#and it's nearly ready to be published!!

[sonder-writes]

I'm fangirling over my own (original) book as I edit it lol

These mentally ill men are my baby girls <333

[traditional-with-a-twist]

liii. Beauty and Her Beast

<<Previous || first arc || second arc || third arc || AO3 || Next>>

“Big brother!”

Rona dashed across the marble tiles of the audience chamber, skirts and curls flying, her face a picture of consternation..

Eugene scampered in her wake, equally anxious in his quieter way.

...

Raj flinched back a step, then snapped, “Stop, you’ll muss my new dress coat!” to cover his weakness.

It mostly worked — Rona jerked to a halt and glared, forgetting her fear. “Is that all you can think of,” she demanded, “when dear Lady Shirayuki is in danger?”

...

Raj winced, feeling a cold sweat break out on his brow. He snatched a lace handkerchief from his pocket and buried his nose in it, inhaling the astringent scent. 

Sakaki had liberally dosed it earlier that day, after delivering the news.

“What are you doing here, anyway?” Raj asked his sister, voice muffled. “You’re too young to preside at criminal cases.”

“We were waiting for you,” Eugene put in, taking advantage of a momentary lull as outrage reduced Rona to squawking. “Big brother, what will we do?”

...

A pounding in his temple replaced the dizzy fit. Raj lowered the handkerchief hastily.

Where had Sakaki gone off to, just now in the middle of a crisis?

The twins were staring at him, like oversized kittens who didn’t know what to do with the mouse they had cornered.

He summoned his bossiest voice. “You two! Keep quiet and let the adults handle these matters.”

...

As Raj spoke, his eyes raked the room, searching for assistance.

There! Clusters of soldiers and advisors stood around the throne, talking in low voices and pointing at maps.

His father was not present, of course, but there was Sakaki, with that dratted gray cloak blending in perfectly with the subdued field uniforms.

...

“Sakaki!” he boomed. “Come here at once and explain the situation to m—er, these two.”

His attendant bowed assent and approached, serious as always but with a new line creasing his brow. 

“Your Highnesses,” he hailed the young prince and princess respectfully.

...

“Oh, Sakaki!” Rona burst out. “It’s so dreadful—how will we ever save her?”

Sakaki paused. “I believe the intent is to recapture her, princess,” he said carefully.

“No, no —” Raj waved his handkerchief. “It’s all a muddle —she’s gotten it into her head that this means trouble for our friend, for Lady Shirayuki.”

He shot his attendant a sharp glance as spoke, gauging for himself whether Rona’s fears might have found any basis in the latest reports.

Sakaki looked serious —as always.

...

“Please do not upset yourself, Your Highness,” he said. “It is difficult to speak with certainty, as Lady Shirayuki’s exact whereabouts since her wedding are unknown—”

Rona gasped, her eyes filling with tears.

“---but there is every reason to believe that she remains in Clarines.”

...

“So?” Raj demanded, forgetting that he was supposed to know all of this already. “So what?”

“Therefore,” continued the implacable Sakaki, “there is little reason to fear. The trail appears to lead east.”

Raj let out an explosive breath. Rona sniffled; Eugene was patting her arm.

“Clarines lies to the north,” Sakaki added.

“We know that!” Raj snapped.

Sakaki smiled.

...

Glowering at him, Raj turned to his sister. “There, you see, enough nonsense—it is all a matter of patrols and search parties and no danger at all. Now go find something to play with.”

Rona stopped sniffing and gave him a look of deep disgust. “Eugene and I are too old for games,” she said, lifting her nose.

Then she marched away, her brother at her heels.

...

As soon as they were out of sight, Raj rounded on his attendant. “Now, tell me the whole truth, at once! What is being done? Have they sent messengers to Wistal? Who is standing guard over Lady Shirayuki?”

Sakaki bowed. “It is as I said to the young prince and princess, Your Highness—no one knows where the lady may be found.”

Sakaki did not add that dispatching troops across the border to Clarines without prior notice would not be smiled on as a diplomatic gesture, particularly as the matter involved a straightforwardly domestic case of a criminal tried, charged, and suffered to escape, all within the royal jurisdiction of Tanbarun.

...

Raj groaned and covered his face with the handkerchief again.

The thought of his friend in danger again, at the mercy of that devil of a woman, sent hot and cold flashes down his spine.

Worse, though he would never admit it out loud, he worried that in no small part, this whole mess might be his fault.

...

After they had secured the pirate ship and taken its crew prisoner, Raj hadn’t troubled himself to supervise. There were courts for that sort of thing, with their magistrates and bailiffs and prison wardens.

It was one thing for the crown prince to concern himself with bandits and ambassadors, but as for the boring business of trials and prosecutions, that was quite another matter.

The great might of the crown reigned; there were laws in the books, people read them, justice was served, and no one complained.

...

Now, suddenly, he found that comfortable vision of life upended.

Ages ago, Sakaki had wanted approval for some sort of prison transfer—why not? What was all the fuss about, if the thing was done properly?

As it turned out, the thing hadn’t been done properly at all.

In spite of whatever routine precautions one presumably undertook when undertaking such dangerous tasks, something had gone amiss—that is, someone had gone missing.

As Sakaki had put it to him that morning, quite succinctly: “The prisoner has escaped.”

Umihebi, the pirate queen, was free.

...

She had slipped through their fingers, as oily as her name and twice as fearsome — a nightmare Raj thought they had all put to rest that day in the dank caves festering in the underbelly of his kingdom.

He shuddered.

“What does she want, Sakaki?” he demanded, seeking something to turn his thoughts away from the memory of her poisonous looks. “Why east—what could she possibly want out there?”

...

Sakaki hesitated then admitted, “The lands to the east are no friend to Tanbarun, Your Highness. We received the report from a patrol troop. They are stationed at the border now, on guard for her return.”

“At the border?” Raj echoed. “On guard? What are they doing, lazing about there?”

A sense of relief and purpose suffused him. There were guards; they had her in their sights. The nightmare was as good as ended.

He drew himself up and waved a finger. “Order them after her at once, to the ends of the earth if need be!”

...

Before replying, Sakaki paused to scan the usual hiding places, assuring himself that Rona and Eugene hadn’t lingered to eavesdrop.

Then he said, “They cannot, Your Highness.”

“What!” yelped Raj. “What do you mean!”

“We have no such treaty arrangements with the lands to the east. Their border guard has refused to grant our soldiers passage.”

...

“But–but–letters! Yes, a letter to the prince of Clarines.” 

Sakaki bowed. “A messenger was dispatched this morning.” 

“Ah–ah, good. Then…” Raj began to pace. 

...

On the third turn, he stopped and snapped his fingers. “I have it! The Lions! Fetch my writing desk — I will write to…” 

He trailed off. Sakaki hadn’t moved. 

“Already done?” Raj asked faintly. 

Sakaki nodded.

...

Raj’s shoulders slumped, his energy melting away. “Then you mean—”

Sakaki lifted his hands. 

“There is nothing to be done, Your Highness. We can only wait.”

[ronanception]

I was tagged by @candle-lion

RULES: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Send me an ask with the title that most intrigues you, and I’ll post a little snippet of it or tell you something about it.

I am not a writer* but it seems my imagination might have been tickled into a few WIPs

I have Considered the Lilies(unfinished)

Cutting floor

Francy

Russian Robin

Addams Family Ronance

also tagging @robins-raspberry-beret, @dufrau, and @eskawrites - no pressure per usual

[mossywizard]

I’m very lucky to have friends that press the autism button and accept the flood

[thegempage]

i'm gonna ramble in the tags real quick lmao

[visionsofmagic]

day 13: clark kent [aftercare]

࿓ synopsis • after having a rough session with clark, you let him take care of your exhausted body.

―❦ nsfw, kissing, soft!clark, after a rough sex, f!reader, pet names, confessing, cleaning, washing, watching, fluff, i's all! • 0.6k • couldn't publish sooner, but, here we are at least. enjoy! [kinktober m.]

"agh -" you say, moaning lowly, in pain that comes from your sensitive clit as clark's fingers travel on it, cleaning you under the warm water.

“oh, baby,” he says, fingers stop for a moment, eyes scanning your face; furrowed brows, lips are getting a bite, hands hold him from the neck and chest as a source of cure and stability at the same time. “you okay? I can go slower if you want.”

he proposes as you sit on his lap, hugging him, and negatively shaking your head while one of his strong arms holds you from back so that you stay still, warm water waving from time to time as you move in sync.

sitting on the clean bathtub, you let clark take care of you after one of your roughest sex – you can see all the redness on your body which he left intentionally yet acting so innocent when he sees them, fingers caressing your soft skin gently as if he wasn’t the one who fucked you in different positions, earning a pathetic state out of you, nearly making you use the safe word because of how good he was fucking you and how much you wanted it to end even though your actions told otherwise.

fear of fainting, you stopped when he got your fourth orgasm, then, cumming all over you as he cries in pleasure, confessing how you make him so weak that he loses mind whenever he has you beside him, under him, above him – in every way he can, he loves it, he loves you.

so it’s not a surprising thing when he picked you up from the messy bed after preparing the bathtub for you to wash and get clean, got into it, taking you into his arms, making you feel smaller yet quite peaceful, letting him do whatever he wants to do to get you cleaned up, ready to rest on the bed you are sharing with him beside you.

he said sorry over and over again until you said it was okay – that you enjoyed every bit of it because you missed him as much as he missed you.

fingers gripping your chin, he makes you look at his shining blue eyes – your own reflection on them. he smiles widely, fingers moving to your hair, caressing it gently, still having that precious expression on his face, looking like a greek god yet feeling so human – one of his kind, always.

“you have no idea how much I missed you,” he says, now taking warm water on his palm, then, cleaning your naked body within it – he seems to have guilt because of what he has done to you; biting marks as he claimed you shine brightly, red marks on your waist is visible due to holding you tightly as he shoved his cock into you, the neck has pink colors because how he held it, pushing your face onto the pillow so that you could moan as much as you wanted while he had you from behind.

all because of him.

he would never hurt you, he didn’t either, yet, he seems a bit sorry. however, you know he also has prideful feelings, so, you smile softly, resting your head on his wide shoulders, saying, “they all will heal, don’t feel sorry – it was so good that I can’t wait to get better and do all those things again.”

he chuckles, kissing your forehead, and then, your whole face, “then get better soon because there are lots of things that I want to do to you, my prettiest girl.” with that, he kisses you one more time. he cleans you, drying you with the softest towel, changes the sheets, and puts you on the fresh bed, taking his side beside you – hugging you, he watches how peaceful your face looks, smiling down at you, and sleeping as he has you close enough to himself – he knows he should leave soon enough yet being with you seems as the right thing to do. he missed you so much after all – the world can wait a bit longer.

[aemnd]

𝓇.cameron. ┆ angel face.

◟ ㅤᡣ𐭩ㅤㅤ ݁.﹒ my mama is back home. !!! ᠀𓏲 even tho i'm gonna be her main caregiver now & i'm moving in less than two weeks, i'll hopefully be publishing more stuff for u angels. ♡ྀི

"y'like this, angel?" rafe coos softly, sounding sickeningly sweet against your sweet smelling neck, inhaling that addicting vanilla-scented perfumè you're always wearing, making his cock throb against his left thigh, hanging bare and heavy, dripping with small beads of pre-cum.

you nod eagerly, squealing as rafe begins pumping his long, calloused finger faster and harder inside of your weepy little cunt, adding another and stuffing it inside swiftly, making you mewl and release a breathy, high-pitched and feminine squeak at the sudden stretch.

"awh, is it too much for you, baby?" rafe teases mockingly, pressing sloppy, open-mouthed kisses all across your neck, sucking the occasional claiming mark, his kiss-swollen lips trailing down to suck on the tops of your bare breasts.

"i know, baby… i know," rafe murmurs against your soft skin, before taking a puffy, perky little nipple into his mouth, suckling for a few moments, both of your nipples already swollen from rafe toying with them earlier, pinching and plucking them, making you moan so prettily for him.

"just need dad's cock, huh?" he croons, his voice darkening and sounding more gruff by the second, needing to be inside of you as soon as possible—no, he needed you now, right fucking now.

"it's okay, babydoll—daddy's gonna give his pretty girl what she wants, yeah?" he continues to ramble mostly to himself, quickly releasing the one nipple he was sucking on by swiftly moving down for a second, flattening his tongue completely and licking a stripe up your soaking pussy, needing another taste.

"fuck, this pussy... it's all mine," he growls, already lining himself up as he moves to settle more comfortably between your plush, spread thighs, so silkily smooth and smelling of your strawberry shortcake body lotion.

without waiting a moment longer, he gives his hardened cock a small squeeze, pumping it twice quickly, growing more impatient by the second, before gripping himself by the base and lining himself up with your dribbling hole, all wet and sloppy from rafe eating your sweet little cunny just minutes ago.

"you ready f'me, baby?" he asks, already rubbing his leaking tip up and down your glossy slit, before pushing inside of you without waiting for a verbal response, already seeing the look you're giving him with your big, doe-like eyes, all misty and begging to be fucked.

without missing a beat, or allowing you a moment to adjust, rafe continues pushing his cock all the way inside until he bottoms out, before beginning a frantic, nearly animalistic, but steady pace, watching the way tears are already streaming down your flushed cheeks, little moans escaping you.

"that's my girl, taking daddy's dick like such a good girl—fuck, you feel so fucking good wrapped around me," rafe grunts, practically pounding you into his bed, not caring if his father or sisters hear—rafe needs you, needs to fuck you, and if you didn't know any better, you'd think he was just as desperate for you as you're for him.

"yea, yes... daddy!" you mewl sweetly, breath hitching, your tits bouncing with every brutal thrust from rafe, but you don't mind, you loved when rafe used you like his own personal little fucktoy.

"that's it, baby," rafe puffs out, nearly breathless, panting and growing sweatier by the minute, feeling your perfect cunt squeezing him so tightly, he honestly thought he would blow his load any moment now.

"fuckfuckfuck—shit, baby, such a good little slut f'me," rafe groans lowly, pressing his face into the crook of your neck, sloppily kissing your already marked up neck, nipping and sucking and licking any inch of skin that he could reach.

"that's it... juuust like that," rafe croons into your ear, feeling your pussy quivering, knowing you're about to come for him any second now, hearing your small wails and whimpers, before he lifts his head and presses his lips against yours, tasting your cotton candy lipgloss, his tongue practically down your throat as he kisses you messily, passionately, possessively—like he's marking his territory over you.

and then, then, you feel it, your back arching and you're coming with a muffled, girlish cry that's swallowed by rafe's mouth, making him blow his load not a second later as he reaches down with one big hand and starts to give your little buzzing clit tiny, light slaps, making you squeak and try to squirm away from the overstimulation, from him.

"no, no," rafe says sternly, this time slapping your clit harshly and making you cry out once again, releasing a breathless chuckle after, his lips still connected to yours, your mixed salivas making both of your lips and chins shiny, but neither of you care—rafe likes seeing you like this, all fucked out, so weepy and submissive for him whenever he gives you a good, long, and hard fucking.

perhaps, just maybe, that's why he doesn't bat an eye at your small wail of protest when he shoots his load deeply inside of you, hearing your whiny complaints—but rafe doesn't give a fuck, you're his, and you'll always be his.

[flwrstqr]

— HOW TO LOSE A GUY IN 10 DAYS (LHS - 이희승)

SYNOPSIS ! an advice writer, you, starts on a bold new project for an article aiming to explain how to drive a man away in just 10 days. your editor is supports, so you set out to find a suitable man for her experiment. meanwhile, executive heeseung is equally confident in his ability to make any woman fall in love with him within 10 days. when you and heeseung cross paths, things slightly go off plan.

THE CAST heeseung x writer! fem reader

GENRE s2l, fluff, comedy, romance

WORD COUNT 5k+

WARNINGS parties, kissing, small grammar errors, yn kind of playing with heeseung at first, swearing, angst, crying

DANi NOTEZ hii this is for my liz's new event!!! this i based the rom com, how to lose a guy in 10 days. i kind of changed up scenes but the main idea and plot is based on the iconic 2000s movie. i've been writing this for abt 2-3 days? i thought it was good enough for liz' event so here i am. anyways i hope u enjoy it ><

BEING A WRITER HAS BEEN YOUR NUMBER ONE GOAL EVER SINCE HIGH SCHOOL. Now, at age 23, you were finally standing at the gates of the biggest magazine company ever. The sight alone sent chills down your spine, filling you with exhilaration.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed open the doors and stepped inside. The bustling activity, the hum of the printer, and the aroma of bitter coffee greeted you. You made your way to the elevator and anxiously pressed the button for the 17th floor.

Upon arrival, you awkwardly walked into the office. Your heart was pounding, and your knees were slightly shaking. You approached the manager's office and opened the door, finding yourself sitting in front of your section's main manager.

"YN LN?" the woman asked.

"Yes, ma'am," you replied stiffly, nerves evident in your voice.

"Welcome to our magazine company," she greeted, shaking your sweaty hand.

"Thank you," you responded with your usual sweet smile.

"Well, why don't you get to work?" she laughed. Your eyes widened, and you quickly stammered an apology, rushing to find your new desk and start brainstorming ideas.

For nearly two hours, you gazed out the window, feeling empty. No ideas were coming to you. It always seemed that the best ideas came at the worst times, and now, when you needed them most, your mind was blank.

"YN, just think…" you whispered to yourself, running your fingers through your hair. You glanced around the office, hoping for inspiration. Your eyes settled on a young man and woman engaged in a flirtatious conversation. Watching them smile and laugh together made you wonder if they were a couple or just interested in each other. (happy couples really did give you an ick.)

Then, it happened. The perfect idea. An idea that could possibly get you promoted and shake the whole world.

Quickly scribbling on your paper, the title snapped into your mind: "How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days."

YOU MIGHT BE WONDERING, how do you even lose a guy in 10 days? Easy—just find a guy and drive him away by doing stereotypical “girl things.” Sounds like a piece of cake, right?

“YN, that is one of the BEST ideas I’ve ever heard!” your editor, Yeseo, exclaims.

“Really?” you ask, eagerly smiling.

“It’s perfect! It would catch everyone’s attention!” Yeseo explains, her eyes lighting up as she imagines the situation.

“So, how are you going to write this?” Yeseo raises an eyebrow.

“I’ll try it out myself and document my experiences. That way, it’s more authentic,” you shrug.

“That sounds great. Just journal your experiences each day,” Yeseo nods, agreeing with your plan. “I’m so excited to see the final product, YN. Email me once you’re finished, and we’ll get it published within weeks.”

You give her a quick smile before leaving her office, ready to start your new adventure.

PARTIES. USUALLY ONE OF THE THINGS YOU ABSOLUTELY HATED. The noise of couples kissing, people screaming, and music blasting through the speakers was just not your thing. The way sweaty bodies brush against each other as they chug alcohol. Parties are truly the thing you hate the most.

“So you’re telling me your new article for the magazine is about how to get a boy to dump you in 10 days?” Karina raised her eyebrow.

“In other words, yes,” you smiled. “I mean, what’s the worst that can happen?”

“Possibly it not working,” Giselle interjected.

“Well, it will. I’ve planned the whole thing,” you grinned with a hint of pride. “My editor was impressed. I’m sure it’ll work.”

“If you say so,” Karina laughed at your confidence.

“So basically, YN will get a boyfriend before me?” Ningning asked, shocked.

“Well, he’s not gonna be my boyfriend. He’s more like a test,” you replied uncertainty. As you continued to explain your plan, you felt a gaze fixed on you from across the room.

A FEW MINUTES BEFORE

“I bet you can’t get a girlfriend,” Jake joked.

“I can,” Heeseung rolled his eyes.

“Wanna bet on it, then?” Jake's eyes glinted with playfulness.

“Deal,” Heeseung confirmed.

“If you get that girl over there as your girlfriend, then I’ll give you a thousand dollars.” Jake smirked, pointing at you across the room.

“Her?” Heeseung raised his eyebrow as he checked you out. You were pretty to his eyes, though he wasn’t sure if he had the courage to approach you.

“Yup, her,” Jake grinned.

“Deal, I’ll have her in my arms within a day,” Heeseung winked before walking over to ask for your number.

NOW

“No way my plan will fail–” your voice stopped as Heeseung approached, tapping your shoulder lightly.

“Hi,” he greeted you with a welcoming smile.

“Uh, hi?” you replied, confused.

“You’re kind of cute. Can I get your number?” Heeseung asked, the words not quite rolling off his tongue as he had never done this before.

Your cheeks burned slightly as you stared. “Sure?” He was quite cute, with his sweet smile and perfectly styled hair. You gave him your number, and he mentioned he would text you later before walking off.

“YN, you know what that means?” Giselle raised her eyebrow.

“Huh?” you looked confused.

“You can use him as your test,” Winter recalled. Your eyes then widened. Perfect! He would be the perfect subject for your new article. Now, how were you going to make him yours?

YOU SIT ON YOUR BED, staring at your phone, debating whether to text Heeseung first. Your fingers hover over the keyboard, a mixture of nervousness and excitement bubbling inside you. Finally, you take a deep breath and type out a message.

YN: Hi, it’s YN. We met at the party earlier, you asked for my number. :)

You hit send and immediately feel a rush of anxiety. What if he doesn’t respond? What if he thinks you’re weird? You try to distract yourself by scrolling through social media, but the minutes feel like hours. Suddenly, your phone buzzes.

Heeseung: Hey, of course I remember. How's your night going? 

YN: It’s going good, just relaxing now. How about you?

Heeseung: Same here. Just got home. That party was a bit too much for me, tbh

You smile, feeling a little more at ease.

YN: Agreed, not rlly a party person lmao

Heeseung: Really? Me neither. I actually prefer a quiet night with some good music.

YN: Same, what kind of music do you like?

Heeseung: I listen to a lot like R&B and indie ig

YN: oh rlly? Same w me 

Heeseung: oh that’s cool

Heeseung: also wanna meet up one day?

YN: That would be amazing. I’m totally up for it.

Heeseung: Cool, it’s a date then. :)

You can’t help but smile at his message, feeling a flutter of excitement.

YN: Sounds like a plan.

Heeseung: It’s getting late. I should probably get some sleep. But I’m glad we got to talk tonight.

YN: Me too. Sleep well, Heeseung. Talk to you tomorrow?

Heeseung: Definitely. Goodnight, YN. :)

You set your phone down, a smile still on your face. This might just be the start of something interesting.

YOU TAKE A DEEP BREATH, smoothing out your outfit one last time before stepping into the restaurant. Heeseung is already there, waiting at a table near the window. He spots you and waves, a warm smile spreading across his face. You give a small smile back. 

“Hi,” you greet him as you sit down.

“Hey,” he replies, “You look great.”

“Thanks, you too.”

The waiter comes over to take your orders, and there’s a moment of awkward silence as you both look at the menus.

“So, uh, do you come here often?” Heeseung asks, attempting to break the ice.

“Actually, it’s my first time,” you admit.

“I see,” Heeseung awkwardly laughs. 

AFTER DINNER, you both step outside into the cool evening air, feeling more comfortable in each other’s presence.

“That was really nice,” Heeseung says, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“Yeah, it was,” you agree, feeling a sense of relief that the awkwardness from earlier has faded.

You walk side by side down the quiet street, enjoying the peaceful atmosphere.

“Do you live far from here?” Heeseung asks, breaking the silence.

“Not too far. Just a few blocks away,” you reply, glancing at him.

“Oh I see,” he says, smiling.

As you continued walking, the two of you began to chatter off. The conversation flows effortlessly, and you find yourself laughing at his jokes and sharing your own stories.

“Did you see the sunset earlier?” Heeseung asks, pointing to the sky, which is now painted with shades of orange and pink.

“Yeah, it was beautiful,” you say, smiling at the sight.

“I had a really good time tonight,” Heeseung says, looking at you with a soft smile.

“Me too,” you reply, feeling a warmth spread through you.

As you reach your street, you both come to a stop.

“Well, I guess this is where we part ways,” Heeseung says, looking a little reluctant to leave.

“Yeah,” you say, feeling a twinge of disappointment.

“Thanks for tonight, YN. I had a great time,” he says, stepping closer to you, “Maybe another time we can hang out again.” 

“Thank you too, Heeseung. That sounds great,” you reply, feeling a rush of happiness.

 YOU DECIDE IT'S TIME TO PUT YOUR PLAN INTO ACTION. You’ve thought through every detail, determined to see if your article concept works in real life. Step one: find an ugly dog and some hideous clothes. You’ve got the perfect ideas in mind.

You meet Heeseung outside his apartment, holding a small, scruffy dog with a face only its owner could love. You flash him a bright smile as he opens the door.

“Surprise!” you exclaim. “I got us a dog!”

Heeseung’s eyes widen as he takes in the sight of the dog. “Uh, wow, YN. That’s…unexpected.”

“Isn’t he adorable?” you gush, ignoring the bewilderment on Heeseung’s face. “I named him Snuggles.”

“Snuggles, huh?” Heeseung says, trying to muster enthusiasm. “Yeah, he’s…something.”

You place Snuggles in Heeseung’s arms, watching as the dog licks his face with an enthusiastic, slobbery tongue. Heeseung grimaces slightly but manages a strained smile.

“Let’s take him for a walk,” you suggest brightly, grabbing a garishly colored leash from your bag.

Later that evening, you bring out the next part of your plan: an outfit so hideous that it should be impossible for Heeseung to bear. You hand him a neon green tracksuit with orange polka dots and a pair of mismatched shoes.

“I thought we could match!” you say, revealing your identical outfit. “Isn’t it fun?”

Heeseung looks at the clothes, then back at you, clearly unsure how to respond. “Wow, YN. This is…unique.”

“You don’t like it?” you ask, pouting slightly.

“No, no, it’s great,” he says quickly. “I’ll just, uh, go change.”

When he returns, you both look like you’ve stepped out of a bad 80s workout video. You can’t help but laugh at the absurdity, but Heeseung seems to be struggling to keep a straight face.

“Let’s go grab dinner,” you say, linking your arm with his. “I made reservations at that fancy restaurant downtown.”

At the restaurant, the two of you turn heads as you walk in, dressed in your eye-searing outfits. The hostess tries to maintain her professionalism as she leads you to your table, but you can see the corners of her mouth twitching.

Throughout dinner, you do your best to be as irritating as possible. You chew with your mouth open, talk loudly, and insist on ordering the strangest items on the menu.

“Are you sure you want the pizza?” Heeseung asks, a note of disbelief in his voice.

“Absolutely,” you reply, grinning. “And I think you should try it too!”

Heeseung hesitates but eventually nods. “Sure, why not?” 

Here you were, sitting on your bed as you write your story. Typing away and zoning out, it had to be working right? He obviously would be over you by next week. All you needed was one more shove to drive him away soon as possible. Just 5 more days..

YOU PUSH YOUR CART THROUGH the aisles of the grocery store, scanning the shelves for the items on your list. As you reach for a box of cereal, you hear a familiar voice behind you.

“YN?”

You turn to see Heeseung approaching, a smile lighting up his face. “Oh, hi Heeseung,” you say with a smile.

“Nice to see you here,” he says, falling into step beside you.

“Yeah, I just needed to grab a few things,” you reply, feeling a bit flustered by his presence.

Heeseung nods, and for a moment, there’s an awkward silence as you both continue browsing. Suddenly, you realize you can’t reach the item you need on the top shelf.

“Um, Heeseung, do you think you could help me with something?” you ask, feeling a bit embarrassed.

“Of course, what do you need?” he replies, stepping closer.

“I just need to grab that box up there,” you say, pointing to the top shelf.

“Sure thing,” Heeseung says, reaching up to grab the box.

But as he stretches, you accidentally bump into him, causing him to lose his balance. In a split second, you reach out to steady him, but instead, you end up stumbling backward, crashing to the ground on top of him. Your face merely inches from each other. 

“I’m sorry about that!” you exclaim, your face burning with embarrassment.

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it,” he says, his cheeks also flushed as he helps you up.

“Um, we should probably get up,” you say, feeling flustered.

“Yeah, definitely,” Heeseung agrees, scrambling to his feet.

You both straighten your clothes and try to regain your composure, but the awkwardness lingers in the air.

“Well, um, thanks for trying to help,” you say, feeling a bit embarrassed.

“Anytime,” Heeseung replies with a sheepish smile. You exchange a quick awkward glance before awkwardly walking back to do your own things.

YOU AND HEESEUNG STEP INTO THE DIMLY LIT MOVIE THEATER, the smell of popcorn filling the air. You’ve been looking forward to this night out, hoping it will help end your plan to drive him away. As you settle into your seats, the lights dim, and the movie begins.

The film is a romantic comedy, and as the story unfolds, you find yourself getting lost in the plot. But when the characters share a kiss on screen, you feel a sudden tension between you and Heeseung.

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, and you can see that he’s watching you, his expression unreadable. You both look away awkwardly, feeling a flush of embarrassment.

As the movie progresses, the tension between you only grows. You can feel Heeseung’s eyes on you, and you struggle to focus on the screen, your heart pounding in your chest.

Suddenly, as another kiss happens, Heeseung leans in closer to you. You freeze, unsure of what to do. Is he going to kiss you? But then, almost as if on cue, Heeseung leans in closer, his lips hovering just inches from yours. His breath mingles with yours, his warm exhales tickling your skin as he leans in, his lips drawing closer to yours. You can feel the gentle brush of his breath against your mouth, sending shivers down your spine. 

Your heart pounds in your chest as you feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. And then, in a heartbeat, he closes the gap between you, his lips pressing softly against yours. It’s a gentle kiss, but hesitant at first, but soon it deepens. You can’t help but respond, your hands finding their way to his shoulders.

You melt into the kiss, losing yourself in the sensation of his lips against yours.  When you finally pull away, your heart is racing, and your mind is buzzing with emotions. You meet Heeseung’s gaze, and you can see the same uncertainty reflected in his eyes.

“Wow,” he whispers, his voice barely audible over the sound of the movie.

“Yeah,” you murmur, at a loss for words.

As the movie comes to an end, you both sit in silence, the weight of what just happened hanging in the air. But despite the awkwardness, you can’t shake the feeling that something has shifted between you.

As you leave the theater, you can’t help but replay the kiss in your mind, feeling a sense of warmth and longing that you can’t ignore. And as you walk hand in hand with Heeseung, you realize with a start that maybe, just maybe, you’re falling in love.

AS YOU LIE IN BED THAT NIGHT, the events of the evening replay in your mind. The gentle touch of Heeseung's lips against yours, the warmth of his embrace—it all stuck in your head. 

You stare up at the ceiling, think to yourself.  Love? It's a word you're not ready to utter, a feeling too intense to comprehend. You try to push the thought aside. 

You roll onto your side, pulling the covers tighter around you. You couldn’t be in love? All that effort you put in to get rid of him. It was your 8th day, just two more days. You couldn’t do it anymore. As you drift off to sleep, the question echoes in your mind. Are you falling in love with Heeseung? 

THE REALIZATION HITS YOU like a ton of bricks, leaving you feeling breathless. Could it be true? Are you actually falling in love with Heeseung?

The thought consumes you as you go about your day. By the time evening arrives, you can't shake the feeling that you needed to end it.

Summoning every ounce of courage, you pick up your phone and dial your editor's number. When she answers, you get yourself together for the conversation ahead.

"Hey, it's me," you begin, "I need to talk to you about the article."

There's a pause on the other end of the line, and you can almost hear the curiosity in her voice as she responds. "Sure, what's up?"

"I… I can't write it," you admit, the words feeling like a confession. "I just don't feel right about it anymore."

There's a moment of silence before your editor speaks again, her tone firm."No, you're writing it," she says, leaving no room for argument.

"But—" you start to protest, but she cuts you off before you can continue.

"No buts," she insists. "We've already agreed on the topic, and you're the best person for the job. I expect to see the first draft on my desk by the end of the week."

You sigh, feeling defeated. It's clear that your editor isn't going to budge on this issue, and you know that arguing further would be a waste.

"Okay," you say reluctantly, resigning yourself to the task at hand. "I'll get it done."

AS YOU SIT ON YOUR COUCH, trying to make sense of everything that's happened, until you hear Heeseung pick up a call. 

“ Heeseung!" Jake's voice crackles through the phone, filled with excitement. "So, have you sealed the deal yet? Win YN over?"

Your heart skips a beat at the mention of your name and you instinctively lean in closer, eager to hear his response. But as you listen, the color drains from your face, and a cold dread settles in the pit of your stomach.

"The bet that I could get YN in 10 days?," Heeseung's voice comes through the phone, his words cutting through the air, "I thought I could, but…" 

Your heart shatters. Your knees started to shake. How could you have been so blind? How could you have let yourself fall for someone who was playing a game with your feelings?

Before you can hear the rest of his sentence, you leave the room silently. "I thought I could, but…" The words replay in your head.As the reality sinks in, you realize that you may have just broken your own heart, listening in on a conversation that was never meant for your ears.  He played with you. He was using you. You feel like a fool, blindsided by the truth that's been staring you in the face all along. 

You walk yourself to the nearest taxi before coming back to your empty apartment. You lie on bed, your palms on your eyes, sobbing quietly. Why should you care? I mean he was just an experiment — right? 

THE MORNING SUNLIGHT FILTERS through the curtains as you sit on your bed, thoughts rushing through your mind. The wounds from last night were still raw, as you feel tired and sick. You kew what you have to do. You began to type your last paragraph of the article before submitting it to your editor. 

With the article sent, you feel a mix of anxiety and relief. You know the revised piece is honest and raw, reflecting your own experience. But there’s one more thing you need to do to truly move forward.

To: Editor Yeseo

Subject: Resignation Letter

Dear Yeseo,

I am writing to formally resign from my position as a writer, effective immediately. I appreciate the opportunities I have had here and the support from the team, but I must prioritize my well-being at this time.

Thank you for your understanding.

Sincerely, YN

You hit send, feeling an overwhelming amount of pain. Being a writer had been your dream job, but now, it feels like a chapter you need to close. As you sit in your now-quiet apartment, you feel a pang of sadness. The memories of the past few weeks with Heeseung linger, but you push them aside. 

You start with your closet, pulling out clothes and sorting them into piles: keep, donate, and toss. You take down the photos and posters from the walls, each one a reminder of the life you’re leaving behind.

Next, you move to the kitchen, packing up dishes, utensils, and small appliances. You wrap everything carefully, methodically, as if each item represents a piece of your heart that you’re trying to protect. 

Your phone buzzes with messages from Heeseung, but you ignore them. Making them be left on delivered. You move to the living room, packing up books, DVDs, and mementos. You’re not just packing up your belongings; you’re packing up your old life, preparing to move on and start new.

IN HIS DIMLY LIT APARTMENT, Heeseung sits on the edge of his bed, the glow of his laptop screen casting shadows across his face. His heart pounds in his chest as he opens the email attachment—a document titled "How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days—And Fall in Love in the Process" by [Your Name].

As the page loads, he takes a deep breath, steeling himself for what he's about to read. The cursor hovers over the first paragraph, and with a trembling hand, he begins to scroll down. 

Heeseung sits at his desk, his heart pounding in his chest as he reads the article that has just landed in his inbox. With each word, his emotions spiral into a whirlwind of confusion and disbelief.

"When I set out to write this article..."

He reads the opening sentence, his brow furrowing in confusion. What article is this? And why does it sound so familiar?

As he continues to read, the pieces start to fall into place. The description of the article, the unexpected turn of events—it's all too familiar, too painful to ignore.

"I met someone who was supposed to be just a test subject..."

Heeseung's breath catches in his throat as he realizes what he's reading. This is about him. About the bet, about the article he overheard, about everything.

He reads on, his heart pounding louder with each passing sentence:

When I set out to write this article, the plan was simple: follow a set of steps to make a guy dump me in ten days. It was supposed to be a fun, light-hearted challenge—a piece to entertain our readers. But life, as it often does, had other plans.

I met someone who was supposed to be just a test subject. But as the days went by, something unexpected happened. The more I tried to push him away, the closer we became. Every awkward moment, every forced argument, every silly plan to drive him away only brought us closer together.

I found myself laughing at his jokes, looking forward to our time together, and, against all odds, feeling a connection I hadn't anticipated. What started as a challenge turned into a journey of discovery—not just about him, but about myself.

I realized that love isn't something you can plan or control. It sneaks up on you when you least expect it, breaking down the walls you've carefully built around your heart. And sometimes, the person you're trying to lose ends up being the one you can't imagine living without.

So, dear readers, this isn't the article I set out to write. It's not about foolproof ways to make a guy dump you. Instead, it's a story about how, in the process of trying to push someone away, I found myself falling in love. It's messy, it's unexpected, and it's beautiful.

Life has a funny way of turning our plans upside down. And sometimes, the best stories are the ones we never meant to write.

He closes the magazine, his mind spinning with thoughts of you. He knows he needs to find you, to talk to you, to tell you how he feels. He can't let this opportunity slip away, can't let the chance to be with you slip through his fingers.

With a sense of determination, Heeseung rises from his seat, his heart pounding in his chest. He knows he has to find you, to tell you how he feels, to see if maybe, just maybe, you feel the same way too.

HEESEUNG'S HEART RACES AS HE RUSHES THROUGH THE STREETS, his mind consumed with thoughts of you. He knows he needs to find you, to talk to you, to tell you everything.

As he rounds the corner, he sees your apartment building looming ahead. His steps quicken, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. He's so close now, so close to finally telling you how he feels.

But as he reaches your building, his heart sinks at the sight before him. He sees movers loading boxes into a truck parked outside, and he realizes with a sinking feeling that you're moving away.

Heeseung's chest tightens with panic, his mind racing as he searches for a solution. He can't let you slip away, can't let this chance to be with you slip through his fingers. He rushes toward the building, his thoughts jumbled all up. 

As he bursts through the door, he sees you standing in the hallway, a suitcase at your feet, tears streaming down your face. His heart breaks at the sight of your sadness, and he knows he needs to act fast.

"Y/N!" he calls out, his voice echoing through the empty hallway. You turn to face him, your eyes widening in surprise at the sight of him standing there.

"Heeseung?" you whisper, your voice trembling with emotion. "What are you doing here?"

Heeseung takes a deep breath, steeling himself for what he's about to say. "I need to talk to you," he says, his voice filled with urgency. "There's something I need to tell you, something I should have told you a long time ago."

He steps closer to you, his eyes never leaving yours. "I was part of the bet," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "But it was never about winning a thousand dollars or proving anything to Jake. It was about proving something to myself—to prove that I could be the kind of guy who deserves someone like you."

Tears well up in your eyes as you listen to his confession, your heart aching with a mix of sadness and hope. "Heeseung…" you whisper, reaching out to touch his hand.

But Heeseung doesn't wait for you to say anything more. With a surge of courage, he leans in and presses his lips to yours, pouring all of his love and longing into the kiss. 

As Heeseung's lips meet yours in that soft, tender kiss, his hands gently find their way to your waist, pulling you closer to him.

You feel the heat of his body against yours, the closeness intensifying the sensation of his lips moving against yours. His touch is gentle yet possessive, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin as if memorizing every curve of your body.

You pull away, staring and laughing for a moment. 

"I love you," you whisper softly. 

"I love you more," he smiles back, quietly leaning his forehead against yours to quickly catch his lips on yours again. Maybe writing that article wasn't so bad after all.

[cordeliawhohung]

Going off of him calling reader his wife, Ps! Gaz whose highest rated video with his favorite girl is a "Honeymoon" night concept where it's basically a really romantic lovemaking video.

Their natural chemistry is perfect and the romance feels real; they even joke around a little and take things slow.

And that vid is what confirms for the fans that there's something going on between them that goes beyond the cameras.

- 🦴

part 237423849 of kore writing a drabble/one shot when she probably shouldn't have. not edited because my brain is fried? idk save me, pornstar!gaz, save me

It's late into the night when your phone screen illuminates your face.

A sleepless night quickly plagues you with a wandering mind that won't let go of the images that still haunt you from your last shoot with Kyle. The two of you have filmed countless times together, but there's something about this most recent one that refuses to let go of your mind. It overwhelms you so much that you've got your studio's porn site on your phone at nearly one in the morning. 

Usually, you hate watching the videos you perform in. It crosses an odd sort of boundary in your mind that makes you feel disgusted with yourself, but you can't help but watch the one you filmed with Kyle titled "Honeymoon Getaway." Before the video even starts, you notice the ratings. Tens of thousands of people have watched the video already, and it was only edited and published five days ago. The ratings are all positive, thousands of thumbs ups and bookmarks.

Your teeth sink into your lip once the video starts. Both you and Kyle are dressed in your "wedding" attire; a well fitted suit with the jacket removed for him, and a white slip that covers your bridal lingerie for you. It's... sensual. The way he kisses you. And really fucking weird watching it from a third person perspective. You vividly remember his breath against your face and the way his hand caressed your cheek, but it's not what you're looking for, so you skip ahead. 

When the video loads the next portion, Kyle's face is buried in your cunt. The angle they filmed it at is nothing compared to the view you had in real life. The way he kissed the side of your knee, keeping eye contact with you for as long as he could as he kissed all the way down your thigh until his tongue was on your clit… it’s a sensation that ghosts along the inside of your legs even as you lay there in bed. 

But the video? Fuck, it’s terrible. Focusing more on the side view, obscuring his pretty face with your thigh. At this point, you’re ready to take the camera and film everything from a first person point of view next time you film with Kyle. 

But that’s besides the point. You’re looking for something else. 

Once again, you skip ahead and the sound of your laughter emanates from the speakers on your phone. Kyle, who had been hovering over your body, had quickly rolled you on top of him, switching your spots. It was done so effortlessly, and you try your best not to gawk at the way his muscles flex as you straddle him.

"Kyle," your voice whines over the speakers.

"Better view this way," is all he responds.

You hate it. Hate the way he makes your stomach churn just from a video alone. It almost churns worse than it did when you were really filming with him, pretending to be love-struck newlyweds fucking one another in an expensive hotel room.

You skip forward again, a significant distance this time, and Kyle has you pinned to the bed on your back. With his hands underneath your knees, you're nearly kissing them as he ruts into you. You try not to pay too much attention as the camera pans to a view of your cunt sucking him in like the good little wife you pretended to be.

Luckily, you're not stuck watching it for too long before the film shoots over Kyle's shoulders, showcasing the way your tits bounce at his relentless pace. You grimace when they zoom in, but it's not much longer before you finally find what you were searching for.

"My sweet wife. I love you so fuckin' much."

You sit up straight the moment you find it, and your fingers are scrambling to rewind so you can hear him again. The breathlessness of his voice, the lilt in his tone. It feels like gold on your ears, yet it has your heart shredding into pieces in your chest. It feels real. Too real.

But it can't last forever.

You pause the video, ceasing the sound of your moans and Kyle's fake confession. Everything spins around you when you look up from the screen and at the darkness of your room. Lonely. So fucking lonely and cold. You shake your head as you look back at your phone, and you decide to make the terrible mistake of sleuthing through the comments.

The idea of it all, was finding something that would turn you off so that you could forget it all and go back to sleep. And there were plenty of disgusting comments:

>> need a submissive wife like this

>> great tits

>> too soft with her. you need to learn to put your bitch in place the first night.

It should have been enough. You should have stopped there, but you don't. You can't stop scrolling, and scrolling, and scrolling. It's a vicious cycle that you can't stop, and you're stuck reading every single comment and speculation from anyone who still had living brain cells after jerking off to your video. Each and every one of them destroy you more than the last:

>> I feel like i'm ruining a special moment lmao

>> there's no way these two aren't together irl what the fuck

>> can't wait to see these two on OF together when they realize they don't want to fuck anyone else lol

>> nah, they really snuck in a whole crew on their actual honeymoon that's dedication

>> he sounds like he's about to cry when he says he loves her

You shut your phone off and fight the urge to toss it across the room as you slam yourself back against your mattress. All you want to do is sleep but your chest aches so furiously that it's all you can focus on. Everything feels so real with Kyle, and it's not fair that he's always out of your grasp. Always teasing you with the promise of fucking you off camera, of looking at you like you're the only woman in the world.

A tremble begins in your bottom lip as you shove your face into your pillow. Kyle Garrick is going to be the death of you, you're sure of it. Judging by the tears that soak your pillow that night, you know it's not going to be a kind death, either.

[1d1195]

Most V

Read Most here | ~5.8k words

From me: I've been waiting for this part for a REALLY long time.

Warnings: *drum roll* SMUT, semi-public, unprotected, really needy 18+ also, some pretty angsty chats (and more Lauren)

Summary: Harry has been dying for this date for three years. And all the answers it comes with. Even if he doesn't like some of them. She missed Harry. Plain and simple.

With Addie off the phone, she gazed at her reflection for a moment. The girls did an amazing job with her hair and makeup. She felt beautiful. Beautiful enough to be on a date with Harry. He was one of the only people she had ever been on a date with (as much as she did it, she didn’t consider third-wheeling with Addie and Carter actually dating; and knowing Harry was her soulmate put a damper on the memory of her dates with one of the only other guys she dated, Beau, in the ninth grade). It was simultaneously terrifying and wonderful.

The thought of him made the nerves return. Closing her eyes, she smoothed down the skirt of her dress. It was light green. Nearly matched Harry’s eyes, which was why she selected it. There was a slight V-cut at her neck and had fluttery sleeves at the top of her shoulders. Eleanor insisted it looked beautiful against her skin and the skirt cinched slightly at her waist accentuating her curves and then came to a ruffled hem that hit just above her knee. With a pair of wedged nude sandals, she tried to create the effect that her legs were longer, but she slightly felt like she was playing dress up and this was not a date she was meant to go on.

“I just need to jump,” she whispered to herself encouragingly.

The full effect had Harry’s jaw nearly unhinged to the floor as she entered the kitchen. Eleanor punched him in the arm to keep him from drooling. Sarah smiled excitedly. “You look beautiful.”

“Extremely,” Harry nodded in agreement, his eyes scanning her in a way that made her feel naked, but in a really good way. She blushed so cutely. It made Harry’s heart skip a beat.  “Ready?” He asked.

She nodded. Because for the first time in ages she felt so ready to go on a date. Eager. Utterly excited to be alone with someone. “Yes,” she smiled.

*

Dinner passed in a blur. Truly, he was only thinking about the way her smile looked so nice on her lips. How soft her hair framed around her face. The way her skin practically glowed and it was only amplified by the makeup that she decidedly did not need but it looked like she was doing the products a favor by wearing them on her beautiful face. He was only pretty sure they spoke. Chatted about a variety of things but he wasn’t sure he could recall them in detail if asked because he was so overwhelmed by the fact that he was with her, on a date. After all that time.

He suspected there was stuff about work and college. He did remember he told her at least twenty stories about Mrs. Peterson and seriously worried she was one of his best friends, now. She talked about Carter and Addie. Gave an update on her mum and how she enjoyed living closer to her aunt.

But all those details disappeared. He was on a date with her. A date with the love of his life after three years of not seeing her and it was so goddamn effortless to talk to her, make her laugh, and smile with her.

It felt so good he could have cried.

“What are y’going t’do when y’finish your degree?”

“Uh,” she sighed, and Harry sensed her worry almost immediately. Wished he hadn’t made her feel uneasy even a little. Even if it was natural to feel that way.

A little anxiety about her future career was new for her. For the first time in so many years, nervousness that wasn’t because she was worried about him or her love for Harry was a bit of a curve ball. She knew what she wanted, and she wanted it badly, but didn’t know if it would pan out the way she saw it in her mind. “I’m not totally sure, actually,” she admitted. “I’ve got an online portfolio of my work, and I’ve sent it to a ton of publishers, magazines, et cetera,” she took a deep breath. “I could be really stereotypical and just continue waitressing by night and writing by day,” she shrugged. It wasn’t a bad gig. But it wasn’t what she hoped for exactly.

“Someone is going t’pick you up. You are too brilliant t’not be,” he sounded so sure—because he was. If there was anything he believed in, it was her, her dreams, and ambitions. “S’nice it can be... remote, yeah? Let you travel and visit your mum and whatnot,” stay here. With me. He thought silently to himself.

She nodded. “Yeah... I guess. But... I think I’d want to stay here.”

For three years, his heart was not inside his chest. But now it was back, the veins and arteries reconnecting to the rest of his body. Literally putting life back in him. It thudded so loudly he could barely make out the sound of the restaurant around them as he smiled at her. “Good,” he nodded. “Good,” he repeated quietly, relief heavier in his tone.

After a brief protest from her, (and for the first time since she arrived home, he didn’t even look at her as he pushed her hand away) Harry paid and signed the receipt for their meal. Once her glass was nothing but ice, he looked at her expectantly. “D’you want t’get coffee?” He asked, his voice full of hope because he didn’t want the night to end. Not even a little.

She nodded. If the night never ended, she would be glad.

Harry ushered her out of the restaurant, and she held her hand out for his. He took it eagerly and marveled at how her fingers fit the spaces between his; it felt like they were supposed to be there, and his hand was empty, not complete without hers attached to it.

They made their way toward the coffee shop up the road. Holding hands like they had done hundreds of times before. They chatted about the weather. He complimented the way her hair had lighter streaks throughout. She looked good. So good. “Louis and I have been running in the morning,” she told him with a shrug. “I think the sun hits different parts of my hair when it’s up and gives me this highlight effect.”

Harry had no idea he had been running with her. “You have?” He asked. Jealousy flooded him. It wasn’t fair to either of them. It was stupid. But the surprise was genuine.

“Yeah... the first time I went out and I saw him, I chased after him because he didn’t want to talk to me. But I buttered him up with those muffins I—”

“Holy shit, y’made the oat muffins?” He asked in shock. Forget what he said. The jealousy was real. She blushed, feeling bad she let Louis’ secret slip.

“You hate him now, don’t you?”

“Immensely,” he squeezed her hand as she giggled. “Did y’make the blueberry ones or the cranberry ones?”

“Do you actually want that answer?”

“No,” he shook his head quickly. “You’re right.”

“I’ll make some extra,” she offered.

Harry was about to ask her about breakfast tomorrow, but his phone began vibrating in his pocket. It was a great effort and made him feel awful, but he looked at it because he had to. As expected, it was his boss. “M’sorry kitten. S’work. Do y’want t’go in and order?” She smiled, nodding encouragingly. “Tell Lauren I said hi,” he said pressing the phone to his ear and stepping away from the shop a few paces.

Of course, someone was having a family emergency and without a family of his own, Harry was always the first call for overtime and help. There were still hours before he would need to go in. It wasn’t ideal, but still gave him plenty of time to finish his date.

It was well worth getting no sleep if it meant he could spend more precious time with her. It was one thing he was never going to take advantage of ever again. Time with her was the most invaluable thing he had.

“Everything okay?” She asked, holding out a cup to him.

“Thank you. Yeah... jus’... gotta do the overnight at midnight.”

“Oof,” she frowned. Then, much to his delight and surprise, she slipped her hand right back into his, like three years of nothingness didn’t stretch between them. Like they held hands for the last eleven-hundred odd days, every day. “Is that hard?”

For a moment, Harry was speechless, breathless, unable to remember what her question was asking. But then he brought himself back to reality. Harry didn’t like sleeping much. It was where he saw her most. All those dreams of what could have been... so no. It wasn’t hard to do overnights because at least when he was dead tired in the mornings after his shift, he didn’t dream. Didn’t see her. But he didn’t want to make her feel bad. “M’used to it.”

“Well, we can head home if you want to get a couple hours of sleep in before—”

“Do y’want t’go home?” He asked immediately, cutting her off, frowning at the idea of ending their night so quickly.

“No!” She answered just as immediately. Then, with a pink color painting her cheeks, she cleared her throat. “Just... want to make sure you’re... okay.”

Now he dreaded it. The couple of hours that he had seemed like nothing. There was no way he would get all the questions he wanted answered out in the open. But he had to start somewhere. “M’fine. Promise. Do y’want t’jus’ drive around for a bit?”

Silently, she nodded. “Please.”

*

Something shifted as they got back in his car. He wasn’t sure what, but it was a feeling like something had changed in the short time he was on the phone. It was in her eyes, the spiral of anxiety that was beginning to surface from inside her.

It seemed utterly unfair, and he silently hoped she wouldn’t retreat into herself. The thoughts of her leaving like she did three years ago rolled in his head so frequently now that she was home, he had a whole new set of nightmares to keep him company when he did sleep at night.

But right now, she was still in his car, and he had questions to ask.

For the time being, he pointed out new details on road signs that had been fixed and renovations to things in town she couldn’t see from the outside. She asked polite questions but really, he was just wasting time. So finally, Harry went to the next town over. He pulled into a little spot off the side of the road that fit exactly one car and gave a great view of the town. It wasn’t a mountain by any stretch, but high enough to make them feel tall and important.

He imagined it was a popular spot for teens with new licenses to make out as well.

Not that that was his intention.

There was a pause in their conversation. Comfortable and quiet. Then as Harry was about to ask her another question, she bounced in surprise at the sound of fireworks decorating the sky in front of them. “Wow,” she laughed. “All for me?” She winked at him.

He laughed and nodded. “M-hmm, had it all planned,” he watched the sky for a bit but the most beautiful thing he had the pleasure of looking at was her. So, he turned to watch her enjoy the display. She looked so pretty, her face illuminating every few seconds with a different color from the sky. He missed her so viscerally. Like even the freckles on his skin missed her. Every inch of him was plagued with wanting her even though she was right next to him.

If she went silent on him, he was going to lose his mind.

It was now, or never.

“Why did y’do it?” He whispered.

“Do what?” She asked, frowning at his quiet tone.

He closed his eyes, gripped the steering wheel tight. She had to know what he was talking about. “Why did you leave?”

Her breath caught and Harry felt bad for catching her off guard. But she had to know this needed to be said, needed to be dealt with. “Harry,” she sighed, swallowed hard. She looked out the passenger window avoiding the fireworks. “You should just... enjoy the fireworks. This isn’t—”

“Kitten, I need t’know.”

“I know,” her head knocked against the glass. He could just make out her reflection, her pained expression. It was rude of him to press. But he had to keep going. “But we—”

He pressed anyway. “You have t’tell me. Y’jus’ show up after three years of nothing. It killed me.”

“I know,” she croaked. “God, Harry, I know.”

“So tell me,” he was practically begging. “Don’t y’think I deserve t’know? You were m’whole world, kitten. S’not fair of you—”

“Harry, I fucking know!” She clenched her hands into fists in her lap. He was being unfair. In the time they were together they never fought. What did sixteen- and seventeen-year-olds have to fight about? When she left it was just sad. They never argued. So asking her to do this in his car on their first date after so many years, so many days of sadness and heartache, was completely unfair of him.

“I was so lost, kitten,” he wasn’t fighting fair at all. Coaxing her to breaking even though he had every right to know. She didn’t want the night to end and she feared it would if she told him.

“Harry—”

“Please, kitten. Baby, I just want t’understand—”

She choked out an involuntary sob the moment he said baby. “Because you deserved more than me! Okay? You deserved so much more than me and you wouldn’t have let me go so I just left, alright? You deserved more. So much more than me.”

The fireworks seemed quiet after her explosion.

But it didn’t make any more sense to Harry than the very day she first said it. “What does that even mean?”

Clearly, he broke something in her. She cried, hard. Breaking his heart further. He felt like an asshole, but he desperately needed to know. Her pretty makeup was going to be ruined thanks to him. “I don’t know. I don’t know,” she covered her mouth with her hand and sobbed into the window.

At least he had an answer.

Now for the next question. “Why did y’come back?” There was no answer for that. Just her quiet sniffles filled the car. She dug into his glove compartment for a napkin to wipe her face. If Harry wasn't so upset, he would have marveled at how she knew where everything was; some things didn't change even if they had. “Kitten, tell me.”

“Harry,” she whimpered. “Please...”

But he was desperate for answers. Desperate to put his heart back together. “I needed to see...” she croaked, her voice dying part way through the sentence.

“See what?” He was exasperated.

“That you had...” she swallowed. “That you had moved on.”

He turned away from her briefly, face twisting in anguish. He shook his head then turned back to her. He put his hand on her shoulder, asking her to face him and look at him when he said the next part. “Moved on?” He repeated. The words didn’t make sense. “How was I supposed t’move on, exactly?”

She sobbed and Harry wanted nothing more than to comfort her. Hold her and kiss her. He wanted to promise it was going to be okay. The way he always did when she cried. But he couldn’t. He needed to know how she thought that it was possible to exist without her. “I thought if I—”

“You are my soulmate, kitten. You know that.”

She whimpered, cheeks flushed, and tears streamed down her face. It pained him to look at her so upset but he had to finish this. Now. “You don’t believe in soulmates,” she whispered. Almost as if she wasn’t talking to him.

“But you told me we were,” his voice was crystal clear, definitive. No room to persuade him of anything else. She was his soulmate. She believed in them, so it had to be true. He believed in her. So that was enough. Harry gripped the steering wheel for all he was worth. Gritted his teeth as he asked his next question. “Did you move on?” The question was lost to the fireworks and the sound of her cries. But she clearly caught some of it.

“...What?” She whispered, tilting her head at him at a strange angle. Like he just told her that the grass was orange and it rained flower petals.

He inhaled sharply realizing he was agonizing over the thought. How long had he been holding that question in his head? Why didn’t he ask it sooner? Well, he knew why he didn’t ask it sooner. A large part of him never wanted to know the answer. “Do you have a boyfriend? Or... a fiancé?”

“Harry,” she rubbed her hands into her eyes.

“Goddammit," he sucked in a deep breath. "Tell me!” His heart was breaking.

“I didn’t date anyone while I was gone. I told people that I, and my heart, were happily taken. It never even crossed my mind, Harry,” she looked at her lap and swallowed nervously.

The fireworks complimented their evening perfectly. He released the breath he was holding and the grip he had on the steering wheel. The feeling came back to his fingers. His knuckles returned to the right color. “You said y’were taken?” He asked, thinking of the same notion he told Mrs. Peterson whenever she wanted to set him up on a blind date. Her gaze returned to his, and she held it for a moment, still in complete silence. Then she nodded. Her sniffles subsided.

Then she snorted, shaking her head with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “A fiancé, Harry? That’s ridiculous.”

“S’not,” he didn’t smile like she did. It was so serious to him. Felt it in his bones how serious it was. “Because if y’thought I was going t’move on from you... I don’t know, kitten,” he shook his head.

“No,” she repeated. Relief flooded him further. “I couldn’t... I took this first aid class,” she swallowed. “You would be really proud of me,” she smiled more genuinely through tears that filled her lash line. “I thought about all the things you taught me yourself when you practiced first aid and whatnot. I knew so much stuff. I was the class pet—”

“Course y’were.”

“—but we practiced taping wrists and ankles and I had to work with this guy, and I thought he was going to kill me,” she sniffed but that smile never left her lips. “I flinched every time his hand touched mine. He probably thought I was in a horrible relationship and that’s why I was learning how to tape injuries. I couldn’t even tell him that it was the exact opposite because I couldn’t tell him about you.”

Harry was silent, watching the explosion of color against the dark sky.

“I thought you would have moved on,” she whispered.

“Y’got your mom t’leave. I couldn’t even ask ‘bout you. You stopped talking to all of us.”

“If it helps at all, it was really lonely. Even with Addie and Carter...” she shrugged.

It didn’t. The thought of her being sad and lonely felt about as painful as her leaving. He was so grateful she had a friend to look after her. Someone to confide in. Because she left a lot of people behind who loved her, but at least Harry had them to comfort him as best they could.

“I thought about you every day,” she whispered. “I’ve been thinking about writing our story. I’ve been outlining it... reliving every memory through it. Every painful thing. I think it’ll be a series and honestly, I think it will be really good because the ending will be sad, and no one will see it coming because we didn’t see it coming and—”

“Our book?”

She paused. “You were my favorite thing to write about.”

He shook his head. He knew that. It wasn’t a conceited kind of thing. She said it all the time and he knew it. “What do you mean a sad ending?”

Another pause. She closed her eyes and sighed. “You can’t possibly want me back.”

Another long pause. Harry mulled it over and he realized just how angry he was. What had he done wrong that she didn’t feel adored by him? Where had he messed up and not made her feel safe? Did he let go of her hand like when they were on the balcony the other day? It was too much for him. His grip tightened on the steering wheel again. “What is the matter with you?” He put his head on the steering wheel against his hands as he spit the words out. He hated arguing with her. He felt pulled in two directions to have this conversation and comfort her. It seemed impossible to do them both at the same time.

“Harry,” she frowned. “I’m—”

He shook his head and smacked his hands against the wheel as he sat back. “I am never going t’stop wanting you. Don’t you get that? There is no ending with us. There can’t be. I have been waiting for three years for you t’come back t’me. You’re here and y’think I’m jus’ supposed t’have move—”

She was kissing him.

Her lips covered his in a hungry kind of way. Raw, achy, and hot. She pulled away briefly, her breath short pants. Her hand at the back of his head, her fingers pulled and tightened snuggly against locks of his hair. Poor Harry was so surprised he didn’t fully grasp what was happening and forgot to kiss her back.

He hoped she didn’t think it was too late. Or too soon, maybe, for him to agree to this kind of thing. But he only let one additional second pass before his lips were back on hers. His hands held each side of her face pulling her close to him, awkwardly around the console.

She seemed to melt into the kiss, her whole body releasing a long breath that made her shoulders fall, her body sinking forward. Harry moaned quietly into her mouth. One hand slid from her face into the back of her perfectly styled hair. Within five more seconds he started to pull her over the console separating them. He heard the clunk of one of her shoes falling onto the floor. With one hand on the small of her back, he used his free hand to push the seat back to give her more room between his body and the steering wheel.

Harry wasn’t her first kiss. But the way it felt, he may as well have been. She wished he was. There was nothing better than kissing him. There was a familiar possessiveness in the mix of their lips and breath. It was like he was saying no one else was ever going to kiss her as well as he did. Softly, his tongue slid across the seam of her lips to get her to open further.

Harry knew she didn’t like lots of tongue in her kisses. Which was fine with Harry, a quick brush of her tongue against his was plenty and not the part he cared about much anyway. The way she sucked his lower lip into her mouth and traced it with her tongue nearly made him finish in his pants. Her lips were so sweet. Just like her. It was the most natural feeling in the world to kiss her. Like he kissed her yesterday, the day before, all last year, and every other day succeeding her departure. “God,” she whispered against his mouth.

“Hmm,” he hummed. His hands touched everywhere. Roamed along her sides and around her back, up her arms and cupped the sides of her neck. He wanted to touch her everywhere. It felt so good to hold her and the way she moaned made him assume she was enjoying it just as much. It had been ages since she had been touched and that was fine because she didn’t want anyone to touch her but Harry. His hands were warm and felt so good on her back. Even through her dress. Even though it was summer and very warm, she shivered and nuzzled closer. The car was too small and the space between them was too big. “Baby, can we—”

“Yes,” she whispered. It didn’t matter what he asked. She was a yes to anything he said. He groaned into her mouth and slid his hands between them, lifting the skirt of her dress just above her hips so everything was covered but easier to access.

“Kitten,” he moaned when she reached between them as well and fiddled with the button of his jeans. Why on earth would he have a condom? The thought of being with anyone else so intimately was laughable. “I don’t have—”

“I don’t care.”

He groaned again and kissed down the length of her neck, his tongue poking out to lick at the spots he kissed. She thought she was going to pass out, but she didn’t want to miss a second of this feeling. So, she refused to pass out. “I forgot,” he was breathless as he shifted trying to make space between them so he could pull his pants down just a little more, just enough. “Forgot how much I missed this.”

“What did you miss?” She whispered just as breathlessly, her lips against his neck as he reached between the two of them, slid his fingers against her underwear and pushed it to the side. She whimpered at the light friction of his knuckle barely grazing her clit even though it wasn’t his intention.

Harry’s moans were nearly obscene. They turned her to jelly. “I missed everything, kitten. Everything.”

She shivered again at his response. When she felt him lining himself up, pressing through her folds so easily because she was already an aching wet mess for him, she cried out again. The electric feeling coursed through her and it wasn’t fair that she made him lose this feeling for three years. “Oh,” she tucked her face into his neck.

“I’m... fuck, baby,” he whispered as the head of his cock slipped deeper inside her. He didn’t want to know if she had sex while he was gone. In his mind he was the only person that got to be inside her like this—to feel her like this. His voice was raspy. Not even a whisper really. “I’m not...” his other hand that wasn’t helping her slip further down on him cupped the back of her neck. “S’not going t’last...” He couldn’t even give a time frame because he was so far gone. “S’been...”

She didn’t want to know how long it had been for him. The idea he had sex with someone else would probably make her inconsolable while he was inside her and it wasn’t anyone’s fault but her own. She shook her head and kissed the space just below his ear that used to drive him crazy. “I don’t mind,” she promised.

“God,” he closed his eyes and pressed his face to the front of her chest. Her dress was still in the way, but he wanted to rip it off her. He couldn’t because as much as he was enjoying this—and yes, he would have loved to feel her nipples in his mouth—he refused the risk of anyone seeing her naked like that. This was already bolder than anything they had ever done before—and the intimacy of seeing her fall apart was for him only. A possessive stance he would never let go of.

“Oh my God,” she whispered. It was too hot in the car; her skin was damp with sweat from pressing so close to Harry and the exertion of fitting in the small space between him and the steering wheel. She wanted nothing more than to stay glued to Harry like that, his dick deep inside her for as long as she lived. They really were two puzzle pieces just meant to fit together. For a brief moment she paused the way she was moving slowly up and down his cock; hoping that maybe she would just die in that car because at least this would be the last thing she ever did. Their breathing stilled, quieted. He tilted his neck back, smiled as he gazed up at her.

“You’re so beautiful, kitten,” he whispered.

It was embarrassing that she could come that quickly and that hard from just his compliment and he wasn’t even moving inside her.

She gasped so loudly. Her whines and moans releasing from her without warning. She felt distraught and whole. It was practically primal the way she started to bounce up and down again, only ever so slightly, her legs shaking to find purchase on the side of his seat near the door and dodging the seatbelt holder with her knee. It wasn’t conducive to do this here but what choice did they have when they couldn’t wait a second longer?

“Oh my God, fuck, kitten,” he groaned, wrapping his arms tight around her waist, kissing at her throat and the exposed cleavage he did have access too. He met her greedy little bounces to prolong the euphoria that was coursing through her, making her clench around his cock so hard he thought he was going to exist outside of his body. “Baby, I can’t pull out,” he warned her.

They were young, but not in high school young anymore. Getting pregnant wasn’t their worst fear anymore as it was their first go around leading to her going to the doctor and asking for birth control. In fact, getting pregnant probably didn’t even crack the top ten. But even still... “Pill,” she rasped. “Please,” she begged.

“Oh fuck,” he moaned. His hand slid beneath her dress. He pressed the tip of his finger directly on her clit and rubbed perfect little circles on it.

So perfectly, she was going to explode again. The fireworks had nothing on her. “Oh my God, please,” she cried. The plead, the feel of her squeezing around him again, the heat of her and the car... all of it was a heady combination that left Harry completely useless as he finished inside her at the exact moment that she dropped her face to his shoulder again and fluttered around him. As Harry finally released a breath, he had been holding for three years it seemed, he found she was still trying to squeeze her thighs around him to savor the pleasure. He couldn’t blame her. All he wanted to do was make her come over and over.

There were a lot of firsts they shared over their relationship, and Harry was so grateful to have another even after all the time between them. His body twitched as she stayed in place, her breathing finally slowing. Harry felt hot, too hot but didn’t dare remove her from his body. He held her to him as he shifted more, her bum bumped into the car horn. She giggled once and Harry smiled. His breathing slowed, following hers.

The car was silent except for their labored breathing. They were young when they had sex back then. They thought it was good back then. But it didn’t compare to that. She felt a wave of worry that he had practiced all while she was gone. The same worry went right through him nearly at the same time. Maybe she sensed it because he relieved her with one sentence. “I read an embarrassing number of books with scenes like the one we just reenacted.”

Harry sighed with relief; his nose pressed to her ear. His lips brushed her temple and he spoke quietly. “Send me every single page y’read, kitten.”

She giggled making her clench around him as he softened. He groaned involuntarily. He didn’t want to leave her body. Terrified it would never be like this again. As he started to move, she stopped him. “Um... Do you have a towel?” She whispered; her cheeks probably would have flushed asking the question, but it was impossible to tell with the endorphins that flooded her blood doing most of the work now.

Harry felt a little stupid at the moment, so he nodded, then shook his head. He didn’t fully understand her question but wanted to try for her.

“Uhh... here,” he reached in the backseat for a T-shirt with the station’s logo on it. As he shifted, she whimpered at the feeling of him moving inside her again. He kept a hand on her dress, right at her hip and rubbed his thumb soothingly against her.

“I can’t use this and then have you wear it around town,” she frowned.

“Baby,” he snickered. “I wouldn’t wear it... in public," he teased. She lightly hit his chest with the back of her hand.

She slowly pulled off him, falling back into the passenger seat, the T-shirt between her legs. She finger-combed her hair as best she could and checked her makeup for obvious smudges. Harry mussed with his hair quickly and then placed his hand on her knee. She held it with both hands, brought his fingers to her lips and kissed his knuckles no less than ten times.

“That was perfect,” she whispered.

Forget her writing, she was her very own poem. He smiled. “Always, kitten.”

*

Harry took the long way back to her apartment. Her grip didn’t loosen around his hand. Not even when he needed to take a turn. When he finally parked, she looked at him expectantly. “I don’t want t’go,” he whispered. “I would quit right now, if I could. I want t’talk all night and tell y’everything and know everything, kitten. M’so...” he shook his head terrified that if he left right now all the progress, everything would be gone. “I missed you so completely baby. I need t’know everything there is t’know ‘bout you and the last three years and all the thoughts y’had. S’not fair and m’so—”

“Harry,” she smiled, squeezed his hand encouragingly. She brought a hand to his chin and rested her forehead against his. “I’ll see you tomorrow; right after your shift, okay?” she kissed him gently on the lips. A soft brush of promising more.

Relief flooded him. “Yeah?” Their mouths were so close as he spoke, his lips touched hers the entire time.

“I’ll be here,” she promised. That little saying, “it was music to his ears,” never really made much sense to him. But right then it did. It made so much sense. She was music. She was the sun. She was fireworks. “Good night, Harry. Have a good shift,” she whispered and pressed her lips solidly against his once more making him feel like he could do anything.

--

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[redhead1180]

Mommy

Pairing - JJ x fem!reader

Summary - JJ gets a little needy

Warnings - MDNI - Smut, oral, cursing, sub!JJ x Dom!reader, p in v, creampie, Mommy kink, I think that's it, but let me know if I missed any

A/n - Got this idea from @juniebugg as we both needed a Mommy kink JJ. Only my 2nd published story, hope it's not terrible. Not entirely proofread, so I am sure errors exist. His tongue in this gif just made me cream my pants.

18+. MDNI below cut

After a long day of surfing, you and the pogues were finally back at the Chateau for a bonfire and drinks. You were sitting on JJ's lap, halfway turned to him, with your arm around him, rubbing his neck and running your fingers through his hair. Every so often you would tug a little and JJ would let a little whimper out, telling you he was in one of his moods. The kinda of mood that made you grin like a Cheshire cat.

"Baby can we got to bed?" JJ whines in your ear.

"Just a little longer, Mama isn't ready for bed yet." I whisper back. He looks at you, his ocean blue eyes pleading with you to change your mind. "Stop begging, you won't change my mind." I say sternly but sweetly. His bottom lip juts out just a little.

As we all laugh and joke, I feel JJ getting fidgety and he can barely sit still. I feel his hard on through my jean shorts and sigh knowing he wasn't going to last much longer. I tell the group we are going bed and grab JJ's hand to walk into the Chateau. He is nearly on top of me following behind me as we head to spare room, aka JJ's room.

We get into the bedroom and JJ locks the door, I turn around and tell him to strip and sit on the bed. He sits and starts rambling "I'm sorry mommy, I just...you looked so damn good in your bikini, surfing and I just need you so bad." I look over and his dick is so red and precum already coming out the tip. I walk over and lean over him, my cleavage right in front of his face, and teasingly ask "Do you need mommy to make you feel better, help you out?" He let's out a whimper, "yes, o fuck, yes mommy".

I could tell he wanted to touch my tits so bad, but didn't want to get in trouble.

"Has my baby boy been a good boy today?" I ask.

He nods, "JJ, remember we use our words"

He whispers "yes mommy"

I reach up and slowly untie my bikini top, letting it fall down to the floor. My eyes never leave his as I watch him almost drool seeing my boobs free, then I unbutton and unzip my shorts and push them down and off, making a little show for him, leaving me in my bikini bottoms. His hands are fists as he grabs the sheets beneath him and he lets out a little whine.

"Do you want to untie mommy's bikini for me?" I ask.

JJ's head literally turns into a bobble head as he mumbles "yesmommyfuckyes" He reaches out and quickly unties and tosses the bottoms across the room. He goes to grab my hips and I tsk at him. He whines and puts his hands back beside him on the bed. I can tell it is taking every ounce of control from him not to just grab me and slam me on the bed, but he does not want a repeat of last time when he didn't follow my orders. When I edged him for nearly an hour before letting him cum.

I lean down and kiss him, slipping my tongue in his mouth, as I slowly push him down on the bed. He feverishly kisses me back, letting out a moan as the kiss deepens. As he lays down I let his cock rub against my body as I slide up him, sitting on his rock hard abs. I start kissing down his jaw line and onto his neck finding his sweet spot. He let's out a groan and his hips jerk up as I let out a soft giggle. I start to grind my wet pussy against his abs, as I continue my assault on his neck and collarbone.

"Mommy please let me touch, please I need to touch you"

I sit up to look at him, his pupils blown, eyes begging me to let him have more. I reach for his hands and pull them up to my boobs and use his hands to knead them. He groans as I let go letting him continue and finding some release. I reach back and using my thumb, gently rub the tip of his cock, smearing precum around the tip. He lets out a pornographic moan and bucks his hips up, sliding his cock through my hand. I rub just a few seconds and let go, JJ whimpers and I tsk.

"Mommy wants to sit on your face, if your a good boy and finish mommy off, you can pick which hole you want." JJ had always said from the beginning that he loves when I sit on his face and if he died that way what a way to go.

Bobble head JJ is back, "I will make mommy feel so good, come here"

I slide up, moving my thighs to be more comfortable and hover him.

He gently asks, "can I use my hands?"

"Yes baby"

That was all the permission he needed, he grabbed my thighs pulling me down on his face and he licks a long strip from pussy to clit. He starts slithering his tongue all around my folds, licking every inch as if he is starved. Slipping his tongue in your hole, you moan and grab his hair with one hand and the headboard with another. He licks and sucks and prys his tongue into you until you are grinding his face. Using his hands he reaches and pries open your folds and starts sucking on your clit. He switches between sucking and licking and you can feel the burning in your belly increase. You cry out "O god" and can feel JJ smile.

"Am I making mommy feel good" he asks.

"Mommy's getting so close baby" I gasp out.

He grazes his teeth along my clit and goes back to fucking me with his tongue, I can't stop the moaning and gasps as I get so close. Grinding on him so hard he has to be suffocating, but JJ doesn't stop. I feel the band in my belly start to give and my legs and thighs start to shake.

"Jay I'm cum-"

JJ gives me one more hard suck and bites my clit and I let out a scream and my juices gush all over his face. He licks up every ounce of juice and slowly roles me to my back. I look up and smile and he asks with a smirk "Did mommy like that?"

I chuckle and say, a little breathlessly, "Good boy, now which hole would you like tonight?"

JJ grins "I want pussy and on top tonight"

"A little demanding aren't ya baby boy?" I ask and raise an eyebrow.

"I think I earned it after the orgasm I just gave you" he pouts

I reach up to kiss him, tasting a little of myself, "Hmm I guess you did" as I wrap my legs around him.

He kisses me, his hand slides down over my breast, down my stomach, to my core running his fingers over my sensitive clit and folds. I feel his tip at my entrance and he slowly pushes his cock in me, I gasp, the burn and stretch always feels good. He leans his forehead on mine, staring into my eyes, as he pushes all the way till his hips meet the back of my thighs. He throws his head back and let's out an achy groan.

He pulls out to the tip and slams back onto me, not giving me time to adjust. I could feel subby JJ start slipping away as he speeds up, pounding into me. The attention and neediness fulfilled, he was going back to normal JJ. I didn't mind, the way he was hitting my g-spot, the sky could have caught fire and I wouldn't care.

"Harder" I pant

He grins and dripping with his southern drawl says "As you wish mommy."

He pulls my legs up over his shoulders and starts pounding into me. I let out a half scream and half moan as I scrape my fingernails down his back. He hisses and I no doubt leave some marks.

"Must have found the right spot" he teases as sweat trickles down his forehead. I grab his his ass with one hand and wrap my other around his back, "uh-uhs" flying out of my mouth.

"God, Y/N, you're so fucking tight, feel amazing. Jesus Fuck"

"O God"

"Nah just me baby" JJ brags.

Any other time I would have a sarcastic quip back, but right now I could barely form a thought.

Fire and electricity were rushing through my veins to my core as I could feel JJ's tip smashing into to that gummy spot that causes my eyes to roll back. The band in my stomach was stretched to its breaking point, and I could feel myself about to snap.

"I'm about to cum!"

"Cmon, baby, come for me " JJ breathed into my ear

He just got the words out when my orgasm hit me like a truck at 200 miles an hour. I screamed and dug my nails in his ass and back. I vaguely could hear JJ grunting. After a few more thrusts, JJ slams into me letting out a loud moan and holds it as I feel strings of cum release into me. JJ slowly helps us ride out our high until he collapses on me and buries his face in my neck.

As we lay there, our sweaty bodies intertwined, I run my fingers through his hair, giving him a kiss on his forehead. He lays his head on my chest as we both pant, feeling him get soft while still in me. I hug and he looks up a me and smiles. Reaching up to give me a passionate kiss.

"I love you and am the luckiest guy in the world." He grins at me.

I chuckle and look at him. "I love you too"

He gently pulls out, knowing I am sensitive, and I whine a bit. He chuckles and says "I am not going far." He roles to the side of me and pulls me close. I snuggle into him and find I can't keep my eyes open falling asleep almost immediately.

JJ lays awake a bit longer, watching me sleep and thanking whoever was upstairs that I was his. Soon JJ dozed off never letting go of me.

[stllmnstr]

sacred monsters [teaser!]

pairing: lee heeseung x f reader

genre: academic rivals to lovers, vampire au, slow burn

teaser word count: 1.7k

teaser warnings: swearing

release date: saturday, august 3, 10 PM EST

soundtrack: still monster / moonstruck / lucifer - enhypen / everybody wants to rule the world - tears for fears / immortal - marina / supermassive black hole - muse / saturn - sleeping at last / everybody’s watching me (uh oh) - the neighbourhood

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A literature student in your third year of university, you’ve been dreaming of having your writing published for as long as you can remember. With a perfect opportunity dangling at your fingertips, the only obstacle that stands in your way comes in the form of a ridiculously tall, stupidly handsome, and unfortunately, very talented writer by the name of Lee Heeseung. Unwilling to let your dream slip out of reach, you commit to being better than the aforementioned pain in your ass at absolutely everything.

But when a string of vampire attacks strikes close to your city for the first time in nearly two hundred years, publishing is suddenly the last thing on your mind. And, as you soon begin to discover, Heeseung may not quite be the person you thought he was.

note: this fic is my BABYYY so I really hope it’s well received and you all have a good time with it. it’s probably no surprise that still monster is one of my absolute favorite enha songs, and this story is essentially (my interpretation of) it in written form. this is going to be a multi-part story, and as of right now, the first part is almost ready to share. for now, enjoy this snippet!

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Crossing a dark line through the word you just penned, you sigh. 

This is the fastest you’ve put a story together in ages. It’s cohesive, and the writing is solid. Your use of metaphor is strong and concise, and the prose feels true to your identity as a writer. 

But something in you withers a bit with every new word you commit to paper. It’s not that you hate your topic. If anything, it’s just that you have no stake in it at all. It doesn't feel innovative or exciting or representative of your creativity. 

No matter how easily the words flow out of you, something about it just feels… flat. One dimensional. 

You need something new. A different angle or an alternative perspective or… Or a fresh set of eyes. 

Struck with a sudden idea, you pull out your phone, plan taking form in your mind. The literature club at your university hosts bimonthly peer review sessions, and you haven’t taken advantage of them nearly as much as you should. They’re a chance for any writer, literature major or otherwise, to come together and workshop any piece of writing of their choice. 

Tapping your finger impatiently on the table, you wait for the page to load. The fall semester did end almost a week ago, so it may be a long shot. You’re not sure if the club typically holds sessions over winter break. But as you pull up the club’s calendar of events, a small smile tugs at your lips. 

Luck seems to be on your side this time. It’s written there in plain, bold font that there will be a session this upcoming Friday evening. That means that if you attend the session and get some solid ideas for revision, you’ll have exactly five days to refine your draft before you present it to Professor Kim. 

The idea of having not only a topic, as the schedule outlined, but an actual complete,  well-written draft to show him next Wednesday, turns your small smile into one that overtakes your features. 

Energized with a new vigor, you reach for your pen again. It doesn’t have to be perfect, you remind yourself, even as a turn of phrase makes you cringe. Even as a piece of punctuation feels out of place. It just needs to be written. You just need to have as much content as you can to share on Friday. 

Besides, you’re sure that a second opinion will help you fine tune this story into something you’re proud to share, something you’re excited to attach your name to.

The afternoon is quick to blur into early evening, and you’re still bent over your favorite corner table. Coffee long drained, you’re full of a new confidence. The thought of proving yourself suddenly doesn’t seem like such an unachievable, out of reach task. 

And when you do finally gather up all of your belongings and make your way back to your apartment for the night, you’re sure that this is the exact boost you needed. 

That same stroke of self-assuredness carries you all the way through a finished first draft. It’s rough and messy and littered with loose ends, but it’s tucked away in the bottom of your tote bag with a smile as you haul it to classroom number 105 in the university liberal arts building Friday evening. 

You pause at the door to the classroom, only for a moment. The inhale you breathe in is deep, full. Nodding to yourself once, you push open the door. 

You haven’t been to one of these workshop sessions since the second semester of your first year, back when you had just switched to a literature major. You remember being wide-eyed and incredibly protective over your work. It was hard to part with it, to let anyone else read over the sentences you were so unsure of. The writing you had little confidence in. 

But your partner had been kind. Another girl in her first year, she had nothing but gentle feedback to give and reassurance that your writing was worth reading. Honestly, it was such an overwhelmingly positive experience that you would have come back for more sessions if you weren’t constantly struggling to find minutes to spare in the day. 

You’re hoping that tonight will be just as rewarding as you enter the classroom, tote bag in tow. But as you survey the space around you, your face falls flat, easy going smile dropping from your lips. 

You weren’t expecting a big crowd, considering that it is winter break and most students are deliberately avoiding campus right now, but you were hoping there’d be more than one other person in attendance. 

Well, you think, deciding to look on the bright side of things. At least you’re not the only person. 

The other attendee is sitting in the far corner of the room, occupying a desk near the front of the classroom. At the sound of your entrance, they turn to face you. 

With that, your small disappointment is quick to snowball into an intense wave of exasperation. Because why is the universe so hellbent on playing games with you?

Your mouth drops open without your permission. “Heeseung?” 

Your sudden outburst fills the room and lingers long into the awkward silence that follows. You hadn’t meant to say anything, but really, what are the god forsaken odds?

If he’s bothered by your reaction to seeing him, Heeseung doesn’t show it. Instead he looks strangely… relieved. It makes absolutely no sense for him to feel any sort of relief at the sight of you, but it’s hard to put a more apt descriptor to the way tension drains from his shoulders, crease between his brows softening as he looks at you, scans you from head to toe. 

A moment of stilted silence passes between the two of you. Another. Your heartbeat feels too loud in your chest.

You exhale, a cross between a scoff and a laugh so humorless it could freeze a flame. Weighing your options, the most tempting by far is to just turn on your heel and exit the way you came. 

Heesung seems to read your intention before you can commit to it. 

Breaking the heaviness in the atmosphere, he acts as if you’ve greeted him like an old friend, not as the source of all your recent headaches. 

“Hi,” he nods, so tentatively you almost want to let your jaw drop open in shock. Almost. 

Because what the fuck does he mean by ‘Hi?’ This has to be some kind of mind game, some way to get in your head and ruin this for you. 

“Right.” Your lips pull into a tight line. You don’t bother to return his greeting. “I’m just gonna go, then.” Hiking up your bag on your shoulder, you turn to do just that. Your first draft will just have to be unpolished. Oh, well. You’re sure Professor Kim will have better feedback for you than Lee Heeseung ever would anyway. 

Once again, Heeseung’s voice cuts across the classroom. “Wait.” There’s a command in his voice. Gentle, but firm. Insistent. So pervasive that you find yourself following without really meaning to. 

Mind made up and dead set on leaving, now you’re just annoyed. What a waste of a Friday evening.

“What?” You turn back to him. You’re not sure if there’s more venom in your voice or your eyes. 

And Heeseung, who commands a classroom with quiet grace, with his steady, unwavering presence, suddenly looks so damn unsure. As if tormenting you is uncharted territory. As if he’s never once left you in the cold with flaming cheeks and a thoroughly shattered ego. 

“I…” he trails off, not quite meeting your furious gaze. “Didn’t you come here to get feedback?”

“Right.” You scoff again. “Because I’m sure you’d love nothing more than to tear my writing to shreds. Forgive me, but I’m not interested in being the butt end of your joke tonight.”

“What?” If you didn’t know any better, the ignorance he feigns would be rather convincing. “That’s not why I’m here.” He shakes his head. “I brought something I want reviewed too.” 

Your brow arches. He can’t be serious. “Even if I did stay,” you counter, “you’re actually the last person I would want to read my work. Feel free to be offended by that, by the way.”

For a solid minute, Heeseung just looks at you. He wears that same damn deer-in-the-headlights expression he had after you brushed him off when he intercepted you in class the other day. He pauses, weighing words on his tongue. “Look, ____.” The sound of your name on his lips strikes a strange chord in you. Until now, you were certain he didn’t even know it. “Did I do something to offend—”

And no. Absolutely not. No way are you rehashing that day in the quad with him now. 

“You know what,” you interrupt. You need to go. Now. You need an out. “I’m actually, like, super tired. I think I’m just gonna head back, and—”

But then it’s his turn to cut off your train of thought. “It’s your piece for Professor Kim, isn’t it?” Heeseung takes your silence as confirmation. “Publishing is a big deal. A second set of eyes will only make your work stronger. And if you hate my feedback, it’s not like you have to use any of it.”

You hate it. You despise the way his reasoning matches your internal monologue nearly word for word. The way your thoughts align exactly. 

You pause, a decision weighing heavy on your mind. He is an excellent writer… There would probably be substance to his feedback. Real, actual, good substance that you could use to make your writing bloom into something truly amazing. He could be the exact spark you need to make your story come to life. 

You purse your lips. “What’s in it for you?”

Heesung smiles, a nearly imperceptible quirk of his lips. He knows he’s won. “Like I said, I brought something I’ve been working on.” There’s an intention you can’t quite read behind his gaze when he adds, “I want to know what you think of it.”

Hook, line, and sinker.

With a grumble, you take reluctant steps towards where he sits on the opposite side of the classroom. And if you slide down into the seat next to him with a little more force than necessary, well, it’s just because you’ve had a long week. No other reason. None at all. 

“Fine,” you relent, reaching to pull your notebook out of your bag. “You get twenty minutes.”

“That’s not nearly long eno—”

“Thirty,” you concede. “And don’t push it.”

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TO BE CONTINUED...

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note: thanks for checking out this little snippet! I can't wait to share the full first part soon. this one is going to be so much fun I'm buzzing already. I don't have a tag list, but I will most likely update this post and reblog it once I have a confirmed release date. like I said in the note at the beginning, I'm anticipating it will be ready to go by this sunday (august 4 EST) at the latest. woo!

[melancholiaincarnate]

so far so good

warnings - none

authors note - hi :P this is my first published acotar fic :3 i mentioned in a post a couple of days ago i wanted to start a series with ficlets about mated azriel x reader who happen to adopt a shadowsinger child named piper. here's the first installment :) i plan on making more so if you have requests for them send em in :D

"okay piper," azriel stretches, an action that causes a swirl in your stomach as his shirt lifts up slightly, revealing the hair decorating his tummy. "ready?"

"i'm ready!" she bounces on her feet, excitement visible on her face. shadows zip quickly around her - faster than you can blink. her shadows are impatient and easily excited, unlike azriel's, who prefer to wait and watch.

"remember, we're practicing winnowing. can you do that?" azriel cracks his knuckles and his wings shudder, then he disappears. he shortly reappears behind piper, and she squeals with delight. "i can't winnow so my winnowing looks a little different than yours but i promise - it's practically the same thing."

"yes! yes! i know! you told me! i can do it, azzy, i swear!" she shouts back at him, shadows twirling at her feet, "it's my turn!"

"alright, alright. it's your turn, pip." he smiles softly at her, crouching down to whisper something in her ear before she shuts her eyes so hard her whole face squishes.

"remember to envision where you want to go." his voice is soft in the child's ear. you watch as he smoothes down her hair as he stands to observe.

piper's body begins to slowly disappear but when she murmurs a "i'm doing it!" her body comes back into focus.

"you have to stay focused, pip." he reminds, giving her a nod. "focus is key."

"focus is key." her small voice repeats, and then suddenly she's at your side.

"hi! wait - woah- hi- hi! i did it! look, i was over there and now i'm over here!" you're sure you've never seen such delight on a single person's face before. "i did it! i did it, azzy i did it! look!"

"good job, piper." his voice is as stoic as ever but pride swims in his veins. azriel assumes that this is why cassian and rhys want children. the pure joy that sits in his chest right now has no match for anything he's ever experienced.

and yet, there's a clawing deep in his mind. it's in his chest, his bones, in the scars on his hand. he feels an attachment to this child - this girl that he and you found in the woods alone. this is not his daughter.

as piper runs off with you in tow, screaming about telling cassia, azriel glances at the scars on his hands. azriel could never think about hurting piper. it'd taken half of the inner court to restrain him from going to hunt down piper's attackers.

piper was not his daughter but he was his fathers son. anger rises through him - how could his father look at his own child and do what he'd done, when azriel could not fathom doing it to a child he had no part in creating?

shadows swarm in his ear chanting incomprehensible words to him. the anger is white and hot and it's so consuming that it sends a throng down the bond towards you.

in return, he feels you tugging the bond, tugging towards you, tugging him towards the light again. he breathes - he is not in that basement. "come, az." you whisper softly down the bond, "please."

and who is he to deny you? he unclenches his fists, steadying his breathing once more before tucking his wings and strolling away from the room as if he hadn't nearly fallen into a pit with no way out.

[tvdelrey]

a swim under the stars | m. sturnㅤ᭄᭡

bf!matt x reader

warnings: long, tooth-rotting fluff

a/n: this'll be my first ever published fanfic, so I'm open to tips and constructive criticism! all i ask is that you keep kindness in mind; negativity is not something i want lingering on my page.

happy reading my friends <33

It was nearly 1 am when Matt had changed into his black swim trunks and a loose, patterned button-up. His baby blue eyes were glued to your peaceful figure, a small wave of guilt washing over him as he sat on the edge of the mattress to wake you.

You felt a cold draft once the hotel comforter was pulled away, goosebumps arising on your limbs. They were quickly soothed by Matt's warm hands, which would've lulled you back to sleep if it weren't for the cold metal wrapped around his two fingers.

"Wake up baby," Matt muttered, leaning down to place a kiss on your plush stomach as you stretched, the smell of complimentary vanilla body wash lingering on your skin. "I've got your swimsuit laid out already, c'mon."

His hand slipped down your side as you reluctantly sat up, massaging your left hip. You almost immediately leaned forward, forehead landing on his shoulder. Your senses were filled with the smell of his aftershave. Matt chuckled softly as his nails dragged up and down your back, patiently waiting for you to fully awaken.

You whispered a sweet reply to him before pecking his cheek and swinging your legs off the bed and onto the cool carpet. He bit the inside of his cheek to contain his smile as you left to the bathroom, the sight of you in his pink Hershey's shirt making his stomach flip. After a good amount of time, the two of you left for the pool, hand in hand.

ㅤ᭄᭡

Stay Ready (What A Life) echoed softly from Matt's portable speaker, which was placed on a nearby lounge chair that you stood in front of. His lips curled into a mischievous smile as he crept up on you, making you jump as he quickly turned your body around.

"Damn what ha-" you tried to reply, shocked at how fast he'd moved you, but you were quickly cut off by his lips crashing passionately into yours. Your eyes fluttered shut and arms were maneuvered around each other as Matt waddled away from the chair. You were lost in him, his touch setting your skin on fire and the ferocity of his kisses making you dizzy. So much so, that you would've never expected what he'd do next.

Your eyes suddenly shoot open when you feel his strong hands grip your waist and pick you up off the ground.

The kiss was a distraction.

Luckily, you were familiar with nearly all his tricks, so you managed to tangle one of your legs around his before he could toss you. Your heart raced, screaming as both of you tumbled into the bright blue pool. You swam up to the surface almost immediately after hitting the water, wiping your eyes.

"You're not fucking slick, Matt!" You shouted, voice shaking with laughter as he rose and pushed back his wet curls. His eyes rolled back when he groaned playfully, swimming toward you. "It seemed like I was!"

Witty banter was thrown between the two of you as you bounced in the water, putting distance between you and your boyfriend. As time went by, you raced, played Marco Polo, and jumped into the pool numerous times to see who'd make the biggest splash. Fellow guests at the hotel would've assumed it was children goofing off just by hearing the joy in your combined laughter.

Once the adrenaline had died down, Matt swam over and reached for your thighs, smoothly wrapping them around his hips. The arm decorated with tattoos pulled you against his chest, body heat cutting through the coolness of the water. Sounds of the night mixed with music and sloshing water filled your ears.

"I'm glad you're here with me, baby," said Matt as he softly pinned you to the wall of the pool, hands caressing your thighs.

Your cheeks grew warm as a smile bloomed, arms slipping from his neck. Your palms found their way to his face, the stubble scratching your fingers. Both eyes glimmered with love as you studied his features, the stars & moon brightening them even more than they already shined in your eyes.

"There's no place I'd rather be," you answered with complete honesty. There truly was no other place you'd rather be than safe in your lover's arms.

taglist!

@flouvela @ovrour @missmimii @luverboychris @mattsfavbitchhh

@sturnthepot @sturniluvr @satvisfavetoodles @sassysturniolo2008

[ghouldump]

Your lestat x louis x claudia fic EATSSSSSSSS

If your are up to it could you do something with my pretty husband armand and his manipulative ways?

Beautiful Deception | Armand x Reader

ෆ moving to paris, the last thing you expected was to come across the ancient vampire.

lol thank youuu so much, i hope you like this 💕 sometimes i take a while to post because i rewrite my work over and over until i think it’s good. this was a great idea and i don’t mind taking more.

“How long will you continue to claim that you are a vampire?” The interviewer, Daniel Malloy asked. Crossing your leg over the other, you smiled.

“It is merely one of many truths, but I will let you and the readers decide if it should be accepted,” you said.

It had been nearly a year since you turned 100. Since you made the blog, originally to share stories from your past. Despite all events being true, and the website becoming a success, it was all seen as fiction. You were seen as a character, an upcoming writer dedicated to your role, but it would be coming to an end. Daniel, someone you’d been studying for some time now, needed a story, something fresh. He was getting the raw unspoken truth, things you hadn’t shared before, publishing it along with an interview.

“Why now?”

“Why not now, Daniel? We live in a new age, where we people of the night should be known,” you smirked.

Just then, the door opened, and Armand, your partner of over 80 years entered. The sleek black turtle neck was perfect against his glowing brown skin. Turning to him, you looked up in admiration, as he placed a soft kiss on your lips, before sitting next to you.

“I hope you don't mind, my husband, Armand, joining us”

“Armand the vampire? You said some concerning things about him,” Daniel said, trying to get under both of your skin.

“We’ve moved past those times,” you said, as Armand intertwined your fingers.

“Alright, whatever that’s supposed to mean, shall we start?”

“Yes, let’s,” you smiled, nodding.

“Let’s start here…”

Run, run, don’t stop, keep running.

Your heart pounded, as you ran through the streets, gasping for air as you grew more tired. Afraid to look back, you kept going, you were sure you’d drop dead in fear seeing him behind you. Turning on nearly every corner, relief washed over, seeing a store owner closing his shop.

“Sir,” you called out, as you jogged to him.

“No, no, I’m closing,” he pointed at the sign.

“Please help me, he’s going to get me,” you cried, as the man finally turned to face you, genuinely concerned.

“Come in,” he said, letting you into the store. As you came in, he locked the door behind you. With the adrenaline coming down, you could feel pain in your foot from stepping in glass.

“We have to hide,” you told the man, tugging at his sleeve.

“You go,” he pointed to the back, before he went behind the counter, pulling a shotgun out.

Limping to the back of the store, looking back one more time, you screamed as the door burst open, the shop owner being killed instantly. As the elderly man fell to the floor, you cried out, before he appeared in front of you.

“Y/n,” his eyes softened seeing your tear stained face, all of your makeup running down, mixed with the tears.

“Please….”

“You’re moving ahead of yourself, Daniel, we have to start from the beginning, I had just moved to France-

“So Armand didn’t kill the shop owner and was about to kill you next?” He asked, as Armand clenched his jaw, glaring at the man.

“Daniel, you only get one session, you have to get this right, just let the story seduce you as it had done to me,” you said as he begrudgingly nodded, finally ready to listen.

"Here are your keys, rent is due on the third of each month," your new landlord, Henri said, handing the keys to your husband, Phillip.

“Thank you, sir,” he muttered, while you giggled, your eyes exploring the place. Neither of you was the best at French, at least speaking it. Despite the previous months of studying and reciting, your articulation was still overwhelmingly, American.

He didn't say anything, giving you both a questionable stare, before leaving the small apartment. Compacted in size, and already cluttered with furniture, but it was your new home, and that's all that mattered. Shutting the front door, you walked over to the full-sized bed. This was the fresh start you needed.

“What do you think?” Philip asked.

“I love it,” you told him, jumping into his arms.

Living all of your life in the States, you were the youngest of two children. Your father, you never knew, not that it mattered too much to you. It was your mother who came from a wealthy family in France. Before she decided to move to its child, New Orleans.

She didn't talk about her time there much, only telling short stories about your grandparents or her early life in Paris. She was lonely as a child, and her parents were oftentimes neglectful, as a result of having her at an old age.

Having her own children, you and your twin brother, Elijah, from a hookup with an attractive soldier, she vowed to dedicate herself to both of you. She made sure neither of you ever went without, providing the best of your desires.

Around 9, you were certain you wanted to be a performer. It didn't matter how or what you did, the idea of being adored, captivating the crowd, your juvenile mind was set. Your mother soon paid for all sorts of lessons, dancing, singing, and instruments, she was just as determined that you would achieve your dreams.

While you were striving for your goals, your brother, Elijah, struggled with living in your shadow. You took up most of your mother's time, which is how she didn't notice the bullying. He had always been introverted, harmless as a butterfly, nose deep in a book. While you were holding onto hopes and dreams, your brother was guaranteed a successful life with how smart he’d always been.

However, there was a problem, jealousy. She was a demon, stronger than most, willing to compel whoever that would allow, to do whatever their deepest desires were. This is why, on that Saturday evening, on your 14th birthday, you and your mother left for the market, intending on baking a cake for the two of you, she attacked.

Bullies from his class saw him as he was taking out the trash. They never liked the boy, coveting the lifestyle he had been fortunately given. Attacking him, they only meant to roughen him up a bit, until he fought back. Then, filled with that ancient spirit of jealousy, one of them picked up a rock.

Thankfully, one of the neighbors heard the commotion and came running to save him, but the damage had been done. From that point on, your brother was different, as was your mother.

The life that he was once guaranteed to have was gone and your mother spent all of her time focused on caring for him. She still paid for your classes, but you were no longer a priority.

At 18, you met and eventually married Philip, a 22-year-old, journalist. He was very handsome with the most alluring brown eyes and soft wavy hair. He didn't have much money, but once he settled somewhere and established his career, he promised to give you the world.

Your mother disapproved of the marriage, how could you carelessly marry a poor man trusting his empty promises, she screamed at you. Which is why, out of spite, you told her you’d be moving to Paris. You watched as the hardened expression dropped, and sad memories flashed through her eyes. Throwing her hands up, she gave up with her argument, letting you leave, sending a parting gift of a few thousand dollars, before you were out of the country.

Now in the beautiful city, Phillip’s future seemed to be already looking up to be just as bright, as he had already been hired by a popular news corporation. Securing the apartment was simply the final step in your new life, at least that's what you thought.

Immediately, Philip worked day and night, hoping to begin to provide you with the life you deserved. Dates weren't as frequent as they once were in the States, but intimacy was just as regular as before, if not more.

Meanwhile, you oftentimes left home, looking for work. Not many places would hire women and the people who did expected their workers to work twice as much as they were paid. Until The Grand Cabaret, Edward, the head director of the restaurant/theatre was in dire need of new performances.

He'd stopped you on your way home from the store, captivated by your looks, giving you his card. Telling Phillip about the man, he agreed that it could be a good idea. Perhaps even a step towards becoming the big star you always wanted to be.

The next night you went, Philip was going to be out a little later than usual, finishing work. Anxiously, you made your way to the address on the card. Stopping in front of the building, you were surprised by the lack of guests. The establishment was nice, a few people were seated eating, and slow music was playing, but people continued to walk past.

“Ah, mademoiselle,” Edward smiled, as he stepped out.

“Not a busy night?” you asked him.

“People are more willing to eat with an equally lovely performance,” he said sheepishly, his eyes shifting to his left.

Following his eyes, you stared at the theater, Théâtre des Vampires. You could see the line of customers, excited to get into the theater. Although, the workers looked extremely rude and intimidating, dressed in the vampire costumes.

“I’m sure you just need the right act,” you told him, making eye contact with security, catching his brash expression.

“Do you sing or dance…?” He asked, waiting to hear your name.

“Y/n, and yes, I’ve been trained in both, I will admit, I am still not the greatest singer,” you laughed, as you accepted his hand.

“Please allow me to offer you a job here, as one of our employees. I trust your word, I am desperate, you’ll be paid weekly-

“I-when would I start?”

“Tonight…I mean, if it is possible,” he said.

“I can only stay for a while, my husband isn’t aware that I am away”

“Yes, of course, come right this way,” he said, leading you to the dressing room, allowing you to set your things down.

The cast members were all kind, introducing themselves as you glanced at yourself, checking your makeup.

“We have our newest act of the evening, the lovely and beautiful, Y/n,” Edward said, introducing you, before leaving the stage. He could already see the attention shifting to you, excitedly he opened the door, along with the windows, allowing potential guests to see.

“Just follow my lead,” you spoke to the small orchestra before you began singing a song you’d heard back when you lived with your mother. As the audience grew more interested, you felt your confidence rising by the second, as you danced freely, shutting your eyes, thrilled to finally be performing.

That night, for the first time, The Grand Cabaret was a full house. Everyone who passed wanted to see and hear more of your talent. As everyone clapped for you, and you could see now, you would be a star.

“What is the meaning of this?” Santiago frowned at Sam, wondering why he hadn’t been notified about any signaling of the play starting.

“Well…” Sam faced their leader, who stood, waiting for an answer.

“They’ve all gone to that stupid cabaret,” Estelle crossed her arms.

“Cabaret?”

“Apparently there is a new girl, American, she’s bringing them a bit of attention with her…performances,” Celeste told him.

Not saying a word, Armand furrowed his eyebrows, leaving the theater. His steps held a steady stride as he approached the building. Never since the theater had been opened had the place been empty. He had to see with his own eyes, this person, what had you done to take all of the loyal guests.

As he approached the entrance, the first thing he noticed was everyone wearing all black. The Dance of the Dead, starring the beautiful lead, Y/n,” his eyes skimmed the sign.

“Excuse me,” you said, brushing past Armand, and nearly running to the dressing room.

It had been a little over a month since you began working and although at first anxious, you were more than grateful for the opportunity. Edward was incredibly generous, wanting to keep his main act satisfied. You began to recommend themes, scenery, and new music, the guest needed to be able to visualize the show further than what you were giving.

The Dance of the Dead was a mockery of the vampire theater but with your own twist. A few people you'd grown familiar with had gone, telling you about how real everything seemed. How they’d managed to pull off some sort of screenplay, like movies. You never took the time to visit yourself, but saw the action as simply a little fun competition.

As the lights dimmed, Armand sat down, unintentionally gulping as you sauntered onto the stage. Immediately, the music started, along with your dancing. Armand watched as everyone focused, hypnotized as you were oozing in sex appeal. He nearly second-guessed himself about you, it shouldn't be possible for a mortal to captivate so many people in such a way, Armand thought to himself.

Going to your knees, as your head went back, he couldn’t help but think of how supernatural your beauty was, how luring your essence was. Going further to the floor, you faced the audience, your eyes meeting his. He smirked slightly, nodding at you, while you bit your lips.

As the song came to an end, you stood up, bowing your head. The audience cheered loudly, clapping and whistling.

‘Beautiful’ you heard, your eyes going to Armand, as he stood up.

“Thank you,” you blew kisses at the crowd, before going backstage.

He watched in amazement as they still cheered for you, the way that you moved ingrained into his thoughts. Coming from the dressing room, you looked almost different, blending in with the audience. He walked to the door, as you talked with your boss, accepting the envelope, along with a quick hug.

Moving outside, he stayed not too far behind you. Seeing that no one was around, he sped up, intentionally bumping into you.

“I’m so sorry,” you apologized, as his hand brushed against your waist.

“No, it is my apologies, I may be mistaken, but do you work at the Cabaret?”

“Yes, I do,” he watched as your eyes twinkled with joy.

“I’m Armand, I am the director of Théâtre des Vampires,” he held out his hand.

“Y/n,” you went to shake his hand but froze as he lifted your hand, placing a soft kiss near your knuckles.

“I…I have to get home, my husband is waiting,” you told him, emphasizing the title, as he stared into your eyes. You couldn't deny the mysterious man was quite the sight.

“Allow me to walk you home,” he offered.

“Oh no, I wouldn't want to take up your time-

“Nonsense, a woman of your caliber should be escorted, perhaps we could talk business,” he said, making you smile.

“Okay,” you nodded.

“Ladies first,” he motioned for you to lead the way.

Armand was unnaturally enchanting in every aspect, a forbidden fruit your heart told you to stay away from, but your flesh tingled in his presence. It was an unspoken understanding that you could only see him at night at these shows. You anticipated seeing his youthful face, every Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday. He'd sit within the audience, watching your every move. Then backstage, approaching you, he'd always have a fresh bouquet. You would give him a look and he’d say something along the lines of how a star deserves flowers.

“Knock knock,” Armand said, catching your attention, turning from the vanity.

“Hi,” you smiled, standing up, and closing your robe.

“For you, the beautiful star of the show,” he said, handing you the bouquet.

“Thank you, Armand,” you told him.

“You never have to thank me,” he shook his head, reaching for your hand, and placing a soft kiss on top. Pulling away, as your heart leaped, you shifted your eyes.

“I have to get home soon,” you said.

“Right, your husband…it is a shame he doesn't come out to support you,” Armand said, a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

“He works a lot”

“Unfortunate, I mean for him, because I get to have you to myself,” he said, smirking.

“Are you walking me home?” you asked, your face burning at his shameless joke.

“I'm ready when you are, angel”

You admired Armand, greatly, how confident, bold, intelligent, handsome-wait. Being around Armand, you oftentimes had to remind yourself you were married, as well as him. He had no problem blatantly flirting and laughing as you froze up in embarrassment. The two of you were growing closer than you should have been, while, it seemed like your marriage was crumbling.

“I don't want you working there anymore,” Philip told you, as you replaced the water in the vase, setting it near the window.

“Why? The extra money is helping…” you said, still staring at the flowers, Armand crossing your mind.

“My colleagues have been talking about the place nonstop, they think you’re some exotic whore,” he grumbled.

“Okay? There opinions aren’t paying us,” you told him.

“I don’t need them having you as a subject in the paper, you’re quitting,” he began to raise his voice.

“Philip, the money is great”

“I told you, I would provide the life you deserve-

“When? We’ve been out here for nearly a year and you have no signs of a pay increase. Am I supposed to sit around and hope? My mother was right about you,” you spat.

“What did you say?” He stalked towards you, your hands went up defensively as he walked towards you, as if you were prey. Raising his hand, he held it high, ready to strike you. You’d shut your eyes, waiting for the blow, but it never came.

Opening your eyes, you watched as he stood still, realizing what he was about to do, he shook his head.

“I’m sorry,” he began to repeat, reaching for you before you ran out of the building. As you made it down the flight of stairs, you mentally cursed yourself, realizing you forgot to grab your coat, but were too afraid to go back.

Instead you walked the streets, stopping in your tracks, seeing the familiar faces. The cast members dressed as creatures of the night. You were about to walk towards them when a hand lightly pulled you backward. Gasping, your face relaxed as you bumped into Armand.

“Hi,” you said, breathlessly.

“What are you doing out here, in the middle of the night?” He tilted his head at you. You could ask the same thing, they were all here, a good distance from the theater.

“Just walking around, clearing my mind,” you said, shrugging.

“Something happened?” He asked, a concerned expression on his face.

“I’ll be fine, it’s nothing,” you shook your head. Armand was the last person you wanted to burden your problems with.

“Then allow me to join you, we can clear our minds together,” he intertwined his arm with yours.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to-

“Shall we go to the park? It’s quiet around this time,” he thought, leading you in the other direction.

“What are you all doing out here, in the middle of the night?” You asked him.

“Finding…inspiration,” he smirked.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course”

“Do you think it is wrong to regret big decisions you’ve made?”

“I think there are no coincidences, your mistake can lead you to your biggest culmination, regret is unnecessary, stress about something from your past, but tell me, what is it, you wish could have been done differently?”

“Maybe stayed home, pursued my dreams there, found a husband who was a man of his word, who supported my ambitions despite if others thought negatively of me,” you said, you hadn't realized you were crying until you felt Armand's finger brushing the tears away.

“This is nothing to be ashamed of, your dreams are coming to reality and I am a man of my word, I couldn’t care what anyone has to say when you’re on stage,” he smirked as you started laughing.

“And why is that?” You stopped walking.

“Because my eyes are blessed to see an angel and I don’t want to miss any parts of your beauty,” he said, as he gazed into your glossy eyes. Stepping closer, he pressed his lips against your own, and your arms guilelessly went around his neck.

“Where have you been, all my life?” you peered into his eyes.

“Waiting for you,” he said, kissing your lips, once more.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” you giggled as the kiss broke.

“You’ve been worth the wait, come, it is getting late, I’m sure there are still some hotels opened-

“I can go home”

“Y/n-

“Trust me, I’ll be fine at home,” you smiled, as he redirected the walk to your apartment.

“Are you sure you want to stay here tonight?” Armand asked, as you both stood outside your door.

“Knowing Philip, he left,” you reassured him.

“Come to my theater tomorrow night”

“Okay,” you nodded.

“See you then,” he grinned, pecking your lips, before turning away.

“Edward, I don’t understand?” You frowned, trying to fathom what he was saying.

“I think it’s better this way, I’ve been more than grateful for the business you’ve brought to us, but we can’t risk having the article released, it will do more damage than anything,” he explained, his eyes full of pity.

You had extra time on your hands, stopping at your job, when Edward gave you the news. He was firing you, not because you had done anything wrong, but because he had received an anonymous tip about the cabaret soon to be in the media, and not for anything positive - going as far as being compared to a brothel.

All coverage wasn't good coverage in Edwards's eyes and he knew the target audience would turn away from the establishment in an instant.

“I'm sorry, Y/n,” he said, as you sighed, before putting on your best smile. You wouldn't cry now, sometimes this happened to big stars, you told yourself.

“It is alright, I wish you nothing but the best, goodbye,” you told him, leaving the cabaret.

You never looked back, keeping your eyes forward as you approached the ticket collector. His eyes snapped to you as he slightly frowned.

“There is a line,” he told you matter-factly.

“Is Armand here?”

“You can find out after you get in line just like everyone else-

“Y/n,” Armand walked outside, giving him a look. You watched as he lowered his gaze, almost in submission.

“Come,” he motioned, reaching out. Smiling, you accepted his hand, letting him lead you to his booth.

“Is there a reason you look like you’re on the verge of tears?”

“Just trying to figure out why everything is going wrong in my life,” you said, with a chuckle.

“Perhaps your culmination is closer than you realize”

“I hope you’re right”

“I’m in love with you,” your eyes widened at his words as you spoke at the same time.

“Armand, I-

“Since the moment you graced my eyes, I’ve been bewitched by your presence and…and I don’t want to leave it. I can give you the life you deserve, a stage to perform, love unlike any other, and pleasure beyond comprehension, choose me,” he told you, his eyes went to your lips, before he turned, watching as the lights dimmed.

Throughout the play, you could hardly focus, as your finger interlocked with Armand’s. His thumb caressed your warm flesh, bringing your hand to his lips. You could agree with your former colleagues, the play seemed real, almost too real. If it wasn’t for Armand’s swooning, you would be panicking.

You watched as the girl screamed, begging to be saved, but death came to collect. Surrounding her, her shrieking faded away as the curtains closed.

“That was…intense,” you gulped, as Armand laughed.

“It is all apart of the show,” he reminded you.

“Yes, doesn’t change that it was a little scary”

“You would look ravishing on that stage, whatever you'd like, singing, dance, it's yours,” he told you.

“I have to go,” you bit back your smiled, flattered by his bold promises.

“Stay, for tonight”

“I can't, it has been on my heart to write to my mother, so I want to get a head start,” you told him.

“Then will I see you tomorrow night?”

“Tomorrow night,” you nodded, accepting his kiss, before you left, making your way home.

Thinking of the steady decline of your marriage, you worried for your future, if you were headed towards a divorce. Your mother was the smartest woman you knew and although she was disappointed, you knew she would never turn her back completely. Like the prodigal son, you’d return home if it meant better circumstances, and your mother like the father, would accept you with open arms. Your heart wanted to believe Armand, but you couldn’t allow yourself to fall for more empty promises.

Settling back into the apartment, you sat at Philip’s desk. You wouldn't consider yourself nearly as good as a writer as he was, but he had taught you a few things to better your craft. Grabbing a pen, you started a bit formal, it had been a while since you'd seen your mother after all.

As your writing progressed, you poured your emotions out into the paper. Dealing with the suppressed feeling of being the reason for your brother's condition, your failed attempts at marriage, and your career, since leaving home. Glancing at the clock on the wall, you raised your eyebrows at the time. Had it already been two hours of writing? Albeit, there was a pile of crumbled papers.

Suddenly the door burst open, Philip rushed in, terror covering his face. Locking the door, he immediately went to the small kitchen, pushing the stove in front of the door.

“Philip?”

Hearing his name, his head jerked around as he met your gaze. Rushing over to you, he stopped, seeing you back away nervously.

“Y/n, please, I won’t…just let me explain,” he said, opening the manila folder.

“It started when you wanted to work at the Cabaret, I was so excited for you, I started an article, you were going to have an entire page. But…but then my brain began to get distorted and fuzzy, I could hardly think. Before I knew it, the article was on fire. I came to your show and I noticed someone”

“You came to my show before?”

“Always, after the first time, you came home gushing, I promised to try to make it,” he said, pulling out the stack of photos he continued.

“This man, he came to every show, front row, bringing you flowers,” he showed a series of pictures of Armand, some of the photos you were in. His arms around you, his lips pressed against your own.

“Philip-

“Just listen,” he shook his head, stopping you.

“I went to his theater, to confront him, to win my wife back, but then I found this, in his office,” he pulled out more photos.

“He has been watching you since we came here, from the time we arrived, there are photos of you taken. Then, I looked around, and what I saw, they aren't human, none of them. Those aren't plays, they're actual murderings,” he cried, showing the hardly developed pictures of the coffins and corpses in a box full of rats.

“I think he has been getting in my head, since I began to suspect him, I’ve felt like another person is living inside of me,” he said, wiping his tears.

“I waited until they all settled in for rest and I set the hell house on fire, we have to leave, now, we can go home, start fresh, leave all of this behind us,” he stressed.

Moving to your shared closet, he began to rip all of your clothing from the hangers, throwing them on the bed. You stood with your hand on your stomach, trying to process the photos. Indeed, there were photos of you from the moment you stepped off the boat. You didn't want to believe any of these bizarre claims, but here was the proof right in your face.

Unexpectedly, the stove was pushed out of the way, as the door burst open. Armand walked in, his hair slightly disheveled, the scariest glare set on Philip.

“Armand?” you called his name, hesitantly.

“Y/n, run,” Philip told you, as you jumped away from the table, the paper catching ablaze.

“Philip-

“Run, now,” he shoved you, right as Armand grabbed him. His hands around his throat, lifting him off the ground. Philip struggled, trying to free himself, gasping as fangs came out. Armand seemed to be growling at him, before sinking his teeth into him, determined to drain every ounce of blood from him.

“Run,” Philip strained, as you covered your mouth, rushing out the door.

Run, run, don't stop, keep running.

Your heart pounded, as you ran through the streets, gasping for air as you grew more tired. Afraid to look back, you kept going, you were sure you'd drop dead in fear seeing him behind you. Turning on nearly every corner, relief washed over, seeing a store owner closing his shop.

"Sir," you called out, as you jogged to him.

"No, no, I'm closing," he pointed at the sign.

"Please help me, he's going to get me," you cried, as the man finally turned to face you, genuinely concerned.

"Come in," he said, letting you into the store. As you came in, he locked the door behind you. With the adrenaline coming down, you could feel pain in your foot from stepping into the glass.

"We have to hide," you told the man, tugging at his sleeve.

"You go," he pointed to the back, before he went behind the counter, pulling a shotgun out.

Limping to the back of the store, looking back one more time, you screamed as the door burst open, the shop owner being killed instantly. As the elderly man fell to the floor, you cried out, before he appeared in front of you.

"Y/n," his eyes softened seeing your tear-stained face, all of your makeup running down, mixed with the tears.

"Please, don't kill me,” you cried, shaking your head.

“Shh, shh, there is no need to cry,” he consoled you, forcing your head into his chest.

“Why did you kill him?”

“Because he married you,” he admitted.

“What are you?”

“A vampire,” he shifted his eyes as you looked at his face.

“They weren’t acting,” you shook your head, trying to shove him away.

“Not at the end, no,” he confessed. Wrapping his arms you, he walked you out of the store. You continued to try to fight him, but he was much stronger, holding you effortlessly.

Lifting into the air, you gasped, realizing he was floating, no flying! Wrapping your arms around him, you shoved your face deeper into his soft coat. He smiled as one of his hands held your head.

“We were out hunting, when I noticed you, stepping off of the boat. I could hear your precious thoughts, you were sure you'd be the next big star. You had dreams but weren't putting yourself out there, so I sent Edward to you, and I made sure he paid you like the star you are,” Armand said, as his feet landed on top of the museum.

“I showered you with praise and gifts of all kinds, and yet you left every night, going back to him, what is it that he could possibly have that I couldn't give you?” he asked, a gloomy look in his eyes.

“He was my husband, he didn’t have much, but I loved him,” you cried.

“He wouldn’t have given you the opportunities you can have. He would work himself to death, not without cheating on you to fill the void within himself because he knew he could never give you the life he promised”

“You killed him,” you continued to cry. Rolling his eyes, he felt himself growing frustrated with you.

“Because I love you, I can love you better than his wretched human mind could ever think to fathom. I could give you the eternal gift, lavishing you, treasuring you, why can’t you see, has your love for me left that quickly?” he asked, as he grabbed your face, forcing you to look into his eyes.

Glamouring you, he hoped to find the truth, that your heart had turned cold at the sight of him. Wiping your eyes softly, his hand trailed to your lips, brushing against them softly.

“No,” you said, breathlessly.

“Then choose me, you have no need to fear me, we will be companions, equals, I, your maker, and you, my angel,” he said, a bloody tear slipping out of his eye. As he looked away, you snapped out of the trance, your heart ached to see Armand this way.

“I don't think I can forgive anytime soon, but I love you and I want you,” you told him, as you began to cry all over. Reaching towards his face, you wiped the blood away, before cupping his face in your hand. Searching your face for reassurance, you nodded.

“This will hurt for a short moment, but our eternity together will make up for it,” he told you, softly pecking your lips. Swiftly dipping you, you held onto him, as his fangs sank into your neck.

“Then what happened?” Daniel raised his voice, leaning towards you.

“I drank from him, and became his fledgling. I would say the rest is history, but it’s on the blog,” you laughed.

“You forgave him, just like that, after what he had done to Philip?”

“She actually took nearly a decade before I didn’t hear anything anymore,” Armand said, lifting your hand to his lips.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to go back to a few things,” Daniel said, writing on his notebook.

“Okay, let’s hear it”

“Philip said that he came to your shows, nearly every single one, up until you were fired. But, during your time with Armand, he always seemed to working”

“He was saying a lot of things that night, him showing up to my shows was the least important thing to me at the time, but it was like 80 years ago, I don’t remember it like it was yesterday,” you laughed.

“I understand, Philip and Edward both spoke about an article, did this said article ever come about?”

“No-

“The fire was talked about, it took any attention from Y/n,” Armand interrupted.

“And what of the Cabaret? The Vampire Theater?”

“As far as we know, no one made it,” Armand said.

“The Cabaret went out of business a few years into my new life, I hear it’s a bakery now, you should visit,” you told him.

“If I’m not busy, I will think about it. What about your mother and brother?”

“I checked on them a few times, but the bloodline has ended with me,” you said, your smile faltering.

“I see,” he nodded, writing a note down.

“I trust you will do well with my story Daniel, reflecting on my past, I was a child, I didn’t have a real grasp of love and what it meant. I cared for Philip, he is who influenced my writing, but I can finally understand how much I didn’t actually love him,” you told him before he stopped the audio recording.

“Well, that’s it,” he sighed, saving the contents, before closing the computer.

“Lovely, would you like to stay for dinner?” you asked, as Daniel rubbed his head.

“No, I already made plans,” he said, his head feeling distorted and fuzzy.

“Awe, too bad, let me at least walk you to the door,” you stood, leading him to the front door of the spacious penthouse.

Sitting alone, Armand clenched his jaw, his eyes sharply piercing the air. Years upon years, nearly reversed in a single session. He could tell by the way Daniel was asking these questions, he wanted you to remember the obvious, but the truth was far too blurred for you to ever remember things how things were.

From the moment he saw you, he wanted you, filled with jealousy seeing you kiss him. He immediately began to find information about the two of you, watching from a distance. He did hear your thoughts, about how you wanted to be a star, which is why he sent Edward to you. The Cabaret had been nearby for some time now and hardly got any attention, you could work there for a while until you were ready for his stage.

Philip had been to nearly every show, but Armand was too far into your mind for you to ever notice him. Dancing and singing for the vampire alone, he had changed your memory too many times for you to even recount your performances. His breaking point was after stalking you, approaching your apartment, his heart shattered hearing you moan for him. The man he despised.

Lastly, he wished him turning you was as romantic as you made it out to be. After you told him you didn’t love him anymore, he promised that you would learn to love him again, before draining you. The thought of the fire infuriated him, his hate growing towards him. Philip ruined his plans and for that, he paid with his death. You were supposed to be turned, in the most beautiful way, becoming the lead actress at his theater. All of his plans, plans for you, the both of you, went to waste, because of him.

Armand knew some would come to this conclusion, and begin to question why. The answer was simple, so simple that many would hate him for his actions. He was jealous, seeing someone have what he wanted, so he took it. He had lived too long to care about his decisions hurting others and he held no regrets.

“Hey, are you coming to get ready for bed?” You asked, coming back to the entrance of the living room. Standing up, in an instant, he stood in front of me.

“Am I forgiven for my choices, my angel?” he asked, rubbing his face against your hands as you held his cheeks.

“You don't have to ask, don't let this story get to you, it's in our past,” you told him, furrowing your eyebrows at him.

“I love you,” he smiled, kissing your lips.

“I love you too,” you told him, kissing him once more.

“I'll join you soon,” he said, watching as you turned, walking away.

Armand would never admit how prideful and monstrous his nature could be. Selfishly, he has taken you away from any and everything you knew, keeping you all to himself. However, none of these things mattered, he had won, in the end. You were a star, only meant to perform on his stage.

[flamingpudding]

Fictober23 Prompt: 24 - "Is it over? Is it really over?"

Fandom: DPxDC

Rating: T

Warnings: Implied menstions of experimentation, and torture

A/N: My brain came up with two options… I went with the sorta angsty one…

They had raided the facility. It had been a plan they had carefully prepared for months now. Batman had gone over all possible scenarios. But it was a needed preparation. They had discovered it too late. Being prepared for ever eventuality was the least they could have done.

The entire Justice League had been horrified when they had discovered this governmental organisation what was committing sanctioned mass genocide of an entire interdimensional race. An Organisation called the GIW, Ghost Investigation Ward or more commonly called Guy's in White. If Doctor Fate, Zatanna and Constantine hadn't found out about them they probably would have never discovered the atrocities their government was committing.

But this had led to a large-scale operation. They started locating any and all locations the GIW possessed and was working on. Tracking any and all Agents that were working for or with them. Every company that was supplying them was looked into deeper until they had every little bit of information they could find.

With all the locations found they then split into teams. Planning a simultaneous strike to all facilities so that one could not warn the other. They would not let a single Agent of this organization escape. They all would be brought to justice.

Batman had not been surprised that the moment his children were clued into the operation, that some of them were ready to go off on their own to do something. Luckily they all were aware enough of the high risks and how many lives would be at risked if even only one of them messed up.

Four months. It had taken four months of thorough planning, of meticulously strategising, and careful preparation. But now everything was ready. Finally after so long the night to strike came. Originally the other heroes wanted to strike at daylight, a tactic to make it as public as possible to also gain the public opinion in their favor.

Batman had disagreed. It was better to strike at dusk or night. When their guard was down to easily overwhelm them. They could make a clear and evidence based statement to the public the next morning throughout all news channels and news times. Superman, as Clark, had already published several papers throughout the months of preparation that would play into their favor.

They had prepared for everything, arresting every Agent, every Scientist, every Guard. Everyone they encountered was knocked out, bound and prepared for transport into arrestment. He did not scowl any of his children when they used more force than necessary, quite frankly if Batman didn't have his own moral code and self control he might not have held back after what he was seeing.

Thad did not mean that he might have hit one or two of these so-called Scientists harder than necessary if they resisted. There were so many cages, so many 'ecto-entities' bound, branded and caged. Batman felt visibly sick when he came across labs with tables stained in green, knowing exactly what that meant after having listened to Doctor Fate's explanations.

They had gone through nearly the entire facility they were in charge of when Superman reported back first. "There was a boy in the deepest part of the facility, bound and hocked up to what appeared to be the facility's energy source. See if you find anyone with similar treatment in your locations. The Boy is rescued, he appears delirious and is pretty much snarling and growling at me but he is in safe hands now."

"Can confirm! A girl was found in my location in the deepest part underground. Same situation as you described. She didn't appear to be conscious, we took her off their system and transferred her to immediate treatment." Wonder Woman chimed in a moment later and Batman lips formed a straight line.

"Same here. It's an older man, face is familiar. He was shortly lucid enough to talk but all he asked about was where the children were. He might be connected to the kids you two found." Flash also reported after a while. Now Batman was more than sure, there were only four big locations aside from several small ones. His was the last one and his stomach sunk even more at the possibility of what he would find in the deepest part of this place.

His prediction was confirmed when he kicked open the door of the last room they hadn't checked yet. Nightwing was by his side, while Red Robin, Red Hood, Black Bat and Robin had hung back to take care of the evacuation of victims as well as arrest of the last GIW workers.

Nightwing let out a string of actual curses.

There in this room was a white haired teen in a ripped NASA shirt and green stained jeans, hooked up to several tubes, bound with silver shining and heavy looking chains to a wall. There was a green strain on the flooring directly below the boy and the green pipes appeared to be pumping more of it from as well as into the teen.

"Get him off the wall!" He instructed hurriedly, checking for the best way to safely unhook the teen. They appeared to be unconscious but with the report from his hero colleagues he wouldn't bet on that too much. The teen might just be too exhausted to actually react to what was happening around him.

"He can't be any older than Red…" He heard his son mutter as he broke the silver metal bindings and Batman couldn't help but agree. He didn't want to even know how long the teen had been here like this. They had been too late, they should have known about this entire things sooner. But at least they weren't too late to save them in particular.

Suddenly the teen stirred, head snapping up. Blazing Lazarus green eyes stared at them and Batman froze, feeling reminded of his second son. The boy didn't say anything, he was just staring at them before, eyes going from his broken bindings to Nightwing, to the unhooked tube in Batman's hand. He saw how the teens eyebrows furrowed slightly.

"You are not with them…" The teens voice cracked from obvious disuse or maybe overuse? He couldn't know for sure. Still he made a sound of agreement before continuing to unhook the last of the tubes.

"We already freed the others, you're the last one." Nightwing was forcing his voice to sound light and friendly. Batman knew this, he could sense the internal rage his son was suppressing. In a way he was glad it was Nightwing with him, his other sons might not have had the same control over themselves in this situation.

"What about Ellie, Dan and the fruitloop?" It took him only a short moment to connect this question to the possible three reported by the other.

"Rescued and in treatment." He answered curtly, removing the last tube while his son broke the last chain and binding. The teen fell forward like a ragdoll, Nightwing instinctively catching him.

"I can't believe it… this isn't a dream…" The white haired kid muttered, eyes going unfocused and Batman worried that the teens system was going into shook. Did he unhook the boy from the tubes too fast?

"Is it over? Is it really over?" The teens started to sound delirious and Batman shared a look with Nightwing. His son nodded as he moved to get a better hold of the teen.

"It is." His son told him voice was going soft. "Rest for now, the next time you wake up you will be free and with Ellie and Dan."

"Don't forget Vlad, he is still a fruitloop but a good one…" the Teen mumbled before finally passing out. Batman gave Nightwing a nod before the other hurried out of this place with the now passed out teen while he reported his similar finding to Superman, Wonder Woman and Flash.

He stood in the now empty room letting his eyes wander over it one last time, checking for any evidence he should keep before deciding to leave too. There was a lot to prepare for, the news, the public statement, the aftercare and treatment of the victims. Batman ignored the fleeting thought of who was going to take in their four main victims, especially the children and teen. Surely his kids wouldn't mind if he provided them a temporary home, right?