#specs x oc

[bisexualbumblebee-writes]

I Never Planned On You Masterlist

Darcy Reid x Ava Fig | Specs x Marley | Davey Jacobs x Poppy

✨Completed✨

Starting Note

Chapter 1- Printing Press (Darcy x Ava)

Chapter 2- Carrying the Banner (Specs x Marley)

Chapter 3- Business (Davey x Poppy)

Chapter 4- Fervency (Darcy x Ava)

Chapter 5- Surprise (Specs x Marley)

Chapter 6- Delanceys (Davey x Poppy)

Chapter 7- Tinker (Darcy x Ava)

Chapter 8- Breakout (Specs x Marley)

Chapter 9- Bloody Knuckles (Davey x Poppy)

Chapter 10- Dancing in the Dark (Darcy x Ava)

Chapter 11- Happiness (Specs x Marley)

Chapter 12- Control (Davey x Poppy)

Chapter 13- To Love a Newsie (Darcy x Ava)

Chapter 14- Good Things (Specs x Marley)

Chapter 15- Once and For All (Davey x Poppy)

Chapter 16- Overwhelmed (Darcy x Ava)

Chapter 17- Mrs. Samuels (Specs x Marley)

Chapter 18- Family (Davey x Poppy)

[ghouljams]

im so curious.... what wouldve happened if bee knew those were königs bugs? like does he go full kidnapper? saying she just up and left to the people who ask, meanwhile shes barely waking up tied nice and comfortably secure to a bedpost in a somewhat familiar bedroom

im always down for some darker content<3

OK UH problem here is that Bee is insane and reads exclusively dark romance. I wanted this to be dark but she is so silly, and charming. König is charmed. That's why he kidnapped her. You know, once again you're not trapped with him, he's trapped with you. This isn't canon...

If you'd put the pieces together, if König had said something a little more suspicious, what other choice would he have had but to take you home? You try to ask him why he bugged your home, who he's working for, but he's fast and something sharp stings your neck.

You wake up in a room with bars on the windows and a nasty hangover. The sun is too bright through the gauzy curtains. You snuggle deeper under the heavy blankets, hug your arms tighter around your pillow and try to remember what you drank last night. Except you didn't drink anything you remember with a start. König hit you with something. You force your eyes open and sit up to take in the room. It's nice, cozy. Heavy blankets cover the bed, plush throws and old quilts. Thick carpets hide the wood floors you know flow throughout König's house. There's art on the walls, a bookshelf, an armchair.

This place is way nicer than the cells the leads in your favorite books get thrown into. You sniff, rub at your sleep laden eyes, as you take stock. This is just like when Rebessica got kidnapped by Dextros in "Kidnapped by a Crime Boss". You should probably be more panicked than you are, but the splitting headache makes it hard to think that far ahead. They never mention that part in the books.

You know if König wasn't a fed this might be hot. You always wondered what it would be like to be kidnapped by a guy who was so in love with you it bordered on obsession. You knew it was too good to be true, a handsome cowboy living next door to you, doting on you. You should have known he was a CIA plant. Weird they'd make him German, but you suppose it works for him. There's a button next to the bed, right next to the lamp. You hardly hesitate before pushing it.

König opens the door a second later, you wonder if he was waiting for you. "Can I have some asprin?" You ask, "And do we have time for coffee before you give me to the cops, or..." König blinks at you. You can see the gears turning behind his eyes grind to a halt.

"What? Why would the police be involved?" He makes no move to get you anything for the headache. Cruel and unusual punishment.

"You're a fed? I assume?" You pick at the bedspread, "Tellin' me you're retired, getting me to lower my guard, bugging my house, I thought you liked me."

"What?"

"And I want my phone call. I won't say a word without my lawyer present." You cross your arms over your chest to stare him down. König looks like he's completely lost.

"I am retired." He tells you, picking up at least part of your griping.

"You're holding me prisoner," You remind him, in case he forgot. His eyes dart away from you, glancing at the room before landing on you again.

"A very cute prisoner." He tries. You're not buying it. His expression changes, hardens into something cruel and unreadable. You shiver, some sick excitement dripping down your spine. "This is for your own good Schatz, it's dangerous for you to be on your own, and I couldn't have you trying to leave me after you found-"

"Oh I wouldn't leave you over that," You cut him off. König deflates a little, stalks into the room so you're forced to tip your head back to look at him. He looms over you, menacing.

"What?"

"Bugging me, you're not with any government or police force, right?" He nods slowly. "Then I don't see what the big deal is, I bugged you."

"You what?" The tone in König's voice is dangerous. You really don't thin he should be so upset about that, turnabout is fair play.

"Put a worm on your phone, keystroke tracking, location tracking, app usage, battery data-" König holds up a hand to stop you, taking a deep breath.

"Ok," He feels out the word, absorbing the new information. You take the moment to push the blankets back, he put you in pjs, they're cute. This should not strike you as romantically as it does. It's just like one of your books, awww. Your forum friends are going to freak over this. You watch König process, as much as you think this is kinda hot you really should feed your cat.

"Can I go home now, or do you want the worm off your phone?" You ask, as sweet as you can manage. König hums.

"You're not mad."

"You like me enough to kidnap me," You giggle, kicking your feet, "it's kind of cute." The look of horror on König's face is quick but noticeable. He pinches the bridge of his nose and heaves a sigh.

"We need to talk about the books you are reading meine Liebe," He shakes his head, "Ja, alright, run along home. I'll be by later to check on you."

"I know," You grin, "You have it on your calendar, including walk time."

[baratiddyappreciator]

I was so upset that your NSFW cuddling scenarios got flagged 😭

But I have to ask, what would spicy cuddling with musashi, spec, and Doyle be like?

you’ve reawoken my old man thirst

omg wait it did?! SKskks I didn't even notice- But yes, if the beloved moot asks, they shall receive! Spec was the hardest to write for by far because I couldn't figure out if this man would actually cuddle but fuck it we ball(s deep in this bitch someone please throw me a rope to climb out it's wet in here) Kids: get bent lmfao

Musashi: His stare was intense enough to make you feel naked normally, but now that you were actually naked, his eyes locking on yours in the mirror only made you feel hot, his hips meeting yours from behind, slow and methodical, but not gentle. No, anything but gentle as he grabbed your throat, leaving you to make choked noises as his hips met yours over and over again in a slow, powerful grind that had your eyes rolling back into your skull with little to no effort on his part. Mean? Oh absolutely, he was so cruel, driving you insane by moving so slowly, and god you regretted asking him to cuddle you within view of a mirror, because you really should have known that he was going to make you watch him watching you taking him. And you could see him perfectly, each forward thrust of his hips making his shaft disappear deep within you, before it would be slowly dragged out only to slam back into you with dizzying force. Trying to turn your head to the side to nuzzle into the blankets only had him snatching your face to turn you to face the mirror again.

"Don't look away, I want to watch you come undone."

Spec: He didn't really cuddle, no, he was too tough for that. But him lounging around the place only to have you plop down on top of him to join him? Yeah, that was about as close as you'd get. Though if you were hoping for a peaceful nap with him, then you were sorely mistaken, since most of the time you did this there was a 50/50 split that he would wind up fucking you right then and there, and this was a gamble you'd lost (or won) as he bounced you up and down on his thick shaft, smugly chuckling as you were winded time and time again as his thick head kissed your insides, making room for itself so he could nestle deep inside of you. It was like he was trying to stab you to death with his dick, but instead of killing you, all he manged to do was succeeding in having you shaking and crying on top of him as an orgasm was forced out of you, one so powerful almost all your upper body strength vanished, leaving you slumped against his chest as he kept fucking you through it, pressing a sloppy kiss to your forehead with a breathy chuckle.

"That's right darlin', just like the perfect fuck toy fer me."

Doyle: It had been perfectly peaceful until you'd moved your hips an inch. A singular inch, not even, and he'd pounced on you. No more peace and quiet for you, the couch repeatedly slamming into your wall (god your neighbours would hate you if they didn't already) to the rhythm of Doyle's harsh thrusts. Fast but deep, there was no mercy as he left your head spinning from the pleasure and slight sting that it brought along, his hand sealed around your throat teasingly as he loomed over you smugly. He didn't need to say anything to get his point across, he knew how turned on you already were from him using you like a pliant and obedient doll, and honestly, for him? That's what you would be. Each snap of his hips was driving you closer and closer to your climax, and almost like he could taste it, he grinned, licking his teeth, and leaned over you, staring right into your eyes.

"So needy, you're behaving so well for me. Let's see if you can keep it up for just a bit longer, hm?"

[chatandchai]

♦︎♧House of Cards♧♦︎

☽☀︎☾Prologue ☽☀︎☾

1926, New Orleans, Louisiana

In the dimly lit alleyways of New Orleans, where the scent of damp earth mingled with the lingering aroma of jazz and sin, Kaya leaned and fell against a weathered brick wall, her gaze fixed on the flickering neon lights of the nearby speakeasy. Blood seeped from the wound in her side, staining her clothes and pooling darkly on the cobblestones beneath her.

"Karma is surprisingly not a bitch," she mused aloud, her voice a husky whisper that seemed to echo in the night.

Despite the pain that throbbed through her body with each shallow breath, Kaya's lips curled into a sardonic smile. Her eyes, glinting with a mixture of amusement and defiance, scanned the shadowy figures that lurked in the alley, their whispers like dark promises carried on the night breeze.

For Kaya, life had always been a game of chance, a series of calculated risks and dangerous liaisons that had shaped her into the formidable force she had become. But tonight was different. Tonight, she could feel the weight of destiny pressing down upon her, like the heavy hand of a vengeful god.

She knew that her past deeds had caught up with her, that the sins of her past had come back to haunt her in ways she could never have imagined. And yet, as she stood there in the darkness, bleeding and vulnerable, she felt no fear. Instead, she felt a sense of exhilaration, a thrill that coursed through her veins like wildfire, igniting her spirit with a fierce determination to face whatever lay ahead.

For Kaya knew one thing above all else: that in a world where the line between good and evil blurred like the smoky haze of a jazz club, the only true currency was power. And she intended to claim hers, whatever the cost.

But she knew she would make it out alive, she knew she had to, there was no other option. Death was still a luxury to her, a commodity in all senses, which despite all her wealth and fame, she couldn’t afford, so she had to fight, no matter what.

The bleeding hadn’t stopped yet and that bastard had surely punctured her flesh with murder in mind, how wonderfully stupid of him. Kaya tried to stand up, her arms gripping the brick wall for support and some comfort. Even though she was determined, much could not be said about her lack of health and blood.

Dammit, she was too tired to even stand.

“Ah!” a cry left her bloodied lips as she felt her head spinning around as if she was in one of those dingy and small-to-a-fault elevators, the nausea hitting her as the blood continued to seep out of her wound.

Her knees gave out yet again, bruising themselves by hitting the gravel, though the pain wasn’t hard enough to compete with the rest of her wounds. Deciding that there was not much she could do, Kaya simply sat down, her head against the wall as she continued applying pressure to the hurt.

She had to tend the wound if her only option was to make it out alive, while also not getting caught.

The pants that she wore were torn at the waist already and her white blouse was soaked with blood thoroughly. She let her free hand dig in her back pocket, having to raise her hips in the process, making the stinging go worse, and she barely held back a cry of pain, she couldn't afford for them to listen to her cries of pain if they were nearby and find out of her hiding in the alleyway.

Now as she finally found the cloth, her breathing calmed a little, maybe she wasn’t such a gone case after all. She pulled the soft material and kept it in her lap, then pulled out the small flash of alcohol from the strap attached to her belt, opening the bottle cap.

She took a deep breath, calming herself and prepping her mind for the pain she was to feel from her hurt, a few chants on her lips and she poured the content of the flask on her would, the burning sensation making her hiss and shut her eyes close.

As her body familiarised with the burning, she pulled the cloth and started cleaning the area, fingers shaking throughout. She tore the now bloodied cloth with her already bloody hands and shoved the clean part into the visible hole, now that the blood was cleaned. With her index and middle finger, she pushed the cloth deep into the wound, hoping to find some temporary solution to her bleeding, until she ……………

Until what?

“Ah, fuck,” she cussed out loud, griping her hair in frustration. the bleed had stopped its flow but it would not last more than a few hours without proper medical attention. But she couldn’t make the mistake of going to a hospital, no it was just not possible. She could go to her teammates’ house but all of them were either out on a mission or stayed on the other side of the city. Hell, her own house was on the other side and it would take her nearly 2 hours to reach there, given her condition and thus the speed.

Not only that, but the fear of being caught or seen lingered as well, not only by the people who made me into this mess, but also by the police or even the commoners, and she couldn't afford that, especially because there would be no way she could overpower them like this.

Kaya laughed, realising she had nowhere to go.

“No.” she wasn't sure if it was her trying to console herself or if she actually believed it when she said it,

“No, I won’t die today.” she shut her eyes close again, the pain subsiding by a pinch, “Lord, please, no.”

With a shake of her head, she stood up, still clutching her poorly bandaged wound. She had promised herself that she would make it out alive, and out of all the things Kaya was, she wasn't a liar.

But this meant that he had only one option left.

Her slow feet carried her, with each step, the sting increased its capacity, and now that the adrenaline rush was over, she was tempted to drop to the floor and sleep for eternity. The pattern of time was suddenly an unfamiliar concept to her, as she couldn’t keep track of it, and she didn’t know if she should take it positively, or just start to descend into hysteria.

She walked, until her feet were sore, till her throat was so parched that she started choking her own saliva, the nausea returned, the headache did too and she could feel that her temporary fix was slowly losing its grip as well. But all she did was walk until she reached where she knew, no matter what, help would be provided.

Tall, wrought-iron gates adorned with twisted vines and thorns guarded the entrance, their rusty hinges groaning in protest as they swung open to reveal the overgrown garden beyond. Wild roses and ivy climbed the crumbling walls, their tendrils snaking through the cracked mortar-like living shadows.

The windows, grimy and cracked, were adorned with heavy velvet curtains that hung limply against the glass, their once-rich fabric now faded and threadbare with age. A single lantern flickered dimly in the darkness, casting eerie shadows that danced across the worn cobblestones.

Despite its dilapidated appearance, there was an air of faded grandeur about Alastor's house, a sense of faded glory that clung to its crumbling walls like the echoes of a bygone era. To those who passed by on the street below, it was a place of mystery and intrigue, a relic of a time long forgotten.

Kaya staggered up to the doorstep. She rapped sharply on the door, her breaths coming in ragged gasps as she fought to stay conscious. When the knocking didn't do any help, she pressed the bell again and again, to the point where she put her entire weight on the poor button, the buzz going off without a break.

"Who in the devil's name is there, in this ungodly hour?" irritation evident in the voice of the man inside the house, as he appeared to me making his way to the door.

Kaya closed her eyes for a second, relieved that now she was safe.

"Well, well, well, what have we here?" it seemed like he had opened the door and sneered with a smile, though when she looked at him, the concern in his eyes belied his mocking tone. "If it isn't my dear Kaya, come to grace me with her presence. I must say, you're looking positively dreadful, Darling. Is this your idea of a social call?"

Kaya bristled at his mocking tone, but the pain in her side forced her to swallow her pride. "Cut the crap, Alastor," she snapped, her voice strained with effort. "I need your help, and I need it now. Unless, of course, you'd prefer to leave me bleeding out on your doorstep."

Alastor's facade of indifference didn’t crack even slightly at the desperation in her voice but she knew him well enough to know when he was faking and when he was not. "Oh, very well," he gave a tight-lipped smile, "But make it quick, darling. I have a reputation to maintain, you know."

But as Kaya stumbled into the foyer, her strength failed her she lost her balance, Alastor caught her before she could collapse to the ground as she chuckled at her own helplessness and at her sworn enemy who slowly stripped off his facade at her pitiful condition. "Damn you, Kaya," she heard him mutter, his voice thick with emotion. "You always were too stubborn for your own good."

Kaya managed a weak smile through the pain. "Oh, Alastor," she murmured, her eyelids fluttering closed. "You always did have a way with words.” even with all her pain and trouble, she could practically feel him smiling at her sadly, “Just promise me one thing, darling.”

As Kaya's consciousness ebbed away, she felt a wave of exhaustion wash over her, dragging her deeper into the darkness. Each breath felt like a struggle, her body aching with every movement. But despite the pain, there was a strange sense of peace that settled over her, like the calm before a storm.

"What is it now, my dear?" he asked, his voice gentle despite the underlying tension.

For a moment, all she could do was revel in the sound of his voice, the familiar cadence and timbre comforting her in a way nothing else could. It was as if the world around them faded away.

“ Promise me you won't kill me until I wake up.”

And with that, she fell unconscious in his arms and in that moment, as her consciousness slipped further away, Kaya clung to the hope that Alastor would honor her request, that he would grant her this small reprieve from the turmoil of their lives. And as darkness claimed her once more, she found herself surrendering to the unknown, trusting in the bond that had always existed between them, no matter how tenuous or fraught it may be.

Next chapter ——->

[leleouwu]

Ok so, for some reason I found Spec interesting so yeah, I'mma draw him for some time

Anygays, me and spec bc ye

And close ups if the pic quality is bad in the full pic-

[cyronite]

Ann being aro spec is her liking one specific dude and even then she only likes him sometimes. 

[supergito]

chibi art of my db otp - amita (my oc) x vegito

amita's triclops/human mixed uvu

[roosterforme]

Adult Education Part 10 | Hangman x OC

Summary: The rest of the weekend at Jake's place felt like a dream, but Jessica's fraternity fundraiser was quickly approaching. She crashes back to reality on Monday when she has to face Brian again. But just maybe she finally has the right people on her side. 

Warnings: Fluff, smut, angst, swearing, 18+

Length: 4500 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female OC

This story is part of the Beer Boy and Sugar universe but can be read on its own! Adult Education masterlist

Seriously, who let Jake on my masterlist!? Banner by @mak-32

Jessica took a few minutes to get cleaned up in Jake's bathroom. She felt flushed and warm, and when she looked in the mirror, her cheeks were bright pink. Even after taking off her glasses and splashing some water on her face, she looked flustered. 

She sat on the closed toilet lid for a moment. She was completely naked, and she could hear Jake in the kitchen, and she didn't know what she was supposed to do. "Oh god," she moaned, running her fingers through her messy hair. Was she supposed to change back into her clothes from earlier? Or dress in her nightie even though it was only mid afternoon? What had Jake changed into after she ducked in here?

After a few deep breaths, she opened the door and walked out into the living room and peeked into the kitchen where Jake was arranging things on the counter. She took in his broad shoulders and the fact that he was only wearing his underwear. "Can I borrow a shirt?" she asked, and he spun to face her with a huge smile. 

Maybe she should have been a little self conscious with the way he was looking at her. This was honestly the first time she's been exclusive with a guy before sleeping with him, and now she felt a little foolish for walking around his condo completely nude. "Of course," he replied softly. "Don't want you getting cold. Plus maybe you'll let me take it off of you later."

Okay. So he still thought she was desirable after they had sex and when her hair and makeup were a mess. "There's a good possibility," she whispered, thinking about his body above and beneath hers. 

Jake kissed her cheek and took her by the hand, leading her back into his bedroom. "Help yourself to whatever you want," he told her, opening a few of his dresser drawers. "Undershirts. Shorts. Longhorns shirts."

She laughed as he squeezed her hand. "You have a whole drawer full of Longhorns shirts? Seems kind of crazy you didn't even want to watch the game earlier." She reached into the drawer and pulled out an orange tee shirt as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"Yeah, well... you were on my lap. Rubbing on my dick. What the hell else was I supposed to be focused on?" He looked a little flushed too as she pulled the shirt over her head and then adjusted her glasses. 

"Nothing else," she said softly. "Just me."

With his hand wrapped around her waist and his lips close to her ear, Jake showed her everything in the remaining drawers and his closet. "You can wear anything you want, whenever you want. And you don't have to ask me again. You just go ahead and take it."

"Okay," she replied, looking up at him. She noticed all of his expertly pressed uniforms hanging up, and she was a little curious how the blue and white ones would look on him. She was about to mention them when he pulled her a little closer. And then he kissed her, and it was soft and sweet as she wrapped her arms around his waist. She felt good when she was with him, like she could take a break from worrying about Brian and tenure and failing students. Like Jake was someone who wasn't going to make her life harder.

"Wanna check out that Super Hornet spec sheet with me?" he asked, and she knew she must look ridiculously excited. 

"Yes," she sighed. And if she thought that was all he had in store, she was very wrong. A minute later she was perched on one of the stools at the kitchen island, and she grinned as Jake slid a single sheet of paper across the granite. It was upside down, and he kept his palm on top of it as she tried to turn it over.

"Not so fast," he drawled. "This is top secret, highly sensitive information I'm about to show you. Do you promise you won't turn me in and get me court-martialed?"

"Jake," she whispered as she looked at his pretty green eyes. "I'm a little turned on just thinking about the math. Please. I won't tell a soul."

"Fuck," he groaned, flipping the paper over for her. "I can't say no to you when you tell me that."

She gasped as she looked at the schematics of his aircraft along with some information she never dreamed she would get access to. There were a few redacted bits of information, but it was still exciting. "Oh my god," she moaned as Jake held out a sharpened pencil and a graphing calculator for her. "Where did you get this?" she asked, completely stunned as she opened the calculator that cost several hundred dollars. It was exactly like the one she kept in her desk drawer in her office.

"Bradshaw's wife told me which one to buy," he muttered, but she cut off his words as she pulled him closer with her hands around his waist. She felt the desire to take him back to his bed now that both of them seemed to have got past the jitters from earlier. But as she kissed him, she realized he made it a point to bring home exactly what she wanted, and he even bought her favorite kind of calculator. More sex could wait until after this foreplay.

"You're so sweet," she said against his lips as she spread her legs wide, letting him stand between them. 

He was drawing little circles on her bare thighs with both hands as he smiled against her lips before pulling back a few inches. He kept one hand on her leg and tapped the page with his index finger. "You're gonna need the new velocity values right here and right here," he said, moving his finger down the page to the redacted parts. "Lucky for you, I'm a little quicker than the Admirals. I memorized them from the projected lecture notes."

She liked it when he sounded a little cocky and smirked as if he was too good to be true. Maybe he was. As he continued to rub along the top of her thigh, Jessica asked, "Will you tell me? So I can work out the math?"

He licked his lips. Why was she so turned on? He kissed her, and she wanted him to take her on the kitchen island. "Yeah, I'll tell you, Smart Girl," he promised, his voice sounding a little harsh as he whispered two different numbers to her. 

Jessica scribbled them down and whimpered softly. When she opened the calculator and started to solve some elaborate formulas, Jake stood behind her and watched with his chin resting on her shoulder. She filled the margins with her calculations, and the occasional brush of his lips on her neck left her needing to recheck her math. 

After working at it a bit, she was close to solving for the maximum speed of the aircraft versus the speed of sound. And Jake's kisses were growing more persistent along the collar of the Longhorns shirt. "Oh," she sighed softly. 

"You almost done, Reedy?" he whispered. "As much fun as this is to watch, I'd like to get my hands on you again."

Her eyes fluttered closed before she could enter her final calculation and solve everything. "Are you turned on right now?" she asked him.

Jake grunted, his hands soft on her shoulders as his lips found the shell of her ear. "Been a little turned on since I first saw you in a pair of high heels being smarter than everyone else in a lecture hall full of physicists."

All she could feel was the clench of desire when his lips barely moved along her skin. Her limbs felt too heavy, and everything was moving in slow motion as her brain finally figured out what to type into the calculator. "Mach 2.0587," she moaned. "That's how fast you'll safely be able to go with the new interface updates."

Jake spun the stool around, and she had to brace her hands on his abs while he devoured her mouth. She wasn't nervous now, and he wasn't hesitating this time as she slid off the stool, her body rubbing along his erection. In an instant she had her hands inside his briefs, still amazed by how thick he was, and her lips brushed his chest hair. 

The sound she made left her blushing as she tugged down his underwear. Jake stepped out of them and got his hands underneath the Longhorns shirt and on her butt. She had to grip his shoulders as he easily lifted her up. "On the couch?" he asked. 

"Yeah," she agreed with a needy moan as her clit pressed snug against his cock.

--------------------------------

With Jessica's knees planted on the couch cushion and her hands on the arm, Jake could fully appreciate the freedom afforded by skipping a condom. He was kissing along her ass and lower back, his Longhorns shirt pushed up nearly to her shoulders. "Please," she whined, leaning further over the couch arm and wiggling her rear end enticingly. 

He bit her gently, and she squeaked for him before turning her head and gasping. He'd been thinking about a horny couch quickie for a week, and now he was about to get it. Well, maybe not too quick. 

"Jake," she whined when he ran his fingers through her slick and then coated up his cock.

His hand was wet and sticky as he placed it on her lower back and slid himself slowly inside her tight, little pussy. "Wouldn't have taken you for the impatient type," he muttered as her back arched beautifully for him. He went slow, watching the way she gripped his length and listening for her gasp of breath when he bottomed out. "Shit." He pushed a little harder and then stayed put, brushing his fingers along her ass. She took him so well, her hands scrambling on the couch upholstery for purchase as he asked, "Ready?"

"Yes," she whispered, her voice already sounding broken as he leaned over top of her and braced his hands next to hers. 

With a soft kiss to her cheek, he murmured, "Okay, Baby," and then he withdrew a few inches and thrust hard. The snap of his hips had her arching her back again, the back of her head pressed to his shoulder. He rocked into her a few more times just like that, pleased when she got louder. 

He fucked her hard, gasping and moaning her name, and she didn't back down at all. Her body met his each time. At first, he thought this was something he needed to get out of his system, but her body was made for this. Made to be bent over the couch or her desk or his truck tailgate. Taking him hard. He could imagine it everywhere, always feeling this good as he fucked her with his lips on her ear. 

"A little harder?" he managed to ask when his balls started to grow tight. He knew he could make it sweet later, but she was responding beautifully to this. 

"Yeah," she grunted, and he caught her swaying breasts in both hands. The feel of them in his palms, bouncing in time with his quick thrusts left him with a smile on his face as Jessica came for him. Her face was buried in her folded arms, and her pussy was clenching. 

"Holy shit." he pushed himself deep and let her milk him until he was shaking and grabbing her tits a little harder. She whimpered, still fluttering around him as she lifted her head and looked at him. Her glasses were crooked, she looked shocked, and he was about to be rewarded with another pretty creampie to look at. He could get used to Saturdays like this.

He withdrew, his cock still hard as she panted to catch her breath, and he watched his cum ooze and drip, catching it with his hand. "Jessica," he whispered, bringing his palm up to meet her pussy and rubbing gently. She bucked and made a sound. "So pretty." 

He could tell that her body was still a little sensitive as she curled up on his lap with her cheek on his shoulder. He rubbed his sticky hand along her thigh as she played with his chest hair. When she kissed his neck, he whispered, "I hope I wasn't too rough."

"No. Not at all. It felt good."

He let his head tip back. "Been thinking about that for a week, and my imagination must fucking suck. Or you're just that good for me."

She laughed softly. "I'm probably just very good."

---------------------------

Jessica had never had bruschetta chicken before. When Jake pulled it out of the oven, she tried to eat it right away, but he told her to wait while he grated cheese on the top. He'd been catering to her all afternoon and evening though, so they ended up eating it right out of the casserole dish while standing at the counter after she said she was hungry. 

"It's so good," she moaned between mouthfuls. 

"I'll send the rest home with you tomorrow. You can take it for lunch on Monday."

The weekend wasn't even over yet, but it was getting a little late as she ate another bite of dinner. She wanted to know if their routine would keep going. "Are you planning on stopping by my office hours this week?"

Jake tipped her chin up and kissed her lips softly. "How else am I gonna get new journals to read and visit my girlfriend at the same time? Or are you going to be too busy skateboarding?"

She kissed him back. "Luca wants me to go surfing next."

"Luca wants to see you in a bathing suit," he replied with a grin. 

"No! I'm his favorite teacher!" she protested with a laugh. 

"Yeah. I'm sure you're his favorite teacher for a whole variety of reasons, Baby." He ran his hands up and down her body as she ate another bite of dinner. "You're a good teacher and you're fucking hot as sin."

Jake was trying to playfully lure her away from the casserole dish, but she kept slipping out of his grasp to take another bite. "As soon as I learned you could cook, you were golden," she murmured as she took one more bite before he carried her to the bedroom over his shoulder. "I haven't had a boyfriend in so long, because what's the point if you're not getting fed after getting fucked?"

"That's a valid question," he said, taking her into his bathroom. He turned on the shower and walked around collecting fresh towels with her draped casually over his bicep. "But I will say, there's an excellent chance that I'll cook you anything you want for breakfast tomorrow. Even if we don't fuck again. You could probably even get a midnight snack out of me."

He set her down gently and patted her butt before she handed him her glasses and stepped under the warm shower spray with a little shiver. "You want me to get something out for you to wear to bed?" he asked, but she shook her head and reached for him. 

Jessica pulled him in the shower with her as she said, "No, I want you in here." With soapy hands, they explored each other's bodies, and it didn't feel overly sexual. Sure, Jake's hands were everywhere, and his cock was halfway at attention, but his hands weren't rough like when they had sex on the couch. And he wasn't pushing for more. She just made out with him and then let him wash her hair. 

"Feel good?" he asked, massaging his strong fingers along her scalp as she melted back against him. 

"Yeah," she whispered in the softest voice, afraid to break the spell they were under where he kept kissing her and calling her his Smart Girl. Once they were finally out of the shower, only because it was starting to turn cold, Jake wrapped her up in a towel. 

"Sure you don't want something to sleep in, Jess? It's a little chilly in here."

"I brought pajamas," she murmured, kneeling to dig in her overnight bag. "Pick a color: blue or pink." When he didn't answer right away, she turned to look up at him as she wrapped her towel around herself a little tighter. "Do you have a preference?" 

He looked like he was in a daze as he watched her fingers glide along the two lace and silk options in her bag. "Blue," he whispered, and she stood with the royal blue nightie in her hands. Jake watched her every movement as she towel dried her hair and then slipped into her pajamas for the night. "Can I see the pink, too?" he asked, his voice strained. 

"Maybe next time," she replied with a smile. 

"Did you pack those just for me?"

She threw her towel at him and climbed into bed. "I always wear things like this to sleep."

"You do?" His cheeks looked pink as he tossed his towel and hers into the hamper. Then he was in bed with her, pinning her wrists above her head in one big hand. "And they all look like this? With little bows and lace all over?"

"Yeah," she whispered, turning her head to the side when he nudged her cheek with his nose. 

"I thought you just bought that little green set to hide under your work clothes and tease me with." He kissed her ear as she sighed. 

"Well, I kind of did, but I collect lingerie," she replied, and instantly Jake was flat on his back next to her with his hands over his eyes. "What?" she asked, sitting up as she laughed. "Is that weird?"

"Weird?" he croaked. "No, weird isn't the right word for it." He rubbed his eyes and groaned before peeking through his fingers. "I won't survive this."

She looked down at the soft blue lace and then looked back at him. "Why not?"

Jake tugged on her arm until she was laying on top of him. He rubbed his hands up and down her back and over her butt. "Because it's like wrapping paper, Baby. It's like the gift I've always wanted to receive is all wrapped up in the prettiest paper and then given to me to unwrap and enjoy."

She looked down at him with one raised eyebrow and softly parted lips. Nobody had ever described her like that before, not in such a beautiful way. Her closet was filled with lace, satin, silk, leather and chiffon, but she hadn't really shown it off before. Not like she wanted to right now. She wanted to let Jake dress her up how he liked, and then she wanted to take absolute control over him. He ran his fingers through her damp hair and looked up at her, his pupils blown wide, and she sat back on his cock to find him hard.

"Again?" she asked softly. 

When he nodded, she positioned herself to take him while he started to unwrap his present.

-------------------------

Monday morning came too early, and when it did, Jessica woke up alone in her bed and sighed. Jake dropped her off late last night. Like very late. And after spending the night in his warm bed with him on Saturday, last night had been a restless sleep. She wanted to invite him in to play dress up in her closet, but she knew they both needed some sleep for the work week. So he only came inside long enough for a tour of her apartment and a hot little makeout before he filled her refrigerator with individual containers of leftovers. And then she sent him home with the containers from last week's food that she'd washed and set aside for him. 

But she knew she wouldn't see him again until Tuesday, so she phoned in her hair and make up on Monday morning. What was the point? She was already dreading her agenda for the day. There was a faculty meeting run by Brian and then another damn meeting about alumni weekend which was just a few days away. And then she had to finalize everything for the fundraiser by making five phone calls.

Once she dropped her things in her office, she made her way to the faculty meeting with one minute to spare. She could tell that Brian desperately wanted to call her out for being late, but when Dr. Leeland came hustling in right behind her, out of breath and sweating, Brian turned away from her. 

"Morning, Benson," she said to Dr. Leeland in a pleasant voice as she held the door open for him. 

"Jessica," he grunted with a half smile as he headed for a seat in the front. Jessica slipped into the back row and sipped her coffee while forcing herself to focus on Brian's words instead of daydreaming about Jake. She couldn't afford to draw too much attention to herself since she had the second meeting about alumni weekend with Brian right after this one. 

She just sat very still, and whenever his eyes landed on hers, she braced herself for him to make a comment about skateboarding with Luca and professionalism in the workplace. But it never came. She let out a sigh of relief as the meeting ended and everyone else filed out. She remained in her seat, waiting for everyone else from the science department who was involved in alumni weekend to filter in.

Brian was pretending to ignore her as she flipped through the red notebook of lecture notes she brought with her. He was standing at the podium silently when the door opened up and one of his teaching assistants rushed in. Jessica recognized her from the classrooms and the occasional meeting, and right now she was calling out Brian's name and running right to his arms. 

"Not right now," Jessica heard Brian say, his piercing eyes landing on her as he pushed his TA away from him. 

"But my lab is about to start, and I'm not going to see you later," the younger woman whined playfully as Brian tried to back away from her. Jessica felt sick as she loudly cleared her throat. Then she had two sets of eyes focused on her and her red notebook. The other woman looked a little frantic, but Jessica kept her expression completely neutral. There were already enough rumors circulating about her, and she certainly didn't want to propagate any more by stirring Brian up. 

"We can discuss your lab schedule later, Miss Turner." Brian's voice was filled with so much finality, the other woman left the room without another word. 

Jessica literally had to bite her tongue as she looked at him, and just when Brian opened his mouth to say something, Dr. Jenkins from the biology department walked in wearing one of his hideous sweater vests, and she couldn't have been happier to see him. 

--------------------------

On Tuesday, Jessica took a deep breath as she held her lunch container filled with bruschetta chicken in one hand and her fork and water bottle in the other. She thought it was okay to just stop by, but maybe she should have texted first? She knocked on the door before she could change her mind. Then she heard clamoring inside followed by more than once voice, and it sounded like someone was dragging furniture across the floor. 

When the door opened a few inches, and she saw her friend's startled eyes, Jessica said, "If you're busy, I can come back."

"Oh. It's you," Advanced Calculus sighed deeply with a look of instant relief on her face. Then she opened the door wider and glanced behind her, and Jessica's gaze shifted to the interior of her office where Bradley was quickly tucking his uniform shirt into his uniform pants. His cheeks were flushed, but he had a grin on his face. 

"Hey, Jessica," he murmured, grabbing his keys and phone from the desk. "I was just leaving," he added before bending to give his wife a filthy kiss. "I'll pick you up after your last lecture, Sugar."

"Bye," she replied softly, gently pushing her husband through the door as he nodded at Jessica. 

"I'm so sorry, I had no idea I was interrupting-"

"You weren't," the other woman said as she tried to hide her smile. "He just had his lunch hour free today and.... wanted to visit."

Jessica still stood frozen, unsure what she should do. She gestured behind her and said, "I could just go back to my office."

Her friend scoffed. "We're done now, so you might as well just come in."

"Okay," Jessica replied with a smile of her own. "I just didn't know I was going to be interrupting a quickie. I'll text you next time."

Instead of responding, Advanced Calculus just sat down with a coy smile and asked, "What did Jake make you for lunch today?"

Jessica held up the container that she just heated up in her office. "It's the bruschetta chicken from Saturday night."

She laughed and held up a container of her own. "Bradley made the same thing. Should we compare recipes?"

"Oh! Absolutely," Jessica agreed right away. A few bites in, and both of them were looking from container to container, unsure which one was the winner. "I like both of them."

"Me too," she replied, taking another bite of Jake's. "Does he use panko breadcrumbs?"

"I think so. Does Bradley use oregano and rosemary?"

"Probably. I can't really tell them apart." 

They both erupted into laughter. 

"So are you ready for your fundraiser on Saturday night?"

Jessica finished the last bite of lunch and sighed. "Almost. I'm going to the fraternity house to meet with the boys tomorrow night. They rented the tuxedos. The culinary students are making the food. Bradley's bringing the kegs. Dev emailed me and said he'd donate things for the silent auction. I'm just nervous."

"You shouldn't be," she replied. "It'll be perfect. You spent a lot of time on this."

Jessica shook her head. "I just feel like my future at this school depends on it. Like if I fuck this up, I'll never get tenure."

And then Jessica felt a bit like she was under a microscope. "And Brian Conley is in charge of your tenure?"

"Yes," she replied softly as she looked up at the other woman's gaze.

But she was only met with kindness in the form of sympathetic eyes and a soft smile. "So what's the deal with you and him anyway?"

Jessica knew there had been rumors circulating for months, but maybe now she finally had people in her life who would believe her when she told them what happened. "How much time do you have?"

------------------------

She's confiding in Sugar! And both girls had the quickie of their dreams with their dream guys. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 11

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[bisexualbumblebee-writes]

I Never Planned On You Chapter 17: Mrs. Samuels- Specs Samuels x Marley Samuels

Word Count: 1.6k

Five Years Later

Specs waved at his patient as they finally left the office, sighing in relief afterwards. Things had felt so busy lately for him with new technology with glasses, it felt like patients were coming in nonstop. But today was different. Today he made sure that his lunch hour was completely uninterrupted so he could go visit his dear fiancé. He hadn’t changed much over the years since the strike, but he did mature quite a bit. He said a quick goodbye to his receptionist before walking out and grabbing some food from his fiance’s favorite restaurant before heading to the school that she worked at, knowing it was nearing her lunchtime as well.

Marley had just finished ushering children out of her classroom to the playground for recess and walked back into her classroom, sitting at her desk with a small sigh. Her desk was piled high with spelling tests and homework to grade, but it was also decorated with gifts from students, framed newspaper clippings and a picture of her and Specs. She had changed over the years and matured into a woman. She had allowed her hair to grow out and often pulled it out of her face into a more mature look rather than the braids she had worn as a young girl. She wore a brown linen dress with a white undershirt that complemented her figure well, and her smile was void of braces.

Specs was known at the school by this point, having come to surprise his fiancé many times before. That meant he was let in with ease, which allowed him to arrive at her classroom rather quickly. He knocked on her open doorway with her free hand and a smile on his face. Even now after so many years of knowing each other she still managed to bring a smile to his face by simply existing. 

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Samuels,” he greets. Sure, it wasn’t officially her last name yet, but he was much too excited at the prospect of marrying her to care. The woman looked up and smiled at the mere sight of him. She hadn’t expected him that afternoon and she was always so excited to share lunch with him.

“Good morning,” she responded with a small blush at the name. “What a pleasant surprise, I didn’t expect company.” She stood, rounding her desk with open arms to hug him. He returned the hug with a smile, kissing the top of her head. 

“I cleared my lunch hour, figured it’s been a while since we had lunch together,” he explained, holding up the bag containing the food. “Hope you’re not too busy.” Marley shook her head and took a step back. 

“No not at all, I needed some company,” answered, making her way back to her chair and setting some papers aside. “The kids were just asking me when you were going to come back, they love you so much.” Specs laughed softly as he set the bag down in the space that the papers used to occupy. 

“I almost feel bad because I don’t know how long I’ll be able to stay,” he admitted as she opened up the bag of food to set it out for them. 

“It’s okay, I’ll tell them you came by,” she assured him as she glanced out her window, looking at the group of children playing outside. “How’s work going along? Busy?” 

“Very,” he breathed out with a quiet laugh as he sat down. “But I’m not complaining. People are allowed to get their vision improved, I’m happy with that.” The woman smiled softly at him. She always admired that he was helping people, she loved his selflessness and dedication, even if she had to remind him to take a break for himself every once in a while. 

“You look so great in the white coat, if I weren’t your fiancé I would come in once a week just to look at you,” she joked as she began to eat. The man laughed and shook his head amusedly. 

“You still could, school gets out before the office closes,” he pointed out jokingly. A small smirk settled on her lips. 

“Maybe I will, doctor,” she giggled out. “Did that shipment go smoothly? I know you were stressed out about it.” Specs nodded and grinned.  

“Everything went according to plan. Better than expected actually,” he laughed. “And how have the kids been for you? Did you ever talk to Millie’s parents?” 

“No, Millie’s parents talked at me,” she half joked. “Those people are no joke, I’ve never seen someone get so red with anger before. I didn’t mind though, I mean- she’s a good kid, I just need her to stop copying off of other kids.” The man huffed softly. 

“Some people, I swear…” he muttered. “Parents who insist their child is a saint are the worst.”

“I will believe my child is a demon because I know anything spawned from us can’t be a good outcome,” she giggled out in between bites of food.

“From you, you mean. I, meanwhile, am a godsend,” he joked, turning up his nose in a posh manner. The woman covered her mouth as she laughed. 

“Oh sure, a godsend who can’t do the dishes or make the bed, pardon me.” 

“Oh, excuse me, I thought that being the one to cook dinner and take out the trash was enough, my mistake,” he retorted with a playful grin as he took another bite of food. Marley shook her head amusedly. 

“Thank you for that, I was so tired last night I think you would’ve found me asleep in a kitchen fire if I made dinner,” she giggled out. Specs shrugged with a small smile.

“You deserved the break. You’ve been working super hard these last few weeks, I knew you were bound to get tired at some point.”

“Well, I’ll make dinner tonight, as long as you don’t claim to be a godsend.” The man rolled his eyes playfully and huffed. 

“Always has to have a catch with you,” he pouted playfully, crossing his arms like a child.

“Don’t make me give you detention,” she teased as she finished her food and tossed her trash.

“If it’s you, I don’t mind,” he joked as he finished eating as well, tossing away his own trash afterwards. The woman leaned against her desk a little, gazing at him with pursed lips. 

“You’re cheeky, you know that?”

“Of course. That’s why you fell in love with me,” he chuckled. “That, and my dashing good looks, of course.”

“Of course,” she repeated, reaching across the desk to take his hand. Specs laced their fingers together like it was second nature to him - which it probably was at this point - and lifted her hand to press a kiss to the back of it.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” He asked, his eyes conveying his sincerity as he looked into hers. 

“It’s always so flattering coming from such a handsome man,” she whispered. “You’re the love of my life, sometimes I have to remind myself this isn’t a dream.” 

“I know the feeling,” he chuckled softly. “Sometimes I’m worried that I’ll wake up any second, but I couldn’t be happier that this is real. That you’re real. And I’ll thank any higher power above for it for the rest of my life and beyond if I could.” Marley sighed in content, her sparkling eyes locked onto his.

“I’m so lucky. We’re so lucky,” she muttered. “I’m lucky to have someone to share my life with, that we spend every night together. I feel so bad for poor Poppy having to wait for Davey.” Specs nodded and smiled sympathetically. 

Davey had volunteered for the army as a medic just over four months ago, leaving Poppy at home alone. Not long after he left Poppy had discovered something shocking that made her only miss her husband even more. She’d taken to asking Marley or Specs (or sometimes both) to spend the night so the house didn’t feel so empty.  Over the years Specs and Poppy had formed a bond with each other through their love for Marley. Now they were almost (if not the same) as close as her and Poppy. 

“Yeah, she invited you to spend the night with her at some point this week right?” The man asked, earning a nod from Marley. 

“She’s got real bad morning sickness right now so I stopped by this morning too. I’m worried about her.” 

“Do you want to stop by her house on the way home too?” He asked, now concerned.

“I’m sure she would appreciate that. We can share dinner, I’m sure she would appreciate not having to cook tonight,” she answered. Specs nodded in agreement and smiled.

“I believe she said something about craving your baked chicken the last time I was there, too,” he offered. 

“I just work magic, what can I say?” She joked.

“Glad to know you’re still as humble as ever,” he retorted dryly with a sarcastic smile. She giggled and perked up as the group of children began to run from the playground to the back door, the chatter growing louder as they neared and they lined up against the wall beside her classroom. She stood with a small smile.

“Back to work we go,” she sighed in content. Specs chuckled and stood as well, pulling her into his arms to give her a quick peck.

“I’ll see you after work?” He asked with a big smile. Marley nodded as she returned the hug. 

“I’ll see you after work. Now go change some lives,” she said with a smile to match his.

“I will,” he chuckled softly, pecking her lips one last time before making his leave, saying hi to all the kids on his way out. The rowdy kiss all waved, hugged, or tried to talk to him as he passed. Marley could do little more than laugh as she opened the door to let them in, watching as her future husband walked off.

[ghouljams]

Are you fucking kidding me???? Like??? Be real??? I have been asking you to write a fucking executioner!Konig for months and all I get is diddly. But some rando asks for a medieval!cod and you headcanon for everyone BUT Konig????? Don’t ever talk to me again. I hope you date goes bad. Karma is a bitch. I hate you.

- 👹

Where's my call-out post bitch? I'm literally just called you about writing fic for you. What happened to not reading your older siblings writing? Huh???

I'm spraying König with the hose right now, are you happy? Die.

König is a hunter. He likes the quiet of it, the solitude. It's easier to think with a bow or a knife in his hands. And it's simple. Hunting doesn't mean he has to talk to anyone, he sells to the butcher, keeps what he wants. The most talking he has to do is when he goes out to buy bread. Past that there's no reason to say anything to anyone.

Not that anyone wants to talk to him anyway. The deadly hunter, the silent giant, he is feared and respected in equal measure. He lives on the edge of town where he won't get visitors and its enough to make him call himself happy. Whether or not he actually is, is up for debate.

He's hunting when he first sees you. You're by the river, doing your washing against the well worn stones. The quiet birdsong and rustle of leaves accompany your humming. He watches you silently from his hide. The sun hits your cheeks through the leaves of the forest, and you're so beautiful he thinks you might be a nymph or some other spirit of the woods. He doesn't catch anything that day, too preoccupied with his silent vigil.

The next time he sees you is further down the river. He'd been careful to avoid the shallow end of it, not wanting to disturb you or his hunt. It's a wasted thought. You've waded out into the basin of the river, your clothes folded neatly on the shore as you slough off the summer heat and sweat. He watches you longer than he should, longer than is proper. He thinks of you later when he's alone.

He meets you a third time buying bread from the only decent baker in town. He's dropping coin into their waiting hand when you come out from the kitchen with fresh loaves. His mouth goes dry as you catch his eye and smile.

"You're in that house on the edge of the forest, right?" You ask, sweet as can be. He nods. "It must be a long walk here," another nod, "and lonely?" He hesitates, you smile a little wider, "maybe I can make a delivery sometime."

"That would be kind of you," he isn't sure quite how to respond, too worried he'll give himself away if he says too much, or too little.

"Yeah? I figure if you see me more often you won't have to spy on me in the woods." Your smile doesn't falter, König leaves quickly.

[chatandchai]

♦︎♧House of Cards♧♦︎

☀︎☽Chapter 1☾☀︎

✨The beginning of it all✨

1924, New Orleans, Louisiana

”Falling for a man, or a smile both have a thing in common, it proves you stupid.”

She looked at the billboard in front of the club, 'A gentleman' with a smile, the words of her song, plastered in bold letters and flashy lights. The place was in the poshest corners of the city and the fact that she was here, not regarding her Programme but rather her job made her both surprised and disappointed.

Rich people had too much free time on their hands, unfortunately.

Trying to enter from the front gate should get her thrown out, given that she wasn't in her usual attire, and though it would be too much extra effort to enter through the back door, it would be alright.

She turned to the left, as she saw the guard shook his head, her not-so-fancy slip dress and not-so-fancy fur coat, didn't stand out in the crowd, much to her pleasure. The more she blended, the more she was safe. It wasn't common for the mayor to come to the town, after all.

Kaya and always fallen into a lower and more so ever filthy category that the city provided. For one, she was 'poor', at least in the eyes of the people. Secondly, she was a woman, which obviously meant that her existence was a liability to anyone she knew, and were were constantly thinking of her as a threat to themselves. Lastly, and the most prevalent reason was the fact that she looked different than the majority. Her skin was more of a factor in her treatment by society and the people rather than her existence.

This is exactly why, she had to stand in a queue that separated her from most of the people, with people who looked like her, who were her. She didn't want to protest though, because if there was one thing they hated after people of colour, was women looking for trouble.

Kaya finally entered the club after waiting in the queue for about an hour and a half, which given to the usual settings, was surprisingly way less and the first thing she saw was the bar, the only place where all the people could interact with everyone, under the influence.

She headed straight away to the washroom, the ladies' room in the corner where men would often hover for more than it would it considered to be morally right, and closed the door behind her, looking in the mirror, opening her hair, letting it fall behind, and bringing out the fishnets she had shoved in her purse and carefully pinned it in her hair, and touching up on her makeup before leaving the room for the night.

She then headed to the bar, where she was supposed to be, tonight, doing her job, a sickeningly joyful job. Her eyes search for her muse for tonight, the man who was supposed to keep her warm for the night. Her smile widened as she finally found him, walking towards him and even stumbling into a man in the process, but she paid no heed, but rather busy hoping not to be too up there, after all, men like him didn't like women, they liked prey.

She tapped on the shoulder of the man who was wearing the red suit, his blond hair all over the place, even from behind, and as he turned around, she saw his blue eyes and lowered her eyes, a blush gracing her dimpled cheeks as she felt his hungry gaze on her.

"My, my," the man spoke with his rusty voice, the texture reminding her instantly of a leather wrinkle, the crisp almost like the crunch of old leaves in fall. Too bad his words didn't deem as beautiful as he sounded, "I told you the exotic ones are the prettiest didn't I?"

Kaya finally looked up at him, noticing how he said those words to the man whom he was previously having a drink with, a man around in his 50s, who seemed even more excited than the man she had come to entertain.

'Damn right, you were Charles," he took a sip of his drink as the man who she came to finally looked her in the eye, and to say she was disappointed should be a lie. He was exactly how she expected him to look like, a man who took himself too seriously, and for all the wrong reasons.

He took her and, kissing her knuckles, and grinning down at her," You are something else my love, too bright for my foolish eyes."

He was charming enough to make her smile and nod, "You make me feel blessed, my mayor," she bit her lower lip in anticipation, "You are too lenient with the words of praise."

His eyes seemed to have widened at hearing her speak, maybe even a little too excited, because he stood up the very next moment, he stood up, towering over her already tall figure, 'My dear, you sound marvelous," his hands grabbing her waist instantly, "A voice like yours isn't made to be heard by everyone, honey."

Kaya looked between them, her mind trying to think of an appropriate response, her mind too disturbed by his hands, "My mayor, I'm sure you've heard better," she looked him in the eyes then, "but I'll take your kindness and compliment."

He smiled, "Let me steal you from the world dear," he placed his hands under her chin and brought his mouth near her ear, "I'd rather not share you."

'That's why I'm here,' she wanted to say, instead she said," I'd consider myself full of charms, then."

He entwined their hands and she looked at him, batting her eyelashes, letting him guide her through the crowd to the room, she knew had been booked already, a week in advance.

She stopped him near the exit door, as he was trying to find the stairs to the first floor where the rooms probably were, and pulled him back, his arms instantly wrapped around her waist, as if he was used to it by now. "Everything okay. Sweetie?"

She nodded but tiptoed to reach his ears, "I don't feel good here." His eyes were worried as he looked at her, "Small places make me nervous."

He smiled at that, his hands finding the end of her waist, "Of course darling, a girl like you has every right to feel so," and without another look, he pulled her out the exit door so fast that she bumped into another man, making his drink fall on his vest. He was desperate, just like she had wanted.

The lanes of the city were pretty empty, as he held her hand, having her in his arms like a trophy, and much to her dismay, he didn't seem like he was trying to be subtle about his attempts.

Kaya pushed his face away from her mouth for the nth time, faking a giggle or two, so he wouldn't think she was trying to avoid his attention, "Please darling, wait till we reach back."

He groaned like a baby, "Must we wait darling? It's not like anyone's here," he bowed and kissed her cheeks, trying to reach her neck anyhow, "Just want you to have you now, devour you completely."

She tried to give him a seductive look, but in her mind, she knew it must look like she was trying to not push him away, but she hoped he was drunk enough to not notice, and indeed he didn't because he tried to do the same thing yet again, making her finally use her words," Honey, you're the mayor. You out of all the people should know we would be violating societal rules."

He laughed at that," I'm already breaking my own rule by bedding you tonight, must I follow the rest." He whined like a child should if their father took away their sweets but that wasn't what irked her, "What do you mean honey?"

He stopped walking finally, turning to her and pulling her toward him, switching their sides as he pinned her against the dirty walls of the alley, "Come on darling, you know what I mean," he held her hands tight, kisses trailing down her jaw and neck," You are one of them exotics, so different to find. Too bad most are so dirty, but of course, not you darling." He started sucking on her neck like a baby on a pacifier, clueless and wasteful.

"Of course," she laughed without a single thought, his words making her blood boil, as she grabbed his arms and pushed him away, making his eyes frown in confusion, "That's enough Darling," she smiled at him, "your time is up."

The smile that formed on his face made her realize that it he though it was still a part of the play, but Kaya had finally had enough, with him and his tendencies.

"Come on baby, you're no fun." He teased her with his hands reaching under her dress, as she tiptoed yet again, using one of her hands to stop his trailing fingers on his thigh, and spoke, "You'll have all the fun in hell, honey."

As he pulled away from her, trying to make out what was happening, Kaya felt a surge of adrenaline coursing through her veins. She had been waiting for this moment, planning it meticulously for weeks. With a swift and calculated motion, she drove the knife right through his ears, aiming for his brain.

The blade pierced through flesh and bone with a sickening squelch, and Charles's eyes widened in shock and disbelief. Blood spurted from the wound, splattering all over Kaya's face and lips, painting her in a macabre shade of crimson.

With a sinister grace, Kaya twisted the knife deeper into Charles's skull, relishing the sensation of power coursing through her veins. Charles, the mayor of New Orleans, had been a menace for around a month now, feasting on his new power and trying to be a little too high than he actually could. It was a wonder she even wasted this long, and not taken him out sooner. Well, all well that ends well.

As Charles gasped for air, his life fading before her eyes, Kaya leaned in close, her lips brushing against his ear, "You may have been the mayor of New Orleans, but in the end, you were nothing but a coward and a hector," she whispered, her voice icy with contempt. "And now, you're nothing at all."

She pushed him away, letting his body fall on the ground, the chokes from his bloodied throat, sounding just like jazz, just like how she liked. His blood was pooling under her feet, her age-old Mary Janes were no more the cherry pinks they were when she brought them for the first time, years ago. She minded not though, they were too old already and the sight before her was much more entertaining than her feet.

She didn't remember the last time she had killed by her own will, always on the orders of her teammates or clients, somewhere it took away the satisfaction of plunging the knife. Also, because the way the person who was to be killed was decided by the order givers. She missed having the free will to kill as she pleased, because most of the time, the clients were boring.

'Just with a knife,' or 'Push off the building', 'make it quick', 'don't cause too much pain,' etcetera etcetera. It took all the fun away, the lazy requests, the hesitation of confirmation, and the way people would even call the deal over, made her angry. Maybe that's why she loved this kill the most.

"Take his heart out with your bare hands," the woman had said, "Bring it to me, and make sure he's alive when you do so."

It was after years, someone had asked for a kill that fit her standard. The anger, the passion, the pure agony in the words, it was all that made the actions worth it, otherwise it would be just another day, in the borderline boring lives of assassins.

Kaya stood over Charles, her eyes burning with fierce determination as she surveyed the man who had inflicted so much pain and suffering. The lane was cloaked in a suffocating silence, broken only by the ragged gasps of the man as he lay sprawled on the ground before her.

With a deliberate slowness, she approached him, her footsteps echoing in the dimly lit room. She could feel the weight of his crimes pressing down on her, a suffocating burden that threatened to consume her from within.

As she reached him, Kaya knelt beside Charles, her gaze never wavering from his terrified eyes. With a steady hand, she traced the outline of his ribcage, feeling the rise and fall of each bone beneath her touch. Then she dipped her fingers in the pool of his own blood, the thick red stain on her hand and nails, dripping down her arms. It was hot and sticky, some of it even, clumping together.

She looked at him, a sinister smile on her face, "Baby, what had you said before?" All he did was choke in response, "Oh yes, you wanted to devour me, didn't you? How about you taste yourself first." Without another word, she shoved her bloody fingers in his mouth, “Suck them for me, won’t you honey?” his pathetical muffled screams itched her mind, his choking on her bloodied fingers was her reward, not the money or fame. She repeated the process thrice before be puked, his filth mixing with the blood and she finally wiped her finger on the spare handkerchief.

Charles whimpered in pain, his breath coming in shallow gasps as he struggled to lay in his own fluids. But Kaya was unyielding, her fingers then dancing across his skin with a delicate precision that belied the fury simmering within her.

"You thought you could escape the consequences of your actions," she whispered, her voice low and menacing. "But you were wrong, Charles. Dead wrong."

With a sudden surge of strength, Kaya gripped Charles's chest, her fingers digging into his flesh with a savage intensity. She could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her palm, a grim reminder of the life that pulsed within him.

In one fluid motion, she thrust her hand into his chest, her fingers curling around his still-beating heart. Blood gushed from the wound, coating her skin in a slick. He screamed in agony, his cries echoing off the walls of the street as she held his heart still inside his chest, a grotesque testament to her vengeance. She met his gaze with a chilling stare, her eyes ablaze with a primal fury that burned hotter than any flame.

"All those girls you raped in the past month," she continued, her voice low and menacing. "They requested this assassination. They begged for justice, and I was more than happy to oblige."

Kaya crushed Charles's heart in her hand, a savage display of retribution for the countless lives he had shattered. With a final, brutal twist, she tore the heart from his chest, his screams echoing in the empty road as she held it aloft. Blood dripped from her fingers, splattering onto the cold, hard ground as she stared down at her handiwork with a mixture of satisfaction and revulsion.

She started back down at the man, his eyes lifeless, vomit on his mouth, and blood all over the side of his face. Oh, how she wished she had brought a camera with her, to keep it like a picture in her purse, to look at whenever she felt the need to gaze at her accomplishments.

Standing up, she looked at the heart in her hand, one that she had to give to the woman who asked for it, after all, it was her order. She walked towards where she had thrown her bag, pulling out the perfect-sized jar she had brought from her own, and let the heart fall in it, tightening the lid and shoving it back in the purse and bidding the street a goodnight for the night.

After all, she had to take care of her bruised hand as well.

[jjuwuni]

shortcut to heaven | yang jungwon x oc

pairings — yang jungwon x reader

genre — fluff, angst, college!au, fake dating trope, drama, occasional smut (minors dni please)

summary —  Two strangers seemingly cross paths, everywhere they go. 

Would they find their heaven among their chaotic lives? 

“ That’s right, I’m talking to you, ” Jungwon, THE Yang Jungwon, with his arm, outstretched, index pointing right at me, “ Do you want to be my girlfriend? Fake girlfriend, that is, so make sure you don't end up falling for me. ” With his right dimple in full view, he smirks at me. 

And that was the day my whole life turned upside down.

warnings — a SOCMED AU but with heavy narrations, fake dating trope with some twist n' turns, compared to my other stuff this one is definitely more on the cute, fluff side hehe so not much warnings in terms of content ! OT7 enha is present, as well as probably other 4th gen idols, will use nwjns minji as the faceclaim for y/n, alcohol, drunken mishaps, profanity, there might be slightly dark themes surrounding family and love, no mnc i assure you, making out, smut etc. will happen so minors 👀 watching you !

[ preview ] | [ 1 ] | [ 2 ]

A/N: wow, updated both my fics on the same day. this is an achievement i think :) anyway, enjoy enjoy ! things are only going to get better (and more complicated and fun) from here. lmk what you think as always please ! your guys' comments keep me inspired to keep writing 🥺 BTW ! taglist is OPEN! for this.

taglist: @jwnghyuns, @sparklingsjy, @y0ubleedjusttoknowyourealive

JIN PANICKING IN 3...2...1...

HELLO ??? ARE YOU STILL THERE ??

NARRATION — READER'S POV

It was as if she couldn't sit still that whole afternoon after Sunghoon asked her out for coffee. It was slowly but surely sinking in that Park Sunghoon himself asked her out to have coffee.

Given, that he didn’t specify what it was for, but who was she to say no to such an offer? Especially after what she saw and how he treated her when she got whacked in the head by the door on the way to the student council room.

It was at that moment that she realized that among that group of people she thought she despised, there were kind souls. 

It was no wonder that Sunghoon won the hearts of the majority of the student body and why he was the president of the student council.

He was just really, well, for the lack of a better word – nice. 

And she’d be lying if she said she didn’t find him attractive. 

Unlike that Jungwon guy. 

But if she were to be truly honest with herself, ever since the small moment they shared back in the janitor’s closet, safe to say, he’s been haunting her. For the past 3 nights, her dreams would always consist of Jungwon making a cameo, one way or another. 

And she was almost sure that she caught him staring at her in class the Monday after that fateful weekend. 

But why? The whole school knows that Jungwon has been actively pursuing Sooyoung since time immemorial, and has been relentless about it. Perhaps that’s what gave Sooyoung that extra edge among all the other girls in school. To think that the most eligible bachelor in the whole university has set his eyes on you, must be nice. 

The familiar ding in her phone makes its presence known and pulls her out of her deep thoughts, and it sends Jinae to rush out of the room, knowing that someone is waiting downstairs in front of her dorm’s building. 

Greeted by the sight of a red, shiny Mercedes-Benz C-class, she tries her hardest not to let her jaw drop to the floor at the sight of it all.

There was Sunghoon, leaning against the hood of his vehicle, phone in hand, silver specs decorating his prominent features, eyebrows thick and furrowed together as he was evidently busy reading something on his phone. 

Upon approaching him, the male looks up at her just in time as if he sensed her presence, features softening at the sight of her. “Hey,” He greets, baring his canine teeth. Wow, it's like he's an actual vampire. “You made it.”

God, should I ask him to bite me?

Shaking off her rather unwanted thoughts, she finally musters out a greeting back, “Hi, sorry, did I take too long?” 

Vehemently shaking his head, Sunghoon walks over to the passenger seat and gestures for her to get in, “Nope, not at all! Thanks for making time for me today.” 

--

The car ride was silent at first, but not to the point that it was unbearable. Jinae wanted to initiate the conversation but admittedly didn’t know how. They were in the middle of the road, stuck in the middle of rush hour traffic, with Sunghoon giving her the chance to play whatever song she wanted after handing her his phone. 

“So,” Finally, Sunghoon broke the silence, “You’re probably wondering why I asked you out huh?” 

“Yeah, I guess you could say that.” She replies, rubbing the back of her head, “Um, but it's not that I’m complaining! I’m just.. It was so sudden.” 

He breaks out into a small laugh, his fangs coming into view again and she couldn’t deny the fact that it made her heart skip a beat. After all, even though they’d had limited interactions up until that point, only going as far as a nod or a smile here and there whenever her adviser would ask her to drop off paperwork at the student council office, she never saw Sunghoon smile. 

His aura does a 180 when he smiles, so handsome.

“I know, sorry about that. Actually, I've been wanting to befriend you for so long.” Frank as can be, he wastes no time in getting straight to his point. “I guess you can say, I just really never knew how to approach you.” 

And there goes the thumping in her chest again, “Oh,” She timidly replies, nodding her head. “I see! Actually, apart from two people, I really don't have many friends at school, so, why not! You seem very… nice.” Jinae adds with cheeks dusted a light pink. 

“Nice? Hah, thank you. And I’m happy. Though I must say, I’m surprised, I thought you'd have a ton of friends. You're a dancer, you're smart... Popular with people, from what I heard all around school. What's not to like?” He continues on with his frank remarks. 

“Eh? I think not...” 

“Maybe they’re just intimidated by you.” Sunghoon cuts in, “I know I was.” 

“Huh? Why? Is my face that scary?” The female asks, placing her hands over her cheeks. 

A throaty laugh is heard from Sunghoon’s end, “Nah, it's not like that, it's like – how do I explain this. Your aura? Maybe. Like, you're unreachable, or something.” 

Jinae couldn’t help but laugh, followed by a light slap on the chest, a clear indication that she was comfortable with someone, “Hey! No! Oh my god. I guess I just wanted to keep a low profile in school? I get attached to people so quickly too so, I try not to forge too many friendships. It's scary to me.” 

She didn’t know what came over her, and why it felt so easy to be comfortable enough with Sunghoon for her to divulge such information. 

He nods solemnly, “I understand,” His voice trails off, as he casts a glance over at her. Their eyes met and Jinae could feel some kind of stirring from her insides, “Please don't worry though, my intentions with you are pure. I promise.” 

“I will hold you to that.” Was all she could say, trying to fight the fluttering feelings from within.

CUTE CAFE UPDATES 🫶

LEE HEESEUNG KNOWS WASSUP

🥺🥺🥺 PWETTY

NARRATION — READER'S POV

Suffice it to say, the next day was quite literally the worst in Jinae's young life. For one, she forgot her readings at home, so she wasn't able to participate much during class.

Two, she tripped up the stairs, which caused her to spill her sea salt latte, wasting her hard-earned money. 

Three, and probably the worst of them all, she got laid off from her job as a 7-Eleven clerk that morning via text. 

Groaning in frustration, she found herself lying on the floor of Jake’s apartment unit, staring up at the ceiling while her two best friends stared at her with saddened expressions. 

“Girl, okay, enough, stop moping around!” Sunoo finally exclaims, "That might've been a good thing! You've been late for our 10am class for the past weeks. Besides, you have another job anyway, right? In our school's admin office?"

Laying on her side and not minding the fact that she was literally laying on a hardwood floor, “That's not enough for my everyday expenses, Sun.” She whines out, pushing her lower lip out, busying herself by giving Jake's dog Layla a few pats on the head, "And I don't want to burden my parents for any of my expenses."  

“Babygirl,” Jake's soft tone makes itself known, walking over to her and crouching down on the floor to rub her back, “You’ll find something else to do, I swear. But for now, Sunoo and I are here to help you.. with anything. Even your finances.” 

“True.. OMG! What if– you just find yourself a sugar daddy!?” Sunoo suggests, eyes bright as he does, as if that was the most groundbreaking idea ever. 

She reaches for the throw pillow on the floor and chucks it over Sunoo’s way, which he dodges in time with a laugh, “Shut up, I'd rather go around and pick up trash along the highway than find myself a sugar daddy, please!” 

“What’s so wrong about a sugar daddy? It’s easy money.” Jake interjects. 

Sunoo quickly responds, “You say that just because you have a sugar daddy yourself, in the form of Mister Lee Heeseung!” 

“Hey! He’s not my sugar daddy!” The older male between the two scowls. “We’re just having fun.”

“Enough, you two! My head already hurts as it is, you guys aren't helping me.” 

“Ok then let's be serious, didn't Sunghoon ask you out? Just go date him for real! You'll never know, you might take over their family business when you marry into their family. They're super rich anyways.” 

All Jinae could do was frown, “That's nothing! Besides, we're just friends, please.” 

The two males exchanged knowing glances at each other at their best friend’s denial. “Sure sure. Whatever you say.” The younger spoke, crossing his legs and resting back on the couch, leaving Jinae alone with her thoughts.

REHEARSALS TIME

👀👀👀 HMM WHAT HAPPPENED?

** A/N: typo correction - "that was an interesting rehearsal"

NARRATION — SUNGHOON'S POV

Sitting around their hideout, the four boys decided to have a rather chill night. Being a part of such a social circle, they’re always asked to attend house parties and parties in general, left and right. But tonight, they decided they were just going to put on some vibey music and sit around the lounge area of the Rangers hideout, drinking and smoking as one does at their age. 

Their topic of conversation for the past two hours has mostly been about schoolwork, and complaining about the workload. 

Following that, there was a 10-minute silence that enveloped the four men, with them just catching up on messages on their phones, scrolling through social media, and taking a sip from their beer cans. 

That was, until, Jungwon broke the silence. 

“What do you guys know about Park Jinae?” He asked, eyes still glued to the phone he had in his hand. 

Unbeknownst to him, Sunghoon tensed up beside him. 

“Oh, Jinae?” Heeseung’s right eyebrow raised, “Well, I do know she’s Jake’s best friend. Isn’t she pretty popular? I sometimes see her coming to school on a motorbike.” 

“All the boys in my class talk about her. Why do you think so many guys show up to events where the dance club performs?” Ni-ki affirmed, resting back on the couch behind him, both elbows resting on the backrest. 

“She’s an enigma, isn’t she?” So far, it was a dialogue between the oldest and the youngest in the group, with Jungwon and Sunghoon keeping quiet for now, “Actually, now that I’m thinking about it, no one knows anything about her. Not that it’s a bad thing, but you know. Anyway, why are you asking? Are you really planning to ask her to pretend to be your girlfriend to make Sooyoung jealous?” Heeseung squints at the younger Jungwon as he asks this. 

“I mean yes, but not just that. I just - she seems interesting. You know she almost swung at me at dance practice today, because I called her out for being late.” Instead of being annoyed about it, Jungwon could only grin, “It was pretty cool.” 

“She swung at you?! HAHAHA how funny is that?!” Ni-ki bursts out into a big fit of laughter, placing his hand on his stomach, soon followed by Heeseung. 

One corner of Sunghoon’s lips twitched upwards into a grin trying to imagine her throwing a punch at Jungwon. 

“What about you, Sunghoon hyung? Do you know anything about her?” Jungwon’s curiosity was piqued by his silence. Given, he’s always been the quiet one among the four, call it intuition, but the younger did sense a kind of tense vibe from the other. 

“Hmmm? Well..” Crossing his legs over one another and resting back on the couch, he hummed, “She’s cool, at least from what I’ve noticed. Very easy to talk to, too. She’s... beautiful, yeah.” He couldn’t help but smile at the thought of the girl, swirling the contents of the beer can in his hand. 

That didn't go unnoticed, the way his eyes lit up. But the younger decided not to say anything about it for now, “I see.” Jungwon timidly responded, stroking his chin in the process. 

It was like Sunghoon could hear the cogwheels turning in Jungwon’s head in response, “Be careful with your decisions, Jungwon. We’re not here to police you or anything, feel like you’ve had your fair share of that in your life, but, all I’m saying is, make sure that whatever you’re planning, no one gets hurt.” He tried his hardest not to sound as if he was scolding him. 

But at this moment, he found himself worrying about Jinae, too.

BABY GOOD NIGHT 🌙 .. (a series of texts)

** A/N: typo correction (wow i'm on a roll with typos today) - "am i in trouble"

LMFAO JIN PLEASE

REPLY TO HIM ALREADY GEEZ

MORE GOODNIGHT TEXTS

[loviestyless]

Shadowed Starlight*

Summary: Odile Einar has one purpose: kill the fae king and prevent the prophecy from coming true. the only thing that stands in her way is their deep rooted history.

fantasy au! king harry x assassin oc

Warnings: murder, violence, blood, smut: dom!harry, thigh riding, choking, praise kink, breeding kink

The shrill echo of a sharpened sword dragging against concrete announced the arrival of the lone warrior, stirring the ripples of shadows curling through the throne room and fuelling the whispers of terror warning her not to venture further. Night followed in her wake as her bloodied weapon etched stars in the dark, marbled floor of the building built off nightmares, the very essence of her power rolling off her body as rage coursed through her bloodstream at the sight of the figure sat atop his throne. Waiting.

Dark stories of the High Fae surrounded the golden throne, the ornate and intricate paintings shone through the shadows - depicting the cruel suffering his ancestors had inflicted upon the unfortunate common folk of Eroda. Every war, every rebellion and every battle for power the royal bloodline had successfully won filled all four walls of the gigantic room - embellished with gold to serve as a reminder to the unfortunate souls unlucky enough to kneel before the king that they never stood a chance.

The Fae King draped himself casually atop the ancient throne, his shadows humming through the walls, clawing at their invisible shackles in an attempt to strangle the woman for approaching the King so brazenly. But he remained unbothered, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips as his emerald eyes soaked in her appearance. Everything about his demeanour was the least bit regal, as if he was merely a young prince playing up to a title, he would one day inherit, even his crown lay crooked atop his mess of curls. He maintained slouched against the throne while she approached, almost as if it burdened him to be cursed with such beauty his entire immortal life and the warrior scoffed at such petty vanity the King harboured.

But despite such a relaxed demeanour, the woman knew of the horrors that lay behind those gorgeous green eyes. This man was lethal, his shadows alone could smother the entire room in seconds, killing her instantly if she let her starlight dim under his watch.

Sweat and blood smeared across her dark skin, twinkling like stars as the rows of candles flickered in the breeze that swept through the building upon her entrance. Every slow, confident step forward made it harder for her to keep control of her power, tendrils of night eager to land a lethal strike.

"My, my, aren't you a sight for sore eyes." He purred, his sharp gaze dragging down her body to take in her blood-soaked armour with amusement. Swirls of shadows snaked their ways around his forearms, summoned silently by the King as a reminder of his potential power and to intimidate the Fae assassin refusing to bow at his feet.

It had been years since she had seen his face and as much as she hated to admit it, he still looked just as beautiful as when she'd left. His thick curls were shorter, no longer dusting the tops of his shoulders but sat messily atop his head in a way that emphasised his sharp jawline. Her brown eyes flared with specs of starlight as she forced herself not to succumb to his beauty - it was how she'd gotten tangled up in this mess in the first place and she couldn't afford to let him charm her again. Not when the fate of the entire kingdom rested upon her shoulders.

The shadow's whispers seemed to fall silent while the King taunted the warrior, waiting with bated breath for her to react to his cunning words.

"The little assassin returns." Harry mused softly. His legs swung over the arm of the chair so that he swivelled around to sit properly, his knees parted as he leaned forward with a sinister smirk. "I must admit, twenty years to seek out an oracle is a little excessive, is it not Odile?"

Every sentence that rolled off his tongue was meticulously planned, specifically chosen to tempt her into giving in to the rage he could see flowing through her bloodstream. The assassin felt her grip tighten around the handle of her weapon, a deep breath rattling her chest as she refused to let him affect her. The King chuckled lowly, emerald eyes darkening slightly they flickered over her body once more.

"And no babe in your arms, either." He mocked, shaking his head condescendingly as he stared at Odile's tense form, "What a wasted journey."

Odile fought the urge to stiffen at the reminder of the past, of her old self who was so foolishly naive and trusting in the Fae King that she wandered blindly into the forest twenty years ago seeking confirmation of a life she thought she wanted. But the answers she found were not what she expected. And judging by Harry's proud smirk, he too knew the prophecy that was handed to her instead - one that had changed her forever.

No longer was she a shy, timid woman that remained blindsided by the true extent of the King's powers. She was Eroda's assassin and she was here to kill the treacherous bastard that had reigned for far too long.

"Look at you, burning with rage." A deep chuckle rumbled in Harry's chest, only making Odile's power ripple with anger. Tendrils of night rolled off her body, inching their way closer to the throne where speckled starlight waited to strike the King's shadows. "I think I like this new you, it's more...enticing."

Honeyed words dripped off his tongue and Odile had to force herself to keep her eyes locked on his, resisting the urge to glance down at her feet under his intense glare. He knew exactly the right thing to say to charm people, to get them on his side and that was the exact reason she was in this position in the first place. But she refused to fall for it any longer, he was a brutal murderer and she wouldn't let him continue the vicious cycle for centuries to come. The prophecy would end here today. By her hand.

The Kingdom of Eroda shall fall by the hands of darkness if not stopped by the light. Centuries of bloodshed and corruption will end when stars and shadows join once more and create shadowed starlight. The palace will stand tall among the ashes, ready to rebuild a world that was lost to evil- a world where the stars will shine anew.

"You deserve to die for what you've done." Odile's voice was steady and confident, revenge dominating every inch of her body and making her eyes darken with deadly intent.

"What I've done?" Harry snickered lightly, no sense of remorse at all. "I think we should start with what you've done, darling."

The ripples of shadows swirling around his hands slowly drifted towards her, snaking their way around her feet and up her legs as the King took in her bloodied appearance. Crimson soaked her leather armour, splashed across her skin and drenched her locs but not a single drop of it was hers. Odile was untouched, unharmed and standing tense as the shadows settled around her neck - the ghost of Harry's touch taunting her with the possibility of what he could do.

A chill ran down her spine as her breath caught in her throat at the feeling of his power calling to hers, her inner starlight singing to the shadows and threatening to give in to him once more. She had felt these shadows brush against her skin many times before, but she refused to give in to their touch - not when the prophecy rang clear in her mind.

"Your governors are dead by my hand. They serve Hel now." She announced coldly, allowing her eyes to flare white with starlight so the King could see the threat she posed to his position on the throne - reminding him she was no longer the timid woman he knew twenty years ago. She felt his shadows squirm slightly as her power surged but the King remained relaxed. "You are next to join them."

"Well, you have been busy, haven't you?" He mused, sitting up straight in his throne and finally taking this seriously. It appeared the threat on his life was something to worry about.

No doubt he had heard whispers of the assassin rampaging through his lands the past two decades, training in the woods for the mission of a lifetime before hunting down every corrupt government official that served under the King. All of them were attacked when they least expected, brutally murdered and their bodies hung outside their houses as a warning to those that remained.

No longer would the poor be squeezed for every piece of copper they owned, no longer would the King's guards turn a blind eye to crime and no longer would the black-market fuel the underworld of illegal drugs and fighting rings. Eroda could go back to being the beautiful land, enriched with magic and beauty like the history books had once reported to the world.

All that was left was for the King to fall and the prophecy would be changed.

"I applaud you for your success, my darling. But I must address the little fault in your plan."

"If you intend to beg for your life then you underestimate my power." Odile's hand gripped the leather handle of her sword and carried a certain lightness in her feet as she prepared herself for the attack. Her best bet was to keep him talking, his ego was his downfall and all Odile had to do was catch him when his guard was down.

She was going to slit his throat where he sat and sit on the throne soaked with his blood as the Queen of Eroda - ready to rebuild the kingdom to its former glory.

"Not at all, Odile. I have always known what power you possess; you were just too blind to see it." His words were cocky, full of confidence that he shouldn't have in such a moment before his death. For many, it would be unnerving but for Odile it only made her all the more determined. "I simply intend to ask how you think the prophecy will play out when you kill your mate."

Odile felt her heart lurch at the reminder that the beautiful man in front of her was in fact her mate, the person fate decided was her other-half for all eternity - the person that completed her soul. When she had first met him twenty years ago, their bond snapped into place the moment their eyes locked and everything in her life seemed to fall into place. She was given a purpose, a lover and someone that mirrored her level of devotion.

Her love had blinded her from seeing what a despicable man Harry truly was, that was until the Oracle allowed her to see what she had been oblivious to the entire time. The bond still hummed within her, urging her to embrace his love after such time apart. The pining had almost driven her mad at first, unable to block out her power calling out to him at all hours of the day. Her magic needed him and his shadows needed hers. It would bring such pain to her heart to live on while her mate was killed - their bonded souls torn apart for the rest of eternity.

"You may be my mate and my husband, but I reject anything that binds me to such a cold-hearted leader as you. I would live with such pain knowing I had saved thousands from your blighted power."

Suddenly, bright starlight flooded the throne room, Odile's light bouncing off the golden accents of the entire room and blinding the King in an instant. His shadows recoiled with a hiss, leaving Harry unprotected long enough for the assassin to spring into action. One minute she was standing tall in front of the throne, the next she was straddling her mate's lap, pinning his shoulders against the back of the throne with the bloodied blade of her weapon digging uncomfortably into his neck.

Stars melted around them, revealing the rage filled warrior to the King so he could truly see her now. Honey brown eyes had darkened with anger, tendrils of night snaked up Harry's arms and pinned him in place so he could do little to overpower her.

Blood smeared against the King's face as Odile's left hand gripped his jaw, bringing her face so close to his that their lips almost touched.

Harry's pink lips curled upwards at the closeness of his wife, the twenty years of silent pining for her return finally silenced under her touch. Albeit because she was holding a sword to his throat and threatening his life. But he wasn't worried, he knew she still loved him dearly and had felt the same hollowness in her heart while she was away.

"I am not the man you think I am."

"It is your shadows the prophecy speaks of; you are the dark hands that have tainted this kingdom with corruption." She spat, starlight fizzling off her body and landing in sparks on the floor around her. Harry's eyes drifted down to glance at her lips before meeting her intense stare once again - he'd be lying if he said this new side to her wasn't turning him on.

"You are my lover and with your death Eroda will finally be free."

"I have protected this kingdom for five-hundred years, darling. You truly haven't worked it out yet, have you? We're supposed to save Eroda together. Why do you think I sent you out to the Oracle that day?"

No matter how much she tried to hide her confusion at her mate's words, there was little she could do to suppress the frown that tugged at her brows.

Harry had not sent her to seek out an Oracle, she had done that herself. She had thought she was pregnant and went to ask for confirmation that she was carrying the future heir to Eroda's throne. Secrecy was key if she truly was with child, the last thing she wanted was for rival kingdoms finding out and putting her and her baby's lives in danger. Odile hadn't even mentioned anything to her maid before she slipped out of the palace under the cover of darkness - how Harry had found out she had no idea.

"I never told you I thought I might be pregnant. You didn't send me anywhere."

"You think those books about royal bloodlines just appeared on my nightstand out of nowhere? You think the fact you overheard the royal reports about an Oracle causing havoc in the forest was a coincidence?" Harry's demeanour shifted for the first time since Odile had returned, no longer teasing her but completely serious. "I planted that idea into your head, Odile. I knew what the Oracle would tell you and I needed you to hear it. Because you held the power to save Eroda."

Harry shifted slightly under Odile's thighs, straining against her power and glancing down at the sword pressed against his neck uncomfortably.

"Darling, you already saved us. The darkness has been eradicated." Harry explained softly, making Odile's restraints falter long enough for him to free his hands, his warm touch ghosting her thighs as he rubbed them slowly. "Please, put the sword down.

"Y-you're the darkness. You rule over the kingdom, it's your fault corruption has plagued these lands. This room itself lays testament to the centuries of pain you and your family have inflicted on people."

"Odile, I've always wanted to be different from my ancestors, it sickens me to be surrounded by the monstrosities they carried out under my family name. I have dreamt of a kingdom that was filled with magic and laughter since I was a boy but that was not the plan of my father. He changed the laws of the council so I would not influence their decisions over my people, I became a King by title but with no power." Harry's voice carried a sense of vulnerability within it that Odile had only ever heard when she was with him. To others he maintained an air of arrogance within himself but with her, he was completely different. "I sought out the Oracle two hundred years ago, hoping for a way to save Eroda and that is when I learnt of the prophecy. Of you."

Odile's mind was reeling. She had spent twenty years with only the words that the Oracle had told her to understand the gravity of the situation thrust upon her. She had asked for an explanation, some kind of guidance but little was given outside the prophecy recounted throughout history. Hate had been forced to fester in her heart towards her husband - her mate - and that kind of pain was almost impossible to cope with.

"How can I believe you?"

Harry's lips twitched upwards slightly with a coy smirk, his eyes darkening in the way Odile recognised far too well. His touch grew stronger against her thighs, trailing closer to the place he knew she wanted him but was too stubborn to admit. He could sense her arousal from the moment she'd straddled his lap, no doubt fighting the memories of being in such a position countless times before.

"Because you're my mate and I know in your heart you feel this is right." Harry whispered lowly, leaning in slightly so that his lips ghosted against hers. The sharp blade of her sword dug harder into his skin, no doubt leaving a mark but he didn't care, not when he finally got to touch his mate after pining for her these past twenty years.

Odile gasped slightly in surprise as his lips finally met hers, warmth flooding through her body as she let her husband kiss her with as much love as he physically could. Their lips moved in sync together, the blade at Harry's throat slipping slightly as Odile let her focus drift to how perfect this moment felt. Her heart was thumping erratically in her chest, finally at peace after being torn apart by such distance for so long.

Misted shadows curled around the pair, ghosting touches along Odile's soft neck in a way that made her moan in anticipation while Harry's palms continued to tease the tops of her thighs, occasionally brushing her warm arousal over the top of her fighting leathers. Gods, she'd missed this. No matter how much she'd tried to hate him the last twenty years, she'd always drift into the land of dreams where his touch would be waiting for her. She'd dream of riding his cock once more, hearing his grunts of pleasure ring into the night as she pleasured herself until years of pining was eventually satisfied.

"Look at you, giving in so easily. I knew you'd see sense." Lustful amusement hung off every word that escaped Harry's lips. "Let me fuck you, baby. Ride my cock and claim your throne."

And then it suddenly hit Odile - this was what the prophecy had spoken of this entire time.

The Kingdom of Eroda shall fall by the hands of darkness if not stopped by the light.

She had been the one to murder the corrupt governors and her starlight had sung her victory every time. Nobody was left to rule over the kingdom and so the laws were now irrelevant, all power was now reinstated to the crown. Harry was free to be the ruler that Eroda had desperately needed for thousands of years.

Centuries of bloodshed and corruption will end when stars and shadows join once more and create shadowed starlight.

Odile had previously thought it meant the final death must be Harry's, a final test to eradicate the plague of shadows over the kingdom before she could build Eroda from scratch. But with how things were currently playing out, it appeared to be referencing the passions of reunited lovers, perhaps about to conceive the first heir to the new world she had secured for the future.

The palace will stand tall among the ashes, ready to rebuild a world that was lost to evil- a world where the stars will shine anew.

The loud clatter of metal against marble echoed about the throne room as the weapon finally tumbled from Odile's grasp to rest at the foot of the throne. Harry groaned in relief, rolling his head back slightly to stretch his neck out now he was no longer restricted, the harsh red mark of the blade standing prominent against his skin. Odile's hands cupped her lover's cheeks, smashing her lips into his as she ground her hips into his with a breathy moan as she gave in to her desire.

This was what she wanted, just her and Harry reunited once more and ready to rule Eroda by each other's side.

"Make me your Queen, Harry." She panted breathlessly, barely pulling apart from the King as she spoke her final demand. "Knock me up, give yourself an heir."

Harry's eyes darkened as his powers rumbled with desire, a lustful smirk appearing on his lips as he took in Odile's demands - his mind running rampant with all the possible ways to pleasure his mate after so long apart. He'd dreamed of the day he'd once more feel her wet cunt around his heavy cock, gorgeous tits bouncing in his face while her screams of pleasures rang out through the entire palace.

"You gonna be my good girl, yeah?" He breathed out, hands already trailing upwards to claim her body as his. Brushing her long, bloodied locs over her shoulder, Harry's lips met the exposed skin of her neck, sucking gently as his palms squeezed her heavy breasts. Odile squirmed in his lap in desperate need of some friction against her aching core, revelling in the feeling of her mate's hard cock brushing against her cunt through the layers of clothing in the way. "Bet you're dripping for me, aren't you?"

Odile whimpered at Harry's voice so deep and oozing with seduction, frantically nodding in agreement as she felt his hand slip down the waistband of her leather pants to confirm what he already knew. A soft hum of satisfaction vibrated against her skin as Harry continued to mark up her neck, his fingers toying with her wet folds while Odile was rendered breathless with desire. Speckled starlight flickered from her fingers as she tugged at her husband's curls, head tipping back slightly as she allowed him to take his claim over her body.

Her mind was a blur, uncontrollable whimpers escaped her lips as she rocked against Harry's fingers - chasing the pleasure that was already building in her core.

"Undress, Odile." The King's demand was clear, his fingers quickly removed from Odile's trousers as he pulled back to watch her carefully. The assassin let out a frustrated groan as the building wave subsided, her fingers desperately tearing at her leathers to obey her husband's instructions. The quicker she acted, the better behaved she was, the sooner she'd get to ride his cock. "Need you naked on my lap."

The moment her top hit the floor, Harry's eyes flicked downwards to take in her bare breasts, free from blood and tempting him with their perfection. He watched silently as they bounced slightly as Odile unbuttoned her trousers, lifting her hips off of Harry slightly so she could pull them off completely - exposing her naked cunt for him to admire. Ripples of shadows snaked up her body, teasing her hard nipples before settling around her pretty neck, waiting for the command to choke her just the way she liked and Odile let out a soft moan in anticipation, knowing Harry was going to fuck her senseless at any moment.

"Look at you, my pretty Queen." He hummed softly, dark emerald eyes sweeping over Odile's naked body as if he was committing it to memory.

"If I am your Queen, I shall need a crown." Odile stated boldly, her hands already gripping the golden halo framing her husband's curls and lifting it from his head. A subtle moan rumbled deep in his chest as he watched her place his crown atop her locs.

His cock stiffened even more in the confines of his trousers at the sight of his wife wearing nothing but the golden crown on her head, desire overtook him and he knew he couldn't drag this out like he'd originally planned.

"Now fuck me, my King. Show me how much you missed me." Odile gripped Harry's jaw, her brown eyes locked onto his green with such intent in an attempt to get him to submit. But that was not Harry, he did not submit to anyone - not even his mate. He smirked playfully as she felt his shadows squeeze her neck, restricting the air just enough to make her head go the perfect amount of fuzzy.

"You want my cock, then take it, sweetheart. It's all yours." Settling back against his ornate throne, he watched as Odile set to work unbuttoning his trousers and freeing his length from the confines of his pants. She didn't care he was still fully clothed, all she cared about was finally getting to fuck her mate after years of pining after this exact moment.

He hissed softly as she took him in her hand, tugging slowly at his cock just enough to tease him with pleasure as she ground her pussy against his thick thigh. Wetness seeped into the material of his trousers, leaving a patch of arousal as she continued to get herself off before taking what she really wanted. Breathless pants filled the air as the pair of them got lost in pleasure, blurts of precome collected on the dark skin of Odile's hand like sparkling pearls while Harry's shadows created a necklace of darkness around her pure neck.

Harry's mouth suddenly enveloped Odile's left nipple, teeth grazing softly over her skin as he sucked at her breast perfectly positioned in front of her face. The rhythm of her hips became uneven as she whimpered with sensitivity, already feeling herself hurtling towards the edge after such a long time of nothing.

"H-Harry..."

Stars and shadows snaked around the throne as both their powers were released from its confines, the bond between them growing the further Harry and Odile fell into their pleasure and healing their shattered souls.

"So, close, sweetheart. Such a good girl f'me." Harry mumbled breathlessly, obviously struggling just as much as his wife to last much longer. "Come on my thigh, darling. Let go."

And that was all it took for her to tumble over the edge, hips stilling as she came all over Harry's thigh. Her head tipped back as a loud moan escaped her lips, bright stars filling the room and almost blinded Harry as he watched her gorgeous features scrunch up in pleasure - a sight he had only dreamed of for twenty years. His own release followed almost instantly, spurting up his clothed torso as Odile's pretty moans filled his ears like his favourite melody.

"Fuck-" He choked on his own moans, unable to talk properly as he struggled to stop his power from clouding his mind and rendering him completely speechless. "Perfect girl, so perfect, sweetheart."

Slumped against her husband's body, Odile peppered gentle kisses along his exposed, sweaty collarbones - delicate fingers trailing over the inked swallows that were left on display after the material had fallen open in all the pleasure.

"Made a mess all over me." He chuckled lightly, running his hand over her thighs as he took in the wetness on his trousers. Instead of blushing with embarrassment, Odile simply raised her hand that was covered in her husband's come and made a show of licking it up with a satisfied smirk. The sight of her tongue dragging along the back of her hand, savouring the taste of his release made Harry's cock twitch once more as he felt himself grow half hard with every lick.

"And you." She hummed, "Just as desperate, darling. You're not kidding anyone."

Her hips began to grind against his both of them still sensitive to touch but neither caring. Odile needed to sit on Harry's cock and feel him fill her up for the rest of eternity - she'd been empty for too long and now she needed to satisfy her hunger.

Taking him in her hand once more, Odile lifted herself up just enough to position him at her entrance. Hungry eyes watched her eagerly as Harry waited for the bliss of feeling her tightness envelope him completely - both of them sighing with pleasure as their hips joined once more.

Shadows curled around Odile's wrists, forcing them upwards so that her hands tangled in Harry's messy curls in a silent demand before settling around her neck to choke her. Her head was spinning with lust at the feeling of Harry's power constricting the amount of air she could take in, all while revelling in being full to the brim with his aching cock. Their lips smashed together, tongues dancing in each other's mouths as she began to ride her husband with an eager rhythm, hands tugging at his curls just as the King liked it. Deep moans escaped his lips, filling the air as his hands gripped her butt tightly, helping her to grind harder against him for both their pleasure.

"So tight, so wet, sweetheart." Harry panted into the kiss, bucking up into her pussy to hit the sweet spot inside her. "Missed this perfect cunt."

"Harder, make me scream!" Odile pleaded as a dull ache settled in her thighs with all the effort it was taking to ride his cock with such energy. She needed him to take her, to fuck her so hard she saw stars and he was more than happy to oblige - but not without a little teasing first.

"Knew you wouldn't kill me, darling." He chuckled slowly in between trailing sloppy kisses along her collarbone towards her heavy breasts. His thumb teased her clit, rubbing slow circles to add to the building tension at her core that made her such a moaning mess. "Need my cock too bad, don't you?"

A sharp snap of his hips timed perfectly with her hips bouncing down on his cock filled her even deeper, causing a loud moan to echo about the room unexpectedly, only proving Harry right.

"Who else would fuck you this good, leave you screaming like I can?" He smirked against Odile's skin as her sounds of pleasure continued to ring out across the room, allowing his shadows to ghost over every inch of her body and enhance every delicate touch he was giving her. "You'd miss the warmth of my cock for all eternity."

"Uh-huh, you. Only you, baby." She replied breathlessly, unable to focus properly as her hips began to stutter. Sweat sparkled like glitter on her dark skin, making her appear like starlight itself, all gorgeous and addictive. Harry's cock ached at the sight, his chest heaving with desire as he let his shadows tangle with the stars rippling from her body, both their releases rapidly approaching with little warning.

"Look at you, so full of me." The King grunted with each powerful thrust upwards, his fingers digging into her hips so hard as he helped guide her cunt onto his cock there was no doubt bruises would be left in their wake. "Taking me like a good girl."

"All yours, belong to you!" Odile whimpered, her vision going blurry as she was practically blinded by the tight coil of pleasure that was threatening to explode at any second. With Harry's shadows wrapped tightly around her neck, his sharp thrusts timed perfectly to hit her g-spot and his ghosted touch on her clit, the woman could barely sit up straight - her forehead resting on Harry's shoulder for support as he helped her reach her peak.

"Harry-" Her moan was immediately cut off by another sharp thrust from Harry's hips, the King recognising all the signs that she was seconds from toppling over the edge. Her hips bucked frantically as she chased the rising feeling in her core, heavy pants filling the air between them as the pair turned animalistic in chasing their high.

"I know, sweetheart. Come for me darling." Harry demanded; his voice thick with lust as he felt ready to burst. "Soak my cock, milk me dry."

Shadowed starlight tore through the room as pleasure peaked in perfect waves, slamming into the walls and crumbling the dark paintings into tiny pieces. Their pleasured moans mixed together in a delightful tune as they rode out their highs, Odile collapsing into Harry's arms as her body felt weak after such a powerful orgasm. Soft kisses were pressed against her sweaty forehead as Harry's soft touch rubbed her shoulder soothingly.

Wrapped up in each other's warmth, with his cock still buried deep within his mate, Harry finally felt the peace he'd dreamt of since taking the throne five hundred years ago.

Centuries of terror and bloodshed was over. It was time to start anew.

[siilvan]

bloodsport – prologue

next

characters: vladimir makarov

summary: all it takes is a chance meeting.

genre: general, angst, slowburn, enemies to ?, fem!reader (callsign: petra, no desc.)

warnings: semi-proofread, cursing, canon-typical violence, minor descriptions of blood/injuries, military/spec-ops inaccuracies, lieutenant!reader, not much makarov in this chapter sorry </3

word count: 3k

note: never thought i'd reach this point. but, here i am, thirsting for my formerly least favorite character. all because they gave him tattoos and showed his tits. enjoy! <3

also totally didn't use my oc's callsign for this. ur crazy bestie. (this is still 'x reader', no backstory/personal info is given to reader)

your head is spinning, the world around you a haze as your eyes fight to regain focus. there's a constant ringing in your ears, deafening you, and you wince once the pounding in the back your skull becomes apparent.

everything slowly begins to come back to you. the operation in al mazrah, the warning from HQ, the explosion, the floor collapsing below your feet. you're laying on your back now, aching from head to toe. the building that you were in with soap and gaz is reduced to rubble, lying in pieces around you.

you manage to turn your head to the left and see soap laying motionless a few feet away. farther away is gaz, struggling to push what used to be a metal support beam off his trapped leg. you blink furiously at the pair, trying to clear the dust and sand out from your eyes, and breathe a ragged sigh of relief at the subtle rise and fall of soap's chest. you attempt to call out to gaz, but all that leaves your throat is a weak noise and a wheezing cough.

price and ghost are probably on their way already. you just need to wait for them. the mission was doomed from the start, you all know that, but it won't end in your deaths so long as you hold out.

the ringing in your ears slowly fades, and you can hear footsteps approaching from your right. it was a small group, judging by the heavy footfall - had price and ghost found help somehow?

you carefully turn again, expecting to be greeted by the familiar sight of your teammates. the harsh midafternoon sun sits in that direction, forcing you to squint in the bright light as you try to make out the group of silhouettes.

the first sign of trouble was gaz's panicked shout of your name. the person in the front of the pack blocks the sun's light upon reaching you, casting shadows in their path and finally allowing you to glimpse at their face. you blink again, angling your head to identify the person hovering over you. it takes several seconds for your foggy mind to recognize them but, when it does, your blood runs cold.

makarov.

⋆⋆⋆

you're woken up by someone shaking your shoulder, a gentle voice calling out to you. with a whine, akin to a child being disturbed by their mother in the morning before school, you bat their hand away and force your eyes open.

"y'not get enough sleep last night, lieutenant?" gaz asks, sitting on the couch next to you. the harsh fluorescent lights on the ceiling make you squint and rub at your tired eyes for relief. "bad dream?" he adds a second later, taking note of your dazed state.

"yeah, just a bad dream. nothin' to worry about." you assure him with a downturned smile. according to the watch on your wrist, it was ten o' clock. you'd be setting out for al mazrah in about half an hour.

gaz woke you up for the mission, you realize. soap was located nearby, occupying himself with last-minute gear checks, and ghost soon enters the room with his arms full of supply crates. anything from ammunition to water and food was packed in, ready to be loaded into the transport helicopter that you'd be taking into the city. price was hunched over a table filled with scattered maps, blueprints, and gathered intel from your allies in the city.

"alright, let's go over the mission one last time. this needs to be a clean operation - we've got no room for error." price stands straight and glances around the room, personally scrutinizing each of you. the four of you gather around the table alongside the captain, the fatigue quickly dissipating as you focus on his words.

"the city's a mess right now; there’s civilians in the north, enemies to the south, and allies scattered in the wind." price flattens a map of the city with various locations circled and marked against the tabletop. "ghost and myself will offload with the supplies in the north. petra, gaz, and soap will touch down in the east and make their way south to the target building. once we're done up north, we'll link up with our allies in the city center and secure the district surrounding you."

price nods towards you and the sergeants. "should buy you enough time to get the job done."

"we'll do it in half the time," gaz boasts with a self-assured grin, crossing his arms over his chest. soap mirrors his confidence, and both earn pointed looks from yourself and the other two men.

"there's a reason you three are working together on this," price says. he pulls a cigar from one of his vest pockets and rolls it between his thumb and forefinger - a nervous habit you picked up on a long time ago. "you sergeants are fast and damn good at clearing a place out, but if left unchecked, you get yourselves into trouble. petra's good at keeping you two in line, so you're going in together."

"we're a small team in contested territory, it's essential that we have each other's backs." ghost speaks up, sending the two a cursory glance. the sergeants nod, and you continue to listen as price details the rest of the plan.

⋆⋆⋆

the helicopter ride to the city was almost relaxing enough to lull you back to sleep. keyword: almost.

a little while after takeoff, laswell's voice comes through your radios, claiming to have some new intel. you assumed it would be something related to the ground forces, be it enemy or ally, until the word missile echoes throughout the cabin.

price attempted to pry more information out of her, only to be shot down - "i don't know" was all she had to offer in response to his questions. laswell's never been one to panic, even in the face of sure death, but the concern in her voice was palpable. if her intel was accurate, than there was a missile being prepped to launch, and its target was the very city you were fighting in.

you've never seen the team look so solemn during a landing. laswell assured you that she was working to locate and disarm the threat, but she could make no guarantees. you couldn't back out, either; the mission was too important to abandon now. as you disembark alongside soap and gaz, price gives each of you a single bullet from his handgun.

"for luck," he said.

as you stealth your way through eerily silent city streets with the sergeants in tow, you ponder on his choice of words. the bullet sits safe and sound with the rest of the ammo for your own sidearm, ready to be loaded in case of an emergency. if it comes down to your final bullet, though, you might as well consider yourself dead.

after some time and several blocks, you locate the target building. it's a high-rise, a sore thumb sticking out against the surrounding local businesses and low-rise buildings, making it easy for your group to identify it.

"captain, we've got the building in sight," you say into your radio. soap and gaz peak out from your current hiding spot, studying the security and forming their own plan to infiltrate. the two are the team's resident experts on CQB - if anyone can fight their way into enemy territory without breaking a sweat, it's them.

the thought allows you to take a calming breath and relax your tense shoulders.

"solid copy. we just finished up here, so we'll be headed your way soon." price replies. you can hear idle chatter in the background, likely the civilians. "we'll talk again once we're close or you reach the target. whichever happens first."

"copy all, sir." you silence your radio and follow the sergeants' gazes, eyes landing on the building again. considering your objective, the security detail was lacking in numbers. either a fake-out to make you lower your guard or a result of the incoming missile, you presume. no matter what the reason may be, you hold your gun close and try to keep your head clear.

"what exactly is the target that we're going after, l.t.?" soap mutters from next to you, tearing his eyes away from the scene. you shake your head before turning to him.

"did you not listen to the debrief, soap?"

"i did, but price never said what we were goin' after!"

"he totally did, dude. you just weren't listening." gaz perks up, prompting the former to stutter over his words to make a defense. after a minute of bickering between the two, you shush them.

"we're just screwing with you, soap," you concede, giving him a comforting pat on the shoulder. "price told me what it was earlier. some kind of scrambling device that's been screwing with people's tech and causing periodic blackouts. we need to deal with it before it causes something worse than a communications loss."

gaz lets out an amused huff. "yeah, like a helicopter fallin' out of the sky."

"actually, i'm pretty sure it's just you falling 'outta the sky." soap chuckles, earning a lighthearted glare from gaz. you shush the two again and start towards the building, sticking to the shadows so as to avoid being spotted.

it takes no time at all to dispatch the guards surrounding the entrance, and soon you're methodically clearing out the ground floor alongside the sergeants. gaz takes point, whilst you stay in the middle and soap follows close behind. the enemy forces appear to be disorganized, you notice after moving up to the second level. they're wearing mismatched gear and using guns of vastly different origins; some even appear to speak different languages. you catch pieces of arabic and russian amidst the group, but what really shakes you is the english that you hear.

"are some of these fuckers american?" soap asks from behind you, looking over a tango he dropped moments prior.

"appears so," you mutter, examining another body near your feet. he wasn't wearing any sort of identification, so you had no way of figuring out what PMC he could be affiliated with. "they're not shadow company, at least. graves may be a bastard, but he's got his own vendetta against these guys."

"could be random mercenaries - guns for hire, y'know." gaz says with a shrug, clearly unconvinced of his own suggestion.

you hum, rising from your crouched position next to the body. "been seeing more of those popping up recently. wouldn't surprise me if al-qatala hired some of them as security." you refocus and motion for the two to get back in formation, nodding towards the stairs nearby.

"device should be on the sixth floor. let's pick up the pace."

the third and fourth floors are relatively the same: rooms full of randomly assorted, underprepared mercenaries that struggle to communicate with each other. you expected to find the same on the fifth floor, only to be stopped again by a peculiar logo taped above a set of office doors.

a snake skull with a sword. konni. you were aware of their presence in the city, even fighting some in this very building, but the logo stood out to you for some odd reason. with an affirmative nod sent to your teammates, you move to investigate it. at best, you'd find new intel about their operations, and at worst, you'd have another room to empty out.

upon opening the set of double doors and carefully entering, though, you come face-to-face with something far worse.

"holy fuck... is this all gas?" gaz mumbles, standing to your left.

the meeting room is filled floor-to-ceiling with gas containers, bright red barrels marked with konni's logo and cyrillic script plastered across their fronts. you take a closer look at the letters and, with the extremely limited knowledge of russian that you've gained from price and nikolai, manage to work out what they say.

"it's the same stuff zakhaev used in verdansk a few years ago," you glance towards the sergeants. you try to disguise your gradually creeping apprehension behind a firm look, rubbing the back of your neck as a bead of sweat rolls down into your shirt collar.

soap steps forward, taking a closer look at the stock. "wasn't zakhaev the one supplying it, though? i thought price took him out."

you sigh, wiping the sweat off your glove against the front of your thigh. "i think he had a supplier, but even if he was making it himself, that isn't stopping someone else from producing more. konni's probably buying it from whomever that is."

"wonder who that could be." gaz says, turning his attention to the large window at the far side of the room.

you open your mouth to reply, but soap beats you to it. "everyone in this situation is friends with makarov, right? price and laswell said he was gettin' active again."

the name sends an uneasy chill down your spine. you've never met the man yourself, but based on what price had to say about him, you're thankful you haven't. if he's working behind the scenes, than you need to be careful. any small mistake could end in disaster.

again, you try to respond, and again, you're interrupted. "uh– y'guys might want to look at this." gaz calls out over his shoulder.

your gaze turns to the sight outside that he was vaguely motioning towards. a bright light sits somewhere in the distance, quickly growing in size and luminosity. you squint, trying to figure out what the light could be coming from, until you remember laswell's warning.

the missile had fired.

"steamin' bloody jesus..." soap utters under his breath, snapping you back to the present.

"we need to find cover - fast!" you usher the two back from the glass and out of the room, sprinting down the stairs three steps at a time. although laswell didn't have much in the way of information, she did provide the team with a key piece of intel: there were bunkers constructed throughout the city, installed before the ballistic missile containers were offloaded in the area. one such bunker was located a short distance from the building you're currently in.

if you hurry, you might be able to make it.

as you descend, you can hear voices steadily drawing closer. gaz and soap hear it as well, and you all prepare your guns upon reaching the second floor.

as expected, there's a group waiting for you when you arrive. you take cover and try to thin out the crowd, but each second ticking by only serves to increase your level of impatience. eventually, you pull a flash grenade off your belt and toss it into the crowd, giving yourself and the sergeants a chance to finish off the remaining soldiers.

the three of you make another break for the exit. as the light outside the windows of the building grows blinding and a deafening explosion is heard, though, you wonder if you could have done something different. the floors above collapse and crash into your team, destroying the floors below you and knocking you off your feet.

somewhere in the chaos, your world goes dark.

⋆⋆⋆

when you come to, your head is spinning. there's a pounding in the back of your skull, muted thumps amidst the violent ringing in your ears. you blink away tears and dust, fighting to make your eyes focus as everything slowly falls into place around you.

you didn't make it to the bunker before the missile hit. gaz and soap are somewhere in this rubble with you - alive or dead, you're not sure. your body aches, muscles screaming at you as you try to move, forcing a pathetic wheezing cry from your lips.

after some struggle, you manage to turn your head to the left. laying several feet away is soap, covered in pieces of rubble and fighting to stay awake, blood pouring from an open wound on his head. farther away is gaz, desperately trying to get his leg free from under a broken metal beam. you call out to them, but all you can muster is a pained noise that leaves you coughing.

midafternoon sunlight beats down on you. price and ghost are somewhere else in the city, and you pray that they're still alive. it's all you can hope for at this point, considering your inability to move.

you hear voices drawing closer. heavy boots stomping through the sand and rubble, footsteps uniform yet distinct from one another. price, ghost, and your allies in the city immediately cross your mind, making you let out a relieved sigh.

when you look to your right, however, the silhouettes are distinctly different from what you expected to see. instead of your teammates, you see a group in familiar, yet unfamiliar, clothing and gear. you try to piece together what you recognize despite the fog in your brain.

when gaz's shout of your real name pierces your ears, it suddenly comes to you. pictures that price and laswell acquired from her global counterparts flood your mind, and you realize that you're looking at a group of ultranationalist soldiers. konni's leader and supplier, al-qatala's strongest ally, and the group that he leads with an iron fist.

ignoring the immense pain as a fresh wave of adrenaline courses through your system, you scramble for your sidearm. the last fight and the building collapse made you lose your rifle and drained you of most of your ammo, but you still had the bullet that you loaded into your handgun before the missile hit.

price's bullet.

one shot is all it should take.

you reach for your holster, but find nothing in its place. you frantically feel around the nearby area, searching for it, but still come up empty-handed. you lost your handgun in the crash and had nothing to defend yourself with. as the group nears, the reality of your situation dawns on you.

your luck had run out.

the leader of the pack blocks the harsh sunlight, casting shadows across your body as he stands over you. slowly, your eyes adjust to the change in light. you blink up at him, feeling a pang in your chest and a pit in your stomach form once his face becomes clear.

makarov.

taglist: @sofasoap, @rohansregret, @lonesome-doves, @roosterr (ty for being the reason i wrote this lol)

⋆ feel free to ask to be added to/removed from the taglist!

[twisting-roads]

GOD. FUCKING HELLLLL I FINALLY MANAGED TO FINISH SOMETHING THAT EXPLAINS THE ANATOMY OF HOW MY LITTLE GUYS WORK.

Its a bit weird but I love strange spec biology so I hope this is all understandable

I'm very proud of what I came up with

[Image ID]

The title is "OBJECT ANATOMY"

Column 1 reads:

"All objects contain

A small, but compact brain, as well as a few other ganglion-like structures near the limbs for sensory processing

A 2 chamber stomach

An organ that seems to combine the liver and kidneys When the object dies, all of the organs dissolve back into nox very quickly, making it hard to study their structures. However, based on some X-rays, it seems that the organ placement is extremely varied and grows in place over time. Galliacs can regrow organs, similarly to a sea cucumber. Nullics, only partially."

Below, there is a doodle of a circle guy with their arms on their sides with a slightly overlapping caption that says "This is all very normal to them they never think about this stuff like ever"

Another paragraph below reads: "I'm not even getting into all the different limb mutations there are. Objects love to evolve and change all the fucking time they're little freaaaaks"

Column 2 covers their Respiratory system. It reads:

"They have no use for lungs. They breathe through extremely small spiracles in their limbs, like a centipede. There's not too much to note here, objects do not require as much oxygen to live and as such are ok with living in lower oxygen areas. This is a good thing as the higher oxygen levels there are, the larger they become and that's really scary and I'd rather them stay the smaller size they are. Objects adapted to marine environments may have striped gills on their limbs. Pesmexians and Multimodisae have adapted to environments with thick fogs of dangerous chemicals by having special organs either break down or filter these things out, meanwhile other objects would simply just suffocate or breathe in something that would kill them."

Below this, there is another image of Fluorine, an OC of mine, with the caption "Technically an extremophile!" with an arrow pointing at her

Column 3 covers their sensory organs. It reads:

There is an image of an object's arm and leg. There is a diagram of the closeup of the skin on the leg, showing the small spiracles and sensory hairs, as well as the deeper skin layers and vessels that run underneath.

"Objects do not have the best vision. All of them are nearsighted in some way. They must rely on a combination of senses to navigate. They are able to sense the air through millions of microscopic hairs that cover all parts of their limbs with the exception of their palms and feet. An object would be able to sense or "smell" something that they wouldn't be able to normally see."

There is an image of an object's arm and leg, with the arm containing a tuft of long fur on the elbow, and the leg having a few long hairs sticking out of the ankle, looking like whiskers

"Galliacs sometimes have elongated hairs, giving them the look of fur or whiskers. This is more common in places where vision isn't as necessary."

[END ID]

[builtbybrokenbells]

belladonna | i

Too beautiful to resist, and too deadly to survive; the tragic tale of belladonna in all its glory.

Masterlist | Taglist

Pairing: Danny Wagner x f!reader, f!reader x OC

Word Count: 12.5k

Warnings: mentions of toxic/abusive parents, mentions of/toxic relationships, mentions of criminal activity/criminal records, poverty, mentions of physical violence, mentions of blood, mentions of AA/NA, addictions, use of/mentions of drugs, mentions of drinking, mentions of hookups/sex, smoking, depression/anxiety, mental health struggles, swearing, sorry if I miss any!!

hi everyone! I’m so so excited for this one. I will forewarn you that this series will touch on some pretty heavy topics. i’ve been using this as therapy to avoid paying actual therapy bills 🤭 i hope that you enjoy this as much as I do, and I really hope that this series does for you what it does for me 🤍 as always, enjoy, be kind, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes!

March 31st, 2022

The sound of the radio hummed through the air, wrapping you in a blanket of comfort as you wiped crumbs from another dirty diner table. Your tattered converse were covered in spills and specs of food and your apron was stained so completely that the baby blue color no longer existed. The line cook in the back was whistling every time you bent over one of the booths, causing a blush and a slight smile to pull at your lips. Every so often, he’d make an obscene comment, just to see if you’d turn around to face him so he might be able to catch a glimpse of your cleavage underneath your black v-neck. Derek knew his limits, but he loved to push them.

“Don’t you have a job to do?” You glanced back at him over your shoulder, pushing your hips out slightly to entice him even further. He would never have the chance, but it was fun to let him believe it, sometimes.

“Yeah, actually. Why don’t you come back here and keep me company?” He sent a wink your way, causing you to chuckle. He was around your age, and undeniably attractive. His neck was littered with the peek of tattoos from his chest, and a gold chain hung around them to accentuate the detail. He looked permanently stoned, but he had a killer smile and a certain charm despite his vulgarity. His arms were strong and despite his constant flirting, you knew he would never make an unwanted advance. The only reason you refused to indulge in him was because of his very extensive criminal record, but even then, the temptation grew stronger every day. He loved poking fun only because you seemed to enjoy it so much.

“You’d like that too much.” You rolled your eyes, chucking a dishcloth through the kitchen window at him. He caught it midair, giving you a cocky smirk.

“Anything else you’d like to throw my way?”

“Leave the poor girl alone, Dylan.” The second line cook gave him a shove, pushing him out of view and popping into your line of sight. “Give me a chance, would you?” Not long after the words left his mouth, a playful wrestling match ensued on the other side of the wall. Instead of engaging in their antics, you turned and cleared the dishes of the last table of the night.

“Vincent!” You scolded, watching them battle for your affection. “If you guys break anything else back there tonight, I swear to god I will not cover for your asses!” Just as you spoke, the wrestling came to an abrupt halt, and Vincent’s head peeked up from the window. He raised an eyebrow, cocking his head to the side slightly. His loose brown curls hung down over his forehead, and the veins in his forehead were protruding slightly, showing you how much energy he’d put into getting Dylan to the ground. His skin was flushed red, partially due to the heat of the grills, but mostly because his blood pressure was always peaked. His emotions got the best of him, no matter good or bad, and his heart was ready to give out at the ripe age of 22.

“You wouldn’t do that to me, would you sweetheart?” He flashed you a smile, his eyes softening the longer he looked at your face. Your heart gave a small flutter at the expression. Dylan was attractive, but Vincent was completely captivating. You wish you could say that you had enough strength to abstain from both of them, but it just wasn’t true. Way back in the beginning, you’d fallen victim to Vincent’s intoxicating charm and fell into bed with him. You blamed it on being new to the city and lonely, but you knew it was all because of him. You were certain that Dylan did not know of this, because if he did, it would crush him. Also, you had cut it off pretty quickly after it started once learning about all of Vincent’s baggage. Save for a few drunken nights, the two of you were nothing but friends.

It was easy to tell yourself that, but every so often, when your eyes lingered on each other for too long, you could feel the energy in the air.

Although it was clear that Dylan’s only intent was to get in your pants, sometimes you had to question if Vincent actually felt more for you than physical attraction, or if you were just making it up in your own head. Then again, you knew he looked that way at every girl who stood before him, and you wouldn’t allow yourself to feel special (again). Also, upon learning about his aggravated assault charge from a bar fight in his late teens, you found it much easier to keep your distance after the initial hookups.

Although you hadn’t seen the criminal side of either of the boys, you knew that they hadn’t learned the right lessons from their brief stays in jail; they just got better at avoiding the cops. You made it a point to stay straight when you moved to the city, and you were intent on keeping the promise to yourself. Involving yourself with those two would be nothing but trouble, and you had grown to hate trouble with a passion.

Besides the painful flirting, they were good company to pass the time, and when you all spent so much time working together, it was impossible not to form some kind of bond.

The Foxhole was a fabled place, and after decades in business (albeit, with many changes), it was still one of the most popular diners in the surrounding area. It sat just outside of city limits, drawing in attraction from travelers and all of the concrete jungle dwellers, too. New York was a large place with many different types of people, and after a year and six months of living there, you were still trying to find your place in the world. When you moved, you had little money in your pocket and lots of hope in your heart. You had a backpack full of clothes and personal items and nothing else but a dream, running as fast as you could to get away from the curse of being your mothers daughter.

Eighteen months later, it felt like you were still running.

You went to a public library and printed off a million copies of your resume (which was incredibly bleak, with only one previous job and a reference stated previous employer, but was really your best friend from high school) and you applied at every bar, restaurant and corner store within walking distance of your low income rental. The Foxhole, although not your dream job, responded within days to schedule an interview. You showed up with a smile and kindness, but quickly realized that not even friendliness was a requirement to be a server there. John, the (third) owner, asked if you had a criminal record (with a follow up question of ‘if you do, how extensive is it?’). Not ten minutes later, you had an apron in hand and you were scheduled for the upcoming week.

Not long after starting, you quickly gauged the environment of your new workplace. The Foxhole, although popular with the public, was an absolute shithole (You soon learned that this was actually the nickname your fellow employees referred to it as). In the seventies, it started as an old tavern. It was popular with middle aged men who hated their families, but not many others. It ran for just under a decade before the original owner stopped paying his mortgage and filed for bankruptcy, and the whole establishment flopped. It was then purchased by a younger couple in an estate sale from the bank in the early eighties, who decided to keep the bar theme. Instead of marketing themselves to middle aged, miserable men, they painted it bright colors and added a dance floor, trying to push the disco theme. To nobody’s surprise, they followed in the same footsteps as the original owner.

Although they did try a bit harder, and the proof remained to this day. You could see bolts in the floor of the old dancing area, signifying a stripper pole was once installed. They put in some more booths and tried to push a menu, but eventually, it went belly-up. Before the banks could foreclose a second time, John stepped in and made the purchase, which ended up changing his life. From the stories you’d heard, you could not gauge if it was for better or for worse. John gutted the whole place and painted over the abhorrent neon colors, placed an old jukebox in the corner and refinished the interior. He named it Foxhole, and seemed to strike gold despite the building causing nothing but shit for previous owners. With a small menu and cheap food, he’d been milking the success for over thirty years.

Success meant little when it equated to making only enough money to keep the doors open, though.

Employed at the Foxhole was four female waitresses who were older than the building itself, five line cooks (three who had a criminal record), two busboys, and four young women who waitressed the overnights (including you). John worked nearly 24/7, and his wife sat in the office and yelled at him all day. They capitalized off employing older women who had nowhere else to go, struggling students, and ex-convicts and addicts. That way, they could offer employment to the desperate and still pay them much less than anyone else. Plus, shared tips were a great selling point. Besides, how else would you find staff for the only 24-hour diner in the area?

You took the Thursday-Sunday overnights with a girl named Katie, while the other young waitresses took the rest of the nights. The older waitresses split the days, and the line cooks worked according to a similar schedule. Vinny and Dylan almost always worked with you, and a part of you was grateful for it. Although they had their flaws, you had grown to enjoy their company, and could honestly say that they were the only real friends you’d made since moving to the city.

“You gonna go home and write your silly little poems?” Vinny asked, his Brooklyn accent nearly grating as he hoisted himself up on the counter. As he waited for a response, he gave you a smirk. You rolled your eyes, dunking your hands into the steaming water in the industrial sinks. It was nearing 5, which meant you only had an hour left to go.

“Yeah, all about me.” Dylan cut in, leaning against the door of the walk-in freezer.

“Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart.” You could only manage a half-smile as you spoke, the thought of writing nearly tearing your heart in two.

“What’s wrong, dollface?” Vincent asked, picking up on your withdrawal. “You better still be writing. That’s the whole reason you came here. That’s your ticket out of here.” His lips turned down into a frown.

“I… I am, yeah.” You nodded, drying your hands on your apron. You didn’t have the heart to look him in the eyes, nor could you admit that writing was the last thing you wanted to do. Inspiration had run dry, and now you were stuck wondering if this really was the end of the road, or if your mother was right and you would come home with your tail between your legs. For the last year and a half, you wrote about everything; the way the trees looked in the sunlight, the skyscrapers, the way the birds chirped, and even the cracks in the sidewalk. You found inspiration in your own sadness and fear, and your own happiness when it came along (even if it was rare). You wrote about failed relationships and lost friendships, and most of all, you wrote about the broken kinship between you and the woman who gave birth to you.

Writing was your safe space, but now that the motivation had passed, you were left feeling unsecure and lost. You feared that you had written every single thing that your brain could come up with, and that the desire would never return. Since the decline began, you’d been desperately searching for something to give you that spark back. You sat at the grocery store for hours, overlooking the produce, brightly coloured yet blemished. You looked between the cracks in the city stone, finding moss rooted and peeking out from the concrete. You looked at the sprouts of weeds in the sidewalk, and the crying babies and laughing children as they passed you on the street.

You searched everywhere for just a hint of an idea, but you were left with nothing. The feeling was gutting, and you feared that you did not know how to live without your pen pressed to paper.

You’d heard stories of writers block, and lately, even found yourself reading articles about it, but you had come to one, horrible realization; you had never experienced it before, and you were unsure if it was truly just a bout of writers block, or if it was a permanent, more serious issue. After twenty three years, you had never felt this way, and you were beginning to believe that it was just the way life was, now. You went home after work, sleeping for hours instead of your usual routine of writing until your eyes forced themselves shut. You couldn’t look at your laptop, and your journal was a stranger.

You came to New York to write a book, but you feared that you were now stuck in New York with nothing but a wasted dream and crushed hope.

“I’m definitely no palaeontologist, but I think you might be lying.” Vinny raised an eyebrow, pointing a finger at you.

“P-palaeontologist?” You asked, stifling a laugh. “Do you by any chance mean… a psychologist?”

“Oh, fuck off with all your fancy words.” He snipped, getting defensive. For a moment, you could see the vein in his forehead pop out again in frustration. “Clearly you know what I fuckin’ meant. You know I didn’t graduate.”

“No, no, I think you have me misunderstood. I’m actually quite impressed you know that word.” You assured him.

“Yeah, but I don’t really know what it means.” He calmed down, laughing at his own stupidity.

“That’s okay, darlin’.” You reached out, giving him a pat on the shoulder. “I guess I am lying.” You shrugged, looking towards the floor. “I haven’t really been writing much at all, lately.”

“Why not?” Dylan joined, immersed in the conversation now that the laughter died down.

“I don’t know,” you sigh “guess I just haven’t had much inspiration. Hard to write something meaningful when I know nobody is ever going to read it… or fucking care about it.” You grumbled.

“Listen, I know we can’t read very well, but I’m sure the two of us could piece it together.” Dylan gave Vinny a pat on the shoulder, smiling over at him. Vincent nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, we care, sweetheart. Don’t we count?”

“Of course you do.” You chuckle, finding your cheeks heat with a blush. “It’s just… weird, right now. I usually want to write about everything, no matter what. Emotions, memories, places I’ve visited, but now I don’t feel like anything is worth writing about. I don’t feel like it’s interesting enough.” You tried to explain it. “Feels like I’m just putting words on a paper, and nothing more. Think maybe I’ve been in my head a little too much. Sad and angry, and all of that… fuck, I don’t know.” You groan, running a hand through your hair.

“Why don’t you write about that, then?” Vincent offered. You looked up at him for a moment, contemplating his words. “If you’re feeling all of that stuff, then maybe it’ll mean something more.”

“Yeah,” Dylan agreed. “Go home tonight and write about not wanting to write. Maybe it’ll help you figure your shit out.” You looked between the two, giving a soft smile. After a few moments, you gave a slow nod.

“Yeah, maybe I will. Think you guys might finally be right for once.” You teased, trying to keep the conversation light. Vincent’s face lit up with a grin, happy that you thought it was a good idea.

“What can I say? I’m more than just a pretty face.”

April 3rd, 2022

You stood, top half leaned out the back door of the building as a cigarette smoldered in your hand. The night was darker than usual, and the city was much quieter, even for a Sunday. You took a long inhale of smoke, puffing your cheeks out and pursing your lips as you blew it outside in the direction of the dumpsters. As you did so, you felt a hand on your lower back as someone reached to open the door a little more. Vincent leaned his head out beside you, just over your shoulder as he gave you a cheeky smile and raised an eyebrow. Without any words exchanged, you rolled your eyes but brought the cigarette to his lips. His eyes fluttered closed as he took a drag, waiting a moment before he exhaled through his nose. His hand remained on the small of your back, the gentle touch sending a shiver down your spine.

“You can use your words, you know.” You tried to sound stern, but there was a smile on your face as you continued holding the cigarette to his lips.

“Why should I? You already know what I want, sweetheart.” He shot back, taking another haul.

“I do,” you chuckled. “For some reason, I don’t think it’s a cigarette, though.” His grip on you tightened for a moment as he shot you a sideways glance.

“What do you think I want then, Miss know it all?”

“An excuse to talk to me?” You raised an eyebrow, offering the idea. He stayed silent for a moment, but eventually gave a slow nod. A smile began to break out on his lips, knowing he’d been caught.

“So what? You have a problem with that, sugar?” His body was closer to you than it had been in a long time, and you wondered if he was taking his shot while Dylan was preoccupied with the freezer inventory.

“No,” you whispered, shaking your head. “Unless I should have a problem?”

“Nope,” he popped the p, shaking his head. His head was still turned to face you, his lips unbearably close to your own. He watched as your gaze flickered down towards them, but he didn’t move any further. “Goin’ to the Pony after this, if you’re interested?”

“Are you actually, or is it just an excuse for me to let you sleep at my place?” You questioned. The Pony was a bar just around the corner from your apartment complex, and it was in just as poor shape as the Foxhole. The drinks were strong and cheap, but it didn’t have much else to offer (except for smoking inside, which was a rare thing to stumble upon). There were a few old slot machines in the back, and they played blackjack in the main room on Tuesday’s.

It was mostly occupied by gangbangers who were looking for a new client to sell to, and 70 year old men who chose drinking over starting a family. Vincent went quite often, but you feared that it was for one of two reasons; he was still caught up in his old habits, or he was trying to find an excuse to wiggle his way back into your life. He lived on the other side of town, and once he had a few beers into him, the drunk calling started, and you were never one to let him drink and drive. He knew this well, and he used it to his advantage.

There had been many nights where he came knocking on your door, or when you stumbled out into the darkness to find him drunk, leaning against his car with a grin but no intent to drive. His brown eyes would sparkle in the moonlight, and his soft lips would invite you in. He wouldn’t have to speak a word to get you to open your arms, inviting him in for a hug before you inevitably invited him upstairs. He spent many nights on your couch, but a few in your bed. As much as you wanted to scold him for pushing his luck, you knew you were the only one to blame; you invited him in every time, and you woke in the morning with a sense of freedom and happiness, like you’d just broken free from the chains you had placed so tightly around your own wrists.

You wanted him, and somehow even after convincing yourself that he was bad for you, you never felt a shred of regret for what you did with him. He wasn’t all that bad, but you knew that distance was your best option; he did not seem to outgrow the bad habits you had tried so hard to keep yourself away from. That did not make him a bad person, nor did it make him any less important to you, but you knew that if you wanted to keep yourself on the right path, a relationship with him was out of the question.

“If I wanted to come over, I would ask, and you’d say yes.” The cockiness radiated from him, and you hated that it only seemed to entice you further.

“Vincent…” you warned, giving him a sad stare.

“Oh, would you cut that shit, y/n?” He snapped, the withdrawal seeming to sting him. “You make it seem like I’m a monster.”

“That’s not… that’s not what I meant, and you know that.” You felt the fire burning in your chest, but you managed to swallow it back.

That was another reason to stay away from Vincent; he always seemed to bring out the worst of your emotions at the drop of a dime.

“Then what do you mean, doll? ‘Cause I don’t seem to be understanding.”

“Fine, Vin. You want me so bad, get clean.” You snapped, just the thought of it irritating you. “I’m not going through rehab all over again ‘cause you want to fuck me.” The words seemed to hurt him, but you were unsure of the reason. Part of you wanted to believe it was because he was appalled that you would ever think that he would let you backslide, but the more logical part of you knew it was because he hated your rejection. He had a taste of the sweetness you had to offer, and he couldn’t stand the idea of never having it again, but it came between you and his lifestyle, you knew what the priority was. “The Pony’s a shithole anyway. Wouldn’t want to waste my morning there.”

He looked like he wanted to fight, but instead his lips turned into a tight frown as he gave a curt nod of his head. “Once an addict, always an addict, right?” He said, moving back from you completely.

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” You rolled your eyes, turning to face him.

“It means,” he said, narrowing his gaze at you. “That’s all you’ll ever fuckin’ see me as.” You swallowed the sour taste in your mouth, scowling at him as his chest heaved with his hurt. Vincent’s biggest flaw was not the addictions, nor his history with the law, but how every emotion he felt always seemed to dissolve into anger, and his ability to turn every conversation into a fight. “At least getting high never makes me feel the same way you do.” With that, he turned on his heel, storming off to join Dylan in the freezer. You tried to hide the look of hurt on your face as you tossed the cigarette butt in the bucket, slamming the door with enough force to shake the walls. You threw your lighter down next to the pack of smokes sitting on the metal shelving unit, walking back out into the main area to keep cleaning.

When you walked out the swinging half-door, the other waitress, Katie, leaned against the counter while scrolling her phone. She looked up at you just for long enough to give you an expression of distaste, almost biting her tongue hard enough to hold back a snide comment.

“You planning on working tonight, or are you just going to make the whole place smell like cigarettes?”

“Yeah, ‘cause you sure look like you’re fucking hard at work.” You grumbled, kicking the rolling mop bucket out from behind the counter. The dirty mop water sloshed from the sides, spilling over onto the floor and inevitably pissing you off even further.

“You have another fight with your boyfriend?” She smirked, the sneer in her tone making your skin crawl.

“Do you ever take a night off from being insufferable, or is that a permanent kind of thing?” You grabbed the blue metal handle, ringing the head of the mop out before swinging it over the side. It landed on the tile floor with a squelch, and you wasted no time in cleaning up the mess you made. She didn’t respond to your jab, instead making a move to restock the jam holders at all of the tables. You worked hard scrubbing the grime from the floor while she took her time making sure the single-serve condiments were organized. Every so often, you shot a piercing glare at the back of her head, wondering what it would be like if you threw the whole mop and bucket at her.

Katie was undoubtedly the worst part of working at the Foxhole, and you considered it a victory when she called in sick for her shifts. It was a regular occurrence, and since you were hired, you’d heard that it only became more common. Your distaste for being around each other was shared, and you knew hers stemmed from your ability to get along with Vincent and Dylan. Or, perhaps, their ability to get along with you.

From the beginning, it had been clear that you were not the only one who’d fallen victim to Vincent’s charm, yet you seemed to be the only victor when it came to his heart.

When you first arrived, Katie did not seem all that miserable. She was timid, but smiled at you and taught you the ropes. You would have to be blind to miss the nervous stutters and blushing cheeks when she was around Vincent, and it made you think the two of them had something beyond what it looked on the surface. You quickly learned that was not the case, and her schoolgirl crush resulted from a lazy hookup in his car after a long night shift, and after that, his interest in her greatly declined. When you both walked in the front door of the Fox one day, standing a little too closely with matching hickeys on your neck, her smiles became scarce and her desire to get to know you fled.

You did not know the history between the two when you first hooked up with Vincent, nor did you know much of anything else. It did not take long for her to do whatever she could to make you miserable, starting with explaining Vincent’s criminal record and (required by parole guidelines) his AA/NA meeting combination. Instead of jumping the gun and shutting him out, you approached him with the new found information looking for an answer, and after some heavy avoidance, he admitted to all of it. It was a long night shift with many conflicting emotions, but you eventually came to the conclusion that you had to stay away for your own sake, despite already falling for him beyond anything you’d felt before.

Even after you ended things, Vincent and you remained close friends, and every so often, broke the boundaries you had set in place. Katie still hated you, despite your efforts to apologize and make amends, and Vincent seemed like he struggled to comprehend the fact the two of you could not be together. It was a shitshow, yet it was oddly comforting. You weren’t sure if you could handle it if something were to suddenly change. Even when your misery got the best of you, you knew that Katie would always hate you and her snide remarks would keep you on your toes, that Vincent would always trip over himself to flatter you (which would eventually lead to a fight), and Dylan would never know the true extent of the situation and serve as comedic relief.

As you finished mopping the corner tiles, relieved that most of the dirt was lifted from the floor, something light struck you in the back of the head. You furrowed your eyebrows, letting out a small huff as you turned in the direction it was thrown from, first looking at the floor to find a balled up piece of receipt paper. Then, you saw Vincent looking at you, a playful smile on his face, but regret in his eyes. You placed the mop back in the bucket, using the handle to wheel it along with you as you walked towards the back. Vincent’s eyes followed you as you moved towards him, but he didn’t speak. When you joined him in the kitchen, wheeling the bucket towards the mop closet, he followed close behind.

“You have something to say?” You grumbled, opening the closet door as you flipped the bucket upside down on top of the grate covering the drain. You were still upset, and he could see that. His words, like always, had a huge impact on you. You wished he would think before he spoke rather than speaking out of anger and trying to apologize ten minutes after the fact. For someone who claimed he cared, he wasn’t very good at showing it.

“Sorry, sweetheart.” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, looking down at his feet. “Shouldn’t have said that.” You held back a scoff as you let the closet door fall shut, not straining yourself to soften the slam. “Do you ever think that maybe, instead of turning straight to insults, you should bite your tongue for a second and fucking think about what you’re saying?” You brushed past him, grabbing the spray disinfect and a new rag. This time, he didn’t respond, which only seemed to piss you off more. “I’m not out to get you, Vincent. I’m protecting myself.”

“From what, y/n? You keep saying that, and I don’t get it.”

“I moved here to purse my dream of being an author, but I also came here to get away from the life I made for myself at home. I spent six months in rehab, and the minute they let me go, I packed my stuff and I ran. I thought that once I got here, I could start over.” You paused for a moment, spraying down the metal countertops. You took a long breath before speaking again. “I like you, but I don’t like that lifestyle, Vin. I’ve already fucked up too many times, and I’m scared that if I do it again, there’s no going back. Besides, I can’t pay for another detox at the hospital.” You chuckled at the thought, knowing that the seven days of torture was not worth the thousands of dollars, even with insurance coverage (which the Foxhole definitely did not provide).

“Okay,” he gave a slow nod, looking across the kitchen to gather his thoughts. “So… if I get clean, you say you’ll give me a shot?”

“Sure, yeah.” You forced out the words, the pained look on your face clear. In a perfect world, that’s how it would be, but you knew that he’d never stick to the promise. You couldn’t force him sober, and he didn’t really want to recover. Even if he did, you weren’t sure if you could trust him enough to believe he would stick with it. The conversation went the same way every time, and clearly no progress was made, hence why you were sitting in front of him explaining the same things for the millionth time. You could not allow yourself to get your hopes up, and you could not trust him while knowing that making a promise to stay sober for any person other than yourself is a terrible idea.

“I think… do you think that I don’t care?” You stopped for a moment, your whole body freezing as you wiped the lemony-smelling cleaner from the countertop.

“What?” You asked, looking back over your shoulder at him. His brown eyes looked sad beneath the tough exterior he’d built up. His cheeks were red, irritated from the cold of the freezer. He was only a couple inches taller than you, but in the moment of high emotion, It felt like he was towering over you. For once, anger did not seem present in his face.

“I know… I’m not the best at the whole emotions thing, and I say shit I don’t mean, but I care if you’re sober too, doll. I mean, your last detox was… it was hell. I don’t want you to go through that again.” You swallowed hard at the thought of the relapse, and the thought of his concern.

“You just hated working without me.” You forced a smile, trying to lighten the mood. When focusing on your own addictions, you began to panic. The fact that he knew that part of you so well scared the shit out of you, but also made you feel like he should understand why you were setting the boundaries. There were many things you didn’t understand about Vincent, the biggest one being his long list of red flags, yet his huge heart that cared about everyone so deeply. You knew that it was not entirely his fault; he had no guidance growing up, nor did he have anyone to help him correct his mistakes, but that did not change the fact that he was a 22 year old man that did not know how to hold himself accountable for anything.

Vincent was many things; a son born into a family who did not care if he lived or died, a child who was never loved the way a child should be, and a hurt little kid who grew into a man that was angry, lost, and trying to bargain with his crushing disappointment over his own failures. He struggled with the law, but more than anything, he struggled with his own demons. He had an addiction he could not face up to and overcome, and monsters in the closet that all looked like his father with a belt in his hand. He had a criminal record which stopped him from pursuing the things he once dreamed of, and was destined to be stuck working at the Foxhole until he could either clean himself up, or he died.

He was vindictive, sly, arrogant, and naive. He was raised by drug dealers who taught him all of the wrong morals, and who always made it a point to show anger before any other emotion. He was taught how to evade the law, and how to use fists instead of words. He picked himself up off the ground every time he fell, and grew a nasty amount of independence. He relied on nobody but himself, and would not let anyone take that away from him. He did not know how to trust, nor did he know how to love, but god did he want to. He felt like he needed to, especially when his eyes landed on you.

Despite his struggles, he was not a bad person. He cared deeply for the people that were important to him, and he would die for them on any given day. He was funny, and he was goofy, and he was great company. He was easy to fall in love with, but that was the danger. Although all of those things were true, down to the core, what he said earlier was correct; he was an addict, and worse than that, an active addict. Nothing was more important than a fix, and it turned him into the worst version of himself. You were no stranger to the evils of substance, but now that you were sober and intent to stay that way, you could finally see the monsters it created. His irritability and his lack of control over his emotions was staggering, and his inability to understand the harm he was putting on to others was catastrophic. He was selfish, and so much so that it constantly hurt others in the crossfire.

You could not judge him too harshly, because you knew all too well that it would take little for you to become that person again, too.

Even though you saw him for all of his flaws, you saw him as a human being, too. You saw him as the charming man who only had to smile in order to make your stomach fill with butterflies. You knew him as the boy who would drive you around as needed, or would lend you his car if he needed to be elsewhere. You saw the man who showed up at your front door with a wrench and a smile when your pipes burst in the kitchen sink and your landlord did not care enough to fix it. He was your friend, and he was someone you cared deeply about. His addiction was not who he was, but rather what made him be so hard to digest sometimes. You knew that if he managed to get clean and stay that way, he could be that person all of the time.

Unfortunately, you did not have the courage nor the ability to help him get there, and the thought of that alone nearly killed you.

Helping him was all you wanted to do, but you knew better than anyone that the only person who could help Vincent was himself.

“Don’t look so sad, sweetheart.” He said, reaching out and laying a gentle hand on your arm. You looked down as his fingers connected with your skin, the touch sending jolts of electricity through your whole body. You caught his eye, your lips turned down into a frown. You wished so bad for it to be easy, but after twenty three years, you knew that this lifetime was never meant to be kind to you.

Before you could speak, you heard the familiar chime of the bell above the door. You looked between Vincent and the empty dining room. As if she knew, Katie peeked her head back into the kitchen, giving you a look and a raised eyebrow.

“They’re in your section.” You could hear the distaste in her voice. Unlike usual, you didn’t have a witty comment or a sarcastic response to shoot back at her.

“You… you can have it. Take the tip, too. Don’t care.” You muttered. “I’ll finish cleaning.” For a second, you thought you saw a shred of humanity in her eyes when she caught sight of your pained expression. Without any further words, she turned and left the two of you alone again. Before Vincent could continue your earlier conversation, Dylan pushed open the door of the freezer and stepped out, shuddering at the sudden rush of warmth on his skin. The tip of his nose was burning red and his teeth were chattering together.

“Cold enough for you, dumbass?” Vincent asked, baffled and Dylan’s refusal to wear anything other than a t-shirt while he did inventory.

“Keeps me awake.” He said, doing a couple small jumps in his spot to get the blood rushing through him again.

“No, makes you look stupid.” You corrected, wiping at the counter again. “Is that grill on? We’ve got a customer.” You nodded towards the blackstone grill that looked awfully cool. No billows of black smoke were filtering into the air, telling you they definitely turned it off in anticipation of having no more customers for the night. Dylan rolled his eyes, but flicked on the heat to the max, hoping to get it hot before Katie brought back the order.

“Who the fuck goes out to eat at,” he paused, looking at his watch “two in the morning on a Sunday?”

“Obviously them, and enough people that John decided to keep us open 24 hours.” You sighed, knowing you would have to clean the dining room all over again.

“Okay, miss know it all.” Dylan put on a mocking smile as he walked to the window to grab the order slip. Once you deemed the kitchen clean enough, you sat atop one of the counters you’d just scrubbed clean. Vincent seemed to be keeping his distance, now. You weren’t sure if it was because you had hurt his feelings, or he was too afraid to show his emotions around Dylan. Katie hung out by the window, using the soda machine just underneath to pour the customers their drinks. “You write about not wanting to write, yet?” Dylan asked, throwing a veggie burger on the grill.

“No, not really.” You chuckled, looking down at your hands. “I mean, I did, but it was terrible.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad, doll.” Vincent said, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Yeah, no, it definitely was.” You gave a slow nod. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Feels like I can’t write anything anymore.” You sighed. “I’m trying to find inspiration in anything, but it all just seems… bleak.”

“It’ll come, always does.” Dylan assured you, flipping the food with the thin metal spatula.

“Yeah,” you noded, trying to believe it. You ran your hands over the hem of your apron, pondering your lack of a muse, when suddenly it seemed like the universe was laughing at you.

No, it wasn’t the universe laughing; it was something far more beautiful and melodic than something that was normally so sinister.

Your head snapped up and your heart pounded against your chest. The sound was so powerful that it seemed to shake the whole building, making the rotten foundation quiver and threaten to give way. More than powerful, it was breathtaking, and you were desperate to know where it was coming from. You looked out the window, peeking into the dining room to see what the commotion was, and why it was so striking that it made your heart skip a beat. Your eyes soon landed on the corner booth, taken by the only two customers in the entire store. Sat in the very corner, shoulder pressed against the window that onlooked the road dimly lit by street lamps, was a man who was certainly the most beautiful you had ever seen.

The smile was still lingering on his lips and the ghost of his laugh hung thick in the air. His hair, long and curly, hung down over his broad shoulders to frame his beautiful crafted face. A tattered band shirt with the sleeves cut off and a worn out logo magnified his strong arms. His jawline was sharp, angling down into a soft chin, and although large, his nose was stunning. His eyes, even from far away, managed to make your stomach flutter with curiosity.

Whoever he was, he had turned your entire world upside down in an instant. The warm embrace of his presence was more profound than anything you had ever felt before, and as you sat staring at him, you were aching to know him. His beauty was blinding, and his laugh seemed to strike more inspiration in your heart than you even thought was possible.

It was in that moment that you realized a muse was not something you could search for, but rather something that finds you when the time is right.

After weeks of feeling defeated, wondering if your entire life had lead to nothing but disappointment, or spending hours in bars and coffee shops trying to find inspiration yet met with nothing, it only took a split second for your hands to beg to be wrapped around a pen. You needed your notebook, or your laptop, because the sight of his face prompted enough emotion for you to write entire novels about the feeling.

Dylan served the two plates in the window, and you watched as Katie walked it to the boy and his company. Whatever his friend said prompted another laugh that blossomed straight from his chest, echoing off the walls and making home in your heart. His friend seemed loud, definitely more talkative than the curly haired boy. He was facing away from you, his long brown hair falling down his back. You did not even truly care what he looked like, because you were certain he would pale in comparison to the boy who already managed to steal your heart. You sat, completely immersed in the sight with no shame about your staring. You hung on to every small detail and miniscule expression, hoping to sear it into your memory for the rest of time. Every time a laugh fell from his lips, butterflied erupted in your stomach.

He did not notice you, but god did you notice him, and so much so that it was hard to see anything else.

When you finally broke from the trance and looked back into the kitchen, Dylan and Vincent’s eyes were both burning into you. Dylan was smirking, like he already knew what was running through your head without you having to say a word. Vincent, on the other hand, was definitely not even close to smiling. His jaw was hard set, the vein in his forehead protruding slightly as he clenched his teeth together. He knew exactly what you were thinking, and it absolutely gutted him. Your cheeks tinged red as if it were the cherry on top of an already catastrophic disaster, and you wanted the floor to open up and swallow you whole. Instead of speaking, Vincent grabbed the pack of cigarettes the three of you shared and walked out the back door, making sure to slam it for extra salt in the wound.

You swallowed hard, looking back at Dylan with a flicker of anxiety in your eyes. He shrugged it off, clearly not understanding the extent of the situation and leaned against the counter beside you.

“So, are you gonna go talk to him?” He asked, giving you a goofy smile as he gazed out at the man in question. You looked back towards the dining room too, your eyes shining with wonder at the two unnamed men. You have a slow shake of your head, knowing that you would never, but wishing that you would.

April 4th, 2022

You woke with a start, your head pounding as the sun shined brightly through your large panel windows. You shifted in your position, immediately wincing from the aches and pains that ravished your body. You blinked a few times, trying to focus your eyes as you took in your surroundings. You were on your living room floor, head propped up against the couch with your journal still laying atop of you. You must have fallen asleep writing, as your pen was still clutched tightly in your hand.

You quickly located the source of the disturbance, seeing your phone ringing loudly and irritatingly beside you. You picked it up, focusing your eyes on the screen to see who could be calling. When you saw John’s name on the screen, you felt your stomach drop for a moment. You swiped across the screen, accepting the call as you hit the speaker button.

“Hello?”

“Hey, y/n.” He said, almost sounding pained to be calling you.

“What’s up, John?” You asked, stretching your limbs out to rid yourself of the pain lingering in your joints. Sleeping on the floor was definitely a bad call, even if it was only for a few hours.

“I hate to ask this, but could you come in and cover the lunch rush? I know you worked overnight last night, but Linda had to leave; her husband fell and she had to take him to the emergency room.” Linda was one of the older ladies who worked the mornings. You quite liked her, even if you did think she smelled like the basement of an old Catholic Church. “I’ll pay you time and a half.” He offered, hoping to bribe you with the extra pay.

“Yeah, that’s no problem.” You would have agreed anyway, but the offering was not something you were willing to refuse. “Give me about thirty minutes and I’ll be down.”

“Thank you, darlin’. You’re a lifesaver.” You could hear his relief through the phone.

“Love you too, John.” You chuckled, ending the call and making a move to stand. You quickly ran to the bathroom, jumping in the shower and washing away the night shift that was still lingering on your skin. You washed your hair and took an extra minute to condition it and sit under the warm water, then rinsed off and jumped out. You blow dried your hair and styled it slightly, dusting on some light makeup. You always made sure to look nice for a busy serving shift, because it made the older men much more generous with their tips.

You ran to your bedroom, pulling out a pair of black leggings and an old Zeppelin shirt that once belonged to your brother. One thing you liked about the Fox was that the dress code was nonexistent. You could show up in your pajamas and John would just be relieved that you showed up at all. You stuffed your purse full of the necessities and grabbed your phone from the couch as you passed by. You locked the door as you made your way into the hallway, throwing your keys in your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. As you walked down the stairs of the creaky old apartment building, the sun already began to hurt your eyes before you even reached the door. You pushed open the front door and took a long breath of air, the coldness filling your lungs and making your chest ache for a moment. Spring was just around the corner, but winter still seemed like it was trying to hang on.

As you slipped your headphones in your ears and hit shuffle on your playlist, your eyes noticed something familiar across the street. You furrowed your eyebrows, your lips turning into a frown as you recognized the rusted out body of the 80’s model car. As you walked a little closer, you noticed the silhouette of Vincent, sleeping soundly in the driver's seat. You approached the vehicle, raising your fist and rapping it against the glass with force. It only took a second for him to shoot awake, looking around to try and figure out where he was. With a defensive stance, his head whipped towards the window. As always, he looked ready for a fight, but when his eyes landed on you, his expression softened. As you pulled your jacket closer to your body, he rolled the window down.

“What are you doing sleeping in your car, Vin?” You asked, clearly displeased with his actions. “You know what type of people hang out around here.”

“Drank too much last night,” he grumbled, rubbing his face in his hands as he squinted at the sunlight. “Knew it was best not to drive.”

“You could have called.”

“Thought you didn’t like it when I did that, doll?” He cleared his throat, the rasp of cigarettes still heavy in his tone.

“I…” you paused, shifting your weight between your legs. “I'd rather you be safe.”

“I’m safe, don’t worry sweetheart.” He chuckled, his cockiness peeking through. Vincent loved framing himself as unafraid of anything, but it simply was not true. He thought he was invincible, even if you knew he was just a man. “What are you doing, anyway?”

“John called me in, something about Linda’s husband falling. She had to leave.” You explained.

“That guys always fucking falling. Should get him one of those little stair elevators, you know? Like in the commercials?” You laughed at his idea, nodding in agreement.

“They probably would if they weren’t poor.” You reminded him.

“Yeah, aren’t we all?” He leaned his head against the headrest, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to keep the hangover at bay. “You want a drive over?”

“Sure, if you’re headed that way.” You agreed, walking around to jump in the passenger seat. He started the car, the old engine turning over a few times before eventually sputtering into a slow start. The interior immediately began to smell like gasoline, but you ignored it. It was one of the most charming quirks about the vehicle.

“You sleep last night? It’s awfully early to be going back in.” He noted, looking down at his watch. The radio system in his car no longer worked, including the digital clock (it read the wrong time when it did work anyway, so it did not really matter).

“A little, fell asleep on the floor of all fucking places.” You chuckled, pulling your jacket closer to your body again. He rolled the window up, noticing your small shiver. “I’m only going in for a few hours, so it doesn’t matter much anyway.” He did not respond to this, instead pulling the car around and driving out onto the highway. The rattle of the engine filled the stale air, and you looked out the window as he drove.

“You’re going to miss NA.” He stated, glancing over at you for only a second. “You didn’t go last week, either.”

“I know, I know.” You sighed. “I’ll catch the Wednesday meeting instead.”

“You promise?” He pushed, not willing to let it go. You bit your tongue, knowing he was the last person in the world who should be scolding you about missing your meetings.

“Yeah. Are you going today, or do you want to come with me on Wednesday?”

“I’ll come with you.” He said without hesitation. You were the only thing that made the meetings bearable for him. You did notice he was slightly withdrawn, and he did not even attempt to reach over and put his hand on your thigh.

When you turned your head to look at him, you finally noticed the details you managed to overlooked before. His eyes had dark circles underneath, and the whites were bloodshot. His pupils were blown, nearly engulfing his irises, and if you squinted hard enough, you could see the red ring of blood lining his nostril. He was still coming down from the high the night before, and the thought almost made you sick to the stomach. The emotion was not because he chose to do drugs, but because in the moment of seeing him like that, you could remember what it felt like so vividly that it made your head spin. Your hands went clammy and your fingers began to tremble as you bargained with yourself to just make it to the diner.

He clicked on his turn signal, cutting sharply into the parking lot and pulling up to the door so you wouldn’t have to walk through the parking lot. “Thanks, Vincent.” You choked out, still trying to distract yourself from the idea of his endeavors the night prior.

“I’ll see you Wednesday.” He said, forcing a smile. The come down had hit him hard, and you could tell his whole body felt like lead. His eyelids were heavy, and he would likely park in the empty lot next to the diner for a while to get some more sleep.

“Yeah,” you nodded, forcing him a smile, too. You jumped out of the car, pulling a half smoked cigarette from your pack to smoke before you went inside. You stood a few feet away from the door, and finished it as fast as you could. You crushed the butt beneath your old ratty converse and took two large strides to the entrance, pulling the door open and stepping inside.

The chatter in the room was immediately overwhelming, and the smell of the deep fryer hit your nose almost instantly. You rushed behind the counter and through to the kitchen, grabbing a clean apron and an order pad. You shoved the book and a pen in your front pocket, and knocked on the door of the office to grab a cash float. You heard John tell you to come in, and as you opened the door he sent you a smile. He already counted the cash and had it waiting on the desk for you, which you shoved in the second pocket.

“Thanks again, darlin’. You only have to stay for the rush.”

“Don’t mention it.” You smiled, closing the door behind you. You moved back out to the dining room after punching in a time card. John had not yet moved to an updated system, because computers were not his forte. Nobody complained, because you got paid all the same. Betty gave you a wave as she dropped off some order tickets at the window, relieved to see you there.

“Linda has the back section, and there’s a couple people who haven’t been served yet. You mind starting there?”

“No problem.” You assured her, grabbing a stack of menus to bring over with you. You stopped first at a booth with a family. They had two small kids with them who seemed to be getting impatient. The mother held the baby in her lap while the little boy sat next to his dad. You handed out the menus and took drink orders, stopping to crouch down and talk to the boy who looked to be only five.

“And how old are you, baby?” You asked, giving him a warm smile as he played with his tiny model car on the table.

“Four and three quarters!” He grinned, looking over at you.

“Three quarters?” You exclaimed, matching his excitement. “That means your birthday is coming up soon?” He gave an eager nod. “That also means,” you stopped and checked the front of the menu to make sure of the policy before saying the wrong thing. “You get to eat for free today!” You glanced up at the mom, sending her a gentle wink. Not often did you serve kids, because you usually only worked at night. According to the menus, kids under 6 ate for free. “So you can have all of the Dino nuggets you can eat.” The prospect seemed to excite him even more as he looked to his dad, hoping he would verify if you were telling the truth. “I’ll be back in a few to take your orders and bring your drinks.” You told the woman, who was smiling at you while bouncing the baby in her lap.

You moved on to the next table, an older couple who was sweet and already knew what they wanted without even having to look over the options. You wrote it down, knowing they were likely regulars. You assured them it wouldn’t be long before moving to the last table. You barely looked up as you made your way towards the corner booth, but when you did, your heart nearly jumped straight from your chest. The curly hair was unmistakable, and the outline of the big nose made your stomach twist with anxiety. You hated to admit that he noticed you and spoke long before your brain could formulate a word, ultimately leaving you looking like an idiot.

“Hey, mind if I have one of those?” As if it were some sick trick from the universe, his voice was just as heavenly as his laugh was the night before, and his eyes were just as soft and warm, inviting you in even further. His teeth were white and impossibly straight as he smiled at you, and it made your heart thud dramatically against your chest.

The boy that you’d spent all hours of the morning writing about was in front of you, sitting in the exact same seat he was when you had seen him for the first time.

“Y-yeah, f’course.” You forced a smile, your cheeks burning red as you handed him a menu from the dwindling stack in your hand. “You, uh… what brings you here?” You asked, internally facepalming at the stupid nature of your question. It was a diner; obviously he was there to eat.

“Uh… food?” He raised an eyebrow, smiling at you as he answered. He didn’t seem concerned about your nervousness, and if anything, it sparked an intrigue in him.

“Yeah, obviously, sorry.” You chuckled, shaking your head as you tried to straighten your thoughts. “I mean, you were here late last night, too. I know the food’s not that good, so it has to be something else bringing you here.” You flashed a real smile, your wit seeming to find its way back to you.

“Oh, yeah.” He laughed, nodding. “I’m not from here, actually. My friend and I are traveling. We booked an Airbnb for a few months, so it gives us some time to explore New York. Our flight came in late, and this was the closest spot last night…. And this morning.” He explained.

“The truth comes out,” you chuckled, cocking your head to the side. “Where you from?”

“Michigan.” He replied, trying to read over the menu, but his attention seemed to only want to be on you. “What about you? You definitely don’t have the accent like the rest of the city does.”

“Utah,” you grinned, surprised he picked up on it.

“So how the hell did you end up here?” He smirked, seemingly very interested in the conversation and uncaring that you were working amidst a lunch rush.

“Long story, sweetheart.” You laughed, brushing it off. He didn’t really want to know, and you didn’t want to bore him.

“I’ve got all the time in the world.” He shrugged, motioning to the empty both. You pondered his words for a moment, biting the inside of your lip. He was completely enamouring, and you barely even knew him. From the twenty seconds of conversation, you felt compelled to keep talking to him, wanting to know everything you could.

“Why don’t I take your order, and if you still want to know, we can make that happen.” You offered. He thought about it for a moment, finally seeming to realize you were working. He was so enthralled in your face and your words that the whole world around him seemed to disappear.

“Yeah, that’s probably a better idea.” He nodded. “Any recommendations?” He asked, completely ignoring the menu in his hand in hopes that you would keep talking.

“Breakfast or lunch?”

“Breakfast.” He confirmed.

“Omelet is good, vegetarian or not. Can never fuck up one of those.” You explained, smiling down at him.

“Sure, one of those, however you like it.” He said, his brown eyes lingering over your face. “And a coffee, please.”

“Sure thing.” You gave a soft smile, reaching down to pick up the menu again. “I’ll be back.”

“Can’t wait.” He shot back, keeping his eyes glued to you as you walked away. As you went to drop off the order tickets and collect the drinks for your tables, your cheeks were burning and your chest was filled with curious excitement. You didn’t know him, but you wanted to, and it was almost hard to believe that he seemed to want to know you, too.

You did not want to get your hopes up, because men had always let you down, even if they had ample amounts of promise. Then again, he seemed different than anyone you’d ever spoken to before. He didn’t seem creepy, nor did his eyes travel anywhere other than your face. He was friendly, soft spoken, and kind. He didn’t think your anxiety was strange, and he didn’t even mention it in efforts to keep you comfortable. You didn’t know him at all, but he seemed better than anyone you’d ever laid eyes on, looks and personality-wise.

You never know unless you try, and try was the only thing you knew how to do. You were determined to know him, and only then you could truly judge his character. Even if he turned out to be an asshole or disappointing in some way, he would at least be nice to look at in the meantime.

You dropped off drinks at your other two tables, then doubled back to brew his coffee. You tapped your foot against the floor in anticipation, hoping it would speed up the process. When the coffee maker sputtered the last pathetic spurt of liquid, it let out a tired groan as the button and lights clicked off. You poured a mug and grabbed a milk and cream dish. You carefully walked it over to his booth, setting it down in front of him with a sigh of relief. You were known as the coffee spiller amongst the staff, and you finally seemed to deliver one successfully.

“Thank you,” he smiled up at you, the sight nearly taking your breath away. “I’m Danny, by the way.”

“Danny…” you pondered, the corners of your lips tugging onwards. “I like it. I’m y/n.”

“Pretty name for a pretty girl.” He smirked, tearing open a sugar packet and dumping it into the steaming cup. Your cheeks dusted red again, your entire body heating at the compliment. “So you said you were here last night, but you definitely weren’t the one who served me. She seemed a bit…” he trailed off, trying to find the proper words.

“Bitchy?” You offered, raising an eyebrow. He let out a laugh, so similar to the one you heard last night. It nearly made you weak in the knees.

“Sure, yeah.” He nodded. “That’s not how I would word it, but that’s probably the best way to say it.”

“I shouldn’t be so mean,” you sympathized with the girl, even if she wasn’t standing there to hear it. “She’s not the worst person in the world, but she is hard to get along with sometimes.”

“Yeah, I can see that. She was giving Sam dirty looks the whole time.” He chuckled at the memory. “I get it, though. Sam’s loud, and he’s a lot to take in. I’m sure you guys weren’t expecting that at two in the morning.”

“We’re usually a bit busier at night, but last night was super slow. Think she was just doing it because technically you were sitting in my area, and I was busy.”

“Busy, but still concerned with who was sitting out here?” He questioned. You prayed your cheeks would stop rushing with blood as you tried to think of a proper response.

“I’m nosy, what can I say?” You shrugged.

“I must have left an impact, cause you recognized me today.” He pointed out, taking another sip of coffee. You gave a slow nod, a smile pulling at your lips.

“Yeah, well, we definitely don’t get too many cute boys in here. Usually just drunkards from the old tavern and teenagers who snuck out.” You explained.

“Cute?” He pressed, liking the sound of the term. You rolled your eyes, playful but sweet.

“Yeah, yeah, get over yourself.” You gave a soft laugh.

“No, actually.” He shook his head. “I’m sure I’ll be thinking about that for a while, especially coming from someone as beautiful as you.” You smiled, biting down on the inside of your lip again. Instead of continuing the conversation, you decided to play hard to get.

“Your food shouldn’t be too much longer.” You gave a smirk, adding a little pep to your step as you turned and walked away. Again, he watched as you disappeared behind the counter, waiting for your plates to be served.

Soon enough, the meals for the family of four were served on the windowsill. You grabbed the ticket and brought them their food, letting them know to just give a holler if they needed anything else. You went back and retrieved the plates for the older couple and dropped them off to them just the same. Eventually, Danny’s meal was served and you had to stop for a moment, regaining your composure before you brought it over to him. You picked up the omelet, carting it close to your body as you walked to the corner booth, being mindful of your steps so you did not trip over anything. When you reached his table, he gave you a smile as you placed it down in front of him.

“Looks good,” he commented, happy with the recommendation.

“Definitely not a Michelin starred restaurant, but we know how to make an omelet.” You grinned.

“Seems so,” he gave a nod of approval.

“Let me know if you need anything else, sweetheart.” You said, looking over your shoulder as more customers filled up the seats in your section.

“I will for sure.” He promised. “Thank you.” You didn’t respond, but gave another smile as you walked to greet the new customers.

After a while, the buzz began to die down. People were leaving with smiles on their faces and full bellies, and the tips were flowing generously. You brought the debit machine from table to table, allowing people to pay so they could make their way home. Every time you saw a customer out, you checked to see if Danny was ready. He seemed to be taking his sweet time, but you didn’t mind at all; it saved from another person replacing him in his seat, and it gave you something pretty to look at. If you could have it your way, you’d never let him leave.

He was intriguing, and you seemed to like every exchange of words more than the last. He was someone you wanted to keep talking to, and someone you wanted to share things with. He was interested in everything you had to say, and you hung onto every word that fell from his mouth. He was the most interesting person to ever sit in the diner, in the best way possible. You wanted to ask for more, to see him again, but your fear was stopping you. Rejection terrified you, and embarrassment was not any better. Instead, you stole glances at him and hoped that he would ask first, or that he would at least come back once he decided it was time to leave.

When most of the crowd filtered out, John let you know that you could head home, and that he convinced the night waitresses to come in a little early to cover the dinner rush. You nodded, letting him know you had one more customer to see through and then you’d be on your way. He thanked you again, wasting no time returning to the office. You liked John quite a lot; he was friendly, nice, and didn’t really care much about what you did during your shift as long as the job got done. He was old, and he was tired. The diner had given him a run for his money, and he was excited to retire, but realistically he knew it would never happen. You felt bad for him, but at the same time, you were happy to know he would be running the show for the foreseeable future.

You walked over to Danny, hoping to catch another quick conversation with him. He seemed to be pleased with your decision to join him again, smiling as you advanced towards him. “Back again?” He asked once you were in earshot.

“Just couldn’t stay away,” you smirked. “You all finished?”

“Yeah, think so.” He nodded, draining the last of the coffee from his mug. “Trying to get me out of here?” He asked.

“No, but the sooner you leave, the sooner I get to go home.” You explained. He gave a slow nod, picking up on the situation, now.

“If that’s the case, I’ll get out of your hair.”

“No need to rush.” You assured him, hoping you didn’t come off as rude. You’d stay all day if it meant you got to talk to him.

“I know, I know,” he chuckled. “But Sam’s probably wondering where I am, so I probably should get back.”

“Yeah, no problem. I can grab your bill?” You offered.

“Sure,” he nodded. “Mind if I borrow your pen for a second?” You grabbed it from your pocket, handing it over to him before running to the counter to print off his receipt. You brought it back over to him, placing it face down on the table.

“Shit, do you need the debit machine?” You asked, remembering that you hadn’t asked him yet. You were too caught up in the beauty of his smiling face.

“No, cash is fine.” He promised, flipping over the bill. You mindlessly watched out the window as he pulled some money out of his wallet, leaving it on the table as he made a move to stand.

“Oh, hold on.” You stopped him, eyeing the fifty dollar bill with unease. For a second, you thought you might have charged him wrong. “I’ll get your change.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he smiled. “I’ll see you again sometime?”

“Danny, that’s way too much-“

“Ah,” he cut you off, shaking his head. “Whatever happened to the customer is always right?” He raised an eyebrow. You let out a sigh, knowing that it was best not to argue with him.

“Thank you,” you said, feeling guilty for accepting such a large gesture. The tip was nearly four times his bill total.

“No need for thanks, the service was excellent.” He assured you. “You said you work the overnights here, right?”

“Yeah, usually.” You nodded. “Thursday to Sunday.”

“I’ll have to stop by sometime.” He noted, slipping on his jacket. Your eyes lingered over the muscles of his arms shown off under the sleeves of his t-shirt. You swallowed hard, trying to push the thought away.

“Guess so,” you agreed, nodding slightly. “Have a good rest of your day.”

“You, too.” He said, his shoulder gently brushing with your own as he passed by. The contact sent a shiver down your spine, and you turned to watch as he walked out the front door, wishing that you had the courage to follow after him or ask him to stay. Instead, you saw him disappear from view, and you were left with a sinking feeling in your stomach and regret looming overhead.

You turned to the table, grabbing the cash he’d left and your copy of the receipt. He’d penciled in the tip total, but what caught your eye was a napkin laying underneath that had black pen scribbled on it. You picked it up, bringing it closer so you could read the messy handwriting. As your eyes drifted over the words, your stomach filled with butterflies and your cheeks began to ache from the smile that took hold.

It was fantastic meeting you. If you ever have the time, I’d love to hear about Utah.

Below that, he left his phone number and a series of X’s and O’s. You bit down on your lip, slipping the note in your pocket to save for later, turning away to count your tips. As you went to the register, you couldn’t help but notice the excitement filling you, and how eager you were to get home and use the number he’d left, even if it was just to tell him about Utah. For the first time in eighteen months—no, for the first time in years, your happiness was genuine and you were eager to see what the next day would bring.

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