile…he could stare at it for hours. 

“You making my coffee minx? Are you the sweetest…I love you.” 

“I love you too….”

‘Don't do it y/n…..’

“Heejeong?”

“Yeeeeesss.” winking, he nuzzles his face into your ear. 

“Could I….ask you a question?”

“Of course baby.”

‘Y/n….don’t do this to yourself….stop…stop it right now.’

“About Sa-Ra and Yeon-jin…..especially since during the ride home last night…”

“Did they do or say something to you? I swear if they did anything to you, I’ll rip their faces off and shred them.”

“No…no they didn’t do anything.” 

Heejeong relaxes his expression, feeling relieved that the two girls hadn’t said or done anything to you behind his, or Heeseung’s back. He wasn’t wrong, Sa-Ra and Yeon-Jin had both developed a terrible reputation since their high school years, being notoriously cruel in their bullying methods towards other females. In spite of them calming down and dropping their torturous behaviors, all for the sake of putting on a front to gain the attention of the kind and gentle twins, no one could deny the fact that the two girls still had it within them to bring out their true personalities. Once the brothers had found out, right before meeting you, they’ve been long planning on ditching their horrible girlfriends, the only problem that caused the delay, was their father’s great fondness for them, which very much could affect the prosperous future for the twins, which now mattered since they had someone they truly cared for, and wanted to protect and provide for forever, you. 

“So what’s up? What did you want to talk about? Little minx.” grabbing hold of your waist he pulls you in until your forehead meets his lips. Resting your hands on his forearms, you delicately trace your fingertips along the veins of his muscles as you speak. “The girls…you and Heeseung only dated them because you did fall for them at one point in time, right?”

Breaking his lips free from your skin, he slightly backs his head away and tilts it with a smirk planted on his lips. “Do you think we love them? Is that what this is about? Come on baby, you know we hate their guts. We just have to time it correctly. Knowing those two, they’ll run up to our dad and beg him to get involved.” 

“No-no, that’s not it. I just….I guess what I’m saying is….” your heart skipped a beat. What were you thinking? Bringing this up without any proof that the boys were the culprits behind the murders of the local women, yet here you were, about to question whether they had intentions in hurting Sa-Ra and Yeon-Jin. 

“What is it, beautiful? Come on, you can ask anything you like, we’ll always tell you the truth. We’re passed all the lying and deception, now that we have you and trained you to behave.”

The words came out effortlessly smooth and cunning. Since you’ve embraced their love for you, they have been open to admit their deceit and hidden intentions upon first meeting you. You guess it made sense, after all, what was the point of hiding the truth now that they gained your love? 

“I just…I know you both don’t like them…and I don’t mind the wait until you break it off, I just wanted to express that it goes smoothly and that no-one gets hurt, that’s all.” gulping, you shifted your gaze and avoided eye contact. Fortunately, Heejeong didn’t catch on to your suspicion relating him and Heeseung to the murdered women, and shrugged off your concern. “Of course baby, it will go smoothly and trust me, you won’t have anything to worry about. Okay? Nothing is going to happen to you, we won’t allow it.”

He had obviously missed the point, it wasn’t you that you were at all concerned about, you knew that the boys would put their own life on the line for you, it was the other two that you were worried about. Despite their rotten attitudes, you couldn’t stand by and watch anyone get murdered over nothing. Just because the girls were terrible, didn’t mean you had to be. 

A knock was heard at the door, breaking Heejeong’s grip. “Someone’s at the door?” he calmly states as he pats your waist and walks over towards the foyer. Heeseung meets up with his brother, both responding to the unexpected guest. “Baby, go upstairs and wait until we tell you to come back down.” Heeseung gently speaks out, reaching his hand out for you to grab as he directs you towards the staircase. You nodded and walked half way up, nothing out of the ordinary since the protective nature of your step-brothers included for them to hide you away until the coast was clear, especially when it came to an undetected guest. Heeseung stationed himself at the base of the staircase, letting Heejeong open the door, and that’s when you heard Heejeong’s gritted tone merge out. “Well-well…look who it is…” 

Turning around, you become stunned to find Kurt at the door. “Look Heeseung, it’s our little friend, the ex-boyfriend.” 

Heeseung remained silent, blocking the base at the stairway, developing a stern look as he glared over to Kurt. 

“I’ve come to speak to Y/N, is she here?” 

Heejeong leans against the door, crossing his arms and nods. “Mmhmm.” 

“Where is she?” 

“Watch your tone.” Heeseung spits out, never minding that you remained halfway up the stairs, facing the doorway. “He-Heeseung…” Turning his face, he reveals his side profile, revealing the sharp stare of his eye as he gently shushes you. “Go into your room Y/N, we’ll tell you when to come back down.”

“Y/N? Are you there?” responding to the faint sound of your voice, Kurt shouts out into the open foyer as he shifts his gaze past Heejeong’s intimidating stance. “Please…I have been trying to reach you for months, yet you blocked my number and I had to figure out how to reach through to you. I deserve an explanation, you just ghosted me without any reason.” 

“Come to think of it…” Heejeong extends an arm and blocks the doorway as he rests his palm on the panel, “How did you remember where we live? If memory serves me correctly, you only dropped Y/N off one time, and that was six months ago. Our address isn’t necessarily easy to remember, unless….” Straightening his posture, Heejeong takes a step over to Kurt, towering over him as he emits a fearsome glare. “You have been secretly driving by.” 

“No, I haven’t been over since then!” Kurt issues as he takes a step back. “I got a hold of your guys parents and your dad gave me the address, since y/n directed me the last time. I never had your address saved or used the GPS.” clearing his throat, Kurt remained peaceful with his request. “Listen, I didn’t come to stir up trouble, I just wanted an explanation. If I had done something wrong, I should at least-” 

“You’re doing it right now. You should have never come over.” Heeseung issues as he joins his brother’s side and squares up to Kurt, both brothers surrounding the poor man. You hastily make your way down and reach Heejeong’s back, receiving a punishing glare for not obeying Heeseung’s order to go into your room. 

“Please, just let me speak to him for a moment. You don’t have to leave, just stay here by my side and let me break things off properly with him.”

You did feel bad, considering your last conversation with Kurt was when Heeseung was on his way to Kurt’s home of record. Had you not aggressively told Kurt off, his life would have met the same fate that Jeff did, and you couldn’t allow that to happen, not then or now, even if you loved your step-brothers beyond what is considered family normality. Pulling Heeseung’s forearm, while rubbing Heejeong’s chest, you calm them as best as you could, and appeal to their loving nature for you, even though their harsh, wide-eyed stare reflected a punishment coming your way after this was over with. Whispering, you assured your brothers without letting Kurt overhear your wording. “Please…I’ll accept any punishment, and I will apologize after this is done. Just let me break things off and make sure he never comes back, I promise. It’s not his fault, It’s mine.” 

Watching their murderous glare toning down, Heejeong, the ever so rational and calm of the two, looks over to his brother and pats him on the back. “We’ll stand here and watch, let her do her thing, and give y’n her punishment later. There isn’t any need to shed blood over something that isn’t necessary.” Heeseung issues a side eye as he crosses his arms. “Whatever.” shifting his gaze back to you, he takes a step as he harshly warns you, all the while issuing a sadistically violent glare. “You tell him whatever you need to. But if he ever comes back or talks to you again, I’ll kill him. Understand?” Your eyes become glaze from fear; you do your best to remain composed as you nod, taking in Heeseung’s warning as Heejeong looks at you with an expectant raise of his brow, notably agreeing with his brother’s ultimatum. 

Walking in between the two, you remained close by as they stood, observing the conversation. 

“We can’t talk in private?” Kurt asks. 

“No, we cant!” you snap. Taking a pause, you breathed out and calmed your tone. “Listen, Kurt. I’m sorry for the way I had broken things off. Really, I am. But I have so many other things and I just can’t….I can’t be bothered with relationships or anyone else. I am sorry, really I am, but we had just one date and that was it.” 

“Y/N….what is going on? I just don’t understand, if you’re in trouble, tell me and I can help.” 

“I’m not! I’m not in trouble, I just…I want to be left alone.”

Looking past you, Kurt notes the invasive stance of the boys, and looks back at you. “Y/N…are you okay?...Are they hurting you?” he whispers, though the Hee-twins scoff, indicating they heard Kurt’s concerned voice. 

“I’m fine. My brother’s take care of me, I just…” Looking back up to Kurt, you shook your head gently. “I’m sorry…I fell in love with someone else and I didn’t know how to tell you. I wish you could understand, but…I just don’t want to be bothered by anyone else.”

“You fell in love? What the?....Are you fucking kidding me? Is that why you couldn’t spare the time on our last phone conversation? You just called me up and told me you didn’t want to be with me anymore, and then blocked my number! What the Hell is wrong with you?!” Kurt’s voice expressed anger, betrayal, and sadness. 

Tearfully, you return a gaze of sympathy as you hiccup your words, trying your best to not cry. “I’m sorry…” 

“Sorry?? That’s all you have to say? Y/N! I had been trying to get a hold of you for months! You could have just told me you found someone else, instead of wasting my time!” 

Little did he know, had you been in love from the time you broke things off, you would have. Except that your new found love for the twins had only been recent, the last few months in fact. Truthfully, despite Kurt never knowing, you initially had broken things off all to save him. 

“Hey!” Heeseung’s voice shouts from behind, with Heejeong walking over by your side. “You lost your damn mind…don’t ever raise your voice at her, or speak to her like that ever again. In fact, don’t even look at her, from here on out, you just pretend she doesn’t exist. Trust me, you’re going to want to do what I say.”

Kurt looks at Heejeong defiantly, taking his stern, yet calm words for granted. “Who are you to tell me? You have no part in this! This is between me and her, I don’t know why you both are so intrusive!” 

You heard Heeseung’s footsteps breaching behind, when suddenly a harsh grip wraps around your waist and pulls you in. Turning your body to face him simultaneously, Heeseung leans in, and kisses you. You were shocked, but knew better than to fight him off, and so, you allowed him to proceed while returning it. Heejeong smirks as he cradles you from behind, ultimately trapping you in between his and Heeseung’s towering heights. Tapping his fingers on your hips, he buries his face into the back of your head as Heeseung continues to shove his tongue down your throat; inhaling the scent of your hair, Heejeong side-eyes a smirky look over to Kurt, who stood completely stunned. “Don’t mind us…we’re just showing love to our baby sister.” 

Coating your lips with the flat surface of his tongue, Heeseung finishes his oral performance and cups your chin. Kissing the tip of your nose, he turns you around. “Give Heejeong a kiss.” 

Taking hold of your throat, Heejeong pulls you in and begins to show you the same passion as Heeseung, but flickering his tongue inside and out of your mouth. Heeseung rubs the outer sides of your thighs, and slowly lifts the hem of the oversized t-shirt you still adorned from when you awoke. Exposing your panties, Heeseng pulls your hips back as Heejeong steadies your chest to remain in touch with his, essentially causing you to develop a leaned stance as Heeseung prepares to release some steam. Kissing the back of your neck, he takes a pause and glares over to Kurt. “Leave, unless you wanna watch her get fucked. Trust me, we don’t go easy on her, and if you still have feelings for y/n, you’re not going to want to see just what we do.” 

Kurt’s shocked expression transitions into disgust as he covers his mouth. “Oh my God…you all are sick….fucking sick! You all are step-siblings! Y/n…” looking over to you with a questionable look, he watches as you open an eye and peek from the side as Heejeong continues to lock your lips, never releasing. Groaning into your mouth, Heejeong pulls back, just enough to where his lips faintly remains pressed against yours. “Run your fingers through my hair baby.” 

Reigniting the kiss, Heejeong sucks in your tongue as you obey his demand and reach up, running your fingers through his silver strands. “Good girl.” he murmurs as he rubs his tongue on the roof of your mouth. Heeseung slides your panties off to the side, and grinds his groin against your derriere. “Baby wants to get fucked in front of ex-boyfriend?” 

Again, you knew better than to retaliate. Before, you avoided displeasing the two out of fear of being locked up and isolated for days on end; if it wasn’t that, it was being subdued and forced on, receiving the roughest type of sexual fulfillment, one that you ended up loving. But now, you merely obey due to wanting more of their touch and physical nature, getting moist as their hands roam and caress every body part. 

Nodding, Heeseung smirks against the skin on the backside of your neck. “Yeeeeeah you do…” Fishing out his cock, he taps it along in between your folds. 

“What are you doing? Stop that! This is so sick! You all are sick people!” Kurt extends out, practically pleading as he gets his phone and prepares to call out, more than likely to tell your mother and Danny. 

“I promise you…Kurt.” Heeseung begins as he reaches his arm around, and harshly wraps it around your throat. Heejeong grabs onto your arms, and pins them to your sides as he dips his tongue inside your mouth once more, before looking over in Kurt’s way, and finishes Heeseung’s warning. “You can reach out and talk to anyone you’d like, and tell them what's going on. But I think you already know that we have power and money, the two things you lack, and we are the type of people you don’t fuck around with. Unless you have a death wish, in that case, we’ll be more than happy to carry-out. I suggest you dip out and forget this whole thing.” 

With a sadistic glare, Heejeong grins widely and chuckles, instilling a level of fear inside Kurt. Trembling, he loses grip of his phone out of gruesome panic; he had never seen something so frightening in his life. Hastily, he picks up his phone and quickly makes his way back inside his car, choosing to no longer stare death in the face. He wasn’t sure what it was, but something eerie about the twin’s glare initiated for him to run and never look back, no longer desiring to be involved, even if it meant doing the morally right thing and calling to notify your parents of what he had seen. No, he couldn’t do that, not with both brothers psychotically smiling his way through the windshield, both bearing teeth as they grinned while they prepared to violate your body. 

No…if it meant to save his own life from the unspeakable torture that those two had meant to do, he had to leave and never look back. Starting up the ignition, the tires of his car screeches as he backs up, and pulls out of the half circle driveway, taking off and never returning. 

“Well, I’m up.” Heeseung jests as he looks over to his brother. “You and I both.” Heejeong responds back while cupping your face. “Let’s go take this inside, hmm?...” Tilting your chin, he forces you to look into his sadistic gaze, one that was eerie, yet attractive. “Little minx.” 

They both pull you in, walking you back inside as they locked the door, armed the security system, and took you in the foyer. It wasn’t just the entryway that the two had their way with you in, there was the living room, the kitchen, the middle of the staircase, and each bedroom upstairs, to include the sitting room. It was all a part of their punishment, though you initially didn’t feel it was as such, since the twins issued you raging orgasms one after the other, to the point where the entire house was filled with echoes of your screams. By the ninth round, you felt the effects of overstimulation hit, causing you to snap and trying to break free as each brother took his turn, allowing for one to rest while the other rigorously fucks you. Hysterically screaming and desperately trying to fight them off, you watched as they both grinned down at you, eluding frightening stares as their sexual behaviors took a psychotic turn. 

“Don’t worry baby, just a little bit more and punishment will be all done. This is what you asked for, riiiiiiight?....Y/n?.....Yyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy/nnnnnnnnnn.” 

Authors note: Oh snap! We're reaching the height of the plot and the ending, i'd say in a few more chapters. We need to explore what is going on with the murders of these poor women. if you wish to be a part of the perm taglist, please comment below. 😊 if you enjoy the content, please consider donating to my ko-fi account, it helps me stay motivated to write series and requests and is my only source of income atm. Thank you! ❤️

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Perm Taglist: @hoyeonheeseung , @yohanabanana

[fricc-darn]

More dating B.E.N hcs but sprinkle in some love

(some BEN angst if you squint n slight warning for toxic relationships)

When it comes to BEN and affection it's a tricky situation. It only cares about other moon children in the network. For other people, the concept of love is not on their mind. Due to that, it's not often you'll experience loving moments with them.

Their love is rare and will take time to form as this is reserved for a specific kind of person. Someone who it enjoys the presence of. A person who's a pleasure to mess with but isn't too easy. Someone who keeps things interesting. The perfect toy? In a sense yes! This type of love is genuine. It's truly a weird scenario because BEN continues to be a menace while attempting to be sweet.

Of course, these acts should be appreciated to some degree. At least attempts are being made. Despite how flawed these acts are, it's treatment others don't see. You should feel lucky that you're an exception. The last thing BEN wants is for you to end up dead. Though if you have gotten this far, you'd certainly know to appreciate these moments.

BEN's words of affirmation are just as concise and vague as their regular speech. When it compliments you at worst it's backhanded. At best they come off as someone talking to a beloved pet. Occasionally, it'll complement you in an odd amount of detail. Pointing out quirks that you don't even notice.

Now, if they really like you they have a tendency to info dump. Though they try to keep it at a minimum. They wouldn't want you getting too curious and becoming nosey.

For the most part; simple phrases like "I love you." or "Cute." work fine. It'll take time for you to figure out whether or not BEN is being genuine. Even when you get the hang of it, there's still a nagging uncertainty present. This process would be much easier if they weren't so deceitful. The first time BEN loosely said the words 'I love you' it was out of the blue during a flurry of obsessive messages and threats. They refused to elaborate until much later and took whatever response you had as a yes.

At first, it only communicates with you online or through poltergeist-like activities. They'll even appear in your dreams as individual moon children. These dreams are surprisingly pleasant in comparison to the nightmares. With a substantial amount of trust, you learn more about the spirits as individuals.

Hearing the bits and pieces of what they remember about their past really makes sense of their behavior. Just don't even think about pitying them. Even if its well meaning, the outcome won't be in your favor.

None of them can stand being vulnerable. Especially if they don't have the means to take over the situation. In those almost unthinkable scenarios, it would trigger them into emotional distress. Which isn't something you'd expect from BEN of all people. To avoid that, they lead you to the information with breadcrumbs.

When BEN decides to appear physically, things really get fun!

They aren't too fond of physical affection. You can ask, but it will often result in a no. They have to be the ones to initiate it. There are plenty of reasons but it's mainly for the comfort of each moon child. You'll quickly learn who hates being touched, who doesn't mind, or who enjoys it.

Dealing with BEN is like dealing with a cat with an awful attitude. A spiteful shithead to its core. When they're not toying with your stuff, they'll come up to you whenever they feel like to bother you. From hugging, breathing down your neck, or maybe even biting you. The ladder isn't always ideal since BEN has way too many teeth. When this happens, it doesn't have much of a care for what you're doing or if you want to be bothered. BEN has some major cuteness aggression towards you. They play rough and oddly enough they're pretty strong.

Hugs and hand holding are the most common form of affection you'll get. When you're asleep they might even decide to cuddle with you. Be warned, BEN will take up most of the bed for no good reason. You also have to be prepared for potentially getting scared half to death in the middle of the night. Besides the distorted whispers, it's uncanny generated face will stare at you while you sleep. When you sleep with them it doesn't feel like a person is sleeping next to you. It's more like a general presence. BEN's skin is cold more often than not. Its skin seems to get warm off of your body heat or if there's something going on inside of its head. At least they're soft and squishy.

Can BEN kiss? Sorta. Its kisses are chaste and usually on the cheek. They're a prude, and a super hypocritical one at that. If they happen to kiss you on the lips it's essentially like kissing a mannequin with synthetic skin. It's cold and awkward. They're artificial in almost every sense of the word. Its mouth is the texture of gooey silicone with a long tongue and plenty of teeth. Kissing it is an experience that only you get to have. BEN really tries to be a good kisser but it just doesn't work out. It may be a questionable kisser but it's not sloppy. For that has no appeal, BEN prefers kisses to be simple and clean.

[ivypos-writes]

PERSEPHONE

CHAPTER 2

pairing: aemond targaryen x velaryon!oc

summary: Her name is cursed, she knows. She’s never been destined for peace.

He cannot be trusted. His sapphire eye is poisoned with deceit. But as war spreads throughout the realm like wildfire and her mother wilts under the heavy burden of ashes, Visenya is left without a choice. They meet under silken shroud of a midnight sky, and it tastes like betrayal and salvation all at once. Traitors, she thinks. Both of them.

Or, she will cut pieces of herself and feed them to him, and his greed will never die.

content & warnings: targcest, graphic depictions of violence, political alliances, angst, hurt/comfort, aemond targaryen being a little shit, plotting and scheming, sexual tension, eventual smut

notes: english is not my first language. trigger warnings will be added for chapters that include specific content. tags will be updated with each chapter.

“How unwise of you to walk alone in the dark.”

Visenya’s heartbeat jumps.

She turns around slowly, hesitantly; blinks to see through the layers of dark. There is a cloaked figure in the distance, and she might not have recognised him if it weren’t for the white of his hair. He keeps it long; silver strands cascade down to his shoulders and rest atop them like armour.

His arms are folded behind his back, and Visenya’s fingers inch towards her thigh—towards the dagger she’d nicked from Daemon before she departed for the Stormlands, and covered with a leather strap upon leaving her chamber tonight.

He will not touch her. But they are surrounded by darkness, and they are alone, and it is him. A stranger. She cannot tell what it is that he seeks.

It is rather ironic, she thinks, that they meet like this once again. This corridor is gloomier. She is older now, but so is he, and she wonders if his fire has grown. If it matches hers.

“Uncle,” she says, but it is closer to a mockery than a greeting.

Aemond’s face is half-covered by darkness; Visenya catches a glimpse of an eye patch and stares at it unashamedly, oddly fascinated. She remembers the wound. Remembers mangled flesh and blood. It is unsurprising to see that he keeps it covered. Sometimes, the image of it comes to haunt her nights; sometimes, it haunts Luke instead. Visenya knows her brother’s nightmares as though they were her own.

It must haunt Aemond, too. It was him who bled.

“Niece.”

READ ON AO3.

[celiciaa]

GILBERT VON OBSIDIAN EVENT STORY....

CHAPTER THREE.

Make me feel alive.

translations are not 100% accurate. expect mistakes.

trigger warnings: suggestive

MINORS DNI.

On the day of Lord Gilbert's birthday, there was a strange tension in the castle.

(Your birthday is truly a taboo.)

(No one says a word or shows any sign of preparing a celebration.)

While whipping cream in a bowl, I can't help but think about it.

(I always thought it was natural to celebrate birthdays.)

(Except for Lord Gilbert.)

━━FLASHBACK━━

Gilbert: Do you want to celebrate by risking your life? // Would you like to celebrate with the cost of your life?

Emma: ….

Gilbert: Even if it’s you, I still feel uncomfortable…. **

━━FLASHBACK ENDS━━

(I meant those words…)

(If I'm wrong, I'll be in big trouble.)

My heart is pounding so fast that I feel as if it will come out at any moment.

My hands were shaking uncontrollably while holding the bowl.

(…No, I have to be confident.)

(After all, I'm Lord Gilbert's fiancée, aren't I? There’s no time to be weak.)

I took a deep breath to shake off my anxiety and nervousness, as I began to move my hand again.

Emma: …I wonder if he will like it.

???: Yes, it’s very delicious.

Emma: !?

When I turned around, I saw Lord Gilbert stuffing his face with a piece of sponge cake that had already been baked.

(Eh? No way! How long have you been there!?)

Gilbert: Come on, don't just stand there and work with your hands. Otherwise I'm going to eat every last one of them, okay?

(The cake will be gone before it's finished!)

When I hurriedly took the sponge cake away from Lord Gilbert, his handsome face twisted into a displeased look.

Gilbert: Is that what you’re going to do?

Emma: If the sponge runs out, I can't make a cake.

Gilbert: It was delicious just the way you make it look like.

Emma: It's not good even if it's delicious!

Gilbert: Eehh—….I prefer quantity to quality.

Emma: I'll be baking a lot of cookies later, so please forgive me for this.

Emma: When it comes to cakes, I really want to focus on quality. // I really want to emphasize the quality of the cake.

Emma: ….I have to make the birthday cake special.

Gilbert: Hmmm...you're a brave little rabbit.

Lord Gilbert brings a chair nearby and sits down.

That red eye of his looking at me intensely, as if they were searching for something.

Emma: ….This is just my speculation….

Emma: Lord Gilbert—— Gil, I don't think you want to celebrate your birthday.

(…It was you, Lord Gilbert, who told me when your birthday was.)

Emma: You hate lies.

Emma: Because it was supposed to be a special and important day, you couldn't allow yourself to be defiled by corruption and deception.

Emma: …..That's what I thought.

(Lord Gilbert used to have a kind mother and an older brother…)

(The two of them must have congratulated him when he was young.)

(It was a warm and tender birthday...and now that day will never come again.)

(All that remained around him were aristocrats representing corruption and deceit.)

(…I guess this type of celebration was completely different.)

Gilbert: Hehe…as expected of the little rabbit, who loves me so much.

Lord Gilbert rested his chin on his palm and smiled refreshingly.

So, I was right.

Gilbert: Are you really going to congratulate me?

Emma: Of course.

Gilbert: I've killed many people so far, and I might kill many more in the future.

Gilbert: I’ve sent someone to the execution stand after I celebrated my birthday before, and I'll do it again if anyone like that shows up in the future, you know?

Emma: …..

It was as if my resolve was being tested.

(Birthday celebrations was supposed to be "Thank you for being born.")

(And it's also a day to hope that "you will continue to live.")

To celebrate the birthday of a great villain who shook the entire continent.

It cannot be done with half-hearted preparation, and someone who gave the blessing may end up bearing some sort of guilt.

Emma: ….I see.

(You may be a bad person who will never be forgiven...but I still want you to be rewarded.)

(That feeling has never changed and never will.)

(I think your sense of humanity is just numb, but you actually have the most beautiful heart in the world.)

Emma: Even if you have made the whole world your enemy, I will congratulate you.

Emma: I'm already a bad woman, so it's too late for that.

Emma: Please don't underestimate my love for you.

(Even though it's your birthday, it's hard to even celebrate it genuinely.)

(That is Lord Gilbert’s position, and it is also the price you pay for taking control of the evil empire.)

(…I've never celebrated a birthday with such determination.)

Gilbert: ….Hehe, sorry. I was bullying you too much.

(Huh…)

Lord Gilbert stood up from his chair and reached for my eyes.

I hadn't noticed that his fingertips were scoping my tears.

(…I hate it. I didn't mean it like this.)

(However, I wonder how many years...how many decades you’ve been denying your birthday so that your memories won't be tarnished….)

I forcefully wiped my blurred vision and looked into his red eye.

Lord Gilbert was smiling as usual, but…

I was surprised to find a wavering feeling there that made my heart hurt.

(No, it’s not. These tears are not for me.)

(…The one who really wants to cry should be Lord Gilbert.)

(Every time you celebrate your birthday, I wonder what you’ve been thinking about until now.)

(At first, you must have felt lonely, but then you forgot about it and didn't feel anything anymore…)

(But now, you, Lord Gilbert, reminded me of my loneliness. Maybe that's why you told me it was your birthday.)

With an urgent feeling, I reached out to touch his cold cheek and kissed him lightly.

Gilbert: What?

Emma: …I can't give you a cake right now, so here's an alternative gift for you.

Gilbert: That's a poor gift.

Emma: How about this?

I gave up on making the cake for the time being, so I placed the bowl on the table and wrapped my arms around Lord Gilbert's neck.

I kissed him deeper than before, and he bit me hard on the lip.

(Ouch…)

Fortunately, there was no blood seeping out, but he rubbed the throbbing area with his tongue.

As a result, I was robbed of the control I should have had.

His cold fingers pried my lips open, making sure my tongue is pulled out so he can bite it.

When I lost my strength, I leaned on the table behind me,

Then Lord Gilbert lifted the hem of my black dress he made for me and forced his fingers between my legs inside.

Emma: Gil…it hurts….

Gilbert: Yeah, on purpose.

Emma: Why….

Gilbert: Because you don't like pain, do you, little rabbit?

(….When you say that….)

The pain quickly turned into another sensation as his fingers plunged deep into the pit of my stomach.

It is like a sign of affection that Lord Gilbert has engraved on my body night after night.

(So I can't hate it….)

Gilbert: See, you looked like you were feeling good.

Gilbert: By the way, we’re in the kitchen. Are you going to stop me?

The wet squelching sounds and my moans became more visible the moment he added two more fingers.

Just as my mind was about to go blank, he stopped and my gasp spilled out involuntarily.

Emma: ….Just…for today….

Emma: No matter what Gil wants…if he wants to do it here, I’d take it all….

Gilbert: Because it's my birthday?

I nodded, then I brought his head close to my chest, hugging him.

Emma: I do not…lie.

Emma: So...you can try it until you feel safe, Gil.

Emma: My celebration is from the bottom of my heart…my sincerest congratulations…

Emma: I will keep telling Gil, no matter how much it hurts, until he believes in me.

Gilbert: …..

Gilbert: Oh, no. I guess I've been found out.

(…. I knew it. Lord Gilbert always has a reason for his threats.)

Emma: Gil is probably a lot easier to understand than I think.

Gilbert: I think those words can only be said because you are facing me head-on.

Gilbert: …It's really a pity that a troublesome man likes you so much.

Lord Gilbert looks up with a soft laugh and bites my neck.

(It may be difficult to wipe away all the doubts that have built up over the decades——)

(But it’s enough to let you know that you won't be lonely on your birthday anymore.)

━━

While taking all the pain and pleasure that Lord Gilbert was giving me, he somehow managed to finish the cake…

After the private celebration, we lay on each other, skin-to-skin as a matter of course.

Thanks to him, my body was exhausted during the daytime, however, Lord Gilbert embraced me with all his might.

All that was left was the sound of our heartbeats.

Gilbert: Hehe…your heart is still beating, isn't it?

Emma: I can…hear your heartbeat too, Gil.

He cradled me in his arms, and the sound of our heartbeat was heard from our chests.

(It’s the proof that Lord Gilbert is alive and well.)

(…I want to feel this whenever I celebrate your birthday.)

When I placed my hand on his back, Lord Gilbert scrunched his eyebrows slightly.

(Ah…there’s a scratch on his skin…)

Emma: …I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.

Gilbert: I don’t mind. I like being hurt by you too.

Gilbert: You could have left bite marks as well as scratches.

Lord Gilbert’s fingertips brushed my arm gently. There should be clear bite marks there.

(Not just my arms. I feel like I've been bitten all over today.)

Emma: It's hard to tell how much is too much or too little love Gil.

Gilbert: Then, let's learn it sometime soon. How about by next year's birthday?

Emma: I hope…you will let me celebrate again next year.

Gilbert: Who knows? It's up to you whether it’ll be your last or your first.

Gilbert: If you love me a lot, I might change my mind...okay?

Emma: ….

Gilbert: It’s just...my celebration this year wasn't unpleasant.

Gilbert: ….Thank you.

Emma: …..

(Aah...I’m gonna tear up.)

(If I'm not careful, I'll start crying again.)

Lord Gilbert laughed and gently stroked my hair.

Since his eyepatch was removed, his facial expressions were easier to understand than usual.

Emma: So…next time, how about we celebrate with Mr. Roderich and Mr. Walter?

Emma: I'm sure both of them really want to congratulate you, Lord Gilbert.

Gilbert: That’s not allowed.

(That’s too bad…)

Gilbert: I don't need other people's congratulations. As long as I have yours, that's all that matters.

Gilbert: Because you're the only one I love.

(I am the only person in the world allowed to celebrate Lord Gilbert's birthday——)

(In that case, I’ll celebrate with all my feelings.)

(I hope that the sound of Lord Gilbert's heart continues to beat next year and the year after that.)

(Even though you are a big villain and many people hate you, I want you to live forever and ever.)

Emma: Gil…I forgot to mention the most important thing.

Gilbert: Hm?

Emma: Happy birthday.

Emma: I'll give you lots of love…so please let me celebrate with you again next year.

Gilbert: Hehe, I understand. I'll let you celebrate as long as you are.

Gilbert: Keep loving the beast with your pure heart, just as you are…got it?

 ▸       [  previous ]

[empireofpearls-if]

Embark on a captivating journey as you assume the identity of Birbal, a brilliant prodigy, and immerse yourself in the enigmatic realm of the Mughal Empire. Behold a world thrown into chaos following the demise of Emperor Humayun, as a mere 14-year-old Akbar inherits the illustrious throne. Your choices shall shape the destiny of this young monarch, as you aid him in becoming the legendary emperor he's destined to be, or plunge the empire into turmoil by orchestrating a web of subversion and deceit. The power to shape an empire lies within your hands.

Amidst a cast of colorful characters, tread cautiously as you determine which souls can be deemed trustworthy, while remaining ever vigilant for those who may, with a swift and treacherous strike, plunge a dagger deep into your unsuspecting back. In this enthralling tale of loyalty and betrayal, the art of discerning friend from foe becomes your most vital survival skill. Make allies, face challenges and uncover hidden secrets. Just as internal conflict reaches a boiling point, the walls of the royal palace begin to tremble, beckoning you take a stance. Whose side will you embrace?

Empire of Pearls: A Mughal Tale is an interactive story inspired by historical events. It is set at the beginning of Abu'l-Fath Jalal-ud-din Muhammad Akbar's reign as the youngest-ever Mughal Emperor where you play as his most trusted advisor and friend, Birbal. This reimagined work is entirely text-based and your choices help shape Birbal's personality, skills, relationship with others, and of course the fate of the Empire.

Content warning: This game explores dark themes such as abuse, bullying, manipulation, use of drugs and alcohol, blood, gore, violence etc. and is strictly rated 18+. Besides that more in depth warnings will be provided before each chapter and certain trigger points can be turned off completely at the start of the game.

Demo | Character Appearances | Tags | FAQ |

Play as male or female and choose your real name and sexuality.

Customize your appearance and personality.

Choose one of three different backgrounds that will impact your reputation and relationships:

A noble possessing a remarkable talent, invited to join the court by Emperor Humayun himself; a child of a maid serving a powerful military commander, hired on the recommendation of the commander or a street urchin caught stealing from the royal palace, rewarded with a place in the elite circle owing to the incredible feat.

Romance any of the five different love interests or not. Friendship is always an option.

Be a part of an elite group of courtiers serving none other than Emperor Akbar and shape the fate of the Empire.

Abu'l-Fath Jalal-ud-din Muhammad Akbar (he/him) 💕 : The newly crowned young emperor. Friendly and affable, the ruler has a tendency to be a bit impulsive at times. Despite his age he has been preparing for this role for years and doesn't seem at all nervous to be the new monarch. Akbar can be a powerful friend and an equally dangerous foe. How he perceives you vary depending on your background. A year younger than Birbal.

...........

Bairam Khan (he/him): A military commander and the most trusted ally of the throne until the death of Emperor Humayun. Since then he has been promoted to commander-in-chief, if that wasn't all he also happens to be Akbar's guardian, chief mentor and advisor. Bairam knows his way around the empire but can you actually trust this man?

...........

Ruqaiya Sultan Begum (she/her) 💕: An aloof but fiercely loyal woman and Akbar's first wife. Being cousins, neither of them ever saw each other as anything but friends. But Ruqaiya also hides a big secret, one that has her loathing herself. Will you able to form a deep enough connection to assist her in embracing her true self and breaking free from her constraints? A year younger than Birbal.

...........

Salima Sultan Begum (she/her): A strong and intelligible woman and Akbar's second wife. She feels heavily undervalued and undermined by the court which causes her to constantly act out and push the boundaries of what is acceptable for a woman. Though she sees Akbar as a friend, anything more than that with anyone is unfathomable to her. Two years younger than Birbal.

...........

Mahira Khan Mughal (she/her) 💕: A softspoken and timid young woman sold as a political pawn by her own father to become Akbar's third wife. Mahira longs for companionship and understanding which she can't find in the palace but you can fill that void in her life by secretly courting her or by providing the friendship she desperately craves. Two years younger than Birbal.

...........

Arslan Khan (he/him)💕: The son of Bairam Khan and another young prodigy, seemingly possessing supernatural powers and later becoming known as the legendary Mulla Do-Pyaza. With a mixture of rivalry and occasional bullying, he views Birbal as a formidable adversary. Arslan, driven by an insatiable desire for his father's approval, harbors a volatile temper that ignites at the mere mention of insults hurled towards his family. Peering beyond the myth, can you uncover the man within? A year older than Birbal.

...........

Nadeem/Nadia Mirza (opposite gender of Birbal) 💕: Birbal's betrothed and distant cousin of Akbar. A noble with a secret lover, N only accepted the marriage offer because it was arranged by commander-in-chief Bairam Khan himself and it was made obvious that refusal would not bear good consequences for their family. Can you form a connection with your betrothed despite the rocky start? Two years older than Birbal.