#tf theme night out

[baphofemme]

ok my dreams are starting to get ridiculous now (ToT)

[ace-malarky]

the first chapter (scene?) of the shapeshifter wip is really just everyone having a great time and setting in some character stuff and it is. so misleading in terms of tone I think lmao but I'm having a great time

[fics-lovebot]

nishimura riki (ni-ki) fic recs - pt. 1

main masterlist

· · ♡ · · tysm to the amazing creative minds of the writers for giving me sevaral moments of joy reading your creations

pls reblog if you like any of my recs and don´t forget to support authors!❤️

the weave to my love - ( @mygnolia ) fluff, classmates to lovers, idiots to lovers, spiderman!riki, class pres!reader. yes yes yes yes yes, this is what i´m talking about, I LOVE ITTTTT. the banter is deff my favorite thing, love the concept as well

sweater - ( @star-sim ) fluff, angst, hurt-comfort, non idol bf!riki, happy ending, he gets insecure bc he doesnt recgonaize the sweater you´re wearing,

boys night - ( @star-sim )fluff, crack, non idol!riki, where his six friends tries to help him text his school crush. I LOVE THISSS, such a fun read

pics i posted on my ig story for my crush to see - ( @lattegyu ) ig stories, fluff, crack, smau, non idol!riki

necklace - ( @rikiislvr ) fluff, idol!riki, i WISH this would happen to me but i´m too broke to be frequenting the same stores as him alsjfha

busy woman - ( @heedeungism ) fluff, angst, crack, lacrosse player!niki, rich kids au, highschool au, listen to me rn this is imPORTANT: this is one of THEE BEST NIKI FICS OUT THERE, NO QUESTIONS ASKED. i had to hide in every corner to read this at work bc 1) i couldn´t STOP reading it and 2) i couldn´t let anybody see me reading it bc it had me giggling like a dumb bitch. js go read it, pls and ty

that was too far - ( @semisasseater ) angst, fluff, bf!niki. ni-ki took his joke a bit too far. this would SO happend to him irl too i fear

aftercare and pillowtalk - ( @enhani-ki ) fluff, bf!niki, suggestive. i loved it sm :(

the grinch that stole my… pants? - ( @mandukkul ) fluff, crack. bf!ni-ki x fIreader, established relationship. nahh this is so cute, reader is valid af

quacked up - ( @veilstqr ) downbad!ni-ki, fluff and crack x ni-ki being whipped and the members not letting him breathe. jungwon is so wrong for that lmao, poor niki

i´ll never let that happen again - ( @semisasseater ) fluff, angst, protective bf!niki. this one´s for my delulu riki stans, ik you´ll like it :p

too much? - ( @flqwerjo ) smut, bf!riki, size kink (ik riki stans will eat this up), belly bulge (oh?). so,, now that he´s about to be 20 i might recc some smut fics, starting with this one bc it´s short and sweet,,kinda lkjfhkahd

on my mind - ( @lascvitae ) domestic fluff, simpppp downbad gamer bf!riki (LETSGOOO), THIS ONE RIGHT HERE,,, HAD ME GIGGLING KICKING MY FEET TWIRLING MY HAIR LIKE A DUMB BITCH, wow.

for his eyes only - ( @mrsjjongstby ) dark fluff(?, sad themes but not really angst, broke ballerina!reader, possessive obsessed millionare!riki (ARE YALL SEEING THIS??), human auction au. DO YOURSELF A FAVOR AND GET INTO THIS RIGHT NAAOOWWWWWW, THERE´S NO TIME TO WASTE!!!

kiss is better - ( @ninisdollie ) smut, bsf!riki learning how to give head, pussy drunk!riki. NAH THIS IS TOO GOOD TF, adofjlsdjfhlksjfhl the visual i got from this tho,, it´s crazy

[nymphaura777]

Void Game Method™

Theme: you’re the main character. you’re leveling tf up into your dream world....the Void is the final boss, and you’re already winning.

how it works (even if your brain won’t shut up)

This method literally tricks your overthinking brain. No trying to manifest, no spiritual bootcamp just playful behavior that turns your subconscious into your personal hype machine. doubts? cool. Bring ’em. You’re still winning.

The rules of the game

Start the day with 0 void points.

Your only job? hit 50 points before crashing at night. You earn points by doing little actions that quietly convince your brain that the void is already yours. Low effort. High vibe. Chaotic but genius.

Void point tasks:

(each one earns 5 or 10 pts — stack them, baby.)

5 pts – whisper the void is mine while brushing your lil teeth (saying with love)

5 pts – daydream like a menace for 1 min about waking up in the void.

10 pts – mutter i don’t care anymore, it’s done like a dramatic romcom lead.

10 pts – fake explain to your fake friend how you entered the void like you’re famous for it.

5 pts – draw a lil finger portal on your pillow. Dead serious. Say "this is my way in."

5 pts – if you feel completely relaxed.

10 pts – sit in silence like a witch and imagine floating in the dark like you're weightless.

bonus 10 pts – look your doubt in the face and say, aw, that’s cute.

nighttime final move, when you hit the bed:

1. Lay flat. No scrolling tonight...just whisper, i don’t even care. it’s done. i’m waking up in the void.

2. Knock tf outz no trying, no visualizing. you’re tired. just sleep like the void bound legend you are.

Why this works even if your inner saboteur is loud af

Play = no pressure = no resistance = the universe chills tf out and listens.

Repetition = belief slips in while your brain's distracted.

Being = your subconscious eats that sh*t up.

Giving up = surrender = pure void

final note: you’re not trying anymore, you’re not wishing. you’re EXPECTING, and that’s why it’s already done.

Best of luck lovesss, apply this, relax and don't worry, surrender to the void and it will take you like a train!!! Feel free to ask doubts related to this method also send me your success stories too!

[evilgwrl]

TF 141 x Reader (Apocalypse!AU)

Immune: Two

WARNING: This is a 18+ Poly!141 series (MDNI)

CW: Suggestive themes, mention of rape, female masturbation, second hand embarrassment

Masterlist

You looked at the dishes piled up in the sink, a wave of nausea hitting you. A part of you was glad, comforted by the idea of having humans around yet you couldn’t shake the substantial feeling of dread.

What if they killed you? Or raped you? Or both? What would happen to your body? Would you turn? Would you just decompose and hopefully move onto a better place? Your mind thumped against the thick walls of your skull before you felt a hand placed on your shoulder. A hand clamped your shoulder.

“You ‘lright?” Price said, a comforting smile adorned on his face before you shrugged his hand off.

“Just fine,” you reply, a tight smile on your face, “I’ll show you the bedrooms.” They followed you upstairs, the pounding of their boots against the floor giving you a headache. You led them to a bedroom, the subtle smell of dust lingering as you took in the unused space. There was a double bed, a mint green quilt with pink roses adorning it, two pillows both placed neatly on either side. “You can figure out who goes where,” you say, pushing the door open from across the hall.

You walk into the second guest room, a queen sized bed splat in the middle, a dark blue quilt tucked in, a row of grey pillows furnishing the top. “There’s a bathroom down the hall to the right. The plumbing still works somehow but don’t over-flush. You can have a shower but the water will be cold,” you say, attempting to sound intimidating as you avert your gaze.

“Thank you,” Price smiled, stepping inside the room.

Gaz and Soap offered you a squeeze on the shoulder quickly, a polite thank you leaving their mouth. Ghost however, sorted just stared at you, blinking slowly before turning towards the first room.

You find yourself thinking as you brushed Cecil, his grey fur shedding quickly as you stroked his behind, whispering small praises towards the large animal.

What if you tell them to leave and they don’t? What if they take over your house and kick you out? What if-

You stop yourself, rubbing your head in your hands as you lead the horses back to the barn, preparing dinner for the other animals before locking the door securely. You finished up outside, ensuring the crops were well watered before heading up the porch steps and through the back door.

Gaz was sat on the couch, a book in his hands as he looked up. “I hope you don’t mind, found it on the shelf.”

You kept your face straight but nodded, “It’s fine.” Truth be told, it was as comforting to have people around, the same as it was fearful. You knew that if they tried anything, they would win, no matter what gun you hold.

Time seems to be going quicker as you prepare a salad with some grown vegetables with bread. You were glad that your father was a chef, always teaching you how to make things from scratch. You didn’t like to dwell, hoping that somehow your family were immune too. Maybe one day, you would see them again. Maybe.

You placed the loaf of dough inside a tray before lighting the woodburner and placing it inside. You hummed softly to yourself as you heard footsteps against the wooden stairs. “Feeding us again, bonnie?”

“Only if it’ll get you guys to leave me alone,” you reply, not bothering to look at him. You hear his tongue click softly as he shuffles over to you.

“Y’ need help?”

You lowered the knife, gesturing for him to take over as you step outside, sitting on the old porch chair as you tuck your legs up, arms holding them in place as you stare out, the hues of the sun disappearing as the night begins to consume it.

As night falls, you head inside, hands reaching into the burner to grab the bread as you let it cool. You looked at the large bowl of vegetables tossed together, the men gathered around the never-used dining table, chattering amongst each other.

You let them sit for a while before calling out. It was entertaining watching the four grown men subtly walk faster than the other to get a plate first. You cut the bread, steam gauging out of each slice before you sat down at the dining table, fingers nervously fiddling with the metal cutlery.

They sat down around you, looking at you occasionally as you ate. “Listen, we do appreciate-“ Price began before you cut him off.

“You’ve told me. You can stay for the night but you’re off tomorrow. I prefer living alone.”

Price nods as the others look down, the sound of lettuce and carrot crunching filling the awkward void. As they finished up, you locked the doors and shut the blinds, the gentle hum of the fire comforting you before you head upstairs.

Your eyes flicker between pages of a book as you nestle in bed. You were clad in a sheer nightgown, your usual pyjama set hanging to dry outside. Your eyebrows furrowed as you read. While cliche, for a while everything felt normal when absorbing yourself between lines of paper, like you were simply escaping reality.

A gentle knock sounded on your door as you looked up. Price stood there, gentle smile on his face as he asked to come in.

“What is it?” You answered.

“I know I’ve said it, but thank you. Even if it was just for a day, it’s helped us a lot. Not many people, especially a woman alone, would let four men into her home… not during a time like this.”

Your body tensed for a second before it relaxed. You let out a soft sigh, placing the book on the side as you stood up to look at him closer. There was no use in lying, he was very attractive. His stern looking face covered with a bushy beard and moustache, blue eyes staring intensely under thick brows. He was older, the evidence of faint wrinkles indented on his forehead, yet his body was still in shape.

You were never a prude, but also never pushed for unnecessary encounters with the opposite sex. You weren’t an ugly girl, your features working well together, especially when you weren’t scowling.

“I-“ you begin, trying to think of what to say, “I appreciate you saying that. You guys are the first… real people I’ve come across since this all began. I know how difficult it is. And I suppose it wasn’t bad to reencounter civilisation.”

Price lets out a shallow laugh, hand coming up to squeeze at your shoulder as he looks at you. You don’t shrug him away this time, allowing the grip to scold your skin with prickling heat. You didn’t speak, simply watching him back through hooded lashes.

You felt your nipples pebble, the cold air brushing through as you remembered the warmth of your bed. You watch his gaze flicker down to your chest, sucking in a silent breath before he looked back up at you.

Had it been 296 days for him too without a woman? Had it been 296 days for all of them without a woman?

You didn’t shy away from his gaze, heat spreading across your body as you felt the timid intimidation of a low throb in your pussy. You offered him a small smile before gripping the door. “Goodnight, John.”

“Night, love.”

You felt like a fucking teenager, with your gown bunched up at your waist, hands timorous as they softly rolled the sensitive bud in a circular motion, gentle pants spilling from your lips. Everything felt more real, more heightened, probably from the lack of touching down there for months.

Dipping your fingers into your slit, legs spread and needy, you could feel the antagonising slick tease your hole, pooling at the crevice of your ass. This wet over a random man? You should feel ashamed, should, but you don’t. The light sound of squelching lit your room as you plunged a desperate finger into your heat, a rough gasp leaving your throat as you lie back further.

You tease yourself, left hand reaching down to entertain your neglected clit as another finger braced your entrance. Did it always feel like this? Did my fingers always not feel like enough? Like they needed something more?

A wanton moan stained the room as you thrashed your head against the pillow, sticky fingers just reaching that gooey spot inside you, swift thrusts causing your eyes to roll back.

You felt like a virgin again, pussy barely able to take two fingers and minimal thrusts before the coil in your stomach began to form.

Would it be so bad to call him in? Soak his beard in your cunt? Feel what it’s like to take two fingers properly? Maybe more?

You felt like you had a balloon growing inside you, every swift movement expanding it more, ready to pop, ready to let your body release, ready to feel satisfi-

“F’cking hell-“

You looked at the sudden burst of sound, eyes darting over to your least favourite in the house, visible crinkles in his dirty mask. His eyes visibly darting to your heat, taking in your fingers stuffed inside, the slickness coating them.

You squealed, orgasm barely washing over you as you twitched, pulling your fingers out abruptly and straightening your nightgown.

“GET THE FUCK OUT!” You screeched, voice cracking as you wobbled to the door and slammed it shut, body leaning against it as you panted. You stilled, listening to hear his footsteps walk over but the comforting sound never came.

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

tf!141 x angel!reader finding an angel that fell, “teaching” her how to live on earth and corrupting her innocence 🫣

Divine Intervention


Pairing: Poly!141 x reader

Au: Fallen Angel! Reader x Human! reader


Warnings: Sensual tension, implied corruption kink, religious themes (angel/fall imagery), mild dubcon-adjacent themes (consent present but reader is naïve), slow burn tension, swearing, possession/claiming, SMUT, reader falling from grace
Author's Note: You fell from the sky and into their hands. But heaven had no idea what hell you’d walk into.
Summary: You fell from the sky into their world. But instead of salvation, you found something darker—something tempting. Now, under their watchful eyes, your innocence starts to unravel.
Masterlist
MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

——

The first thing you remembered was heat.
The second was pain.

You’d fallen. You didn’t know how. One moment, you were high above—weightless, woven into the light—and then…

Ash. Fire. Earth.

It had taken them hours to find you.

You’d landed deep in the war-torn woods, crumpled at the base of a tree, shivering. Wings bent. Feet bare. No concept of where—or what—you were anymore. But when they approached, bristling with weapons and suspicion, you raised your glowing hand—

And healed one of them.

After that, they didn’t ask many questions. They just took you with them.

——

The humans called themselves a task force.

They were unlike any beings you’d ever encountered. Made of steel and blood and heat. They spoke in clipped orders and sharp wit, hands rough with years of war, yet their eyes softened every time they looked at you like you were something fragile.

Especially when you smiled.

“You’re not from here, are you?” Kyle asked one night, sitting with you on the couch in the base rec room. Your knees were drawn up to your chest, and you were watching the flickering lights of the TV like they might burst into flame.

“No,” you said softly.

He tilted his head. “Where then?”

You glanced up. Your voice came out as little more than a breath.

“Above.”

He stared at you for a long time after that.

——

They learned quickly how untouched you were by Earth’s ways.

You didn’t know what a microwave was. You didn’t know why people wore socks. You cried when you watched a video of a dog being rescued, and you asked Johnny if eating ice cream for breakfast was really acceptable.

(He told you yes. John had to correct him later.)

Simon rarely said much. But he watched you.

And when he saw how you flinched from loud sounds, how your fingers fluttered nervously when you didn’t understand something, how you leaned closer to the warmth of their bodies without realizing it—his jaw clenched a little tighter.

Because he could see what the others were starting to see too.

You were breakable.
But you were also changing.

——

The first crack came with a kiss.

Johnny teased you constantly. Called you “Angel,” winked when you were confused, poked fun at how you thought “bollocks” meant something polite.

“You ever been kissed, sweetheart?” he asked one evening, sprawled on the edge of your bed, boots off, grin wide.

You blinked at him, blinking like a fawn. “No.”

His smile faltered. “Not even once?”

You shook your head. “There was no need. We were made of light, not… flesh.”

Johnny exhaled sharply, leaning closer. “Want to know what it feels like?”

You hesitated. “Would that… help me understand Earth?”

He chuckled darkly. “Oh, Angel. More than you know.”

The kiss was featherlight—his lips brushing yours, lingering, drawing back. Your breath hitched. Your wings fluttered violently.

And behind you, a single feather fell.

When it hit the floor, it turned black.

——

That night, you cried in Price’s arms.

You were shaking. You felt different. The light inside you, the one that always hummed quietly, was dimming. You could feel yourself becoming… more. Heavier. Realer. Human.

“I think I’m falling,” you whispered into his shirt. “Truly falling.”

Price didn’t speak for a moment. He simply held you tighter.

“Then we’ll catch you,” he said. “We already have.”

——

They were patient at first.

They showed you how to exist. Johnny taught you to dance, twirling you in the rec room until you were breathless. Kyle explained what movies were and cried with you during Wall-E. Price taught you how to fire a gun (you didn’t like it) and how to drive a car (you loved it).

But it was Simon who taught you temptation.

Not through words—but in the way he looked at you.

That first time you wore one of Johnny’s shirts, just long enough to cover you but not long enough to be decent, Simon’s eyes burned.

“You shouldn’t wear that,” he murmured.

“Why?” you asked, genuinely confused.

He leaned close, his voice a low rasp. “Because you have no idea what you’re doing to us, do you?”

Your breath caught.

Because… no. You didn’t.

But you were starting to want to.

——

One night, it all came undone.

It started with Johnny. Of course it did.

You’d wandered into the kitchen in the middle of the night, unable to sleep. Something about the air felt strange. Heavy. When you stepped into the light, Johnny nearly dropped the glass in his hand.

You were barefoot. The hem of your borrowed sleep shirt brushed your thighs. Your hair was messy, your expression soft with confusion.

“You alright, love?” he asked gently.

You tilted your head. “I can’t sleep. I keep feeling… things.”

“What kind of things?”

You touched your chest. “Warm. Low. Hungry, but not for food.”

He froze. His pulse ticked in his throat.

“You want me to show you what that is?”

You nodded.

Johnny kissed you again—but it was different this time.

Not soft. Not teasing.

Starving.

He pulled you against him, hands bracketing your waist. You gasped into his mouth, fingers digging into his shoulders. Your wings flickered behind you—and one more feather fell.

And from the doorway, three pairs of eyes watched.

——

Kyle was the first to join.

He crossed the room in three long strides, gently taking your hand from Johnny’s shoulder. You turned to him, lips parted, pupils blown.

“You want to understand this, yeah?” he asked, voice husky.

You nodded.

He kissed your neck.

Then Simon’s hands were on your waist. His mask still on, eyes dark and unreadable.

“You’re not leaving this room the same, dove,” he said, voice like gravel.

And then his lips brushed your shoulder.

You whimpered.

Price stepped in last. Calm. Composed. But his hands trembled when they cupped your jaw.

“You’re ours now,” he murmured.

And you knew it was true.

Because your light had faded.

But it was replaced by something else.

Desire. Hunger. Devotion.

——

They didn’t rush you.

Not at first.

You stood in the middle of the kitchen, body flushed and trembling, with Johnny’s lips still wet from kissing you, and the others watching you like men on the edge of hunger—but still holding the line.

Price came to you first.

His hands were warm and steady as they cupped your face. He tilted your chin up with practiced ease, gazing at you like you were something precious. His voice was low, gravel brushed with something softer.

“We’ll stop if you want to. Say the word, Angel.”

You looked up at him, chest heaving, caught between worlds.

“I… I want to understand,” you whispered.

He hummed, approval deep in his chest. “Then let us show you.”

It began with touch.

Simon’s gloved hands slipped beneath the hem of your shirt. His fingers moved slowly, reverently, tracing along the bare skin of your thighs, your hips, your ribs. Every time he brushed over something new, you gasped softly, overwhelmed by the sheer weight of sensation.

Johnny leaned in close to your ear. “You feel everything so deeply, don’t you?”

You nodded wordlessly.

“Good,” he breathed, and his mouth pressed against your neck.

Kyle kissed your shoulder while Simon’s hands framed your waist. It was a dance—four bodies learning yours, syncing breath, pressure, movement. They were worshipful. Greedy. Careful. Demanding.

Your shirt slipped away first.

Then your breath caught as Price whispered, “Lie back, sweetheart.”

You did.

They undressed you like a ritual. Johnny knelt first, pressing hot kisses across your stomach, his palms gliding over your thighs with rough, calloused reverence. His eyes flicked up to you, darker than you’d ever seen them.

“You’re so bloody soft,” he said, voice husky. “Bet you’ve never been touched like this.”

Your lips parted. “No. Never.”

Kyle leaned over and kissed you again—this time slower. Deeper. His hands splayed across your chest, fingers teasing your curves, feeling your breath catch beneath them. He moaned softly against your mouth.

“You don’t know what you do to us,” he murmured.

“I want to,” you said, voice shaking.

Simon’s fingers traced down your bare sides, lingering at the curve of your hips. He leaned down, his breath hot against your throat. “Then let us show you. One inch at a time.”

You were kissed. Touched. Claimed.

Johnny’s mouth worshipped you with hot, open kisses down your stomach. Kyle’s hands cupped your chest, fingertips teasing until your back arched. Price whispered filth and praise against your ear, his teeth grazing your earlobe. Simon stayed at your side, watching, stroking your skin like he was etching every shiver into memory.

When you cried out—soft and overwhelmed—Johnny’s lips never stopped moving.

“That’s it, Angel,” he rasped. “Let go. Let yourself fall.”

And fall you did.

Again and again, into their hands. Their mouths. Their arms.

They took turns.

Not with greed, but purpose. Johnny kissed your thighs like he was grateful for them. Kyle touched you like you were sacred. Simon growled into your skin when you trembled under his palm, and Price… Price held your face while you gasped his name like a prayer.

The night blurred.

Sweat. Warmth. Laughter. Whispers.

“Look how much you’re glowing,” Kyle murmured against your throat.

Simon kissed your ribs. “You’re learning.”

“You’re ours now,” Johnny said, pressing his lips just beneath your navel.

And Price, steady and sure, whispered, “You were always meant to fall. You just didn’t know what was waiting for you at the bottom.”

By the end, you were sated.

Stretched across soft sheets with four men tucked against your sides, your wings sprawled wide over their bodies. No longer white. No longer untouched.

But not broken.

Transformed.

And when you woke hours later—your limbs aching in the best ways, your chest fluttering with something warm and full—you felt… whole.

You turned your head and saw them. Johnny with his messy hair pressed against your stomach. Kyle curled at your back, an arm slung over your waist. Simon, mask on but lifted just enough for his mouth to press kisses to your shoulder. Price at your side, eyes open and watching you with something ancient and endless in his gaze.

“You alright?” he asked, voice raw from sleep.

You smiled.

“I think I’m finally alive.”

——

By morning, your wings were black.

Not rotten. Not ugly. Just… reborn. Feathers sleek like raven’s velvet. Still soft. Still yours.

But no longer pure.

And when you looked at yourself in the mirror, lips swollen, neck marked, body trembling—you didn’t cry.

You smiled.

Because this was your new heaven.
And they were your gods now.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

[leriexoxo]

STOLEN TOUCHES

Pairing: Jisung x afab! Reader (college au)

Tags: smut, 18+ mdni, unprotected sex, breeding, alcohol, cheating, p in v, oral (f receiving), best friends brother, noona kink.

Word count: 5k+ words

Summary: Jisung had been in love with his best friends older sister for as long as he could remember, unfortunately she never saw him as anything more than her brothers friend, until that night at a frat party.

This work contains mature themes, Minors DO NOT INTERACT!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You lived in a neighborhood close your college with your brother Felix, who had a group of friends that he had stuck with ever since 3rd grade; Chan, Leeknow, Changbin, Hyunjin, Jisung, Seungmin and Jeongin. You saw them around so much so that the presence of two or more in your house everyday was a constant.

As Felix’s older sister, you naturally were very protective of him and you subconsciously mothered him alot, which inevitably extended to a few of his friends who were the same age as him or younger; Jisung, Seungmin, Hyunjin and Innie, those were the few ones who practically lived at your house. There wasn’t so much of an age gap between you and your brother, you gave him only three years making you his oldest friend, Chan’s age.

That evening, your girlfriends had invited you to the biggest frat party happening on campus and you were reluctant about going, but you had not seen your boyfriend San for a few days and he had promised to take you out that weekend. You picked up your phone and shot him a quick text

You: Baby, where are you right now?

10 minutes later, his typing bubble popped up, disappeared and then popped up again. Huh.

San: At my friends studio… whats up?

You: Jihyo told me about the party at Kappa house tonight, are you gonna be there? I wanna go with you babe.

San: Oh no no! Kappa? I’m not going

You: Why?

San: I’m a bit tied up at the studio, I cant make it back to campus today. You’re not going right?

You: Well i wanted to go with you, otherwise ill go with the girls.

His bubble showed him typing again for a while before disappearing. What?

San: I dont want you to go babe, there’s gonna be a lot of dudes there and i can’t protect you.

You: Sweet of you baby, but i dont need protection, i’ll be fine

San: Just listen to me babe? Get your girls to do a movie night or something 🥺 i don’t want you to go without me, please?

Why was San acting weird? It wasn’t a big deal for you to go to the party if he wasnt coming, you had attended several parties without him before. You frowned at your screen, not entirely enjoying being told what to do. Another message popped up on your screen, one from the girl’s groupchat.

Jihyo: y/n are you gonna be ready in 10 minutes?? I’m already on the way to yours

You looked at the message, then back at your outfit you already laid you and thought fuck it.

You: I have not even showered as we speak so i know damn well i wont be ready in 10 😂

Jihyo: Girl i’m leaving you tf 😂 you can be your own ride!

You: Okay ill catch up with y’all at the party!

You put your phone down and started to get ready, taking your time since you were gonna be the one taking yourself to the party, faintly in the background muffled by the sound of the shower, you heard a door slam somewhere in the house and voices start to fill out, you guessed Felix was home with his friends.

~

Life’s a fucking bitch

That’s what you thought as you angrily stomped down the crowded frat staircase, away from the fucking spectacle you had just witnessed in one of the bedrooms on the second floor.

He was fucking some other bitch! He said he wasnt coming to the party but you opened the door and found your boyfriend ramming his stupid dick is some other bitches ass?! You were furious! He said he was going to be holed up at the fucking studio!! He lied?!

He didn’t even notice you, too far gone and lost in cheating, he didn’t hear you yell “WHAT THE FUCK SAN?!” over the blaring music. He didnt notice you storm out in tears either.

You grabbed the first solo cup you saw on the nearest table and threw back the contents, it tasted like shit but it burned your throat and that was exactly what you needed, your mind begging to forget, you found another half empty tequila bottle and tipped it back, ready to get yourself shitfaced and let the future you deal with the aftermath.

You had been dating San for the past 8 months, it wasn’t like you had the best relationship, he was constantly flirting with girls in his faculty, he always partied without you and lied alot and to top it off, your brother and his friends absolutely hated him but you still stubbornly ignored all the red flags and stayed with San, not ever entirely believing all the cheating rumors you heard cos you trusted him, that is until a few minutes ago. Now you felt angry and numb and you wanted to hurt him back.

On the other end of the crowded room, Jisung was hanging back against the frat wall beside Hyunjin and Minho, the party was in full swing and more than half the gang was already shitfaced or on the dancefloor, but as the designated drivers, himself and Minho stuck to drinking energy drinks and soda, while Hyunjin was sipping on whatever mixture he had in his solo cup chattering excitedly about the girl who just gave him her number, he tuned them out when he noticed you angrily stomp down the stairs, knocking peoples cups over and earning a series of “what the fucks” in your wake.

Curiously, his eyes followed you as you grabbed a cup and chugged its contents, He frowned, automatically wanting to go to you but stopping himself from pushing off the wall and making his way over, he was pretty sure that cup wasn’t yours and that was not very much a y/n thing to do.

Jisung wanted to go and stop you when you picked up an open tequila bottle but he knew that It wasn’t his place to do that, he hadnt even expected to see you at the same frat party, earlier when he drove to your house to pick up Felix and the guys, he hadnt seen your car in the driveway and assumed you were off somewhere else.

Jisung had secretly harbored a crush on you for a while now, he loved everything about you, often catching himself staring at you when he was over at Felix’s, the only other person who knew how he really felt about you was Minho and that was only because nothing ever skipped him. Now watching you cleary angry and about to make alot of bad decisions, Minho nudged him with an elbow.

“Shouldn’t you go check on Noona?” He said nodding towards your direction, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

“Do i have to-“ Jisung started to pretend as if he didn’t actually want to go to you already, but immediately stopped in his tracks when he saw some weirdo sidle up behind you. “Okay scratch that, I’ll be right back”

He dropped his cup on the closest chair and started making his way over to you, ignoring Minho’s annoying laughter.

You were swaying your head to the loud music, hands in the hair and the contents of the bottle in your hand sloshing over, the alcohol hit you fast as you were never really much of a drinker but atleast it had you where you wanted right now. In your hazy state you felt a hand come around your waist from behind. Unfamiliar hands. You felt like you were going to throw up.

“Go awayyy” you said, words slurring as your head spun. You pushed the hands away from you, turning your back once again and taking another swig of the tequila.

“Y/n! Noona”

Your head snapped up when you heard your name, squinting to try to make out the face of the otherwise familiar voice that called you, you looked ahead of you into the large body of people melted together in a sea of sweat, smoke and neon lights.

Jisung.

Your brain hissed the name of your little brothers best friend, as he appeared in your line of sight. Through the undulating bodies, strobing multicolored lights and pulse of the speakers.

“Sungie?” You ask, squinting up at him as he got closer to where you stood.

“Are you okay Noona? I think you’ve drank enough of that” He said, gently taking the bottle away from you which caused you to whine in protest.

“Nooooo! I was drinking that” You made grabby hands at it but he lifted the bottle above his head and out of your reach.

“What are you even doing here?” You asked again in a pout, subconsciously leaning into him for support.

“I’m here with Felix and the guys, we didn’t know you were coming to this party too” he said, gently placing his free hand at your back and steering you away from the center of the dancefloor.

“Oh? I was supposed to be here with my stupid boyfriend” *hiccup* “but he lied and said he wouldn’t come here!” You complained, words slurring at how tipsy you had become.

Han raised an eyebrow at the information, turning to scan the crowd for Choi San, your music major boyfriend who he absolutely despised. He couldn’t find him anywhere.

“Where’s he then?”

Annoyed, you pushed away from him to glare as if Jisung was the cause of your problems, “i just walked in on him cheating on me upstairs”

Jisung stopped in his tracks, staring at you wondering if he heard you wrong “what?”

“He’s up there fucking some other bitch Sungie! And he didn’t even notice me walk in.. *hiccup* I hate him!” You yelled, eyes welling up with tears for the second time that night.

Jisung saw red. He clenched his fists and glared up at the stairs, torn between taking care of you and going to find San to rip his head off.

“I think i’m going to thr-“ you words got cut short as you hunched over and emptied the contents of your stomach right there in the corner of the room, all over the floor and on yourself.

“Oh shit! Are you okay noona?!” Jisung asked for the third time that night, his eyebrows rose up in shock and he tried to hold you but it was too late.

“I feel sick..” you muttered

“Lets get you cleaned up”

He pulled off his jacket and threw over your shoulder and basically carried you into the nearest free room he could get to. Once in, he set you down on your feet by the bathroom door and held it open for you.

“Can you clean yourself up? Or do i need to get your friends? Are they here? Do you need help?” Jisung rambled, unsure what to do.

You grimaced, looking down at yourself and instantly starting to regret drinking so much so fast, you fingered at the edge of your soiled crop top, wanting to peel it off but too weak to actually make the move, you barely registered Jisungs panic mode beside you.

“Off… want it off” you whined

“You want me to… do it myself?” He stuttered

“I want it offff” you started to throw a small tantrum, palming at the shirt and soiling your hands even more.

“Shit okay okay I’ll help you”

He hesitantly pinched the clean part of the top and helped you peel it off over your head, all the while he kept his head firmly facing away from you in order to provide privacy.

He heard you struggle some more before letting out a sad whine sounding almost like you were about to cry.

“Sungie it’s so hot…,” you murmur, tugging at your jeans buckle. "Can you take off my jeans…?". You look at him with puppy dog eyes.

He audibly sucks in a breath, ears turning bright red at the thought of having to see you in any state of undress, he sighs and turns around to help you.

"Fine, I'll help you take them off Noona" He gingerly reaches towards your fly to pop the button, all the while keeping his eyes trained on his hand and not letting them wander.

In his peripheral vision though he realized that you were completely bare under the shirt you had tossed, Jisung gulped hard, his brain short circuiting for a moment before you sighed in relief as you took over undressing and started to peel off your jeans while you staggered into the bathroom and closed the door.

Jisung stood frozen in his spot, the image of you full perky breasts burning into his memory. Heat and blood rushed to his cock immediately filling him out. He knew he had to get the fuck out of that room and fast. But leaving you there in that state would mean letting anyone come in to take advantage of you and that was even worse.

The sounds of the shower turning on and a little ruckus from you struggling to get clean in your tipsy state came through the bathroom door, Jisung gulped hard, his imagination was running wild, there was literally only a door separating him from your naked form in the bathroom, he could already imagine the water cascading down your soft skin and God those fucking tits? He groaned dragging his palm over his face, he was so down bad for his best friend’s sister and there was nothing he could do about it.

He knew he absolutely had no chance for several reasons, the most being that you never looked at him that way, except as your little brother’s best friend who you babied alot, another reason being that Felix would absolutely kill him if he ever knew he thought about his sister like that.

The water stopped running and Jisung stood alert, not knowing what to do with himself as he heard you finish.

“Sungie?” You called.

“I’m here…?” he called back, almost like a question than an answer.

You gingerly opened the door a little and poked your head out to him.

“I dont have a shirt” you said in a small voice, you were already feeling a little better after you threw up and washed yourself, but the pain and anger from earlier still lingered. You were a bit more sober than before with just an underlying buzz.

His eyerows immediately shot up, completely disappearing under his bangs, he rushed to pull off his own shirt to offer to you without really thinking. “Oh right! Sorry you can put this on!” He said, stretching a very toned and musclar arm towards you.

Your eyes locked onto his body. Wow.

You hadn’t seen him shirtless for years now and you had heard in passing that one of Felix’s friends had gotten tattoos but you never really bothered to know who it was or what they got, so the markings of ink on your little brother’s best friend’s body was not something you expected to see.

He had a compass on his right pec, along with a gothic text saying BLESSED, and some smaller sentences underneath it that you could not quite make out. You let your eyes roam even further, checking out his very tight and toned body, he wasn’t as big as San but damn was he fine!

Without really meaning to, you took a step closer to get a better look at the writing on Jisung’s tattoo, in the process letting go of the door you hid behind. He instantly turned red, eyes nearly popping out of its socket when he saw your naked tits for the second time that night.

“Your tattoos,” you reached for his chest, tracing your fingernail along the smaller writing, which in turn caused Jisung to shudder under your touch. “What do they mean?”

Completely stupefied, His mouth hung open his words failing him. “Wh-what?”

You took another step closer, stepping completely into his space still blissfully unaware that you were flashing him as you had nothing but your panties on, Jisung wanted desperately to look away, to respect you but he was having a hard time taking his eyes off your beautiful body. The way your full perky breasts danced with each breath and movement, he watched as you stared in awe at his own body, not even bothering to hide your approval, your palm laid flat over the BLESSED ink and your other hand came up to touch him too like you were examining an expensive piece of sculptural art.

“Beautiful” You muttered wistfully under your breath but still he caught it, it was when your fingers lightly brushed over his nipples that he jolted out of his temporary paralysis. His hand instantly flew up to stop yours from causing more damage to his resolve.

“Noona! Wait, I… your shirt?” He offered weakly. The tip of his ears had turned a pretty shade of red, he hadn’t had any alcohol but at this point, he was the one who looked more tipsy between the two of you with his red face and dilated pupils.

“So pretty”

Your brain supplied the only two simple words that occupied it as you looked up to meet his eyes, seeing him like that with such a fucked out expression instantly had you realizing the state of your undress which he had just pointed out. That sobered you up completely.

Jisung knew the moment he saw your eyes widen, that you had just now realized the position you both were in, he fully expected you to scream or run back into the bathroom or something. Anything. You only just stared back at him in mild shock but you didn’t move, you didn’t even take your hands off his body, it was like you were frozen in place but very much assertive.

You knew at that moment that you were about to do something really fucking stupid. You knew you were going to regret it, but stubbornly you wanted to leave the consequences for future y/n to handle, you could worry about all that shit later, hell you could even blame it on the alcohol but right now, you were hurting and you needed to numb the pain, you needed to forget.

With newfound courage, you leaned in closer, standing up on your tippy toes and your eyes flitting from his own eyes to his soft looking lips and back.

Jisung knew instantly what was about to happen, the atmosphere in the room was suddenly charged and you could literally cut the tension with a knife. As you pressed your breasts to his chest when you stood on your toes to reach him, he knew at that point that he had lost the battle between common sense and his already raging boner.

“Fuck it” He swooped down and captured your lips, meeting you halfway there and you instantly melted into him.

Your hands slid up his body and found purchase behind his neck, he in turn wrapped his arms around your small waist, pulling you impossibly closer and deepening the kiss. You both moved against each others lips, seemingly not being able to get enough of each other, the kiss went from gentle to heated in a matter of seconds, both your hands groping each other wildy.

The two of you stumble backwards and fall on the bed, only breaking apart for him to pepper kisses along your jawline and down your neck.

You straddled him already feeling how much he wanted you, his impressive length sat thick and hard against your butt, your underwear being only material separating you from him.

“I need to know if you’re sure about this” he mouthed against your neck, “Noona, if we dont stop now-“

“I dont know what i want Ji, but i dont want to stop” you moaned, grinding down on his member and eliciting a desperate groan from him.

He pulled you away from him just to scan your face, he wasnt sure who even looked more fucked out between the both of you. You lifted your body off him climbing down from the bed completely, not breaking eye contact you hooked your thumbs onto your panties and slowly pulled, gyrating your hips in a sexy manner and watching his eyes follow every movement. Jisung visibly swallowed when you kicked off the offending material and stood before him in your birthday suit.

You had to be the most beautiful creature he ever set his eyes on, he could hardly believe he wasn’t in one of his wet dreams where you were a regular visitor.

Jisung sprawls to a sitting position on the bed, legs opened wide, head lifted and eyes on you, beckoning you closer.

"Sungie-" you crawl on the bed and kneel between his open thighs, raking a hand through his messy hair.

He tilts his face upwards, sitting up taller, "Yes Noona."

His hands ghost on the outside of your body, not touching, but asking wordlessly for permission to touch. You groan, climbing into his lap and grasping one of his hands to press it into your ass.

Jisung moans your name, fingers biting into the bare cheek of your ass as he tumbles back onto the bed just as your lips ghost over his.

"Let me take care of you" You whisper to him.

He responds with his hands greedily trying to roll your hips into his trapped erection. You giggle at that, drawing out another groan from him along with a string of profanities.

Sitting up, you press your full weight into his pelvis, Jisung starts to whine underneath you, bucking into your soft ass.

"Tsk tsk, don't get so worked up just yet," you kiss his cheekbone before sitting back.

You come into his space after taking in the view of him beneath you, you plant a soft kiss to his lips and down his cheek, along his jaw and neck. As your hands work to unbutton his jeans, he lifts his hips with your guidance and you gift him another soft kiss before pulling them off and tossing along with your other discarded clothing.

The air between the two of you sizzles with anticipation. Slowly, tauntingly you reach up to cup him through his briefs, watching as his head kicks back with a pitchy groan.

“I want you to taste me Ji” you said before gently pushing him back to lie against the pillows.

He followed your lead, lying back and gazing up at you as you straddled him. He touched every expanse of your skin that was within his reach, your breasts, your stomach, your ass, he grabbed at everything. It was like he wanted to memorize every curve and contour of your body.

Your cunt was already drenched, you had soaked a wet patch through his briefs, leaving a pussy sized stain on it. You then lifted yourself, moving to positioning yourself so your cunt was hovering over his head.

“Wanna cum on your mouth…” you said before letting your body down on his waiting mouth.

He looked up at you with those beautiful eyes, eyes that were already rolling back at your taste.

He lapped at your folds, tongue fucking into your core. You grabbed his hair rolling your hips on his tongue. As you rolled your hips you leaned back to grab his cock through his soiled briefs, his precum staining the underwear and making more of a mess that you left it.

He jumped at the sudden touch making him groan. You started moving your hand on him, squeezing and pumping him faster and faster knowing he wasn’t gonna last.

“Keep that up and i’m gonna cum” he choked out. You let go of him making him whine ruining his high.

“Please” he whimpered.

“Why should I let you cum when you haven’t even made me cum yet hmm?” You teased.

Jisung was now on a mission, sucking at your clit as you rode his face. He nibbled on you ever so gently, the moan you let out had his head spinning .

You were getting close- He was already there and desperately fucking into your hand for a release.

His hands found their way to your hips pulling you down onto him as far as you could, basically smothering himself in your cunt. His hands slinking their way up your chest to twist at your hardened sensitive nipples. As much as you wanted to protest you didn’t, feeling your high quickly approaching. Something he knew all too well was that you needed his touch, you craved it as much as he craved yours.

“I need you to cum for me! Please Noona” he begged. Those pretty eyes stared up at you with desperation. You snapped. Pulling his hair harshly as your thighs closed around him. Your orgasm came crashing down on you like a tsunami.

When you finally came down from your high and your legs stopped trembling, you moved yourself back down and without a warning, pulled him free of his briefs and you sunk yourself down taking his throbbing cock fully. Your cunt fit so perfectly on him.

“Fuuuuuckkkk”, He moaned out, body twitching like he was trying to get away, “You’re - I’m-“

He couldn’t even get out the words before he was cumming inside of you, cock twitching deep inside you, you rolled your hips as you felt him pump you full of cum over and over again, his eyes rolled to the back of his head and his hands gripping your waist so tight you were sure it would leave nail marks.

“I’m sorry!” he said in a whisper, closing his eyes tight and not being able to bring himself to look at you, and yet he made no move to pull you off because guess what? His cock was still very hard.

You started to move up and down on his sensitive cock, not caring about his overstimulation. His hands gripped at your hips pathetically whimpering.

“Then make it up to me Sungie” you smirk, not slowing your movements, you knew he had more in him judging by how he was still rock solid inside you.

Jisung easily lifted you with his arms and flipped you over, you landed under him and he sunk back into your sopping heat in one stroke, your cunt already slick and messy with your mixed juices.

“I can do that y/n” his eyes darkened and it was like he flipped a switch the moment he flipped you over, something primal was dancing behind his eyes.

“Oh God!” You moaned as he started to thrust into you, creating a sharp and steady tempo, his skin slapped yours repeatedly making pornographic lewd sounds that mixed with the music in the background.

He doesn't relent fucking into your cunt, looking down at where you were joined and watching how you were literally sucking him in, Jisung felt as though his eyes might roll to the back of his head from the sight alone.

"Fuck, you feel so fucking tight," he groans, throwing his head back as he pistons his hips as if to match the beat of the music outside. “So good”

"Jisung!" you yell, you felt yourself quiver as your orgasm slammed into you with the onslaught of his cock on that sweet spot he kept hitting that had your back arching.

He picked up your left leg and threw it over his shoulder, creating a deeper angle, he felt like he might have convulsed from pleasure in that moment.

Jisung had his mind set, he was going to ‘make it up to you’ as you wanted and to do that, he wasn’t going to stop until you were shaking, sobbing mess, until you marked his back with your pretty nails murmuring nothing but his name over and over like a prayer. Even if this was going to be his only opportunity, he wanted to fuck the memory of San out of your body.

He was rutting his hips into yours so desperately now, his bottom lip caught between his teeth and eyebrows drawn together as he tried to hold himself back from spilling inside of you again, he needed to make this last, but the way you were clenching around him and fucking him back, the way your body responded to every movement had his self control hanging by a thread.

"Sungie! Please please- ah fuck! Please" you begged, pulling his head down and biting into his neck as your second orgasmn crashed down on you, your body convulsed beneath him, you saw white.

“I’m cumming!” You managed to gasp.

"That’s it Noona, just a little longer and i’m gonna fill you up so fucking good" Jisung mutters.

He felt you squeeze and clench around him again as he fucked you through your orgasm. he couldn’t hold out much longer, so gathered the last of his energy to slam his cock against your slippery warm walls so fucking hard you has practically become one with the bed.

“I’m cumming! Take it baby” he groaned. His hips stilled as he gave you ropes and ropes of his cum.

Jisung scattered wet kisses all over your face and chest as he slowly pumped out the last bits of his cum into your spent cunt. You both panted heavily as you came down from your highs, holding onto each other tightly like you were scared you would drift away.

A comfortable silence fell upon you both and you separately wondered about the events that just happened, you ran your fingers through his hair that had gotten damp with sweat, he lifted his head to search your eyes.

“Are you okay y/n” he asked in a small voice, the primal version of him suddenly back in its shell. “Did i hurt you?”

You smiled sweetly at him. “No you didn’t sungie, i can handle it” you winked and he blushed red.

“Okay noona, but i think its time to get you home for real” Jisung said, standing and retreating to the bathroom to get towels so he could clean you up. You made to sit up and follow him but he shook his head no and gestured that you lie back down.

You knew that by morning, after the hangover you were sure to get, you were going to be in a whole lot of shit, but you just allowed yourself a night of escape, you would think about what you had done later, right now all you wanted was to be taken care of by your little brothers best friend who had just fucked the living daylights out of you.

******************************************************

Authors Note: This was a result of my horny friends imagination! I just brought it to life!

Please leave a like and reblog if you love it!

[kingkat12]

prom night (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, angst, mature/dark themes, Roman adores reader so much aghhhh<33, fluff, Roman is bad with words lol, blood, mentions of death, attempted kidnapping, amnesia, Dr. Pryce is scary omg, dead dove do not eat tbh, silly bf Roman because why tf not

summary: going to prom with Roman Godfrey had been a dream of yours for longer than you could remember-- but suddenly, that was the only thing you could remember. seriously. what the fuck happened last weekend, and why is Roman keeping you in the dark about it?

word count: 16,708 (oh my fucking god)

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°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･seven minutes in heaven masterlist

a/n: celebrating 900 followers (??? WHAT) with the biggest chapter yet!!! I've spent a month preparing it, and this has been the chapter I've been building up to ever since I started this series... I suggest you read it in one sitting because I intended it to be read that way, (although I know that is a lot to ask!!! not necessary boo), and I'm sorry about everything in advance aghhh😭 I would also like to give special thanks to @mentallyscreamingsincebirth for being such a great support and for guiding my brain through this enormous chapter, THANK YOU LYNDI<3 much much love, ENJOY, and read at ur own risk!!!<333 MWAH

Have you ever thought about death? Of course you have, everyone has-- but have you ever felt it?

Have you felt it lingering in your forearms, like you're pressing them up against a flaming stove? Have you felt it pressing at the sides of your head, waiting for it to cave in on itself? I always thought it would feel like going to sleep; that no matter how you pass, you reach a point where your mind flips over into delirium, and then you feel drowsy until it's over. Yet somehow, I was suddenly convinced it was nothing like that. I was sure that it felt like nothing but pure panic, accompanied by a crippling fear unlike any other. Because it hurt, everything hurt, and I was sure I'd be stuck in an endless loop of hell where I would forever be semi-conscious and in excruciating pain. 

And why?

Because right now, I was sure I was dead. 

That I was done. Deceased. Expired. I was so, so sure, and I had no idea why everything was black, why I couldn't move, or why I felt my lungs freeze over with the inability to breathe. 

It lasted for too long. Way too long. An eternity. 

Up until it felt like a scream was being dragged out of me by force, like someone had grabbed hold of my tongue and tugged me forward-- a bright light shone through my lids before they sprung open in pure panic, and I arched off the bed with a shriek. It felt like I was taking my first breaths again, and I clawed at my chest as my nails dug into the fabric of my shirt, suffocating, suffocating, dying, tearing, tearing, panic, panic, why, where, how?--

"Pryce, do something!" 

"Mr. Godfrey, sit down!--"

"Do something!" 

I was still screaming when my hands were pried off my skin with an annoyed groan, still heaving for air as a man in a white coat now hovered over me. He forced my left eye to open wider with his cold, bony fingers, shining the light directly at my pupil. He was searching for any lack of reaction as I emptied my lungs, crying out in fear; it wasn't until I felt the scent of a familiar cologne fill my body that I started to fight my screams of panic. 

I was sure it was Roman who was now pinning my hands down to the bed-- his indexes were pressing against my wrists, checking my pulse, the classic Godfrey move. He usually only did that when he was trying to make a point about him making my heart race, and that's how I was certain it was him.

Once the doctor finished, my cries had largely quieted down. All that was left was a series of whimpers and shaky breaths. "What's happening?" I struggled to ask, my voice cracking. I saw the doctor scowl at Roman, clearly frustrated by something. My lower lip quivered; why was I here? What was happening? 

Why couldn't I remember anything?

When the doctor spoke, he was still not looking at me; "You're at the Godfrey Institute, getting what is considerably the best care in the world," He moved away, tutting as he sat down on the chair opposite the bed I was lying on. Coming to my senses, my eyes traced the room. The walls were painted an uncomfortably bright hue of white, and I was afraid I'd go blind looking at them for too long. However, the doctor's voice caught my attention once more; "You don't seem to be concussed, but I'll check your reflexes. Have you exhausted your lungs, or must I put you under as well? If you keep screaming and resisting, you will only make things harder for yourself."

"She'll be fine!" Roman barked, letting go of my hands. With swift, nervous steps, he now stood by my side as he stroked through my hair. I could sense his anxiety through the slight tremble in his fingers, and he squeezed my shoulder with his free hand as he spoke to the doctor with a lowered voice, as though I wouldn't hear him if he softened his tone; "She will be, right? Pryce?"

Doctor Pryce rolled his eyes as he looked over at the metal tray beside him, scanning the neat display of medical instruments. "Did you bring this girl to me to question my care, or because you trust that I'm the best?"

"I'm!--"

"I was the one that delivered you into the world, Roman, don't forget that. Your mother trusted me with your life, so you have all the reason to exert some patience and trust me with this very simple task," Pryce picked out his preferred instrument and leaned forward, pressing on a button that made the back of my bed raise. 

I yelped, still trying to catch my breath; "What's happening?" I breathed, hoping to contain the wave of tears threatening to spill down my cheeks. It felt like I had died and come back to earth. "Please, why-- why am I here?"

With one final anxious glance at Pryce, Roman finally looked down at me. It was the first time I had been properly acknowledged. "Hey, you," he said, gently running his fingers through my hair. "We were in a car crash, and you passed out. This is Doctor Pryce, and he's just making sure you didn't faint because of anything serious. You could've also lost consciousness because of shock, fear... Many factors. This is just a precaution."

"Car crash?" I echoed. "What-- Why can't I remember?-- Ow!" 

A panicked cry escaped me, and I looked down to see Pryce with what looked like a hammer, striking the supple area beneath my knee socket. My leg jumped up automatically, and the doctor let out a satisfied hum before he moved on to my other leg. "Miss, do you get enough sleep?" he asked. "On the regular, that is?"

I had never been this disoriented in my life. "I don't-- I don't know?"

With an exasperated sigh, Pryce muttered a simple alright. He sat back down in his chair, now gazing at me with a blank, neutral look. Something told me he had practiced that exact expression for his patients. "You seem to have experienced what is called a situational syncope. You must've gone into a deep state of shock, which caused your blood pressure to drop, ultimately knocking you out. Based on the tests we got done on you when you were unconscious, there seems to be nothing wrong with you," 

I forced down a sob as I squeezed my eyes shut. My body was still frozen with panic. Despite my efforts, I couldn't conjure the memory of the supposed car crash; what was happening to me? "There has to be something wrong!" I cried. "I can't-- I can't remember anything!"

Sighing, Pryce got up, but not without glaring at Roman once more. "You might have a minor case of amnesia. It's most likely short-term and will resolve in twenty-four hours, or it might not," He moved to a nearby table, writing down something on a computer. "It might be time to lay off the nocturnal activities, Roman. It's important that she sleeps."

My face had never been redder. Never. To be told to lay off sex in front of your boyfriend's family doctor? Awful. Not something I recommend anyone else go through. 

However, in true Godfrey fashion, Roman didn't seem to care about that part. "Thank fuck," he said, letting out a relieved breath as he bent down to kiss my forehead. I could sense the ease settling in his body, and it made me wonder when it could transmit to mine as well. "So she's completely fine?"

"Yes," Pryce grumbled, absentmindedly tapping away on his keyboard.

"No internal bleeding, no injuries?--"

"She's fine,"

Roman nodded, and I thought that would be the end of it until he spoke again; "Will she remember... everything?"

My blood ran cold. Something about the way he said those words made me feel like it was ominous. I blinked, staring up at Roman as my heart beat hard in my chest. 

Pryce's clacking stilled. He turned, moving sharply, as his eyes narrowed; "For your sake, I hope not,"

It only took me a second to reach for Roman's hand, grabbing it as fear ran through my veins. "Rome," I echoed, begging him to look at me. I needed to know. It didn't feel like a simple car crash; why was I still shaking? Was this normal? I was terrified that I wouldn't remember anything. "Please, you have to-- you have to tell me what!--"

"Shh, it's okay," Roman cooed, wiping that terrified look off his face in an instant. "Everything is fine, see? The nice doctor says you just need to sleep, so what do you say I drop you off at your place and make sure you sleep well tonight?" 

I could hear Pryce snicker as he got up, gathering what he needed from the room. "The nice doctor," he echoed, shaking his head. Everything he did felt oddly sterile. Everything from the smile to the polite tilt of his head. "Sleep would be the best remedy, yes. And maybe some shopping."

Roman scrunched his nose-- "Shopping?"

Pryce nodded, pointing to my shirt which I had partially clawed up. "Shopping,"

I couldn't imagine I would ever get any redder than this. Why couldn't amnesia take this memory too? I wanted to disappear-- however, when I thought about the black void I had been thrust into before I awoke, I changed my mind. I was happier than ever to be alive. When Pryce left the room, I let out a shaky breath as I locked eyes with Roman; "Rome, please tell me how the fuck we ended up in a!--"

My words were stolen as two large hands grabbed my face, and my favorite pair of lips came crashing down onto mine. Roman was now partially on my bed, rushing his kisses as he pulled me close in sheer desperation. "You had me so scared," he breathed. "So, so--"

Grabbing onto Roman's hair for support, I could only yelp as he practically toppled me, kissing me with urgency. "You can't do that," he begged. "You can't, you-- you can't--" 

I was beyond overwhelmed. Exhausted. Still, I could sense that Roman had almost been as scared as me. "Please, Rome!--"

"What would I have done if you got hurt?" He grabbed my face harder, forcing me to look into his teary eyes when he relented his attack on my lips. "It would've killed me. It would've killed me." The desperation, the panic, was evident in his big, green eyes as they searched mine. 

When would this be over? "I don't even know what happened!" I cried. "I don't remember, and it scares me! What if I won't-- won't remember it?" 

I hoped he would tell me. I hoped Roman would sit me down and tell me in excruciating detail. However, his brows came together and drew upwards in a look of pure pity; "It doesn't matter. Look at it like it's mercy,"

"Mercy?" 

"I'm glad you don't remember," Roman breathed, pressing a passionate kiss to my lips before he leaned his forehead against mine. "I don't want you to remember it... I'm kinda glad you don't. You don't need to remember the bad stuff, right? I only want you to be happy. Happy, safe, and with me. Forever."

Forever. 

I let out a shaky breath which fell against Roman's lips, defeated. It still lingered in my body-- death. Like something really, really bad had happened. 

... Had it?

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

The air smelled like freshly mown grass although it was growing freely all around us, untamed. The long branches of the willow tree kneeling above us swayed with the breeze, and the leaves rustled with a gentle buzz; it was beautiful to look up at, even in the dark of the night. 

Roman was lying next to me, eyes shut in peace that had only recently settled in his body. His chest rose and fell in slow, calm motions as his brown hair wove into the long strands of the grass. I had an inkling that he was getting comfortable with it now-- with the idea of forever. That I was his for as long as he'd have me. That he had someone to go through life with, after all this time finding solace in fleeting moments of intimacy with the girls that were lucky to be near him at the right moment. 

Roman was unbelievably beautiful. Unreal. 

I still had no idea what happened that day I woke up at the Godfrey Institute a week ago, convinced I had died. It was hard not to think about it, but sleep had done me good-- Doctor Pryce had been right. My memory of the incident hadn't returned, and I had a feeling it never would. Every so often, I would get specs of it when I heard a particularly loud car, or whenever the smell of diesel got very strong from Roman's red jag, but that was the end of it.

However, the whole car crash incident had set Roman off into a weird state of possessiveness. Not one night had passed without him sneaking in through my bedroom window, lying next to me to make sure I wasn't on my phone until three a.m., and that I was getting enough sleep. I had watched Roman doze off into slumber countless times, both next to me and on top of me, and I had loved to stroke his hair and watch him sleep every time. It was the only time I felt he ever got to rest properly. Never ever during the day. Which is why, now that Roman was doing the same for me, I started to feel more at peace with what had happened. With the crash. With what I didn't know. As long as I had Roman, I would be fine, right? I was sure of it now.

Not only had the car crash left Roman and I in a weird state, but my parents as well. They were wary of me needing to get enough sleep and rest, so they had given me a rather strict curfew up until prom night. This curfew also involved not having Roman over as much, meaning we had to get creative-- so here we were, lying next to each other in the grass at his secret hiding place around midnight, where we had previously exchanged our blood. 

"Rome," I whispered, watching the swaying willow branch above me. "You put on an alarm, right? I can't be out for too long, I'm scared my parents will find the pillow concoction we put on my bed and know I'm not home..."

He hummed, his eyes remaining closed-- "We have about thirty minutes until I have to take you back. I'm keeping track of it,"

"You don't seem to be keeping track of anything right now,"

"Nonsense,"

"... You look like you're sleeping,"

"But I'm not, am I?" Roman's eyes met mine, his lashes hanging heavy over the green color of his irises. With a tug at the corners of his lips, he sung a short, mocking line; "I don't want to close my eyes!--"

Oh no. "Rome, don't!--"

"-- I don't want to fall asleep, 'cause I miss you, baby!" His laugh was as melodious as his half-assed attempt at serenading me. 

I snorted, no longer sleepy. This was beyond cringe. "You're an idiot,"

"And yet you're crazy about me," Roman purred, moving closer to me on the grass. The tips of his fingers, which had barely grazed mine a minute ago, were now running along the back of my hand in soft motions. "That says more about you than it says about me."

I turned my hand as I smiled to myself, feeling my chest burn with the warmth I got from being near him. If only he knew I was more than crazy about him. If only he knew. "Yeah, you're right," I mumbled, intertwining our fingers with a content sigh. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

I didn't deem my words to be as heavy as Roman suddenly made them seem-- it was as though the leaves stopped rustling. As though the air no longer smelled like grass, and the only thing I could smell was suddenly only Roman's heavy, expensive perfume. Something stilled. Was it the waves of the water nearby? His eyes softened with his next exhale, pupils rounding out. It was almost as though I could see the pounding of his heart as his chest fell. "I don't know how I ever lived without you in the first place," he confessed. "It kills me that you were so close all this time, and... I didn't notice."

Thinking back at the time when Roman would barely look my way was excruciating, even now. "It doesn't matter--"

"We had chemistry together," he breathed. "You were so close." Roman no longer looked at me, and instead turned his gaze to the hanging branches of the willow tree we were lying beneath. "I used to think I was the center of the universe, y'know? That the world was mine, along with everyone living in it. I thought I was everything I ever needed, that no one else truly mattered except for me, but then..." He cleared his throat, an empty look in his eyes. "This is getting cheesy, isn't it?"

Silly, silly boy. "You were literally singing at me a minute ago, I think I can take you being sweet,"

The small upward tug of Roman's lips lifted an ache in my heart. "The past doesn't matter. But the future does, as long as you're in it with me,"

I love you, I love you, I love you. It was echoing in my head. "Grow old with me, Roman?" I hoped it would come off as a joke. I hoped he'd sense the smile in my words, the lightness in which I proposed the hypothetical. 

But he was so serious. So, so serious, as he turned to meet my eyes. And just for a second, I was scared he'd open his mouth and tell me he couldn't get old-- I had read too much of that upir book. "I don't want to get old," he mumbled. "Old people don't have a lot of sex."

It was impossible not to laugh. "They probably do,"

"... Gross,"

Rolling my eyes, I gave his hand a squeeze. "I'd have sex with you. You'd still be the Roman I lo--" 

Fuck.

Oh, fuck. 

I choked my words with a cough; "This damn grass," I cursed. "I might be allergic..." Gathering courage, I glanced over at Roman as I held my breath. 

He seemed to be holding his too. 

It took longer than expected for any of us to say anything. With small movements, Roman slid his hand up to my wrist, pressing his index against my pulse. 

I cleared my throat, breaking out into a nervous laugh. "Okay, let me clear that up. The coughing made it sound like I was saying something that I wasn't saying."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," Why was my throat so dry? "I was gonna say that you'd still be the same Roman I long for."

"Oh..." He seemed both relieved and disappointed. I couldn't read him. It was too dark. "Okay. I'll hold you to it when we're eighty, then."

My heart was still racing. Had I gotten away with that or was he letting me? "So you're basically saying you won't be jumping me when we're old? I'm disappointed. And on top of that, I think you'd still be yourself at eighty, no? Or will you no longer be so nympho when you reach a certain age?"

"... You have a point," Roman's classic smirk was back-- I had never been happier to see it. "I'll always want you, I'm afraid."

"No matter what?"

"No matter what,"

"Are you a hundred percent sure about that, Rome?"

"I'll do you one better. Hundred and one,"

It was impossible not to smile. I loved him so much it hurt; I needed to mend it. "... Even if I turn into a worm?"

The groan he let out blended in with the ringing of the alarm he had put on.

As Roman pulled me up from the grass, I realized how much I loved everything about this night. I loved that he wanted to see me so bad that he was sneaking me out of my room. I loved the feeling of my hand in his, loved the sight of his smile, loved every inch of him. I only wished we could stay this happy for an eternity-- an eternity with him would be so unbelievably nice.

And if Roman loved me too, I'd let him love me forever. 

I'd love him till the day I died, tirelessly, endlessly.

... Even if he was a worm.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

There was a lingering warmth in my body, yet I waited for the other thing to leave. The feeling. The doom. The terror I didn't remember.

And while I waited, prom was a wonderful distraction.

My parents were out of town for the weekend, which allowed us to skip the awkward photos in the hallway that were usually customary for prom. I was sure Roman would've rather died than go through that.

Actually, I was half convinced someone else had told Roman to man up and ask me to go with him, because it seemed like I was getting too much of the good thing recently. It didn't make sense to me that he wanted anything to do with something like this. And for a second, I was convinced I had been right about it all along; when I walked down the stairs of my porch, it was impossible not to smile from ear to ear at the sight of Roman in his tux. He was sitting on the bonnet of his car, smoking a cigarette as always-- 

... Without so much as a reaction to me in my dress?

It felt like my whole body was on fire, like I was one of Roman's cigarettes. My smile faltered as I approached, not saying a word. I held my breath, watching the green of his eyes pierce mine. He didn't blink. He didn't budge. He simply held his cigarette to his lips, exhaling the smoke through his nose. 

Something felt off. I should've known Roman Godfrey wasn't the classic prom-man. "Do you not like it?" I breathed, feeling my confidence collapse as I toyed with the fabric of my dress.

Roman's eyes immediately darted down to my fingers-- "Don't tear at it. I know you like doing that," He held out his cigarette as he scanned me. It took a few seconds too long. With quick steps, he got off of his car; "Get in."

What? "No,"

Roman turned to me, cocking a brow. "No?"

"No," This was nerve-wracking. "You're being weird. Tell me what's wrong, or I turn around and go right back in again."

Visibly taken aback, Roman let his cigarette fall to the ground before he pressed his heel to it. In our moments of intense eye-contact and silence, I could see the way he had styled his hair differently tonight. It wasn't slicked back or messy, which were the two alternatives he always alternated between-- no, it looked like he had put effort into giving it a bit more volume, like something out of an old Hollywood film with James Dean as the lead. I couldn't understand him, where he stood in front of me in his ridiculously expensive tuxedo; it was obvious that he cared about this, so what was happening here?

"Nothing is wrong," Roman finally answered. "I just don't have the words."

"Words for what? What's going on?"

"Nothing is going on," he muttered under his breath. "It just makes me feel stupid."

"What does, Rome?" 

"I... have never been good at finding the right words. I always screw these things up," Frustrated, Roman put his hands in his pockets as he no longer met my gaze. "Saying you look good doesn't feel like enough... and telling you that you look beautiful feels weird, because I don't use that word for anything and that makes it sound rehearsed, so... I'm screwed. I'm looking at you, and I'm blanking. My heart is beating too fast."

Oh.

Oh.

"Take your time," was all I managed to say. I love you regardless was the thing I would have loved to add. 

Roman chewed on his lip, sitting down on the bonnet of his car again. He dared to meet my eyes as he reached for my hand; I took it, ready to take a step forward, before I caught Roman shaking his head. "You'd help me if you did a twirl," he said, a smirk nudging at the corners of his mouth. "Come on, now."

My heart lightened with the giggle that escaped me, and I could only blush as I did as told. 

"There you go," Roman cooed, warmth dotting his cheeks when I faced him again. "I like your dress. You kinda look like a cupcake."

"What? I do not! This is a-line!"

"A what line?"

"No, it's!-- Oh, forget it," Men.

Roman laughed, reaching for my waist to pull me in between his long legs. Softening his grin, he glanced down at my dress; had I not been watching him so intently, I wouldn't have caught the way his eyes subtly rounded out when they met mine. "I never realized how unfair it is,"

I frowned; "What's unfair?"

"You. Looking like this. Making every other girl on the planet look like an afterthought," Roman paused, his smirk softening with something genuine; "And it's not just tonight, y'know? It's everything about you. It's the way you laugh, it's the way you think, it's all that is you, along with how you look at me like I'm not completely messed up. You're just perfect." Roman stilled, his thumbs rubbing circles into the fabric around my waist as his smile turned self-conscious. "Sorry, that probably sounds cheesy as hell... What the fuck is up with me these days?"

If only he knew. If only he saw that I was fighting the welling of tears in my eyes. I love you, I love you, I love you. "As long as you don't start singing again, I'll be fine,"

Roman's smile was soft, and so was the kiss he gently pressed to my collarbone. Everything about the way he was holding me made me blush. "Come on," Roman cooed, a mischievous look shimmering in his eyes. "I can't wait to arrive with the prettiest girl in town. Everyone's gonna hate us even more than they already do, and I need the fuel of their spite and fear to survive."

I rolled my eyes, muffling my laugh against the following kiss. "Okay, Pennywise. Just keep the carnage to a minimum tonight, alright?"

"Deal,"

Just as Roman was about to lean in to kiss me, I remembered something important-- I grabbed his shoulders, watching his eyes widen as I pinned him to his place. "And we need to keep you far away from Brooke Bluebell tonight, by the way,"

"Uh, not that she was on the agenda, but... why?"

"Rumour says she's bought a needle. For revenge, and all,"

Roman let out a laugh of disbelief before it dawned on him that I wasn't joking. "Oh," he breathed, frowning. "Seems like there might be some carnage after all, then."

"No, that's not funny!--"

"Come on, it kinda is!"

"Roman-- ugh, fuck it, let's just go!" I placed a soft kiss to his lips; "Don't say I didn't warn you."

After more back and forth banter, it was finally time to get going. However, as Roman opened the car door for me and I sat down in the seat, I was hit with a major deja vu when he started checking out his hair in the rearview mirror. I knew that he did that every time before starting the car, this wasn't something out of the ordinary-- but for the first time since the incident, I remembered something clearly. 

I remembered just a fragment. A feeling. I had been upset the day of the crash, and so had Roman. Had we fought? 

It was at the tip of my tongue, there was a faint taste of exactly what had happened, and I was about to roll right into the memory when Roman put his hand on my thigh. I looked over at him, my breath high in my chest; he noticed it immediately. "You okay?" he tried.

It was lingering in my forearms, like I was pressing them up against a flaming stove. It pressed at the sides of my head, waiting for it to cave in on itself; death. It felt like a countdown.

Counting down.

Tick.

Tick tick.

I will know soon.

I put my burning hand over Roman's, forcing a smile;

"Never been better," ｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

Walking around at prom, hand in hand with Roman Godfrey as he talked to a couple of his friends, was only something I had imagined in my wildest dreams. I used to bury my face in my pillow and blush just at the thought of him even looking at me.

Back in those days, I had a specific image in my mind; since I hadn't ever thought I would go to prom with Roman, I imagined I'd be there with someone like Daniel. Someone I didn't like. I don't know, it wasn't too important. However, my date would be the type to not want to dance, and I would be left sitting with him by some table while everyone danced. And this would (of course) be the point where I'd imagine Roman walking up to me, charming, cocky, and high on his sky-high self-esteem, to reach for my hand. He'd ask if I'd like to dance, and I would glare at my date before giving Roman an affirmative yes.

Then we'd dance. Slow. Close. 

And in my dreams, Roman would look me in the eyes and tell me that he had loved me all along, that he would love me and only me for the rest of his life, that he had secretly been pining for me since the day he first saw me, that he was actually planning to propose right now actually, and then the whole prom would stop and gasp in jealousy as he got down on one knee, and then!--

I bit down on my lip, suppressing a laugh at the memory. It seemed so childish, now more than ever. I told myself to excuse my old, stupid daydreams; the mind wanders when you're crazy about someone.

Roman squeezed my hand; "What are you laughing about?"

Fuck. "Oh, just..." I glanced up at him, smiling uncontrollably. Alas, now that Roman was my boyfriend, I didn't need all of that ridiculous stuff. I only needed him by my side, and that'd be enough for me forever. "I just remembered something stupid."

Roman cocked a brow, the green of his eyes shining down on me despite the darkness of the room. "Keen on sharing?"

"Not so much,"

"Alright," he said, tsking. "Pervert."

"Hey!" My cheeks turned a peculiar shade of pink which I hoped wasn't visible beneath the dim lights. Why did he have to say stuff like that while standing next to his friends? Not that they were listening, anyway. Nonetheless, the cheeky look on Roman's face told me everything I needed to know about it. "It's nothing like that!" I tried. "It was actually kind of sweet..."

"Oh, yeah?" Nodding, Roman's hand went to the small of my back, excusing us before he started leading us away from his circle of friends. "Tell me, then."

"It's stupid!" I giggled, my blush deepening with the kiss he pressed to the top of my head as we walked. Giant man. 

Roman rolled his eyes; "Tell me before I spike the punch and get us kicked out," We had now reached the other side of the room, and he turned me around to press my back against the wall. Like this, he was towering over me as always. Just the sight of it made my heart beat harder. 

"It should be illegal," I muttered under my breath, reaching for his tie. Sweet-talking him would hopefully be distraction enough. "You in a suit--"

"Tux,"

"Tux," I didn't want to tell him about my childish dreams about prom. I was aware how stupid it sounded, anyway. I didn't need to give Roman more things to tease me about, did I? "You're very, very handsome."

"Aha," he hummed, unimpressed. "How long would my sentence to be, then?"

"If it was illegal?"

"If it was illegal,"

"Hmm... I was thinking six years and nine months."

Roman bit down on a grin. "Do I spot a subtle sixty-nine reference?"

Yes. "Pervert,"

We shared a laugh as my hands slid down his tie, but my brows drew together when I felt something hard between the top and second button of his shirt. My mind flared red lights-- "Is this what I think it is?" I asked, gazing up at Roman as my eyes rounded out. 

He didn't seem to understand my reaction. "I always wear it," he said, shrugging. "Didn't want to take it off."

"Ah," I suppose it was sweet. That's all it was. It most certainly didn't remind me of my least favorite passage from The Avoidable Vampirism - The Upir;

There are even some upirs that are so assimilated, they can do experiments with blood or carry vials of it with them wherever they go— which is an inclination that should not be encouraged.

Should not be encouraged.

Should not be encouraged.

... Certainly not. 

"I like feeling you close," Roman murmured, his long fingers now running past my waist as the sound of his voice pulled me back into the moment. "I don't like being apart from you, and having your blood with me at all times... feels like I'm carrying a piece of you, which I technically am." He bent down, his soft lips brushing against my ear-- it made my breath hitch. "What do you say we get as close as we can later tonight?" he whispered, a small kiss to my ear following. "Just you and me... And me in you?"

I could only smile. Especially as I spotted Brooke Bluebell and her cheerleader friends by the punch a little further away from us. I was sure my smile started to look rather sinister as my hand went into Roman's hair, pulling him closer as my eyes locked on Brooke's. 

Fucking cheerleader whore. I hated her. I hated everything she represented. And honestly? I couldn't quite remember why. All I knew, was that seeing the jealous look on her face made my heart race with pride and joy.

... Something told me that Roman and I deserved each other. We were both evil in our own ways. 

"That sounds perfect," I purred, leaning my head against the wall as Roman pressed soft kisses to my neck. "My parents aren't home, so..." I could feel him smiling against my skin at the reminder. It was such an exhilarating feeling. Especially when I knew Brooke was watching. 

"Great," Roman murmured, pulling away to look down at me with a mischievous look shimmering in his green eyes. "Can't wait to fold you and hear you whimper."

My blush deepened in record time; "Pervert,"

Roman only grinned. I was sure he was gonna say something much, much worse, something that would've made my toes curl on the spot if they weren't currently pressed against the front of my slightly uncomfortable heels, if one of the prom chaperones hadn't started walking towards us with hasty steps and a grumpy look on his face. It hit me that we were probably standing too close for his liking, and that he was there to make sure the students were being appropriate, which... let's face it, we weren't. 

I shook my head with panic as Roman opened his mouth to speak, and he seemed to catch onto what was happening rather quickly. With a quick nod, he took a long step away from me and held his hands up with a cheeky grin as the strict-looking chaperone approached. "Yes, officer?"

The chaperone sighed, passing fed-up glances between the two of us. I wondered where I had seen this man before. He was certainly someone's father who I had seen around drop-off hours. "I'm not the police," he grumbled. "You can put your hands down, Godfrey--"

"I invoke the fourth amendment!" Roman chimed in, winking at me. It was impossible not to smile.

The chaperone proceeded to groan, shaking his head; "Just-- no touching, okay?"

"Of... anything?"

"You can hold her hand, Godfrey, but anything else--"

"Oh, so it applies to things like... if I touch the wall?" Comically slow, Roman pressed his finger to the wall, hissing as though he was being burned by the law. "I'm a man of many crimes, as you see, officer!" He lowered his voice to a whisper; "I even touched the punch earlier! Actually, now that I think about it, I think I deserve to be kicked out... Can't believe I have allowed myself to commit such atrocities." With one last pout, Roman held his hands out to the chaperone, bowing his head in defeat. "Take me, oh, lead me away, kind sir! I will serve my time, and I will do my due diligence!--"

"Enough!" The chaperone barked. "As long as you didn't spike the goddamn punch, you're free to go!"

And with that, Roman's gig was up. He bit down hard on his lip to suppress his smirk, not to great success. "I wouldn't dare to, officer," he cooed, reaching for my hand in the smoothest manner known to man. 

The chaperone rolled his eyes, probably rethinking all his life choices, as Roman led me away with the both of us trying not to topple over from the laughter we were suppressing. 

"You're crazy," I said, squeezing his hand. I was worried my eyes had formed hearts. 

Roman shrugged, glancing down at me with a knowing smile. "And you're crazy about me," he murmured. "But, speaking of crazy..." He raised our hands, making me do a little twirl as I giggled. When I faced him again, Roman wrapped his arms around me as he glanced over at the punch not too far away from us; "What do you say actually spike it?"

"... What?" 

"It could be smart," he purred, swaying with me a little on the dance floor. "Brooke and her girls have been drinking it all night, and they just walked away... Maybe if they all get drunk off their asses when they come back, they won't be able to take their needle-revenge on me?" 

Roman was right. We had kept a bit of an eye on them all night, just to make sure they were at a safe distance at all times. It was a fun game, if I were to be honest, but... Roman was right. It was an unusual occurrence that he was, so I couldn't help but smile as I felt myself get convinced. 

"Fuck it,"

What ensued, were three nerve-wracking minutes at the table with the large punch-bowl. I stood in front of Roman, blocking the view of any possible chaperones as he skillfully got a silver flask out of the pocket of his jacket, and we spent a good amount of time positioning ourselves to make it all look casual, as though we weren't pouring straight vodka into the punch. Why Roman had any on him in the first place was a conversation for another time.

The second we saw Brooke and the cheerleaders approaching again, I felt my breath hitch-- had we made it or were we about to get caught?

However, Roman's timing was impeccable. With a smooth slither of his hand down to mine, he pulled me back to the dance floor, as though it was the most natural thing in the world to be escaping the scene of the crime at this pace. 

And suddenly, it felt like I had entered that silly dream of mine. Cause now, we were dancing. Slow. Close. The remnants of our silly escapade were visible across our lips, corners pulling up into knowing smiles as we held each other close. Roman's cologne was alluring as always, and so were his big, green eyes; I could see everything now. The scar on his right cheek, the way his pupils practically pulsated at the sight of me, the way he was drinking me in, the beautiful upturn of his nose, all to the way his warm breath fell against my cheek.

Roman's long, slender fingers intertwined with mine as his other hand rested at the small of my back; it was perfect. Better than I could've ever imagined it. It was intoxicating. Deadly, in the best of ways. 

If I were to say anything, now would be the moment. If I were to say the words that I had longed to say, now was the time. All I could hear was the sweet sound of Roman's breath, the dimmed shuffling of the tulle of my dress, and the mellow remnants of the slow song playing in the background. "Rome," I breathed. "There's something I need to tell you." My heart had never beat harder in my life, I was sure of it now.

I was sure of it.

Roman let out a short hum, lovingly nudging his nose against mine. "I need to tell you something too,"

The more I thought about the beating of my heart, the more I was sure it was going to beat its way up my throat. "Yeah?" I tried. Breathless. Breathless. 

"Yeah," Roman closed his eyes, gently pulling me closer. "But this might not be the place to tell you."

"I beg to differ," Something told me all my dreams were coming true in one go. If he was gonna say what I thought he was gonna say-- "There might never be a better moment than right here, right now." Please. Please. I wanted to beg him to say it first, if he wanted to say those three words at all. 

It felt like the air was a tissue. A tissue falling into me, which was pulled out with Roman's next intake of air. Every breath felt sharp, yet exhilarating, yet draining, yet filling, yet emptying.

"Not here," he whispered. "You'd have a heart attack."

It felt like I was about to have one anyway. "I doubt it," God, I was about to spill, wasn't I? "What if I go first?"

Roman's brows drew together as he pulled away just a centimeter or two, looking more confused than ever. "What?"

My mouth pulled into a line. Was I reading this wrong or was this one of those situations where I just had to grow a pair of balls on the spot and walk on the burning charcoal? "Like... if you're saying what I think you want to say?"

"And what do you think I want to say?"

"... Uhm," It hit me that my mouth had never been drier. Could I do this? Should I do this? "The... thing?"

"What thing?"

"That you, y'know... That you--"

"That I what?" Roman's words were insistent, rushed. It almost scared me into silence. "Baby?"

My lower lip trembled as I gathered the courage to let out a breathy laugh, shaking my head. This was my sign to retreat. With a defeated sigh, my eyes shied away from his as my cheeks burned. "Forget it,"

"But..." Roman looked beyond lost. "Okay, I feel like I'm messing things up here. Let's start again."

"Start again?--"

"Start again," he insisted, his green eyes burning into mine as I dared to meet them again. "You were gonna tell me something."

Fuck no. Now, I was sure that'd be a fate worse than death. "I-- I don't know, I'm a little lost now, could we just forget?--"

My nervous ramble was interrupted by a loud groan from Roman. At first, my eyes widened at his weird reaction to me stumbling over my words, all until I realized his phone was vibrating in his pocket. Thankfully, the song in the background wasn't so quiet and slow anymore, and nobody around us seemed to mind. "I'm so sorry," he breathed, letting go of my hand to fish out his phone. "This is fucking ridiculous, who in their right mind is calling at this time of night?!--" 

Roman's anger came to a halt as he saw who was calling him. I was praying to all the Gods I could think of at the moment that it wasn't Letha. 

"It's Peter," he said, eyes rounding out. "I haven't gotten a hold of him in a while, I-- will you kill me if I take this?"

I let out a sigh. Typical. I suppose some things simply remain a dream. "No problem," My ass. 

"I'm sorry," Roman tried, placing two fingers beneath my chin to tilt my head up, placing an apologetic kiss to my lips. It was quick, hurried-- something told me I'd remember it. "I will be right back, and then you're gonna tell me that thing, okay? I'm dying to know. Dying."

"Sure," 

"Just-- meet me by the door leading to the hallway, okay? Not the exit, not the one leading outside, but the--"

"Hallway, yeah. I got it,"

The look on Roman's face told me he was genuinely sorry. That was a consolation, at least. "We're gonna talk, I promise. I really need to tell you what I wanted to say,"

I swear, if he ended up telling me he was getting a new car instead of telling me he was in love with me, I'd wack him with the first heavy purse I'd find. "Go, Rome,"

Roman disappeared from the crowd rather quickly, making his way outside with hurried steps, leaving me alone and frustrated on the dance floor. Muttering curse words under my breath, I waddled to the door leading to the hallway, leaning against the wall next to it with a disappointed sigh. The momentum of that whole conversation had left me a bit of a panting mess, and my heart had yet to slow down. I wondered how I was supposed to get out of telling him that I loved him. Stupid, stupid, stupid girl!

However, as I scoured my brain for something else to say, I felt the familiar smell of overly-sweet perfume fill my nostrils.

I stiffened in fear. 

Oh no.

My mouth dried in record time as Daniel approached me, his stride calm and calculated. It was odd to see him out of his blue varsity jacket, yet he hadn't disappointed; his tux was blue too. The more I kept thinking about the color blue, the more I thought about the ocean, and the more I thought about the ocean, the more clearly I saw myself holding Daniel's head underwater until he drowned. 

Daniel's smirk was nastier than ever. I couldn't believe I ever thought it was cute. "There you are," he purred, getting too close for my comfort. "You look like you're having the time of your life, as always."

I snorted. "Well, what do you expect of a brainless slut, as you so poetically called me? You've always had a way with words,"

"Damn," Daniel mumbled, pulling his hands into his pockets as he chuckled. "Did I really say that?"

"Yep," Asshole.

He nodded; "Ah... It seems you remember that night more than I do, then," Daniel's perfume had now infiltrated both my nose and my will to live. If only I could melt into a puddle on the floor and become immaterial-- that would've been mercy enough. 

"I bet you haven't come here to apologize, am I correct?" I asked. 

Daniel shrugged, amused. "I was actually coming here to ask you for an apology,"

"Me?! For what?" He never failed to say outrageous things, I could give him credit for that much. 

However, Daniel seemed taken aback by my response. "Are you really going to act like nothing happened?" 

"What?! Are you talking about you and I those thousands of years ago?--"

"No," Daniel's face fell. "I'm talking about what happened last weekend." 

Something was awfully wrong. My intuition made the hair at the back of my neck stand up to the sky, and I realized I was pressing myself up against the wall. "Last weekend?" I mumbled. What did I do last weekend? I couldn't remember. All I could remember from last weekend was waking up at the Godfrey Institute because of the car crash--

Wait.

Daniel took a step forward; "I've been waiting for you to get away from that boyfriend of yours for a while," he said, his words low and threatening. "Cause you and I are gonna go have a little talk, aren't we?"

"About what?" My voice came out frail, scared, as my breath continued to catch in my throat. For a second, my attention darted to the person coming out through the door to the hallway, and it reminded me that I was in a room filled with people. Roman was coming back any time now, too. Nothing could happen to me. "I don't know what you're--" 

And then it happened. Daniel stepped forward with speed I didn't know he had in him, and he jammed his foot between the door as he grabbed me with strength I couldn't fight. He clasped his hand over my mouth as I tried to fight him off, yet to no avail-- it didn't take many seconds before he managed to get me through the door, dragging me down the hallway and away from the party. 

I let out a cry against Daniel's palm as my heart raced. Biting him didn't work, as my teeth barely grazed his skin-- I tried to dig my nails into him, yet I didn't manage to reach any exposed skin. The grip he had around me was crushing, and I knew my ribs would ache for days to come. 

"We're gonna have a real nice talk," Daniel hissed into my ear. It was disgusting to have him so near, repulsing. His breath was unsteady as he spat his words, yet there was an exhilarated tone to his voice, like he was getting the biggest kick in the world out of this. "And I'm gonna let you go in one piece if you stop-- stop resisting!" 

Daniel managed to drag me down the hall and around the corner before he threw me down. I hit the ground with a hard thud, wincing as I tried to get up with my heart threatening to beat out of my ears. However, Daniel bent down and grabbed a fistful of my hair, twisting me to look at him as I cried out in pain, eyes watery with tears as I met his angry blue eyes. I tried to drive my nails into his hand, yet he only tightened his fist in my hair-- the pain was blinding. 

"Your spoiled brat of a boyfriend won't even pay for the damages," Daniel hissed in my face. His breath was warm, but in the most unpleasant way; it made me squirm as a tear spilled down my cheek. "Not a cent! The fucking Godfrey lawyers are blocking everything my family could've ever gotten as a compensation!"

I didn't manage to kick him away, no matter how hard I tried. "For a car?!" I yelled. "For a fucking car, Daniel?! Let me go!--"

"It's not about the car!" Daniel shouted, a few drops of spit landing on my face as I grimaced. "It's about the person driving it, you psycho!" 

"I don't-- Fuck!" It was impossible not to curse at the agony. It didn't help that he was now dragging my head backwards, making me wonder whether he'd snap my neck. Would he? Would he actually? "I don't remember anything! I don't-- I don't fucking know! Were you in it?!"

This only seemed to anger him further, and Daniel proceeded to bend down next to me to properly get up in my face. I wondered whether he saw how clumpy my mascara was getting from the heavy tears weighing down on my lashes. I wondered whether he perhaps was hard right now from staring at the terrified look on my face. I wondered if he'd be sadistic enough to shove his dick down my throat if he was. These thoughts only made me panic more, yet I felt my body going limp from the pain; my hands were still fighting. I was still trying. There was no way I'd give up, but it also felt like there was no way for me to win.

"Not a single thing?" Daniel hissed, fury burning in his eyes. "You don't remember how you and your prick boyfriend left my father bleeding in his car? You don't remember how he swerved off the road and got the front of his car completely smashed in?!"

The more I tried to conjure the image, the more the feeling of all-taking panic and dread infiltrated my veins. I tried to claw his hands out of my hair, my nails digging into his skin, suffocating, suffocating, dying, tearing, tearing, panic, panic, why, where, how?--

My current state unlocked the one I had been in on the day of the crash. 

And with the panic, I remembered everything. 

Tick. 

Tick tick.

I could almost hear Roman's voice. 

Tick tick tick.

Right now, I was there.

I was living through it again.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

The sun was blinding, although the air was cold. I hurried down the steps of the school that day, running to Roman.

"Where were you?"

I was confused. "I was just!--"

"I've been waiting here for, like, ten minutes!" Roman hissed, getting up from the bonnet of his car. He was in the middle of what I could only call a fit of fury, and his hands were flying as he marched towards me with heavy, angry steps; "Get in the fucking car!" He grabbed a hold of my arm, forcefully pulling me toward him.

I let out a squeal of shock, yet I didn't resist. It was impossible not to jump when he put me in the passenger seat and slammed the door behind me. "What the hell, Roman? What's gotten into you today?!" 

When he got in the driver's seat, he didn't waste any time turning the engine on. "I don't like you lingering in math class," he grumbled, fixing his hair in the rearview mirror. Typical. If Roman had been a woman, he'd have been the type to get extensions and acrylic nails; I was sure of it, with how obsessed he was with his looks. "I don't need you fraternizing any more with the enemy than you already have."

"The enemy?-- Are we talking about Letha?!"

"Yes!" he barked, driving out of the school parking lot with a little too much speed. Had he not been the son of Olivia Godfrey, I was convinced he'd have about a dozen parking tickets for this type of driving. 

"Roman, are you serious right now?!"

"Dead serious,"

"You're being crazy!"

That was it for Roman, who immediately started yelling; "Don't fucking talk to me about crazy! You wanna see real crazy?! Let me crash the car and laugh as we bleed out on the side of the road, then you'll see that I'm acting more than reasonably!"

Instinctively, I reached for the handle of the car door. My breath was stuck in a loop in my chest, too thick to pass my trachea. "Please stop shouting," I echoed. "You're scaring me."

Roman's ears were red with anger. I used to think it was a cute trait of his, all until he threatened to kill us both in this vehicle. However, at the frail sound of my voice, he glanced at me for a second or two as he leaned one arm on the rolled-down car window; his big, green eyes rounded out with the realization, with the weight of his words. "I'm not--" He cleared his throat, returning his gaze to the road. "I'm not being serious. I wouldn't actually do that, you know me."

I could see the guilt settling in the lines of his brows coming together, yet my breath had yet to escape me; it was hard to think while being suffocated. "Stop the car,"

"Baby, I'm about to get on the highway!--"

"-- Stop the fucking car!"

Roman's anger returned as he struck the steering wheel, ignoring the way I jumped; "Fine!" With the speed he was driving at, it didn't take long before he managed to park by the road. He turned to me with a fed-up look in his eyes, one that brought my blood to a boil. It only got worse with the next words rolling off his tongue; "Christ, woman, what is it?" 

For the first time in my life, I hoped I'd get superpowers and lazer-blast his stupid head off. Watch it blow and fly away in chunks, with his blood splattering all over the car. I bet it was the same dark-red color as his beloved Jaguar. Without saying a word, knowing I'd only spew profanities at him if I stayed, I made my way out of the car despite there not being a walkable road in sight.

"Hey-- Come on!" Roman yelled, watching as I started walking away on the side of the road. "Where the fuck do you think you're going?"

I shivered with the incoming breeze. "Far away from you!" Pissed out of my mind, I wrapped myself tightly in my jacket and ignored the sight of a car passing by me at full speed. 

Roman got out of the car with haste, following me with urgency in his steps. "I'm not gonna drive us into a tree, I was just trying to make a point!" he yelled, dragging his hands through his hair to make sure his hairstyle was preserved in the wind. "Baby, please, come back here!--"

"It's not about that!" I yelled back, turning around to face him. Now, there were only a couple of meters between us as we gazed at each other, one with remorse, one with fury. "You say that you trust me, and then you explode when I come back a few minutes late from my class with Letha!"

"Well, of course I'm!--"

"No!" I barked, clenching my fists. "You've been acting so damn weird ever since the day we exchanged the ancient blood capsules, or whatever the fuck they are! You're being erratic! Are you still on cocaine, maybe? Have you relapsed?"

Roman's mouth opened and closed, offended. "I'm not on drugs!" he shouted, flailing his hands to make his point. "I'm not crazy!" 

"Rome, you can tell me!" It felt as though my heart was beating out of my chest, and I pressed my hands to the thumping motions of it. I could feel the tears welling in my eyes; this whole week with Roman had been so weird, intense, and it had all come down to this. All this pain, all these emotions. "I'm your girlfriend, I care about you more than anything else in the world, you can tell me if you're back to!--"

"I'm not on drugs! I'm not crazy!" He was chanting it to himself now. 

"I can get you the help you need, Rome, please!--"

"I'm not!" With the last boom of his voice, Roman seemed to grow taller on the spot. I was sure I was imagining the way his pupils dilated, the way his jaw twitched, and how he genuinely seemed to be growing an inch or two on the spot, as though he was about to pounce on me. 

Was I maybe tired? That had to be it. After math class, my brain was always fried, anyway. Nonetheless, my breath hitched in my chest as I took a step back in blinding fear-- yet what I thought was a step back, was more of a step to the left. I didn't have much control over my body as my hands trembled, paralyzed at the sight before me. Roman didn't look like himself. It was him, I was sure it was the man I loved, yet something was so terribly off. 

I hadn't realized I was standing in the road.

I was frozen to my spot.

I couldn't move. 

And as the sound of a car honking repeatedly hit my ears, I saw nothing but the way Roman's pupils shrunk in an instant. Sheer panic filled his eyes. I barely registered how he got to me, but it took him less than a second when it should've taken him at least three. 

Roman was too late, yet exactly on time-- it felt like a breeze wrapped itself around me with the swiftness of light, and before I knew it, I screamed as I was lifted off the ground and swept up in his arms. Too scared to register where we were, I only felt the prickling of grass in my hair as I soon heard a crash, a bang, and an alarm going off. 

I held onto Roman's strong body for dear life as my high-pitched screams refused to subside, and tears welled up in my eyes which were squeezed shut in fear. He had wrapped himself around me in a protective hold and made sure I had landed on top of him in the grass by the road, a little too far from where we should've naturally landed, and Roman clutched onto the fabric of my jacket as he tried to shake me out of my shock. 

It didn't work. My throat was getting sore, and I was trembling like a wet, abandoned kitten. 

"Are you hurt?" Roman called out. "Hey, are you hurt?!"

With my next sob, the words came rushing out; "N-No!" 

He let out a sigh of relief as he pressed me tighter to his chest, now stroking the back of my head and kissing my teary cheeks. "You're alright. It's okay, I'm here, you're alright," he cooed, gently rolling me down to the grass beside him. 

I didn't want to let him go. I held onto his hair like a newborn, sobbing. "I'm sorry! I-I'm so, so-- so sorry!--"

"Shh, it's okay," Roman kissed my lips which were salty with tears. "It's not your fault, it's okay. Try to breathe, alright?"

I would've stayed like that, horrified and shell-shocked at our near meet with death, had I not heard pained groans in the distance. I dared to open my eyes, and immediately saw the cloud of smoke coming from the car with the peeping noise. There was a man groaning in pain, and his body was splayed over the steering wheel. And just as I didn't think it could get any worse, I saw the indent of a footprint in the car door-- 

My shaking subsided as I rose from the grass, sitting up in a zombie-like state. My eyes refused to leave the image before me. 

Had Roman... kicked the car away?

Had he kicked a car coming our way at about a hundred kilometers an hour?

Before I could ponder it any longer, Roman grabbed my chin with the gentlest touch known to man and turned me to him. He didn't have a single scratch on him. Shouldn't he be gasping in pain at the blow of landing on his back with me on top of him? His eyes were round, worried, as he scanned me for any injuries. "How does your head feel? Are you dizzy? You didn't hit your head, did you?"

"No," I breathed. "Roman, the car--"

"Fuck that for a second, do I need to take you to a hospital?" The look in his eyes quickly went from worried to crazed, like he was angry that I was choosing to have sympathy for the person in the car instead of caring about myself first. 

I blinked. Once. Twice. "Roman?"

"Yes?"

"The guy in there might be dead. Or dying," 

"I know," he echoed. "But he might also be bleeding."

"Exactly," With shaky steps, I tried to raise myself to the ground. The beeping of the car was driving me mad with guilt and worry. "He might be bleeding, so we need to--"

"Call an ambulance, I know," 

"No, we need to check if he's!--"

"Bleeding? Dying? Yeah, I can't," Roman grabbed my hand, forcing me to look into his eyes. They were round with a look I hadn't seen before, like he was trying to convey something I'd hopefully understand. "I shouldn't go near it when it's that much fresh blood." He squeezed my fingers before he brought them to his lips, kissing my knuckles. "And you're about to faint."

"... What?" 

"You have about five seconds,"

"How do you?--"

"I'm not crazy," Roman said, an end statement. "I'll make sure you won't remember most of this, but trust me. I'll take care of it."

The worst thing was that he was right. I couldn't do anything to stop it when I started seeing white spots, and I let out a panicked yell. It felt like my head was caving into itself; that was a feeling that would stay with me. I covered my ears before I realized I couldn't feel my toes, and just as I went down, Roman went up to catch me in his arms.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

And as I faded out of the memory, it took longer than expected to snap out of it.

I was done.

Done.

I was so, so sure, and I had no idea why everything was black, why I couldn't move, why I felt my lungs freeze over with the inability to breathe.

It lasted for too long. Way too long. An eternity. 

Again.

Up until it felt like a scream was being dragged out of me by force, again, like someone had grabbed a hold of my tongue and tugged me forward, again-- the bright lights of the school hallway shone through my lids before they sprung open in pure panic, and I arched off the ground with a gasp for air.

It felt like I was taking my first breaths again, or like I had been drowning, all over again. I clawed at my hands, my nails digging into the fabric of my dress, suffocating, suffocating, dying, tearing, tearing, panic, panic, why, where, how, again?—

There was a release. I no longer felt like my neck was about to snap, and there was no longer pressure on my scalp as I was released from Daniel's grip on my hair. My body fell limp against the floor as I heard a loud thud to my right along with a shrill cry of pain. 

As I slowly came back to my senses, I realized that Daniel was being repeatedly punched against the lockers by none other than Roman Godfrey. There was no way for him to fight off the repeated attacks, no way at all, as Roman's fist landed blow after blow with no mercy.

"Rome," I wheezed, coughing and wincing as I tried to get up from the floor. I barely had any power in my body anymore-- it didn't work.

The sound of his nickname had Roman letting go of Daniel in an instant, who fell limp to the floor with a cry of pain. Roman looked completely out of it; his green eyes were wild with fury, worry, and an untameable thirst for revenge. I hadn't seen him like this before, so possessed. 

He opened his mouth to say something, yet Daniel let out a wail; "He can't even walk anymore, Godfrey! You fuckers left my father in a coma, and when he woke up, he was fucking paralyzed from the neck down!" 

My head was pounding. This couldn't be true. This was a nightmare.

"You ruined his life!" Daniel yelled, tears spilling down his cheeks as he tried to get up. "And you ruined mine! You took my father from me, and he will never be the same again!"

Roman took several deep breaths. It was clear that he wanted to beat Daniel to a pulp, yet he was holding back. "You think I wanted any of that?" he tried, balling his fists. "Accidents happen all the fucking time!--"

"He says you kicked the car!" Daniel shouted. His voice was shaking. Profusely. It dawned on me how scared he truly looked. "That you-- you kicked it off the road!"

Roman's fists remained clenched. "Did you maybe have too much of the punch?" he asked, attempting to incorporate a calm tone. "You can't possibly be hearing yourself now, Goldman. Explain how I'm supposed to have kicked away a car coming at me at full speed?"

Daniel's lower lip trembled as it caught a few of his tears. "Everyone knows something's wrong with you, Godfrey. It's just a matter of time until someone figures out your secret," A beat. A snarl. "You're a freak."

There was a long pause. Roman was so furious that he could only glare. I could see the way his jaw clenched and how his hands were now balled so tightly they were shaking. 

Daniel caught onto it. Despite looking scared out of his mind, tears still staining his cheeks, he conjured a victorious smile which only confused me further. "You gonna hit me again? You gonna beat me to a pulp in front of your girl?" He nodded towards me, a mocking laugh following as his eyes shone with evil glee.

Roman's eye twitched. I held my breath. 

"You think she'll stay with you once she knows what you're capable of? You think she'll still be yours?" Daniel wiped his nose, staring up at Roman through his brows with his vicious eyes. "You and I are one and the same. The way she looks at me, the hate, the disgust? You're going to know exactly how I feel."

"No," Roman hissed, breathless. "I'm nothing like you," 

"Oh yeah? Do you really believe that?" 

"You're scum!--"

"And you're a fucking sadist, just like me!" Daniel didn't even try to wipe the grin off his beaten face. He simply sighed as he rested his head against the lockers, closing his eyes as though he was reliving his best day; "Bet you would've killed to see the look she had in her eyes when I nearly snapped her neck in half, just before you came... The tears, the fear. She has these pretty whimpers when she's in pain, y'know?" Daniel opened his eyes, staring up at Roman through his brows. "Are you going to let me get away with that?"

I couldn't stay quiet anymore; the panicked cry I let out was unlike anything I ever had before. "No, don't listen to him!--"

"I would've left her here for you to find, just like what you two did to my father!" Daniel chanted. "I would've ruined her, and it would've been all your fault, Godfrey!"

That was it. It was over. I knew it the second those words filled the hallway. His fault. 

Roman snapped. He yelled out in fury, and his hands flew to Daniel's neck where he was on the floor, crushing his windpipes along with any hope for breaths or protests. The look in Roman's eyes was too wild, too uncontrolled, too unstable for my liking-- he looked like he was two seconds away from snapping his neck like a twig, just like what Daniel would've done to me.

"Stop it!" I screamed, terror freezing me to my spot. "Stop it, Roman, stop!--"

"Do-- it!" Daniel wheezed, grinning. "Show her-- what a monster you are!"

My heart was pounding in my ears. No, no, no!

Roman's voice boomed throughout the hallway; "I will break your fucking hands if you touch her again, do you hear me?!"

The amusement in Daniel's eyes quickly disintegrated into abject horror. It was the lack of air. This was the moment he realized one very crucial detail; that all his taunting, all his encouragement, could actually get him very, very badly hurt. "W-Wait--"

"Do you hear me?!"

"Y-Yes!--"

"I will tear you apart!" Roman yelled, tightening his grip. "Is that what you want?!"

Daniel's face was turning a peculiar shade of purple as panic settled in his body. His hands went to Roman's, clawing at them, but to no avail. It was essentially a match he couldn't ever hope to win. It would've been impossible. Roman was too strong, too quick, too sharp-- Daniel didn't stand a chance.

I didn't think it could yet worse, yet somehow it did. In a moment which shouldn't have been possible, not so easily, Roman dragged Daniel's sputtering body up along the locker, lifting him from the ground with no exertion or effort. It made me gasp as I propped myself up from the floor, tears rushing down my cheeks as I watched the scene before me, scared into silence.

When Daniel's legs were dangling off the floor, I knew he had a few seconds before he was out. It was clear in the way his eyes started bulging and how his hands fell limp by his sides. 

Roman's last words were chilling; "Let me show you how much of a monster I can be,"

Daniel let out a short, defeated wheeze. Had he not been choking, it would've been a laugh. He had won, but now he had to pay the price. He squeezed his eyes shut with his last efforts, ready for the beating of his life, all until--

"No, that's enough!" I cried, exhausted by the terror. "Roman, enough!"

It was as though something changed in Roman at the sound of my voice, and the veins were no longer bulging from his hands as he realized the weight of what he had been about to do. With that, he let go of Daniel, who collapsed down along the lockers for the second time tonight; air rushed to his lungs with massive gulps, and his face was no longer purple from the blood rushing to his face.

Now that I remembered everything from the day of the crash, I saw the similarities. The way Roman seemed somewhat taller, how unnaturally wide his pupils dilated, and the way his jaw twitched. 

For the first time, I was seeing him for what he truly might be.

For what he... was. 

Upirism lives beneath their skin, scratches at their teeth, and corrupts their minds through dark urges in constant attempts to drive them to the edge of genesis. Do you suspect you are a upir, or do you recognize a darkness in your loved ones? 

I do.

I do.

Gulping, I finally found the courage and strength to get off the floor. My hands were shaking, and so were my knees-- I was sure my mascara had stained my cheeks at this point, and I felt more breathless than ever as I faced the man I loved. 

What made everything worse, was that Roman looked more beautiful than ever. Hair disheveled, broad shoulders raising with every shaky breath, lips parted. The tux only added to the sight-- he was perfect. Despite the sleeves of his jacket being rolled up, and a part of his shirt being untucked from his pants, he was perfect, and he always would be. His round, green eyes were barely green with how big his pupils were, pulsing with adrenaline; "Are you okay?" he asked, taking a step forward and away from Daniel. "Are you hurt? You were practically unconscious when I came--" 

Roman's words came to a halt when he saw how quickly I took a step back.

My breath was stuck in my chest. I couldn't speak. 

"You look scared. Don't be," he tried. "He's fine, see?" Roman turned around to face Daniel's body, where he lay limp and barely conscious, and proceeded to shortly kick him. 

It made me gasp, clasping my hand over my mouth as Daniel let out a pained whimper. My stomach felt uneasy-- I really didn't want to throw up here.

When Roman saw my horror, he immediately took a step away from Daniel. It hadn't yet dawned on him why I was so scared. "I'm so sorry about this," he said. "I'm sorry I stepped away. I should've never left your side."

I tried to speak, yet nothing would come out. Only tears rushed from my system, peaking at my chin before dripping down to the floor. 

Suddenly, there was a loud cheer from down the hall, a reminder of the prom going on just a door away. It made me jump, frozen in fear.

It was clear that Roman found it to be ironic, and he alternated between glancing down the hall and looking at me. "You still look good," he mumbled, a trying smile tugging at the corners of his perfect lips. Those perfect, plush lips that used to softly press against mine. Was he hoping we could go back inside and act like nothing had happened? "I have a comb you can use, if you want? The mascara is easy to wipe away, I think, and I bet there'll be no one in the restroom, so we can both go and fix ourselves and--"

When he took another step forward, I took another step back.

Roman stilled. His eyes softened with hurt. "Baby,"

I shook my head. That was the only thing I could do.

"Didn't you hear what he was saying? He wanted to-- wanted to do all these awful things to you, I had to do this,"

I couldn't breathe. 

Roman insisted; "I was just protecting you," Despite his calm tone, I spotted the slight shake he had to his hands. "Don't think about all that bullshit he said, okay? He's not in his right mind, he's clearly insane!--"

"His dad, Roman!" My ability to speak returned to me with my growing frustration.

"-- Was a very sad, tragic thing, yes! I'm not denying it!" With the next step Roman took, I stayed in place. He let out a string of controlled, short breaths, trying to calm himself down. "But he didn't have to come after you. I would've given him the money he needed, but it's my mom who controls the assets. All our dear Daniel had to do, was to talk to me. No one had to get hurt."

I squeezed my eyes shut, yet my tears still fell past my lashes. 

Roman let out a sigh which resembled a soft hum. "All that matters is that you're okay. That's all that matters. To me, you're all that matters,"

As his big hands framed my face, holding me when he finally got close enough, I still didn't open my eyes. I couldn't. I was scared out of my mind. Roman's touch was no longer a comfort-- it was chilling to know that they were choking someone less than a minute ago. 

"Are you scared?" he whispered, worry coating his deep voice. "You don't have to be scared of me, I'm not-- I'm not some monster."

I couldn't believe him. His words echoed in my head. Let me show you how much of a monster I can be. 

Let me show you.

"I'm not," Roman insisted. He didn't sound like he believed it much himself. "I'm all yours, only yours. That's all I am, and that's all that I ever will be. You need to know that."

Let me show you.

"Please look at me," 

Let me show you.

"Please," he begged. "I-- I've made some mistakes, but I'm still your Roman. Can't you stomach it anymore? Is me wanting to protect you repulsive to you?" 

I shook my head; not at all. My hands found his chest, feeling it raise against my palms. I used to lay there. Fall asleep there, listening to his beating heart. 

"What did you want me to do, then?" Roman whispered. "You're my everything. You're everything. I couldn't let him get away with doing all of that, I-- I couldn't. I'm sorry if it scared you, I'm sorry you had to see me like that, and I'm so sorry I ever left... I should've stayed with you. I'm a fool. I should've stayed and heard what you wanted to tell me."

I didn't need to look at him to know he was crying, now. His voice was breaking. Actively. It shattered me. 

"Cause... you still want to tell me, right?" 

Something told me he knew what I had wanted to tell him.

My hand crept further up Roman's broad chest as I quietly sobbed, my whole body shaking. My fingers were at his neck, tracing his soft skin.

Roman's grip on my face tightened in desperation, yet his voice came out in a frail, low murmur; "Please-- Please tell me," 

I love you. I love you. If only Roman could read minds. I couldn't conjure the words, not in this state. 

My silence only broke him further. Hopeless, he pressed his tear-stained lips to mine in a sheer cry for mercy. "Please," he whispered between repeated kisses I couldn't reciprocate. "Please-- Please--"

My fingers had managed to slip between the two top buttons of his shirt, and they now grazed the vial of my blood around his neck. As Roman continued to kiss me, desperately pressing my body up against his, I let out a sob as I twisted the capsule, just like I had once practiced; his breath hitched as I wrapped my hand around the vial, clutching it as I pulled it away from him without a word.

Roman's hold on my face disappeared as his hands floated an inch away from my face, his big eyes watery with hurt and confusion. 

I told myself it was for the best. The blood had poisoned his thoughts for too long. 

My first step away was slow, trying.

Tick.

Tick tick.

My second was quickly followed by a sprint down the hallway, away from Roman, away from Daniel, away from everything.

Tick tick tick.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

Have you ever thought about death? Of course you have, everyone has-- but have you ever felt it?

It felt like I was dying for the hundredth time this week. The agony was pressing at the sides of my head, and it made me hope it would finally cave in on itself just to spare me the torture of being awake. 

It was the fear that brought me to Letha's doorstep. The thing I didn't want to be true. Everything had balled up into a ginormous travesty of a boulder, and I could no longer try to push it over the side of the mountain-- I was no Sisyphus. 

I couldn't begin to comprehend how shocked Letha must've been when she opened the door. She opened and closed her mouth, scanning the mascara which had stained my cheeks, and the state of the top of my hair. "What the fuck?" she cursed under her breath, grabbing my hand to pull me inside. "What are you doing here? What happened?"

I felt like a shell of the person I used to be. Like I had been cracked open like a lobster, with someone actively scooping out my insides. Letha's house smelled of expensive fragrance sticks you'd buy from Rituals-- I recognized the one she had in her house at the moment, the ritual of hammam. It was her favorite, I remembered that much. I felt at home. It was an odd feeling.

"Your dress," Unsure what to do, Letha bent down to fix the way my dress fell. "Seriously, what happened?--"

"A while ago, you said you wanted to tell me the truth about Roman," My voice was sharp, hollow, as I stared at the girl who was once my best friend. I had cried into her shoulder before, we had shared countless laughs-- what had I done? "What was it?"

Letha stilled with shock when she straightened up, meeting my troubled gaze. "Shouldn't you be at prom?"

"Letha, I need!--"

"Where even is, Roman, actually?"

"You need to tell me!" I cried. "You need-- I need to know, I need to hear it from you, because I need someone to tell me that I've gone crazy!"

With slow motions, Letha stretched out her hands to place them gently on my shoulders. "Let's take some deep breaths, okay? Whatever this is, I bet you and Roman will get through this. Did you have a fight? It can be painful to argue with your boyfriend, and it really can feel like you're going crazy. I get it, and--"

"-- I have this book," I interrupted, feeling my tears press up against my lashes once more. "It's really long and dreadful, but I've read the whole thing over and over about five times now."

The worry streaking across Letha's face turned into a look of confusion. "Okay...? As long as it's not Fifty Shades again, I'm listening,"

It was odd to speak to someone that knew me so well. She knew I had read that stupid book several times, despite how ridiculous it could be at times. It almost threw me off. "The more I read the book, the more I saw the... similarities with Roman,"

Letha grimaced; "Fifty Shades?"

"No! The other one!"

"Oh, alright. Phew,"

I groaned, rubbing my temples. I was exhausted. "You said I deserved to know the truth about him, so I'm begging you, Letha, to put everything aside," My breath struggled to steady. "What was it?"

Her palms lifted from my shoulders. "I-- I don't know how to say it, or whether I should tell you at all. I only ever mentioned it because I thought you were in danger, but--" Letha stilled. It was clear on her face that she knew she had said too much.

"Danger?" I echoed. "Letha?"

With a quick hitch of her breath, Letha made her way past me with hasty steps and disappeared into the living room.

"Please!" I followed her, watching as she paced back and forth in the big room, anxiously biting her nails. "Letha, I need to hear it from you, I need to know that I'm wrong, I need to hear that it's something else than what I think it is!"

"I-- I don't, I can't!--"

"Tell me!"  I needed to hear it out loud. I burned to hear it from someone else than the voice in my head.

"N-No, I!--"

"Letha!"

"It's too-- I can't!--"

"Say it!" 

Letha stilled with the boom of my voice. She stared back at me from across the room, no longer pacing as she finally dared to face the crazed look in my eyes. There was a long pause, a silence that laid itself over us like a cold blanket-- "What book was it?" she breathed.

"The--" I hated this title. "The avoidable vampirism, the--" I couldn't say the word. I couldn't.

Letha nodded. It was barely noticeable, and it resembled an involuntary tic. "Yes,"

Yes?

"Yes, he is,"

"Say it," I whispered. "Please."

Letha closed her eyes, resigning;

"Roman's a upir,"

The house was dead silent. You could've heard a pin drop. There were faint remnants of the wind brushing past the large tree outside the property, with the rustling of the leaves filling the sonic void. Letha wasn't moving. Neither was I. How does one process such news? It was a peculiar feeling-- I felt like I had already known for a long time. There was no shockwave, as I had expected there to be. 

"Ah," was all I said. It left Letha to raise a brow, visibly off-put by my reaction. 

I nodded to myself a couple times, glancing around the living room I used to know better than the back of my hand. A small huff escaped me, similarly to a laugh; I wondered whether my brain was melting. It surely felt like it. 

For a second, I thought that was it. That there would be no blow to the reveal. That I was handling it surprisingly well, and that it'd be the end of it. However, the more breaths I took, the less I felt like I was breathing. The less I felt I was breathing, the more I could feel the painful thumping of my heart against my ribs, every beat serving as a reminder that I was still alive, still in this moment, still processing. 

My breath got stuck in my throat with the next heave-- my hands flew to my necklace, trying to find the clasp. It was too tight, too tight. With shaking fingers, I tried to get it off, needed it off, right now. It didn't work, no matter how hard I tried, and my eyes welled with tears as I ripped my necklace off with a gasp, hoping I'd finally be able to breathe. The beads rolled along the hardwood floors as I clutched at my chest, hitting my chest in hopes that air would fill it.

Letha's big, green eyes were filled with worry as she rushed to me, unsure how to help. "Hey, hey, breathe, okay?--"

The corset of my dress was suddenly an agonizing pressure around my waist, and my fingers went to the ribbons at the back to slacken it. It didn't work, no matter what I tried, and the sob I let out was followed by a broken plea; "Help-- H-Help!--" 

Letha hurried to get behind me as I slowly sank to the floor, choking on my tears as she untied the ribbons at full speed. My hands were tearing at my dress, choking with my last breaths as I descended into the heap of tulle around me-- I tried to scream, yet no sound would come. 

In a last attempt, Letha grabbed the ribbons with full force and pulled them apart, ripping the fabric in half as my corset finally came apart. 

What followed was a mix of a sob and a heave, a choked sound filling the room as I leaned forward into the tulle, taking sharp breaths of release. I could finally breathe. I was breathing again. I wept into my hands as Letha's soft hands stroked my exposed back, sitting down on the floor next to me as she brought my body as close to hers as she could. 

"I'm sorry," she whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "I'm so, so sorry."

I shook in her arms, drowning in tears. It was true. Roman was a upir. I had been right all along, yet I had also been stupid enough to suppress it. The sadness, the heartbreak, that hit me felt like a death-sentence, and I held onto Letha as my whole body trembled with the realization; "I love him," I cried. "I love-- I love him!"

"I know," Letha stroked my hair, sighing. "I tried to get to you before you got that far, but there always comes a point when you can no longer do anything. I've learned that the hard way, now."

This was worse than death. "What do I do?" I breathed. "I don't-- I don't know what to do!"

"... You know what you have to do," 

It only made me clutch onto her harder, and I squeezed my eyes shut in hopes of stopping the stream of tears. I wondered how I had any more of them in my system. "I don't-- think I can!"

"I only want what's best for you," Letha cooed, patting away my fallen tears. "And I know that Roman can be charming, and he can be very nice when he wants to be, but... now that you know what he is, how are you going to believe him ever again? He's lied to you all this time, and he would've never told you himself. You're aware that he's putting you in danger every time he's near you?"

I shook my head; "N-No, Roman would never!--"

"If you read a whole book about upirs, you probably know what he's capable of?"

"He'd never-- never hurt me!--"

"Maybe he wouldn't hurt you, but you know he can control people, right?" Letha sighed once more, tilting my head upwards so that I would meet her eyes. "He did that to me our whole childhood. His favorite thing to do in the winter was to make me stick my tongue on metal poles and watch me cry when I couldn't detach it."

What? "But!--"

"How can you ever be sure that your actions are yours?" Letha's eyes were so intense, so desperate to get her point across. "How can you ever trust him again?"

How many times hadn't I thought he was mesmerizing me? I could count them on my fingers, but the thought was still unsettling. "I... don't know,"

Letha shifted to sit on her knees, watching my mascara paint my cheeks with long, black streaks. "I'm glad you came to me," she murmured, softening her look. "I'm glad you see that I'm the only one that can help you. We should put everything behind us and stick together again, and we have to. I'm all you have now. Roman... he's dangerous. You're safe with me."

I was so, so tired. I didn't have the energy to fight the free help coming my way, yet... something felt off. "He's not dangerous," I tried, in denial. "He's--"

"He's what?" Letha insisted, hardening her gaze. This was giving me whiplash. "Seriously! He could snap any day, can't you see?! And who would be closest to him the day he's overcome with thirst?" 

"No!--"

"It'd be you!" Letha grabbed my face, and it only made my tears flow faster, hanging from my quivering chin. "It'd be you, and I can't lose you again, not in that way!"

The more my vision blurred, the weaker I felt. "I love him,"

"I know,"

"I-- I love him,"

"But you need to love yourself more," she whispered. Letha let go of my face, wrapping her arms around me in a warm embrace. She smelled just like she did all those months ago. My best friend, Letha. I missed her more than anything. 

How could I ever love anything or anyone more than I loved Roman? I didn't have space for that in my body. I didn't have the capacity. 

"Do it for your life," Letha pleaded, her voice smooth as honey. It felt like she was talking me to sleep. "Please."

A life without Roman? I couldn't imagine it. Not when we had promised each other forever.

But... forever for him probably meant forever. 

Roman is a upir. 

Roman is a upir.

I let out another cry into Letha's shoulder; this was a nightmare I wouldn't ever wake up from.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

When you get devastating news, you never think of what happens afterward. It's similar to when someone dies-- you get the news, in comes the shock, and then you get handed the papers on what to do with the body. No one ever thinks about having to design the flyer for the funeral, right? 

There is a certain weight in your body as you go through the motions you know you have to go through. Your hands feel heavy as you hold your next meal before your mouth, realizing that life moves on, whether you want it to or not. You still need to drink water, eat, wake up, and function. 

And just as I opened the door to my empty home, I felt all of that at once. I wanted to freak out and sob in despair to the end of my days, yet I had to get back home. I had to get out of the clothes Letha had given me after I ruined my dress, I had to eat something to fill my rumbling stomach, and I had to sleep. How was I supposed to do any of that when it felt like my world was crashing down on me?

It felt like someone had pressed a button at the top of my head, putting me on auto-pilot. I didn't even notice that I was still wearing my jacket as I made my way to the kitchen with heavy steps, mindlessly opening the fridge and taking a... cucumber?

Why was I holding a cucumber?

Fuck it.

I couldn't think. I didn't even close the fridge. My mind was empty as I put it down on the kitchen island, not even bothering to find a cutting board. I didn't want to think. The more I thought, the more I thought about Roman. Roman and his perfect lips, Roman and his beautiful laugh, Roman and his green, green, green eyes. Roman, the man I loved. Roman, the upir. 

Involuntary tears rushed down my cheeks as my face remained stoic. I was exhausted. I had no idea how I was still moving. My hands were mindlessly tapping the kitchen surfaces around me, hoping I'd somehow find a knife that way. Not that I'd be particularly successful, but maybe I didn't want to be? I wasn't even planning on washing the cucumber. Maybe I hoped the germs would kill me. Could you die from an unwashed cucumber? I had no idea. There was probably a higher possibility that Roman would kill me first. 

... I hated that thought. 

I wish I didn't have to have it.

However, as my hands found the selection of knives, I heard a sound coming from behind me. It came from the other side of the kitchen island, the one I had my back turned to. I didn't think much of it first; houses creak all the time, surely. But then came the scrape-- a deliberate, jarring screech of a chair being pulled out from the kitchen island.

My parents were out of town. 

Someone was in my house.

Someone was pulling out a chair.

I froze, every muscle in my body locking up, my breath catching in my throat.  The sound of slow, deliberate footsteps sent a chill crawling down my spine. They weren’t hurried or hesitant-- they were purposeful, unhurried, as though whoever was there wanted me to hear.

I gripped the counter with trembling fingers, my pulse hammering in my ears. I didn’t dare look back, but every inch of me screamed to run. My fingers brushed the cold handle of the biggest knife I could find, finally. The familiar fight-or-flight surged through me, but I couldn’t choose. All I could do was grip the knife and hold it as though it were a lifeline.

When the footsteps stopped, I thought for a moment that maybe, just maybe, I had imagined it. 

But then-- the breath.

A low, soft exhale just inches behind me.

Now or never. I spun around with a panicked yell, the knife held high, ready to plunge it into whoever had invaded my home-- My scream got stuck in my throat when the blade pointed at the chest of a tall figure standing in the dark, his face barely illuminated by the faint glow of the refrigerator light.

Roman.

Roman didn't even bother to stop me, didn't jump away, nothing. The tip of my knife was barely dipping into his solar plexus, yet I was sure it would've been enough to draw blood on any other person; it didn't even pierce his skin. 

I couldn't believe what was happening. He somehow didn't look like himself-- it was Roman like I’d never seen him before. His expression was blank, too blank, the kind of blank that made my stomach churn. He didn’t flinch at the blade hovering just below his sternum. His green eyes locked onto mine with a kind of detachment, as though I wasn’t holding a weapon to his chest at all.

“You done?” he said, his voice carrying an eerie stillness.

I couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. My knuckles whitened around the handle.

Roman’s eyes flickered down to the blade, then back to me. “Put it down,” he said, his tone measured but firm.

“No,” I whispered, my voice trembling.

Roman took a quiet step back, glancing down at the large knife I was holding at him with an unreadable emotion shimmering in his big, green eyes. "Right..." he huffed, sucking in a sharp breath. His gaze darted up to meet mine in the dark of the kitchen. "Is that how you want to do this?"

I didn't answer. I couldn't. There was no other way, not when I knew the truth. 

Roman’s lips parted, and the breath that escaped wasn’t human—it was low, steady, and calculating, like a predator sizing up its prey. His gaze locked onto the knife, then slowly dragged up to meet mine. His pupils were darker now, swallowing the green of his eyes, and the silence between us stretched too long.

“If you’re gonna do it, don't hesitate,” Roman's voice was soft, yet laced with something cold and merciless. He took a single step forward, the tip of the knife now pressing harder against his chest. “You won’t get another chance.”

I gasped, stumbling back, but Roman didn’t follow. He stayed in the shadows, his figure looming over me like some unholy force. “Fine. This is how it's gonna go,” he continued, his tone so calm it made my blood run cold. “You’re going to put that down and listen. No running, no screaming. I deserve that much."

I tightened my grip on the knife, my chest heaving. “Why should I listen to you?"

A huff-- Roman was pissed. "Cause I'm really not in the mood for chasing you. It'd be over in less than three seconds, and that's never fun," Roman's voice dropped to a near whisper; "You wanna fight me, or do you want to be smart about this?"

I didn't lower my knife. I couldn't. "Alright," I breathed. "Talk, then."

Roman tilted his head, studying me, his lips curving into the faintest ghost of a smirk-- it didn't reach his eyes. "There you go," he said. 

"Good girl."

(a/n: ... are u still breathing? cause I'm not!!!! AGHHH😭 thank you for reading this if you got this far, this is so so much lore so if your brain is overheating pls pls go grab an icecream, you deserve it, and I LOVE YOUUU MWAHHH CAN'T WAIT TO SHOW Y'ALL THE REST OF THIS STORY!!)

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[mrrharper]

mrrharper Masterpost

what's up bros

to make this blog a bit more accessible, this is gonna be an index of all of my stories and other stuff connected with me, neatly divided into themes

also hey, i have a discord server for horny bros that y’all should join asap - here's the link

everything's under this pic of a hot stud

Jock TF

Todd goes to a gym / Academic requirements / A Son, Reformed / Muscles In Chains / The Rookie's Figuring It Out / Headphones In, Guns Out / Waiting For The Roommate / Mandatory PE Class / A Real Jock's Supposed to Be Dumb / Cocky And Proud, By Accident / Elevator Malfunction / Former Friend / There Are Always Jocks / Desperation In College / The Jocks Of Dark Forrest College / Strings Attached /

Jock-focused

Under Armour Jock™ / Coach's Process of Developing a Jock / More Loyal, More American, More The Same / Muscle Memory / Inside A Jock's Mind / Script For A Jock / No-Trade Clause / Taming The Football Beast / Enforcing The Bro Code / Just Let It Go, Brah /

Cop/Soldier reprogramming

Programming Adjustment / Law, Order and Musk / Personal Muscle, Uniform Included / A Guard Programmed To Control And Obey / Summer Bootcamp / Army Surplus / Neighborhood Association / Another Cop For The Collection /

Gym Bro TF (and adjacent)

Gym Bro / Bro Advice / A Workout Break / This Is How You Recruit Gym Bros / Waking Up Huge And Jocked / Empty Eyes, Pumped Bis / The Grindset / Big Bro's Job / The Bro Zone Resort /

Inanimate TF

Not In The Exhibit Brochure /

NPC TF

Player Of The Month / Guarding The Base / Gamer Night /

Biker TF

Fitting Into The Gear /

Other stuff

Discord - I run a discord server for other horny bros, come join us

Commissions - I am open for commissions. Want me to write you a story? Check the linked post for all the necessary details

#AMA - you can see all the questions I have answered from previous AMAs under this hashtag

Ko-fi page - you can support me and my work on ko-fi

[wordsfromthymouth]

yours, always

𓇬 jealously is unbecoming, but sometimes unavoidable. and shunsui needs to remind his wife she’s the only one for him 𓇬

‪‪❤︎‬ pairing: shunsui kyoraku x f reader : readers physical description is as non-descriptive as possible for inclusion

< for anon ‪‪❤︎‬ i kinda meshed your request with another idea i had wanted to write about, for me these themes are part and parcel when you are with a man like shunsui. hope you like this, writing it had me bricked tf up >

warnings: 18+ smut. kids don’t fucking read this. light angst, established relationship, traditional themes, reader is jealous, safety’s off (raw), cock warming, crying, pet names, praise, the only thing that pulls out is his couch. word count: 4k

Shunsui was not an aggressive lover, passionate certainly, and above all else, persistent. His yearning adoration for you was always prevalent, like a quiet, simmering hunger. Never sated.

His gaze always found you, in every room, everywhere. Sometimes you'd catch him looking, and you'd see it in his face. He looked at you like it meant I love you.

He told you every chance he got; sometimes, it was with tooth-achingly romantic confessions; other times, it was lustful whispers that made you go hot in the face.

He also loved to touch you, casually or intimately; it didn't matter. For him, it was just another way to show you his love.

He'd play with your hair, hold your hand and draw circles against your palm, rub your back as you fell asleep, or come up behind you and press his face against your neck, breathing in your scent like you were the sweetest-smelling flower.

Almost every night you’d find yourselves wrapped up in one another. Much like his personality, he liked to fuck the same way. Always patient and gentle, he had no qualms about who took charge and never demanded—it was a complete surrender to you.

He was not one for quickies; if it could be avoided, he preferred to draw out your time in bed. A slow, leisurely pleasure, languid touches, and deep kisses. He liked eye contact; at first it made you feel self-conscious, but the way he marvelled over you like a man obsessed, you soon learned to love every second he had his gaze on you.

Sometimes he praised you with sweet words; other times he'd say the filthiest things, but he made them sound like prayers when he spoke to you.

Even those rare times either of you were too tired to fuck, he’d lay you on your side, holding you close against his chest. His scruffy face nuzzled against your neck, skillful hands caressing your body with no real motive.

Slowly, he’d rut his hips against you, sliding back and forth against your core until you were dripping wet. Then, and only then, would he push inside you, burying himself to the hilt.

He wouldn’t move, though; he'd keep himself there, stretching you out to feel comfortably full, and you'd lie in his arms, feeling him breathing slow and deep at your back until you'd both fall asleep. 

It was intense and passionate, borderline addictive. Even after so many years together, those feelings never dwindled. His penchant for slow and steady was one of the things you enjoyed most about him. It taught you to stop and enjoy the little things, you found you were less anxious and more easygoing.

It wasn’t without its criticism, though; as a captain, he was chastised for being too relaxed; few even questioned the decision of him being promoted to head captain. He was often mistaken for being lazy and apathetic, but you saw beyond that.

His humble disposition and easy nature allowed him the ability to choose his moment; he decided what to worry about and what took space in his mind.

He’d worked long and hard to hone his skills over many centuries, becoming an exceptional fighter and problem solver, which gave him the freedom to spend more time enjoying life's pleasures: napping, drinking, playing games, and, of course, fucking. 

The latter had been no secret; even before you had been together, you'd heard plenty of stories from his younger days, chasing women and frequenting the yūkaku district—he'd had his fair share of experience, and it earned him a reputation that made him very popular, especially with other women.

It was to be expected; he was handsome, charming, and had a flirtatious demeanour that drew people in. He was generally well-liked amongst the squads, always friendly and eager to make others feel good with compliments or kind words.

In the early days of your relationship, it was a little difficult for you to stomach. Watching how women fawned over him when he passed or how they batted their eyelashes when he spoke to them made you feel uneasy.

It helped that he seemed to be unfazed or at the very least uninterested in the attention he received from others, and when you finally admitted how you felt, he listened intently.

Never bothered or upset by your feelings, his focus and motivation were only on you and your affections. He may have been a womanizer, but he was also very faithful, and eventually your concerns eased.

But sometimes, no matter how you tried to avoid it, it still secretly irked you.

This day had been one of those days; it started out with a letter. It was early; you and Shunsui had been in his office drinking your morning tea—a daily ritual for you both.

You were reclined in your usual spot, the lounge chair by his desk, while he mulled over his paperwork for the day. He’d been busy sorting through the piles when he noticed something.

"Where'd this come from? I've never seen it before," he said, prompting you to look over to the red envelope he was holding up in his hand.

You couldn't see anything written on the outside of it as he flipped it over; your eyes fell to the sea of papers scattered about his desk, stacked from end to end, and you laughed lightly.

"How can you keep track of anything in that mess of a desk?" you teased, taking a sip of your tea. Shunsui tapped the envelope against one of the stacks of papers, giving you a lazy smile.

"I'm almost certain I don't remember it being here yesterday," he shrugged, ripping open the envelope.

Curious, you stood up and walked around the desk to stand at his side; he absently reached an arm out, wrapping it around your waist, and you leaned in closer to see what it was.

The letter inside was addressed to him, from a member of the fourth squad, Chiyo Nakamura. You thought you recognized the name as one you'd read on the list of new squad admissions from the previous month.

Your eyes skimmed over the neat script and then widened when you saw that it wasn't merely a letter but a romantic confession. 

Your initial reaction was surprise, followed by a tiny, fleeting feeling of jealousy, which didn't last long. It was clear she was unaware of the head captain's marriage, and it was an innocent enough admission, nothing vulgar or flagrant.

You respected that and her nerve—a new squad member, not even at an officer's level, propositioning the head captain took serious guts.

Shunsui let out a huff of air as he set it down, a noise falling somewhere between disbelief and humour.

"You have an admirer," you said, giving him a sideways glance. He laughed, pushing the letter away, and turned to you, his hand reaching for one of yours. 

"Flattery, nothing more. Looks like she hasn't met my beautiful wife yet," he said, giving you his most charming grin. You smiled, and moving to sit in his lap, you pulled him in for a kiss.

That afternoon, the two of you took a walk to the markets. Shunsui was sitting by the sake hut; he sipped on his drink, admiring you from a short distance as you continued walking through, looking at all the goods.

You were looking for a gift for Nanao, and you’d stopped at an inkstand full of beautiful stationery. You then heard some excitable chatter coming from the sake hut, and you looked back to find Shunsui surrounded by a cluster of students from the academy.

They were talking animatedly, and you paid them little mind as you busied yourself with picking out a new inkpot and brush for her.  

After a few minutes you heard them say their goodbyes; some of the girls from the group walked past the inkstand, close enough you could hear their conversation.

“He’s so handsome!” One of them whispered, and the others nodded in agreement.

“I know, I can’t believe it! Oh, I hope I can get into squad one,” another said, clapping her hands together. 

“Do you think he’ll take on another lieutenant? I might apply for that position under him." 

That last comment was more than a little suggestive, and they all giggled amongst themselves. You felt that jealous streak jabbing at your emotions like a sharp knife again, only stronger now, making you feel irritable. You sighed in frustration, and after paying the vendor, you made your way back over to him. 

“All finished?” He asked, turning to look at you fondly.

You suppressed the urge to snap at him; you knew it wasn’t his fault the girls were fawning over him, just like it wasn’t his fault that young woman from squad four wrote him that confession.

They were young, and it was harmless crushing, but you couldn't quite hold it together, and you didn't want to tell him either. You needed some time alone to calm down.

“Yes. I’m going home; I have some things to take care of,” you said, tight-lipped. Shunsui raised an eyebrow at that but didn’t object.

“I will be there soon then,” he replied, kissing your hand before you turned and flash-stepped away. 

True to his word, he arrived home shortly after, and you purposely busied yourself with several things that certainly didn’t require your attention as urgently as you made it seem, but you needed to stub out the sour mood you’d found yourself in since being at the market. 

Shunsui was no fool; he picked up on it almost immediately but didn't impose. He kissed your cheek when he came in and then went off to do his own thing, giving you the space he knew you needed, damn him.

It just made you more frustrated, his thoughtfulness and patience. Just once you wished he'd get annoyed back so you could feel justified at being angry with him, but it wouldn't happen.

The rest of the evening went on about the same; you kept to yourself, avoiding him like the plague. At some point while you were making dinner, you'd started to feel a little silly. You were practically hiding from him at this point, and it didn't make you feel any better.

You were upset with those girls, upset at him for not being upset, and now, more than anything, upset with yourself.

You could've just told him how you felt, but you'd been stubborn, having wanted to rid yourself of this mood all on your own. It had only made things worse. You shoved those thoughts aside, focusing on preparing and serving dinner instead.

The Kyoruku family, being a noble family, had servants, but you didn’t allow them to serve meals. You prided yourself on taking on that role; having come from a common household, you admired your mother's dedication to caring for the family and your father.

You maintained that in your marriage with Shunsui, even a little jealous flare would not disrupt that. 

Dinner itself was quiet; you didn't speak much. The whole time he didn't push, didn't prod, just left you be, occasionally speaking out about his day or matters that you could listen to without having to reply. Afterwards you bathed and retreated to bed early, while he lounged outside drinking sake.

The moon was full that evening; you’d left the fusuma cracked open, and the light of it cast bright streaks across the floor of the room—both you and Shunsui liked to leave it open on warm nights; your bedroom overlooked the gardens and the koi pond.

The sounds of crickets chirping and the flowing of the water were normally a perfect combination to make you fall asleep, but you’d been in bed for nearly an hour, wide awake. 

The truth was, you were accustomed to being held. Shunsui always held you when you went to sleep, but his side of the bed was still empty, and you were too damn stubborn to go find him and drag him into bed. So you turned over onto your side, facing away from the vacant spot, and willed yourself to sleep.

When Shunsui finally came to bed, you were fast asleep. He moved silently, taking off his hairpins and eyepatch; he then stripped down to his samue. Padding lightly across the floor, he kneeled down next to the futon where you were lying on your side, your back to him. 

He lay down next to you, curling an arm around your waist, and you stirred, becoming aware of the feeling of his lips pressing against your bare shoulder where your robe had slipped down. He hummed against your skin when you let out a soft whine. 

“Mhmm, I’m sorry, did I wake you, sweet girl?” He asked, his deep voice soothing. You rubbed your eyes, slowly waking up.

His hand was tracing patterns along your belly, kisses trailing up to your neck. You leaned back into him unconsciously, finding comfort in his presence despite the tiny flare of anger still burning quietly in the back of your mind. 

“So…” Shunsui continued, his hand moving down to the curve of your hip, pulling the silk duvet back with it as he did.

“Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?” He murmured, tugging the tie at your waist loose to let it fall open, and he slipped his hand underneath to rest against your bare thigh.

Your breathing hitched, but you still wouldn’t speak; instead, you tilted your chin up to allow him more access, and he began to press open-mouthed kisses right below your jaw. You could feel yourself getting wetter the more he continued, heat spreading throughout your body.

The calloused hand on your thigh slipped between them now, and you felt him pull your leg back to hitch over his own, opening you up for him. 

You held your breath as his fingers trailed down your stomach, inching lower and lower, until they just barely skimmed over your core. You arched into his touch, trying to get him where you wanted him, and he chuckled against your skin. 

“Ah, ah, ah… Only good girls that use their words get what they want,” he said playfully, pulling his hand back and moving to cup one of your breasts instead. You whined then as he gently tugged on one of your nipples. 

“I should’ve known you wouldn’t speak that easily; you’re far too stubborn for that,” he grinned as he pressed himself closer to you, and you couldn’t help but moan when you felt his hard length against your ass.

You reached behind you, snaking a hand down between your bodies, and cupped him outside of his pants.

“Please…Shunsui. Don’t tease me,” you whispered, looking back to see his face.

His gaze was intense and hungry, you could feel him throbbing against your hand. You watched him then bring two fingers up to his mouth, and wet them, before finally tracing them along your slit.

He swiped them back and forth a few times, sending little sparks of pleasure pulsing through you each time, and you let out a soft moan as he slid them inside, two at first, and then, with some effort, three. 

Your body opened up with ease as he worked them in and out of you. Your pussy greedily pulling his fingers in deeper, the wet squelching sound would’ve been embarrassing if it didn’t feel so good. 

Your head dropped back against him as his thumb pressed against your clit. You could feel yourself getting close, your body clamping down around his fingers. 

“Look at you, squeezing me so tight,” he murmured.

You couldn’t even muster a reply as you felt your orgasm teeter on its edge, your breath coming in shallow pants. You felt his mouth at the shell of your ear, and it sent chills up your spine. 

“That’s it…that’s it…” He whispered, feeling you pulse around him as you tipped over the edge.

He didn't stop until you were squirming, pushing his hand away, and gasping for air. He pulled them out, bringing them up to his mouth once more, and a broken moan left you at the sight of him licking them clean. He chuckled softly at that, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Don’t worry, I’m not done with you yet. I just wanted a taste," he said, leaning down to kiss you.

It started sweet but turned hungry fast, a mess of tongue and teeth, and when you pulled away, you were breathless.

“Get on your back,” you panted.

He did, and you wasted no time sitting up and pulling open the shirt of his samue; your own robe lay discarded on the floor. His clothes swiftly followed, tossed haphazardly to the side.

“Come here,” he whispered as he laid back against the pillows.

You moved over him, straddling his waist, and he gritted his teeth at the feeling of your warm, wet pussy pressed against his stomach.

His cock jumped in anticipation, pulsing eagerly against your ass. You ignored it for the moment, leaning down to pepper kisses along his neck and jaw, your hands roaming over his body. 

His hands found your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples, and when you began to rock your ass against his neglected cock, he tsked disapprovingly.  

“Mhmm, now who’s teasing?” He said, his voice husky and strained. He leaned forward and caught one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking greedily.

You felt yourself clench around nothing, your core dripping against his toned stomach; you needed more. You kept your eyes on his face, watching his reaction as you lifted your hips to line him up with your entrance and slowly sank down on his length.

His hands gripped your hips, eyebrows knitted together, mouth parted slightly as you inched further and further down until you sat flush in his lap.

Shuddering at the stretch of him. He dropped his head back against the pillow, cursing under his breath at the feeling of you fully wrapped around him.

“Oh, my girl, you feel like heaven,” he groaned.

You leaned down against his chest and began to grind against his length, slow at first, until soon you were rocking against him in earnest. He moved in tandem with you, hips driving up in short, shallow juts.

“Shun…sui…harder…” You gasped, desperately. 

He obliged you, his arms wrapped around you, and then he was flipping you both so you were on your back, with him above you. 

His hands found the backs of your thighs, pushing them against your chest, and he leaned forward so that your calves were resting on his shoulders, his weight not crushing but firm above you. Your hands grabbed at the futon as he slid back inside you. 

It was deep, so much so it felt like your breath was punched out of you as he bottomed out, the angle enough for the tip of his cock to brush against your cervix. 

It wasn’t painful, but it left you with an overwhelming feeling of fullness, like he was everywhere.

You sobbed as he began to move, your head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut. It felt like you were being split open now in the most wonderful way. The sound of his throaty moans drew your attention back to him, and you looked up at his face.  

His brow was furrowed, his good eye squeezed shut in concentration, as if fucking you was an art. His hair was down, falling around him in loose tresses that framed his near-perfect features.

From his full lips to his hooked nose, even the glaring scar that ran through what was left of his right eye, he was so handsome. You reached up to stroke the side of his face, and he turned his head to kiss the inside of your palm; the gesture made your chest ache.

You felt so lucky to have a man so wholly enthralled by you that the jealous bubble popped, and soon it was replaced with a sinking feeling of guilt. 

Tears pricked your eyes, and you turned away, trying to hide them, but it was no use. Shunsui stilled above you; one of the hands that was braced against your leg moved up to cup your cheek, concern painted over his features. 

“What’s wrong, my love? Is something hurting?” He asked between heavy breaths.

His tone was so sweet, and you let out a quiet sob. His face was now very worried, and he tilted your chin up to look at him. 

“Hey, hey… What is it?” He asked.

You shook your head, reaching up to wipe your eyes, feeling a little embarrassed. 

“It’s nothing... I’m… I’m just being silly…” you said admittedly, stifling any further cries. He didn’t look convinced. 

“Nothing is silly if it makes you feel this way,” he said knowingly, and you sighed. 

“I just… I was a bit upset today…” you started. 

“Was it the letter?” He asked, and you shook your head. 

“That only bothered me a little bit, it was when we were at the market,” you said softly. His brows pulled together in confusion. 

“What happened at the market?” He asked earnestly. You looked away again, feeling a little ashamed. He thought back to the afternoon, replaying the events over in his head.

“Was it the students?” He finally asked.

“Yes… The girls said some things about you as they passed me… and it just… I don’t know… It’s ridiculous. I know I shouldn’t care; it’s just…” You trailed off.

“It made you feel jealous,” he said, and you nodded. He tutted softly and hugged you to him. A warm laugh rumbled in his chest. 

“Oh, my love… I’m sorry it upset you. It’s okay to feel that way sometimes. If it helps, I can’t even recall their faces; I was too busy looking at you,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You laughed a bit and opened your mouth to speak, but then he started moving again, and your words caught in your throat.

“Mhmmm… Don’t even remember what they looked like… How could I when my pretty girl was standing right there…looking like a goddess?” He continued casually, his pace picking up until you were being jolted with each movement. 

Your hand reached down between your bodies, and you fisted it around his cock, making him slide through your fist and into your pussy with each thrust, the added friction making his own orgasm approach fast, and he sucked in a breath at the feeling.

“Does that feel good, Shun?” You whispered, and he groaned out some semblance of a reply as he felt that tingling sensation at the base of his spine.

“Do I make you feel good?” You pressed on, squeezing him harder.

It made you preen hearing him fall apart for you like this, that familiar feeling inside you building up once more as he fucked into you.

“Yes…so good… Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum,” he panted out, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Please, I want it… I want you,” you said desperately, your arms wrapping around his neck.

“I’m yours, my sweet, I’m yours,” his voice shook as he spoke and when his hand reached down to rub your clit, it sent you careening over the edge once more. 

You cried out as pleasure ripped through you, pulsing hot and fast, and Shunsui followed, only seconds after.

Pressing himself deep inside you, burying his face in your neck as he spilled into you. His voice in your ear, chanting over and over again. 

“I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m yours.”

Soon, the waves subsided, and you both lay tangled up in one another, sweat-soaked and utterly exhausted. Shunsui was dead weight on top of you, but you didn’t mind. You held him close to you, breathing in his scent.

After a few minutes he shifted to move, and you clung to him desperately, not wanting to be pulled apart.

Rather than pull away, he held you against him as he rolled over, pulling you to lie on his chest, your knees tucked against his sides. His now-softening cock still inside you.

He pulled the blankets back up over the two of you, and you tucked your head under his chin, pressing one last kiss against his throat. You both drifted off to sleep. 

[chvoswxtch]

Romcom - with Hotch ? 👀🫶🏼

Girl i’ve been waiting for the right time for you to hopefully take this and do your thing with it cuz you’re amazing. I know it’s specific and long so pls feel free to do with it what you like. Also I’m not sure it fits your movie night theme, so then maybe just keep it for when you maybe do wanna write it???? Here it is, whatever….

K so like hotch and reader are like couple goals, been married long, working through everything and are just downright adorable BUT THEN hotch nearly dies…like for real gets shot in the stomach or something - something real scary. And aaaaall the time he’s mumbleling stuff, reassuringly or scared like: you cant tell my wife she’ll end me or tell her I’m fine, gonna be home for dinner…

But maybe she’s there and she’s trying her hardest to make everybody move, but Morgan is just not having it, making her stay tf back…

When she finally sees him she’s s c a r e d…so terrified of might having actually lost him, of it happening again cuz he will be in these situations again and who is she if not supportive and understanding…just scared and hopelessly in love. bye.

honey you essentially just wrote a whole ass masterpiece on your own

but you asked for my dramatic flair & I am nothing if not a dramatic bitch that lives for the ✨ t h e a t r e ✨

headcannon below the cut

if i stay starring aaron hotchner

derek knew you would physically fist fight him in the middle of that hospital hallway if he even dared to try and keep you out of hotch's room. he kept trying to reason with you, that you wouldn't wanna see him in that state, but you were not in a state of mind to be reasoned with

when you got the call from rossi that your husband was in the hospital, that familiar stone of dread sank in your stomach, nearly sending you through the floor. he didn't say what had happened, not over the phone, but you could hear the fear in his voice, which terrified you

the solemn faces of his team didn't help ease your anxiety, and the grisly details sent your nervous system into a full on meltdown. you could only pick up bits and pieces of what the surgeon explained

gunshot. loss of blood. critical condition. touch and go.

being in the bau was a dangerous job, and hotch had gotten hurt a few times over the course of your marriage, but it had never been this bad

nothing could've prepared you for the sight of hotch bruised and bloodied, laying in a hospital bed, connected to a bunch of wires that were keeping him alive, with an oxygen tube in his nose to help his weakened lungs do the most basic of human subconscious functions

panic, fear, anger, hopelessness, desperation, sadness; all of these emotions were crashing over each other like perilous tides and you were drowning beneath their tenacity

hotch was the strongest person you knew, physically and mentally. he was your rock. to see him reduced to something so fragile and broken shattered something within you. it wasn't like you were foolish enough to think your husband was invincible, but he was smart and cautious, he knew what he was doing. but today reminded you just how human he was

all you could do was sit there by his side and hold his hand while you fluctuated from silent weeping to full fledged sobbing. it didn't feel like enough, but it was all you could do. you couldn't help but replay this morning over and over in your head, analyzing every frame. had you told him you loved him? had you kissed him before he left? had you savored the few seconds before he walked out the door, not knowing that he might not walk back through it?

"don't tell my wife."

you'd been sitting there for what felt like an eternity in silence with nothing but the haunting background noise of beeping machines and chatter in the hallway. it was so faint, you almost didn't hear it. hotch still looked like he was sleeping, and you weren't sure if you'd imagined it or not

"what?"

you leaned in a little closer, and when he let out a deep exhale, the first sign of life you'd seen since you stepped into this room, you almost burst into tears

"don't tell my wife."

his speech was slightly slurred as he mumbled, and you weren't sure if it was due to the blood loss or the anesthesia that was wearing off from surgery

"why not?"

he was so out of it he didn't even seem to recognize your voice

"because she'll kick my ass."

you couldn't stop the laugh that escaped your lips at that, covering your mouth with your hand while the most imperceptible of a smile tugged at the edge of his lips

"I promised i'd be home for dinner."

giving his hand a gentle squeeze, you sniffled and wiped at your damp cheeks with a sad smile

"i'm sure she'll understand if you're a little late."

a sound that was a cross between a snort and a scoff left hotch as one of his thick dark brows subtly arched

"you haven't met my wife."

brushing your thumb over the back of his hand, you reached out with your other to gently push his hair back

"maybe this is a cosmic sign it's time for a vacation."

in the midst of gently carding your fingers through his hair, the next words that left his lips caught you off guard and made you go still

"maybe it's time to retire."

a full minute of silence passed, and then slowly, hotch's eyes opened, and as if drawn by some invisible magnetic force, the immediately found you

the pressure of him squeezing your hand, a silent gesture of not just reassurance, but also his strength returning, had tears welling up in your eyes all over again

hotch slowly turned his head to look at you, his eyes wandering over your face like he was trying to memorize every detail, and then a gentle but weak smile graced his mouth

"I won't be late for dinner ever again, honey."

I made myself emotional and now i'm gonna go cry excuse me

[berryispunk]

Like A Song Stuck In My Head

Before @thedrabblecollective's challenge kicks off tomorrow—and after meeting the characters yesterday—here’s the intro story you’ll want to read before diving into the drabbles themselves.

pairing: Frankie Morales x ofc (Firefly)

tags: alternate universe, takes place after TF events, all the music references, rockstar! Frankie, dual POV, addiction, drug mention, cocky Frankie, strong female lead, ANGST, strangers to???, falling in love, some harder themes, dive into mental health (later), emotional turmoil, eventual smut for later chapters, curse words

general summary: Like a Song Stuck in My Head follows Frankie , as a troubled guitarist chasing a second chance, and Firefly, the sharp-tongued bartender who sees through him. What starts in a dive bar becomes something deeper—until it all falls apart. Some connections burn fast. Others never fade. Some songs never leave you, even when the music stops.

word count: 2,5 k

moodboard done by my dear friend @guelyury. gracias, bonita!

main series navigation

Firefly’s seen plenty of boys with guitars. But none like the one on stage tonight—wild waves for hair, sweat-slicked and electric like a live wire, half-drunk on adrenaline and something sharper. Frankie Morales, lead guitarist of Thorns of August, doesn’t just play—he moves like the music’s tethered to his soul, like it’s the only thing keeping him from flying apart.

She wipes down the counter with a practiced flick, half-watching from behind the bar. Not that she’ll ever admit it.

Donna leans in beside her, arms crossed, gaze steady on the stage. “The boys are good, right?”

Firefly shrugs. “Guess they’re decent.”

Donna smirks, all tough-love and mischief. “Guess the fish boy’s got an eye on you.”

That’s when she looks up—and catches Frankie’s gaze locked on hers like he’s been watching her all along. He doesn’t look away. Just smirks, cocky and smug, before turning back to his guitar like she hasn’t just caught him staring. She rolls her eyes, but there’s heat curling low in her chest.

After the set, he swaggers over, guitar still slung across his back like a weapon or a trophy. Pupils blown wide, jaw tight—wired as hell but humming with something she can’t name. He taps the bar with two fingers.

“Whiskey. Double.”

She gives him a once-over. Band tee snug, silver rings, that look in his eyes like he thinks she’s already fallen.

She pours the whiskey. He knocks it back in one go. No wallet.

“You gonna pay for that?” she asks, cool.

He grins. “I already did. Just played your sad little stage, didn’t I?”

She doesn’t blink. “If you don’t pay, I’m throwing you out. Couldn’t care less if you’re Mick Jagger’s long-lost bastard.”

He laughs—slow, full of bite. Peels a crumpled twenty from his back pocket and tosses it onto the bar like a challenge.

“Are you always this uptight, hermosa?”

She meets his gaze, unflinching. “Are you always this insufferable?”

—

She walks away before he can come up with something clever, sliding down the bar to serve a pair of regulars who actually tip. Doesn’t spare him another glance. Frankie watches her go, elbow braced on the counter, still riding the high—everything too bright, too fast, too much. But somehow, she cuts right through the noise.

It’s the way she moves—like she owns the place, like the world doesn’t get to touch her unless she says so. The sharp line of her jaw. The tattoo curling over her collarbone. No rain, no flowers.

And the way she doesn’t smile when she doesn’t mean it. That part floors him.

He thinks about tossing out something flirty, one of his usual throwaway lines. But it feels wrong here, flimsy—like trying to play a song with all the strings snapped. She’s not playing the same game. And it bothers him.

Later that night, the crowd’s thinned to the half-dead drunks and the regulars too drunk to find the door. The stage is dark, gear packed, Benny’s laugh echoing somewhere near the exit. But Frankie’s still at the bar—leaning, lingering. He’s not sure why. He tells himself he could leave, find some girl if he wanted to. He’s done it before. But tonight, he doesn’t. Tonight, he stays. Eyes drawn to the fiery redhead behind the bar who hasn’t smiled at him once.

“You still here?” she asks without looking up, wiping down the counter like she doesn’t care if he answers.

He shrugs, trying to look cooler than he feels. “Band’s packing up. Thought I’d keep you company.”

She flicks a glance his way. “You look like you’re two seconds from kissing the floor.”

He grins, all teeth. “Wouldn’t be the worst way to go.”

She huffs out something like a laugh, but it’s dry. Noncommittal. Still, he takes it like a win.

“You get high like this every show?” she asks after a beat, genuinely curious now.

He leans in, cocky. “Only the good ones.”

“Then that explains it.”

That makes him laugh—rough, real. He rests an elbow on the counter like he plans to stay a while, like maybe he belongs here now.

“What’s your name?” he asks.

“Firefly.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Bullshit.”

She shrugs. “That’s what people call me.”

“You got a real name?”

“Yeah, but you haven’t earned it.”

That hits somewhere deep. He covers it with a smirk, but inside, it throws him off balance. People usually hand him what he wants. She just tossed him back on his ass without even trying. 

He doesn’t know it yet—not through the static in his head or the ego propping him up—but something shifted. And in the weeks that follow, he keeps showing up. Even when they’re not playing. Even when he says it’s for the drinks.

It’s not.

—

It starts on a quiet night. The kind where the jukebox hums low and the only customers left are nursing heartbreaks or hangovers. Frankie’s at the bar again—this time not high, not vibrating out of his own skin. Just tired. Guitar case propped beside him like a loyal dog. She slides him a soda without a word.

He nods. “Thanks.” No smirk, no wink. Just that low, scratchy voice that’s somehow softer without the coke in his system.

She leans in, arms crossed. “So what’s your story, Guitar Boy? You always this broody when you’re sober?”

His smile twitches at the corner, crooked and real. “Only when no one claps for me after a show.”

She rolls her eyes, but something in the stillness makes her pause. He’s not performing tonight. Not selling the charm, not trying to win anything. Just sitting there, present. So she cracks, just a little.

“I used to study literature,” she says, fingers absently tracing the condensation on his glass. “Had this whole big idea of being a teacher. A writer. Romantic kind of broke, you know?”

He doesn’t interrupt. Just watches her, like he knows better than to speak yet.

“Then my mom got sick. Bills piled up. Took a break from school to help out. Never made it back. Ended up here, in a city I never meant to stay in, behind a bar I didn’t plan on working at.”

She shrugs like it doesn’t sting anymore. Maybe it doesn’t.

“But... I don’t know,” she adds, quieter. “I’ve grown to weirdly love it. The noise. The chaos. Donna. Even the semi-decent bands that roll through.”

He lifts a brow. “Semi-decent, huh?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

But the corner of her mouth curves, and this time the smile isn’t forced.

After that, he starts showing up more often. Not every night, but enough that she notices when he’s not there. Always sober now, or at least trying to be. He comes in quiet, nursing a soda or nursing nothing at all, just resting in the hum of The Shack like it’s the only place that doesn’t expect anything from him.

They talk. Not deep all at once, but in fragments. He’s a better listener than she expected. When his pupils aren’t blown wide and his hands aren’t jittering, Frankie has this way of being still—really still—like he’s storing everything she says to turn it into music later.

One night, she tells him about her favorite poetry book. Just mentions it in passing while wiping down the bar. Doesn’t expect him to care.

But a few nights later, he walks in, looking sheepish, a little unsure, and drops a worn copy of the exact book on the bar between them.

She blinks. “You can read?”

He chuckles, fake offended. “A few words, yeah.”

Then, almost shyly, he adds, “I read some of it. It's kinda like songwriting, just… quieter.”

It catches her off guard. The honesty. The humility. For a moment, her armor slips—and she lets herself smile. Not the sharp one she wears with drunk guys and rockstars. A real one.

He doesn’t try to kiss her, doesn’t push. Just sits there with his soda and the book between them, like maybe that’s enough.

—

The weeks blur.

Frankie doesn’t know when the shift happened. Maybe it was the way she said you haven’t earned it with a half-smirk and fire in her eyes. Maybe it was the book—how she lit up talking about it, how her voice softened like she forgot to keep her guard up.

So he buys it. Reads it. Not all of it, not at first. Just enough to underline the lines that feel like her. He keeps a notebook in his bag now, scrawled with half-finished lyrics and fragmented thoughts that make no sense unless you’ve been inside his head for weeks.

“you speak like everything’s temporary / but your silence stays with me.”

“she keeps her name locked in her teeth / dares you to ask for the key.”

She haunts him. Not like a ghost—no, Frankie knows ghosts. She’s worse. She’s alive. She’s red hair under cheap bar lights. She’s rolled eyes and soda cans slid across the counter. She’s the only thing that makes him feel sober when he’s high.

But she never lets him all the way in. Even when she laughs at something he says. Even when she leans closer without realizing. Even when she tells him about the professor who once said her words made people feel too much. She always pulls back, just before it gets real.

It drives him mad. Not angry-mad. Addict-mad. Desperate for a hit, and she’s the cleanest thing he’s ever wanted.

So when show night comes, and the green room smells like sweat and spilled beer and Benny passes him a bump, Frankie doesn’t hesitate. The coke floods him like always—confidence, chaos, clarity, then none at all. He’s wired by the time they hit the stage. Sound blaring, blood boiling, eyes darting for her even while he’s mid-solo.

He spots her eventually. Behind the bar. Laughing, not at him.

Some guy’s leaning over the counter, too close. Talking with his hands. She looks uncomfortable—but polite. Frankie sees red. Doesn’t care that the guy’s just a customer. Doesn’t care that they’re mid-set. He drops the guitar mid-song.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he snarls, stumbling off the stage.

It happens too fast.

The guy mouths off. Frankie swings. Benny jumps in. Chairs scrape. Bottles crash. Someone throws a punch that wasn’t even meant for them. Suddenly the whole bar erupts. Santi grabs Frankie from behind, pinning his arms before he can lunge again.

“Enough, man. ENOUGH!”

Frankie’s breathing like a wild animal. Coked out and furious. Mind buzzing with static and the taste of blood.

And then—

He sees her.

Across the chaos. Still behind the bar, where she ducked for cover. Her eyes on him, not scared. Worse–disappointed. Like she’s watching something she’d hoped wasn’t true unravel right in front of her.

Donna’s voice cuts through it all. Sharp and final.

“Get out. All of you. You’re done here.”

Frankie doesn’t hear what else she says. Santi’s dragging him toward the door. Benny’s bleeding from the lip. The crowd’s yelling. Cops are probably on the way.

But all he can think about is her gaze.

It follows him out the door. Lingers in his chest even when the cold hits. And for the first time in a long time, Frankie feels something worse than the high wearing off.

He feels shame.

— 

The bar smells like stale beer and regret.

Firefly unlocks the door with a click that echoes louder than it should. Her head throbs from too much adrenaline and not enough sleep. She barely drank last night, but she feels hungover anyway. Emotionally wrung out. The kind of tired that seeps into bone.

She steps inside slowly, like the chaos might still be waiting for her.

The place is trashed. Not totally wrecked, but enough—a few chairs overturned, a crack in one of the front mirrors, and a smear of something dried and dark on the floor near where Benny got hit. Donna stayed late cleaning up most of it, cursing under her breath the whole time. Firefly stayed too, silent, scrubbing until her hands ached, not saying much. Not about him.

The cold air clings to her skin as she props the door open to let in some fresh light, grabs the broom, and starts sweeping. She’s barely a few swipes in when she hears it.

Boots on pavement and she freezes.

Frankie stands there, half-shadow, hands shoved in his pockets like he’s trying to hold himself together with nothing but denim and shame. He looks like hell. Hoodie, sunglasses, hair a mess. The whole hungover rockstar programm. She knows he’s sober—can feel it, somehow. But that doesn’t make it better.

Her heart sinks so fast she almost misses it.

But she straightens, shoulders squared and voice flat, despite her inner turmoil.

“You’re lucky Donna’s not here.”

He flinches like she slapped him. Takes one hesitant step closer but doesn’t cross the threshold.

“I just…” His voice cracks, then clears his throat. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

She stares at him.

Not because she doesn’t believe it but because part of her wants to and that’s the worst part.

“You should go, Frankie.”

“Please,” he says, like he’s begging now. “Just—just let me explain. Let me—”

“No.”

It’s final. Her voice doesn’t shake, even if her hands grabbing the broom do.

“You think I haven’t seen guys like you lose it before?” she says, eyes icey. “You think I haven’t had to clean up after someone who let the high talk louder than their heart?”

He swallows hard, but doesn’t argue. Just stands there, all wrecked and quiet, which is even more deafening somehow.

She doesn’t wait for him to answer. Doesn’t give herself the space to waver—because if she stays in that doorway, looking at him all shattered and sorry, she just might. But this was never her battle to win. Never hers to fix. And it never will be.

Firefly steps past him, into the darkened bar, and flicks on the lights.

Fluorescents hum above her as the door creaks shut behind her, echoing in her ears.

He doesn’t follow. Thank God, he doesn’t follow.

And the second she’s alone, it all crashes. The broom clatters to the floor and her hands tremble even harder. She presses her back against the wall and slides down to the tiles. The first sob rips out before she can stop it, raw and ugly and real.

She wanted to believe he was different. That the quiet nights and stolen conversations meant something.

That maybe she didn’t have to keep everyone at arm’s length forever.

But last night reminded her why the walls exist and why she can’t afford to let them fall.

thanks for reading 💌

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[lovekabaneri]

TF Monster hunter AU fic "In hindsight"

I wrote a new fic inspired by @keferon TF Monster hunter AU.

Here's a link to AO3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63512290

Summary: Basically Brainstorm and Quark watch a conspiracy tv show about ancient monsters and as a mech of science, Brainstorm is dismissive of all the crazy theories. He laughs and says it is just bogus… only to end up discovering vorns later that these theories were true and it was actually him.

[extension announcement]

[Next story =>]

Story:

Brainstorm was a mech of science and cold, hard facts. And a bit of an ego, and maybe a bit of a crazy scientist streak… alright and maybe a bit too ready to test the limits of what is possible. You get the point.

Because of his personality, he was not very liked both in the academy and the scientific field, yet… even a mech like him managed to somehow find love. He and Quark were fellow students and then co-workers, they had worked together for many vorns, so it was weird to him how he still could not understand how Quark could fall in love with him. Before he could make sense of it all, he and Quark were conjux and moving in together.

………………………..

It was one of those slow and gloomy days on Cybertron, the night was dark with clouds blocking the sky and absolutely POURING outside, so the streets were empty of all traffic. It was a quiet time.

*Du-dun-dudu-du~!*

Music was playing from the screen in their shared hab, the sound loud and clear enough to be recognizable from all the way to Breinstorm’s little lab at home. A mix of dramatic tomes and techno music – absolutely gating on Brainstorm’s audials.

“Ugh! That thing again.” – he groaned and got up.

It was obvious he was not going to get any work done, with the annoying show now on and Quark really enjoyed watching it a lot, so he couldn’t really tell his conjux to turn it off, so he got out of his little lab and headed for the living area to get himself a cube of energon and maybe sit together with Quark.

“Oh, so you decided to finally come out of your lab, Storm?” – Quark was already sitting on the couch with a cube of energon in one servo.

“Well, not like I would have been able to do much at the moment. I still don’t understand why you watch this thing.” – Brainstorm said but sat down beside his conjux and settled comfortably as the show was starting.

“What? It is fun and I like watching all the ridiculous conspiracies they talk about – it is a good way to relax. If I remember correctly, you were also laughing last time we watched Cybertron Dismantled.” – Quark quirked an optic ridge.

“W-well… How can I not laugh at their stupidity?! They were talking complete bogus!” Brainstorm gestured at the TV “Magic? Immortals and Gods walking among us? A monster living in one of the seven oil pools near Cyplex? And don’t get me started on those supposed ‘monsters’ and ‘demons’! The Spark Eaters! We learned about the Age of Hunters in the academy. All those so-called monsters were just different types of beastformers. Like Grimmlock.” – he ranted, almost spilling his energon.

“Haha! You sound even more invested than me in this show with the way you are talking about it.” Quark laughed and put a servo on his conjux’s shoulder “Now, shush, it is starting.”

With a grumble, Brainstorm quieted down and just drank his energon.

On the screen, the theme song and introduction was finally done, the glyphs spelling out the show’s name flashed one last time before the feed cut to a darkened studio with two mech figures sitting in the dim light. Lights turned on, but unlike previous broadcasts, the studio was made to look like a room with a projection on the wall, making it look like they were standing by an open window with a storm outside. There were even occasional flashes and fake thunder sound, reminding the viewers of the storm currently outside.

[Good day or night, dear viewers. It is me, your host, Skidtrace.] – a flashy brown and gold mech with a dark visor smiled, his dentae glinting even in the low light.

[And I am Tsoul, the truth seeker…] – the second mech said, being more muted color of black and light green with facial markings and a distinctly spiky helm shape.

[And we are here, LIVE from our studio to share with you the TRUTH! In today’s episode OF-]  -Skid trace bedan.

[[CYBERTRON DISMANTLED!]] – the two said, with Tsoul being quieter and Skidtrace almost shouting.

Brainstorm winced a bit at the loud noise while Quark smirked from his side – the traitor!

[As you have noticed, we have decided to do something a bit different, compared to our usual broadcasts.] – Skidtrace gestured to the background.

[In theme with the current acid rain sweeping the region, we have decided to discuss a ‘being’] Tsoul made air quotes with his digits [That many of you, fellow seekers of truth, might have only vaguely heard about.]

[This episode is dedicated to a lesser-known story from the region of the Lithium flats and the surrounding areas like Vos, Nyon and Tarn. It is said than on stormy nights like these, where acid rains pelter the planet and electric storms light up the skies, a lone figure could be seen zipping through the clouds, the sound of thunder following it as it chases the lightning and tears through the skies! The legendary Thunderbird!] – Skidtrace said enthusiastically.

[It is quite an ancient legend, coming from the Age of Hunters or the ‘Dark Ages’ as some have started calling it in recent times.] Tsoul said with a composed tone, unlike his fellow showrunner [Today we are going to look through the many facts and myths and reveal to you the truth about this ‘mythical beast’. What is it? Could it be real? Or is it something that the government is trying to hide?]

[What are you talking about, Tsoul? Of course it is real! It is one of my favorite stories from home, before I came here to Polyhex! A mysterious beastformer from ancient times, a mythical being even! Flying through the acid rains like it is nothing, bringing with it lightning and thunder!] – Skidtrace gasped in mock offence.

[I know you are biased, being from the area, but we are a reputable source of information and we have to work with facts.] -Tsoul levelled his co-host with a look.

“Feh, yeah right, facts! Nothing factual about made-up conspiracies.” – Brainstorm scoffed.

“Shh! It is getting interesting and I am actually invested in this Thunderbit thing now. Maybe it is some kind of recluse beastformer, living away from civilization or maybe even an undiscovered species.” – Quark said, humoring the show but also honestly interested to see where it is going.

“Quark, you can’t be serious, there’s no creature that can do all that they are saying-]

[You should be aware that a living creature like the Thunderbird can’t exist, not even some of the bravest seekers would dare brave the storms, considering what kind of damage the acid rain and lightning can do to a mech.] – Tsoul continued.

“See, even the crazy guy agrees!” – Brainstorm exclaimed, only to be shoved by Quark.

[Then how do you explain all the myths, sightings and, this time, actual historical proof!] – Skidtrace fired back.

This was their usual routine most of the time, the two hosts having radically different conspiracy theories and trying to convince the audience theirs was right. Skidtrace leaning way into the ancient mythos or magic, gods and the unexplained. Tsoul leaning more to the sci-fi side of things like parallel dimensions, aliens and so on.

[Oh, what is that proof? Other than the very blurry pictures that we have found buring our research? None of which are clear enough to see much, considering they were taken during heavy storms.] – Tsoul gestured to the background.

The projection of a window was replaced by a conspiracy board with different blurry pictures on it. The two hosts started discussing the pictures and the smudged shapes on it, arguing about whether it was actually a bird or a shuttle doing an emergency flight, or maybe an UFO.

[Well, take a look of this, dear viewers! And Tsoul.] Skidtrace said dramatically, adding his partner’s name as an afterthought [With the help of some of my fellow mystic enthusiasts, I got access to a special piece of evidence from the Cybertronian museum of history!]

Then the doors to the studio opened and a few bots with the mark of the museum wheeled in a display cart. A mech that was obviously someone important followed them close by, watching with a careful optic as they brought in the covered cart.

[Dear viewers, say hello to Dictatus, one of the lead curators of the museum!] – Skidtrace introduced.

“Wow, maybe this time they do have actual proof? If the museum really is sponsoring this…” – Quark muttered to himself

“Eh, at least it is better than the ‘ghost’ episode we watched. How ridiculous, the spirits of dead mechs return to the Well, they don’t haunt things. The apparitions were obviously trick of light or due to radiation. And the noises were either from faulty machinery in the abandoned building or due to a scraplet infestation.” – Brainstorm scoffed.

“Yes, maybe that was so, but you have to admit it was a fun episode. You have to admit there are still thing unknown to us out there, ‘Storm.” Quark looked at his conjux “It is why we both became scientists, right? To challenge the boundaries and discover the unknown.”

“Yes, you are right-“

“Plus, it is really fun watching all the crazy theories fly around! It would be SO ridiculous if at least ONE turns out to be true! I know all my colleagues would short-circuit because of it.” – Quark couldn’t help but chuckle as he imagined some of his more annoying colleagues glitch and stutter.

“That is very unlikely to ever happen, but I do have to say I would like to see it.” – Brainstorm added.

As they watched, it turned out the mech known as Dictatus had only come to the show to promote the new exhibition his sector of the museum was doing. It was free advertisement and they would actually get a small sum as compensation for their time, so the museum won in said deal, only having to show on a conspiracy show to collect all the benefits.

“Judging by his face, I don’t think Mr. Curator is too happy to be there.” – Brainstorm remarked.

[And now, for the grand reveal!] Skidtrace gestured and pointed at the cart dramatically [Witness, the indisputable proof of the Thunderbird!]

The cart was uncovered and the camera zoomed in on the item inside the cart display, protected by a thick glass case. Inside was a carefully preserved, if quite weathered, old poster. Both Brainstorm and Quark couldn’t help but lean closer to inspect the piece on display. It looked to be made of old parchment, the kind they used in ancient times before they had datapads, it was a miracle it had survived for so long. On it were ancient glyphs that were faded and a bit smudged. Neither of them could read what was written in the old language, but it was clear it was a wanted poster, judging by the pictures and reward money written below, looking all too similar to current day ones. The picture was also more of a sketch than an actual picture, since photos were not available at the time of its making.

“That is-“ – Brainstorm began.

“Yeah?” – Quark’s eyes focused intently on the screen.

“That’s one really weird and fragged-up looking bird.” – he finished.

“Brainstorm!” – Quark shoved him.

“What?! You know I am not lying!” – he poked his conjux back.

And it really was very weird looking beastformer of some kind. Its root mode was all weird, had a yellow beak-like mouth, sparking eyes, yellow claw-like servos and some weird growths? They were on its back, on its arms and dangling from its back. It stood all odd and hunched, the most normal thing were probably its pedes, since they were at least normal. The drawing next to it was supposedly what its alt mode was supposed to look like-

And it was even weirder! Somehow! It looked like a bird beastformed but with the wrong shape – the beak was too long, the eyes in the wrong angle, int body too flattened, had somehow gained 2 smaller wings by its head along with the two deformed-looking wings that were WAY too far back, again, there were odd growths sticking out of a few places and some long strands dangling along its back.

“This… This doesn’t make any sense! There’s no way such a being would be able to fly!” – Quark pointed at the second drawing.

“See! What did I tell you – bogus!” – Brainstorm crossed his servos.

[As you can see, the fact that the Order of Primus – the biggest hunter organization at that time issued an official wanted poster of the Thunderbird! If you could introduce us to what has been written on this relic from the past, sir Dictatus?] – Skidtrace gave the word to the curator.

[Of course. It is a pretty rare specimen and time took its toll on the pigments used to write this, but we’ve managed to translate the message. It says: “Wanted! Dead or alive. Monster bird of thunder and lightning. Highly dangerous. Reward 100 000 credits.” Or at least that’s the best translation we could make from what’s left of this wanted poster. Apparently, this individual was tr-] – Dictatus started explaining.

[Yeah, yeah! I get it all that, BUT! What’s more important is to ask- Is this REALLY the mythical Thunderbird?!] – Skidtrace rudely interrupted the curator.

[Yes…] Dictatus almost revved his engine, just by looking at his faceplate it was clear he was not happy to be interrupted so rudely [There is no actual mane put on the poster, since the so-called ‘monsters’ were never called by their names, but the description of ‘bird of thunder and lightning’ could be also called Thunderbird.]

[Here you have it, viewers! An irrefutable proof of the Thunderbird’s existence!] – Skidtrace declared.

[Heh, I would not be so sure, dear colleague.] Tsoul finally joined the discussion [Just look at the drawings, at the odd way your ‘Thunderbird’ looks. Such a creature could never fly, not to mention live for so long!]

[But-] – Skidtrace began.

[BUT I have a much more plausible theory as to this ‘being’s’ existence!] Tsoul stood up and started walking, the camera followed him [As you know, back then majority of mechs were monoformers, unlike today when all have developed the ability to transform into an alt mode, even having triple changers in rare cases. Back then, the fearful, more primitive mechs labeled beastformers as monsters, solely because they were different, as a way to explain it to themselves, they blamed some sort of dark force for their abilities. So, what do you think they thing of something unknown? Are you following me?]

[Uh… no?] – Skidtrace scratched his heml.

[What I am trying to say is that this ‘monster’is no monster at all! The mechs of that time saw something odd, unexplainable, so they made it into something they could understand easily – a bird beastformer. But, no! It was not a beastformer! It was a SPACESHIP!] -  Tsoul suddenly proclaimed.

[What?! How can it be a spaceship?! They didn’t even have electricity back then!] – Skidtrace countered.

[That’s exactly it! THEY had no way of knowing what a ship was, so they called it a weird bird monster! Look at these! These look kind of like the wings of a shuttle! And these ‘growths’ in the back – they are fuel cables! Or charging diodes! Maybe the reason it was flying through the storm was to recharge its engine with the electricity from the lightning! The ancient mechs connecting that to the ‘bird’ actually bringing the storm. They were quite superstitious back then.]  - Tsoul nodded his helm.

At this point, the museum workers looked on the verge of just packing and leaving the two show hosts to argue.

[Then what are you suggesting?] – Skidtrace scowled at his partner.

[This is no living being! It is a spaceship! ALIENS!] Tsoul said loudly [An advanced race from another planet, much more developed than our own visited Cybertron in the times of yore and THIS is one proof of such aircraft being seen by our ancestors and written off as another of the ‘monsters’ that were being hunted at the time.]

The show then devolved into a very heated discussion of which conspiracy theory was the ‘correct’ one – whether it is some mystical monster or actual advanced alien life that the government is hiding. At some point, the museum staff just packed their things and stormed off in frustration all while Skidtrace and Tsoul argued about Monsters vs Aliens.

Quark had a good laugh at the crazy conspiracies that were shared and also because at some point Brainstorm started arguing back th the screen how stupid the hosts were.

“Ugh! I can’t believe I lost so much time on this stupid show!” – Brainstorm grumbled.

“Come on, you liked it! I also had a good laugh, so I can’t say our time was wasted. You got really into it at one point~” – Quark teased.

“Don’t remind me! There’s no way such a thing could have ever existed. Neither the mystic monster, not the so-called alien spaceship! It was just a bunch of nonsense and no one just pointed the obvious that maybe the artist was really bad at drawing pictures!” – Brainstorm pointed out and received a laugh from Quark.

……………………………

It would be vorns later, when Quark started getting sick and was diagnosed with an incurable spark disease, that Brainstorm did the unthinkable.

He managed to invent a time machine and went back in time to the ‘Dark Age’ to try and save the one called Perceptor, in hopes of using his research and equipment to help cure his conjux.

He found the mech… only to discover Perceptor was a Spark Eater, a deadly monster only heard in horror stories and fiction, and that he was on the verge of starvation. Needless to say, Brainstorm was lucky that he survived the attack. Then, he realized that Perceptor did not have any advanced equipment, HE himself was the equipment used to detect (or more correctly taste) the defects in sparks.

After that, a lot of things happened – the two were chased by the hunters as heretics, they ended up having to run for their lives and eventually ended on a crew of monsters that were looking for a safe haven. Brainstorm might have been a bit stuck, since his machine got damaged in his initial scuffle with Perceptor, but the two worked well together to develop a cure for Quark. Life was going well.

……………………………..

One day, Brainstorm and Drift had to go to a nearby town to get supplies for their travels. The two donned robes and cloaks to hide themselves. The cumbersome, restrictive material felt awful on Brainstorm’s wings but it was not like he could go without it. He was too recognizable and different from the monoform mechs of the time.

They were passing by stalls offering different types of crystals and metal when Brainstorm noticed a board with different sheets of parchment nailed to it. He approached out of curiosity, noting the different notices posted on it and… the wanted posters…

Criminals, crooks, murderers and ‘monsters’ like those in his crew. It was then that he noticed IT. It was a familiar-looking poster from his memory files. He had seen it long ago on the TV, but this one was brand new. All the glyphs were clearly visible and no parts were smudged or faded. Brainstorm had quickly learned this time’s language and writing system to be able to work with Perceptor and the others, so he was immediately able to translate the poster.

“Wanted! Dead or alive. Monster bird of thunder and lightning speed. Highly dangerous and fast. Travels with a group of other dangerous monsters and a titan. Reward 100 000 credits.” – he read to himself.

It was then that it hit him. The ‘fragged-up’ bird he mocked on TV was HIM! And that ‘weird growth’ was actually Perceptor clinging to his back for dear life! The memory was still fresh in his processor – the two were chased by hunters and were cornered, the storm was coming and Perceptor was injured, so Brainstorm had been forced to reveal his jet alt form and fly to safety. Poor Perceptor had wrapped his prehensile limbs around his frame and was clinging for dear life the whole flight. Obviously not used to a jet’s high speed. And the ‘thunder’ was him breaking the sound barrier for a second in his haste.

‘Well, as they say hindsight is 20/20. When I get back and Quark hears about all this, he’ll probably collapse from laughing too hard, especially after learning most of the conspiracy theories turned out to be true.’ – Brainstorm thought.

“Hey, ‘Storm! Hurry up and get your aft moving! We have errands to do!” – Drift pulled him away from the wanted poster.

“Alright, alright! Don’t pull me so hard.” – he grumbled and followed the younger beastformer.

He was going to get the cure, fix his time machine and return to Quark. He was a genius, one of the smartest mechs out there and failure was NOT an option for him!

[iluvbuckets]

before you read and masterlist <3

'*•.¸♡ welcome to my blog ♡¸.•*'

❥ i currently am only writing paige bueckers x reader fics

❥ this is just for funsies, so i write when i can or want to in my free time and publish as soon as they're finished :) i still try to get at least one work out a week, though (but don't hold me to that)

❥ REQUESTS: i do take them. i try to work on them as soon as i get them, but i'd rather take my time to find the inspiration for it, no matter how long that takes, than rush and put out something sloppy :) if you sent me one and i haven't replied, there's a good chance it's started in my drafts!

❥ i will NOT write smut about minors, so anything with hopkins!p will contain no adult content :)

⚠️ DISCLAIMER! ⚠️ if one of my fics contains smut, it will more than likely be sub!paige. sometimes vers!paige, but those usually still include sub!paige themes. but the dynamic is ALWAYS included in the warnings (both for smut/non-smut) so please read them :)

COLOR KEY: includes smut – pink no smut, fluffy – blue – (does not include angst) no smut, angsty – red – (may include fluff as well)

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ MULTI-PART/SERIES ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

╰┈➤ WILD THOUGHTS paige had always just been your brother's best friend. your little brother's annoying best friend. on a typical summer trip to your family's cabin, you start to realize maybe Paige isn't so little and annoying anymore. wc: 9.3k

➥ PART 2: I WANNA KNOW PEACE AGAIN it's been almost a year since you last saw paige. you had been trying to deny the tension between you two, but when you find yourself at her wnba draft party, there's no denying that she is much, much more than your little brother's annoying friend. wc: 6.3k

➥ PART 3: coming soon!

╰┈➤ SCHOOL GLOBES you and paige had been best friends since you first moved to minnesota in 7th grade. you had never really considered yourselves to be anything more until one night when you're studying in her room, you find yourself leaning in. wc: 2.2k

➥ PART 2: HOW CAN WE GO BACK TO BEING FRIENDS? wc: 2.7k

➥ PART 3: WHEN I'M WITH YOU wc: 824

╰┈➤ CONCUSSION PROTOCOL you and paige are teammates on the dallas wings and she takes a hard hit to the head in the second quarter. wc: 2.1k

➥ PART 2: GAME TIME DECISION after the wings vs sky game where paige took a hard hit to the head from an opponent, she is placed under concussion protocol. you had a particularly intense reaction to the hit, and it does not go unnoticed by the women's basketball fans. now, there was already speculation that you two had a romantic relationship on social media, but this only added fuel to the fire. the overwhelming concern and worry for the possibility of her having a serious head injury has new, deeper feelings you had never considered before bringing themselves to the front of your mind, and you begin to wonder if maybe those comments were right all along. wc: 27k

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ONESHOTS ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

╰┈➤ UNTITLED you and paige are best friends. one night you come over to hang out, expecting paige to either be on her ipad or sat in front of her tv on the playstation. instead, you find her hiding in the bathroom, overthinking about hateful comments. you try to reassure her–if sticking a hand down her pants counts as reassurance. wc: 3.1k

╰┈➤ MY HAIR after her first two months of games where paige sported a slick back ponytail, she suddenly shows up to a game with two dutch braids leading back into a low bun. it was slightly different than her previous iconic game day hair, but everyone went crazy over it. wc: 1.1k

╰┈➤ SHE'S MINE paige is starting to crash out a little before one of her games, and you decide to help her relax. wc: 1.6k

╰┈➤ TAKE IT LIKE A TAKER you and paige are freaked tf out wc: 4.6k

╰┈➤ FLEX FOR ME paige had invited you to come with her to a late-night solo practice session and you agreed, expecting to finally be able to finish the book you were reading. however, you quickly find yourself unable to tear your eyes away from her biceps and neglecting the book altogether. you just hoped she didn't notice. wc: 4.3k

╰┈➤ CAN I TRY? paige tries your strap for the first time wc: 1.7k

╰┈➤ BUT I JUST CAN'T REFUSE (COMING SOON!) you were almost sure this was a form of purgatory. all you wanted was for paige to do something–anything–that proved that you weren't just an afterthought. you begged and begged and begged for her to love you the way she did in the beginning, to do more than the bare minimum, to stop making you feel like you were too much. but that was a year ago–when you were still together. now she's doing all those things like she never stopped and you're making promises you can't keep that keep her hanging on. you know you should've walked away a long time ago, but you just can't bring yourself to let her go.

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

hiiii, omg i would absolutely adore more of vampire rhysand fics, especially from that universe you created with them all vampires, will there be more? maybe when reader is turned, she can finally take both azriel and rhysand👀👀👀 or maybe to explore rhysand's relationship with her maybe nesta or someone from her family sneak in to the ball to steal reader back but rhysand is like nu uh tf

those are just some of the ideas that popped into my head, i love your writing and your smut💖

You must be psychic because I had literally just opened up a Word Document to try and write another Vamp!Rhys fic but couldn't figure out where to start!

I've got some ideas, and was thinking about doing some Monster Themed Fics for Spooky Season (More Vamp!Rhys + Bat Boys, maybe a Werewolf or Demon AU) if I can get my thoughts in order enough. Until then, pls enjoy a possessive!vamp!Rhys ;)

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Mine

Content Warnings: Slight SMUT, Possessive!Rhys, Blood and Gore

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“I’m bored,” Rhysand says by way of greeting, as he throws his lythe body onto the chase across from where you sit, curled up in a reading chair in the library.

 The sun sets behind you, the golden rays peeking in through the blackout curtains that usually remain closed during the day. Most of the horde sleeps through the day, meaning, if you let your body’s natural rhythm guide you, you have the entire manor to yourself. And of course, you use most of that time to peruse the thousand year old vampire’s massive collection of books. There’s so many organized on the floor to ceiling shelves you’re not even sure you’re promised immortality will give you enough time to read all of them--that doesn’t stop you from trying, however.

The vampire lord remains in the shadows of the library, the crack of sunlight just far enough away to not burn his otherwise unbreakable skin. Sometimes you think it’s a shame he can only go out at night, while it’s true he looks his best under moonlight, the golden hue of the fading sun makes his bronze skin glow like a god. You’re tempted to set down the book in your hands and climb into his lap, unbutton the already half open shirt and run your tongue over every golden inch of him. Time has not dulled the need you feel for him, even after all these months, he’s still as tempting as he was the first time you laid eyes on him. 

“There are a number of things you can do in this manor,” you say, ignoring your instincts and going back to the fantasy romance you’ve been devouring for the last hour. In truth, the smut on the page before you might also play into why your mouth is practically watering at the sight of him. You’re right at the good part, and your mind is torn between finishing the chapter and indulging your own fantasies with the very real, and very eager, vampire before you.

“Not entertaining enough,” he whines. 

Your eyes still on the page as you try and think of something to offer him. He hasn’t been able to throw another ball in nearly a month, not after a group of vampire hunters had come rolling into town. Their presence had been tiresome and even Azriel, for all his talents had not been able to figure out who’d tipped them off and brought them around. Rhys had initiated an indoor ban on the whole horde just to keep everybody safe. That meant for the most part, everyone had been living off of sheep’s blood and well, you. Mostly the sheep’s blood though. Rhys had threatened to keep you locked in his room, for only his enjoyment if Azriel didn’t stop leaving so many bite marks in your thighs--his favorite place to feed from you apparently. There were more than enough bite marks across your throat to give the others pause before they tried to drink from you these days. And it hadn’t helped that Cass had snuck out and nearly been caught, drinking from a barmaid in an alley three nights ago. Everyone was on edge. 

You glance up at him over the top of the worn pages in your hands. He keeps an arm thrown over his eyes, as if, even the little bit of sunlight filtering passed is enough to hurt him. Aside from that, he lays with one long leg tossed over the back of the couch, his shirt untucked and unbuttoned, the swirl of ink across his chest on full display. His dark hair is tousled, falling messily over his forehead. He had to have come directly here from his bedroom.

You look back down at the paragraph you were reading, the spicy scene practically leaping off the page at you, then back up to him as you bite your lower lip in thought. It’s usually him that initiates your interactions, him that dictates how and where  you take him. You don’t mind. Truth be told, you love being able to let go of everything and let him dominate you in whatever way he sees fit. It is the height of your pleasure, knowing he could so easily break you, and yet he doesn’t. You think meeting him might actually have put some pieces of your soul back together, rather than shatter them further and you love him all the more for it. And now, in that freedom, you can’t help but wonder if there are still other things to explore?

“We could play a game?” You suggest, voice softer than you mean it to be. Neither of you have ever talked about switching things up. Why mess with a good thing, right? But he’s here, asking, and the idea is literally in your hands as you speak, like fate prompting you to try something new and exciting. It can’t hurt to ask, right? He’s never denied you anything before.

Rhys spreads two fingers over his face, so you catch a glimpse of one, gleaming, violet eye. A grin spreads across his handsome features, fangs glinting in the scarce few rays of sunlight left. There will be nothing but starlight here soon, the plain of existence made solely for him. The others may live in the dark, but it is Rhys who thrives in it. “I’m listening.”

You draw a shaky breath. It’s just a question. No harm can come from a question. But how exactly do you suggest… this? You glance down at the pages again, trying to see if they even gave it a name for you to offer him, but there’s nothing but the promise of pleasure blurring across the pages.

Gathering your courage, you unfurl your legs from beneath you and cross the distance so you can climb onto his lap. Those thighs might have been made just for you, muscle shifting to let you get comfortable as his hands settle on your hips. He sighs contentedly, like this is something he’s been missing as you settle your weight against him.

“I was reading this book and these characters are…” you scrunch your face, trying to explain without sounding crass and failing. A blush works its way up your cheeks as you shove the open book into his hands. “Maybe you should just read it.”

He takes his time, tongue slipping out to wet his full lips as he reads. You count every breath he takes in the silence, watching his face with rapt attention to try and gauge what he’s thinking about it. He’s a master of schooled expressions, always collected and together, but after all these months, you like to think you know his tells. Yet, as he reads, there is no gleam in his eye, no obvious indication of arousal from where you sit over his hips. There is nothing but careful calculation as he reads--and maybe rereads, judging by the time it takes him--the pages.

Finally he closes the book and sets it down on the floor. “You’re suggesting we do that?” 

It’s hard to identify if that is amusement or irritation in his voice and you find your heartbeat quickening regardless of which it is. “I-if you want.”

“That’s not what I asked, Little One,” he tuts, hands resuming their rightful place on your hips. His thumbs stroke gentle circles into your skin, a move that can turn either teasing or cruel at a moment's notice. 

“I don’t know, you said you were bored. I thought maybe, you know, since we haven’t had a ball in awhile you might want to…” the word sticks in your throat and you swallow as the intensity of his gaze pins you in place. “You know… hunt.”

His eyes light up at the word. “And you want me to hunt you?”

Your thighs clench involuntarily at the thought, a move that doesn’t go unnoticed in the slightest. He grins wolfishly, gaze pinned to where your hips rest over his. He could have you right here, like this and he knows it. All it would take is a couple rocking motions of his hips, a slide of his fingertips beneath the thin silk of your top, teasing up bare skin until he can play with your breasts and you’d surrender. He could drink his fill and take you just as you are, right here and now. But there’s no challenge in it, no fun to be had, and he wants you to tell him you want it. Want him like that.

You’d be a liar if you said you’d never thought about what he would feel like if he let loose his control and showed you just how much a monster he was capable of being. You knew that even if he lost his usual composure, he would never hurt you. Even his basest instincts would balk at the thought of causing you pain. If you said you wanted it, he would make sure that you enjoyed every minute of it.

“Yes,” you say softly.

He sits up, swinging his legs onto the floor, moving you with him. His hands slide over your hips to your ass, squeezing playfully as you squeal in surprise over the sudden shift in position. “What are the rules to this game then?”

Your heartbeat quickens in your chest. You’re actually going to do this.

“I want a ten minute head start,” you say slowly, mind spinning. 

He hums as he leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Done. What else?”

“No going past the gardens.” There is enough yard between the manor and the perimeter walls that you could still feel like you were outside without risking an encounter with a hunter. 

“Agreed,” he kisses the opposite corner of your mouth.

“If you catch me-”

“When I catch you,” he says, lips pressing to my chin.

“If you catch me before the end of the hour,” that gives him a total of thirty minutes before the clock chimes, “then…” It’s not like you’ve never talked dirty before, but still, your cheeks are a deep set of red as you say, “then I am yours to do with what you wish.”

His eyes gleam, fangs glinting as he leans back and grins like he’s already won. “And if I say I want to be so deep inside you that every sorry hunter for miles will know your mine regardless of where I find you?”

You clench your thighs again, or attempt to, this new position in his lap doesn’t give you a lot of room to do so. “If you can find me.”

He slides you effortlessly off his lap, but you find, given the nature of the way he’s looking at you, that your legs feel weak already. “You should get going. You’ve only got ten minutes, Darling.”

You waste precious time leaning down to capture his lips in a quick kiss, but you don’t care. Every kiss, every touch is worth the lost time. He is a promise of endless time, of boundless freedom and new adventures, time is never wasted with Rhys.

He pulls away with some difficulty. “I’m still counting,” he warns.

You grin as you turn and sprint out the library, leaving the doors wide open as you run. It occurs to you now that you’ve never actually seen him hunt outside a ballroom. There’s a lot of strategy to those hunts, as you’ve observed, but he’s never had to chase anything. He’s like a spider, waiting patiently for his prey to get caught and stuck in his web for him to devour. You don’t actually know how fast or strong he is. He certainly has a heightened sense of smell, but how heightened?

You know you want to make it outside, just to let him feel like he’s getting out of the house, but going straight out the back door would be too easy. You run up the stairs to the second floor instead, then into one of the many empty rooms and unlatch the window. This might waste more of your precious time, but still, you’re curious to know if he’ll save time and run right out the door, or if he can actually follow your scent. 

Carefully, you climb onto the roof and pick your way across the slanting tiles, until you reach the side of the manor where tree branches reach for you. The gardens outside the estate are massive, their own little forest, and with the gates closed, the gardeners haven’t been around to trim the trees. Branches that would normally be clipped to keep the leaves from collecting on the roof have been allowed to blossom and you find a sturdy one and nimbly walk across it like a balance beam. He may be the expert hunter here, but you spent years outside the Spring Estate, back when your parents were still alive, exploring the massive gardens and climbing the trees. Until your Governess had dragged you back by the ear, yelling about your ripped skirts and scraped knees. Hardly the lifestyle of a lady, they’d said. You couldn’t care less now as you climb, hand over hand through the dense leaves, moving from tree to tree. This is familiar yet different, you are far more free here than you had ever been back home.

Anticipation sits hot and heavy in your lower belly as you move. It’s hard to tell how much time you have left and you need to decide if the plan is to just keep moving or to hunker down and hide in wait. 

When the trees start to thin, you finally clamber down onto the damp floor below and take a good look around. There are certainly plenty of bushes to hide under, but that feels… boring. 

You glance over your shoulder, the trees blocking out the moonlight that has now replaced the earlier sun. Shadows cling to the trees providing ample cover, for both you and the predator you know is coming. 

You bite your lip. You want it to be a challenge. So you keep moving, ears straining for any little sound that might indicate your ten minutes is up. Every rustle of leaves makes a shiver run up your spine, heart thundering beneath your ribs. It’s a heady sort of rush that makes you laugh as you break into a full on sprint, wind tearing at your loose hair. 

This is freedom. Unbridled and unrestrained, there are no limits on what you can do or want, and right now, you want exactly what he promised you.

You slow to catch your breath, the trees thinning as you come closer to the hedge maze on the far side of the property. There’s usually a whole slew of string lights bobbing overhead, so partygoers can see past the towering hedges full of roses and attempt to find the bubbling water fountain at the center of the maze. It’s a showstopper when lit, but right now, it is dark and unyielding and you inch your way towards it with more than a little trepidation. It would be a good place to make him walk through to get to you, but some of the hedges are so thick and overgrown it blocks out the light, and you do not have the night vision of vampires, not yet.

A twig snaps behind you and you jump with a hand clamped over your mouth to keep from screaming as you turn to face the noise. There’s enough moonlight to see by out here, but there is no familiar shape stalking towards you. There’s nothing there at all but the trees and the maze at your back.

You give yourself a little shake to calm your nerves as you inch backwards towards the opening of the maze, still anticipating Rhys’s sudden arrival. One step back, then another, until you can almost feel the shadow of the hedges against your back. It’s a degree colder within it than outside of it.

The first bit of darkness covers your entrance.

And it covered the hiding place too, because you hadn’t seen anyone or anything within the maze until a firm hand clamps over your mouth. Surprise makes you scream, the noise muffled beneath the weathered palm as a strong arm wraps around your waist. 

How the hell had he gotten behind you?!

Hot breath fans your ear as he puts his lips to your ear. “Scream, and you’re dead.”

That’s not Rhys’s voice at all!

Panic grips you and you have just enough presence of mind to fight, digging your elbow into the stranger’s soft gut, throwing your head back into his shoulder. You twist and claw and bite down on the hand covering your mouth so hard you taste blood.

“You little bitch!” The stranger snarls, his hand slipping off your mouth.

You don’t have time to spit out the blood as you scream, “RHYS!!!” As loud as you can.

The stranger grabs your hair and spins you, face scraping over a cluster of thorny roses that cuts open your cheek as you fight to keep your footing. You stumble, but before you can hit the ground, another rough set of hands grabs your arm and yanks, pulling you deeper into the darkness of the maze. 

“Get off me!” You shout, your game forgotten. There is nothing but wild panic in your blood as you claw and punch at the hands that pull you deeper and deeper into the maze. 

Rhys can find you in here, right? He knows this isn’t part of the game?

Blood trickles down the wound in your cheek, following a trail down your neck and chest as your head whips around to try and get a good look at your attacker. He’s not much taller than you, but he’s twice as large, his arms made of thick, corded muscle. A spiderweb of scars travels up the bare expanse of his right arm, but he has no other defining features you can see in the darkness.

The second remains in the dark as they drag you through the maze. They must have been here awhile, if they know their way through it. In no time at all, you find yourself at the maze’s heart, the fountain that’s usually so dazzling at parties remains full of stagnant water and dead leaves. Sitting on the lip of it are another two men, one carrying a sword and another wearing a bandolier full of wooden stakes. Hunters.

Your mouth dries, heart skipping a beat. No no no! This can’t be happening! How’d they get past the gate? Rhys had it made by some local witches, it was supposed to be spelled to keep hunters out!

“Y/N?”

The world narrows in to the sound of that voice, as the body attached rounds the fountain. The sliver of moonlight cuts through the overgrown shrubs, highlighting the swatch of blonde hair, carefully tied back from a face that looks so similar to your own. 

Though you have no fangs of your own, you pull your lips back in a snarl as Tamlin draws nearer. “You did this?” You hiss at your brother.

He looks older, tired. Emerald eyes framed by dark circles. It’s been months since you’ve seen him. Months since he sent someone to tell you not to bother coming home since you’d ruined yourself with Rhys. Based on the stories you’d heard, he’d trashed the manor in a fit of rage when he’d found out he could no longer auction you off like a mare to be wed and bred by some stuffy, old baron or count.

He takes you in, nose crinkling as he spots the hickeys littering your throat. You’re not wearing anything more than a pair of lounge shorts and a silk top, an outfit that had felt appropriate a moment ago but now, based on the judgment and leering of the hunters, feels poorly out of place.

It’s an effort not to try and cover yourself, to stand there, blood still dripping from your cheek and keep your chin up.

“Where is he?” Tamlin demands. 

Shit. Shit. Shit! Of course he’s not here for you, he’d made it clear you were as wanted as a wadded up gum wrapper. He--they--are all here for Rhys. 

“Who?” You play dumb, trying to buy time. Rhys is walking right into a trap and if you don’t think of something quick…

“Don’t play dumb!” Tamlin snarls. “I know you’ve been whoring yourself out to that blood sucker!”

He can’t know that Rhys is the town’s vampire, there’s no way. Every person that leaves the manor is compelled to forget everything they saw. The whole horde is meticulous, Az has even followed people home to ensure the protection of the den. 

When you don’t respond, he says, a little gentler this time, “Tell me where he is, Y/N, and I will consider this whole mess a compulsion on his part and not hold it against you. We’ll go home and find somewhere safe for you to live. There’s a temple that will take in ruined women…”

You’re seeing red. “Nobody fucking ruined me! It is my body! What I do with it is none of your business!”

He frowns. “Nesta thought you might have been compelled, I didn’t want to believe that you were so weak minded that it could happen to you, but now that I see you…”

Nesta. Your stomach twists itself into knots. She was supposed to be your best friend, and yet she had gone to Tamlin and he’d called the hunters. She must have seen Rhys drinking from you that first night after all. In her rush, she’d pissed off Cass, who had been so distracted with her leaving he’d distracted Az from following her home. She’d gotten out of the den knowing what they all were and Tamlin had spent all this time summoning these hunters. 

The betrayal stings worse than the cut on your cheek, your eyes burning despite your attempts to keep it all bottled up. You can’t cry here! Not in front of them. The four hunters hover near the exits, blocking your escape, but keeping watch for Rhys all the same. They all have stakes. They’re all clearly fighting men, all capable of taking on an unsuspecting vampire. 

“Don’t do this, Tam,” you whisper. If anything happens to Rhys… If they get their hands on him because you suggested going outside the manor, you’re never going to forgive yourself.

“You forced my hand!” Tamlin snarls, advancing a step towards you. “You went and made a mess of things as always! If mom were still alive she would have keeled over and had a heart attack from the strain of having you for a daughter.”

The words hit like a slap. He’d always been good at that; when he couldn’t use his size and strength, his words were just as sharp as a blade, and he’d used them to keep you in line for years. Even now, the freedom you had so desperately craved feels like it’s slipping through your fingers. You feel your shoulders hunch, chin dipping towards your chest. He’s always been so terribly good at making you feel small and useless and so terribly unwanted. Even now, your own flesh and blood isn’t here to make sure you’re alright, he’s here to prove himself a hero by killing a vampire. Your vampire.

Figures, as soon as you’d found something to love, Tamlin found another way to rip it from you.

Seeing a weakness, Tamlin stalks towards you, his footfalls heavy in the damp earth. He reaches out a hand to grab you, but before he can so much as brush a fingertip over your arm, his body flies backwards like it’s been tossed by an invisible hand. He hits the statue guarding the water fountain so hard the old angel’s head falls from it’s stone shoulders. 

“Don’t fucking touch her!” Rhys snarls so loud the ground shakes. He’d come in silently, stealthy as a cat. The power that radiates off him is nothing like the demure courtier you see in the ballroom, there is nothing subtle or charming about this Rhys. There is only cold, unyielding rage as he moves around you faster than your eyes can track. You don’t even have time to warn him about what the hunters are armed with before he uses his teeth to rip the throat out of the first man. Blood splatters across his face as the hunter falls. Another blink at the second falls, his heart still beating from where Rhys holds it in his fist.

The third hunter has just enough time to slide a stake out of its sheath and lunge, but Rhys is so much faster and stronger, there is no contest. He snags the hunter’s wrist, snapping the bone so hard his wrist twists backwards, the stake now aimed at the hunter’s heart. His own momentum keeps him moving forward, even as he screams in terror, and he impales himself on his own stake. Rhys hurls the body into the thorny hedges, leaving it to bleed out as he turns to face the fourth and final hunter. 

It's the one that had grabbed you initially, his thin lips pulled back in a sneer as he flips two stakes around in his large hands. 

“You think you can waltz into my domain,” Rhys seethes. There’s an eerie calm to his steps now, blood dripping from his fingers, splattering the trampled grass. “And try and take what is mine?”

Rationally, you know you should be terrified of him like this--this is who he really is, not the courtly mask and disarming smiles you know, this is a full-fledged vampire in all his glory--but you’re not. Not even a little bit. If anything, the sight of him makes you feel like you can breathe again. 

“I’ve killed worse things than you,” the hunter spits. “You won’t even be a challenge.”

Rhys cocks his head like he’s thinking, a grin spreading across his face. His fangs are longer than you’ve ever seen them, poking into his lower lip, where the first hunter’s blood still lingers. “Is that so?”

He takes a small step forward, and though the hunter’s fingers twitch around the stakes, he doesn’t move. He doesn’t even blink. He stands still as a statue, his chest barely rising and falling. Almost like he can’t move at all.

Rhys reaches out and plucks the stakes from the hunter’s hands like he’s taking a toy from a belligerent child. The hunter doesn’t move; doesn’t speak in his own defense. 

Rhys lifts the stake to get a better look at it in the moonlight. “These are poorly made,” he tuts, right before he jams it between the hunter’s eyes. The man falls, still completely immobile.

“You’re a fucking monster,” Tamlin hisses from where he’s still struggling to get back to his feet. 

Rhys slides the hand not dripping blood into his pocket, appearing bored as he puts a boot on Tamlin’s shoulder and pushes him back down into the mud. “Humans are so very dull.”

“Yet you keep my sister like a fucking pet!” Tamlin snarls, trying to rise again and losing the battle as Rhys’s heel pushes down against his shoulder until the bone snaps. “You compelled her into being with you and have been keeping her here against her will.”

You stare at the two of them. Rhys is holding back now, toying with Tamlin--the brother that had locked you up, had insisted your Governess cut your meals in half to keep you thin and desirable for a suitor; the brother who had ignored your wishes your whole life and had stolen almost every bit of happiness you had tried to carve out for yourself. Only one of them is the monster here.

“Nobody compelled me into staying,” you hiss. “Nobody compelled me into doing anything! I chose it.”

Tamlin tilts his head to look at you, despite the pain flashing across his face. “He just used his powers to freeze a man in place, you’re too stupid to know if he used them on you.”

Rhys moves his boot from Tamlin’s shoulder to his wrist, heel crushing down until the bone splinters, the resounding crack echoing through the maze. “Try that again,” he dares. 

Tamlin’s howls of pain have somehow not drawn everybody else outside, but you are relieved to see it. As much as you want him out of your life forever, you’re not up for watching them all devour him like a turkey at a Sunday roast. 

You pick your way around the mess of bodies until you can grab Rhys’s hand, the blood now cold and sticky over his palm. You do not balk from it. This is still your Rhys. He is still what you would choose, if you could go back to that first night on the dancefloor. Bargain or no bargain, you would have come back time and time again, to be with him and this family you have made for yourself here. This is the life you want, messy and full of monsters.

Rhys glances down at your joined hands, yours so small and delicate against the mess of his own.

You intertwine your fingers. “Please don’t kill him.”

He reaches out with his free hand to run a thumb over your ruined cheek, checking how deep the cuts are. “Why not?”

“Can he be compelled to forget about all of us? Can you make it so that we never existed?”

“Y/N!” Tamlin screams. “You don’t know what you’re doing!”

“I could,” Rhys admits. “Is that what you want?”

“I want to be with you,” you say confidently. “As a human or a vampire.”

Tamlin tries to move out from under Rhys’s boot but gets nowhere.

“I want him to no longer have control of my life. I want to be free to choose where I go and who comes with me. I am angry at him. I’ve been angry at him my whole life. But… but I don’t want him dead.”

Rhys nods, then brushes a tender kiss over your forehead. “It’ll be done then.”

Azriel appears from the shadows then, as if he’d been hovering somewhere in the maze just in case. That intense hazel gaze sweeps over you, taking stock of your injuries before he hauls Tamlin to his feet. 

Your brother still tries to fight it, but his right arm hangs limp and twisted at his side, and even if he was whole, he’s no match for either of them. 

Rhys takes Tamlin’s chin between his forefinger and thumb, holding him in place with just those two fingers alone. “Any last words, Darling?”

You flash your middle finger at Tamlin, “If you come back through these gates, I’ll hunt you down myself.”

“Vicious,” Azriel praises, tongue running over his lower lip in appreciation to this new side of you. 

Rhys keeps his attention pinned to Tamlin. “You’ll return home. You’ll forget this vampire business. You went out and got drunk and got your ass handed to you by the barmaid.”

Azriel snickers at that. 

You’ve seen that barmaid, she very well could hand Tamlin his ass, the story will be convincing. 

“If anyone asks about your sister, you’ll tell them she ran away to be with the people that love her. There is no need to look for her. She is happy.”

And you are. Your chest warms at the words. You are happy here. You will always be happy here, with this new family you’ve found. 

Tamlin repeats the words in monotone, like they’re being forced out of his head.

“You’ll have to find and compel Nesta too,” you say softly. “She saw us that first night.”

“Leave it to Cass to put us in this mess,” Azriel grumbles. “I should make him compel her for the trouble.”

“He’d just turn her for shits and giggles and then we’d be in bigger trouble,” Rhys responds as he releases his grip on Tamlin. Your brother’s head sags to his chest, unconscious, and Azriel drags him out through the back gate.

“It’s done?” You ask, watching them leave.

“It’s done,” Rhys confirms. 

You turn to face him again and stretch up on your toes to kiss him gently on the lips, despite the blood. “Thank you.”

When you try to pull away, he slides a hand into your hair and pulls you back for another, ravenous kiss. “Are you all right?”

“A little shaken,” you confess, reaching up a hand to brush a tendril of dark hair off his head. “But alright. Are you?”

He slides his arms beneath you and picks you up like you weigh nothing. “Let’s get you cleaned up and I’ll feel better.” 

In no time at all, you’re back safe inside the house, perched on top of the counter in the bathroom attached to his room. Candlelight flickers to give him a better view of the gash across your cheek, now forming a bruise beneath the split skin. 

“It doesn’t hurt too bad,” you assure. “Just stings a little.”

He frowns as he pokes at it, then brings his wrist up to his mouth and sinks his fangs into a vein. “Drink,” he orders, bringing it to your lips. “My blood will heal you.”

You stare at him for a moment. It has become an easy thing to accept that he likes to drink from you. He needs blood to live and you want him to keep on living, it is an easy exchange--and one that always ends pleasurably for you at that--but this is different. It’s not necessity. He’s offering because he wants to. Because he cares about you.

“Please,” he says gently, pushing his wrist a little closer. “Let me take care of you.”

You wrap your hand around his arm as you bring his wrist to your mouth, unsure of how to go about this. He holds you steady, pressing his wrist to your lips, guiding you through it like he has everything this far. His blood is a coppery tang in your mouth as you run your tongue over the two puncture marks in his wrist and swallow it down. 

By the time he pulls away, the stinging in your cheek has subsided. 

“It’ll taste better once you're one of us,” he explains as he grabs a towel and cleans the remaining blood off your skin.

You watch the slow pace in which he moves now, all that rage and strength once again contained within the confines of courtly manners, but there is a stiffness to those usually graceful motions. You can almost taste the unease coming off him as he uses the same towel to clean the blood off his own face and hands.

“You’re not changing your mind about turning me after this mess, are you?” 

He tosses the towel in the hamper near the door and comes to stand between your legs. You have to tilt your head back to look at him as he cups your face in his large hands. “Never.” The finality in his tone leaves no room for doubt. “I never wish to be parted from you again.”

Your heart stutters in your chest. This bargain between you is fun and exciting, and truth be told you are more fond of him than you’d ever dare say out loud, but you had always assumed those budding feelings were one sided. This was a game and a bargain at the end of the day, what was one human in the span of eternity to a thousand year old vampire? Daring to believe that you meant more to him was not a luxury you had let yourself indulge in.

“And I thought…” he shakes his head and kisses you gently at first, grounding himself in the reality that you are safe and in his arms, but it turns rough and desperate as he considers what he’s saying. “I thought I might lose you.”

You run your fingers through the silky strands of his hair, knocking a few loose leaves that had gotten caught when he’d come running after you. 

“If anything were to happen to you, I don’t…” he shutters as he slides his hands beneath you and lifts you off the counter, carrying you towards his large bed with ease despite the shakiness of his breathing.

 “I’ve killed thousands of hunters. I have drained entire covens of witches and packs of werewolves.” He lays you down in the center of the black silk sheets, body propped up against a dozen pillows someone who is undead doesn’t really need, his large frame kneeling over yours as he kisses you again. “I have fought and won hundreds of battles and taken down an army of other vampires. Bloodshed is in my nature. It is woven into the lifeblood of creatures like me. I am used to the killing, but I have never enjoyed it. I avoid it if I can, but tonight, when I saw those hunters around you…”

He steals another kiss, tongue sliding behind your teeth to try and claim your very breath as his weight settles between your legs. “I wanted to take my time. I wanted to make them pay for putting their hands on you. I enjoyed making them suffer. And I’d do it again.”

Perhaps the long lasting effects of being locked up has altered your brain chemistry, because such outright aggression should be a warning sign to run, but it makes heat flare in your chest instead. This is a dangerous amount of possessiveness and yet, you enjoy it. It is nice to be looked after so deeply.

“And I know that I should turn you,” he continues. “You have more than fulfilled your part of the bargain and after seeing those hunters today, I should give you an edge over them, just in case, but…” Another kiss, his hands slipping beneath your top to skim your sides. “But to turn you I have to… You have to die to become a vampire. How am I supposed to do that, knowing that it’ll hurt, even for a moment? Knowing that I will have to be the one to do it?”

Your fingers drift to the buttons of his shirt, slowly popping them open so you can touch him. “It doesn’t have to be today. We never set a time.”

“I saw that scratch on you and almost went out of my mind,” he says as he leans back enough to let you push the shirt off his shoulders, but as soon as the article is off he’s right back on top of you again, kissing you like he won’t ever get enough. “I love you,” he whispers against your lips. “I have never loved a human before. I have never been so conflicted before. I can’t lose you, Y/N. I’m just not ready to turn you yet either.”

Your hands skim up his tattooed torso, tracing every curve of ink up his chest and shoulders until you can cup his cheek. “You’re not going to lose me. Like I said, I choose you. I want to be here with you. Like this or otherwise. I am in no rush.”

He tilts his head and kisses your palm. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“I know,” you assure, using your free hand to grab him behind the neck and pull him down for another kiss. “I trust you. When the time is right to turn me, we’ll know. It’ll feel right.”

His lips pull away from yours just long enough to catch your breath before he starts trailing kisses along your jaw and neck. You let yourself relax beneath his ministrations, eyes drifting shut. It no longer feels strange that this has become the place you feel safest; this is right.  

“I love you,” you say softly.

He all but purrs into your throat, the kiss he was placing there more forceful than the last. “Careful, that’s a dangerous thing to say to an immortal.”

“You said it first,” you counter, hands sliding off him to reach for the hem of your shirt. You want it off, no clothes between your bodies, the warmth of him like this seeping into your skin. There is no telling how different it’ll feel once you’re no longer human, you want to relish every experience you have while you still have it.

He nips teasingly at your throat, fangs just barely scraping your skin. Not enough to feed, but just enough to remind you they’re there. “What power you wield over me, Little Human.”

“I’ll try not to let it go to my head,” you reply.

He laughs at that, the sound rich and deep, and you think you might do just about anything to hear it again and again. “Be careful how you wield it, I would do anything you asked.”

“Anything?” You ask with a grin, a few things coming to mind. 

He nips at your throat hard enough to leave a bruise this time. “No questions asked.”

“So if I have other scenes in my books I want to try out…” 

“What a dirty little mind you have,” he tuts. “And when we didn’t even get to finish the first one.”

“That really is a shame,” you muse. “I was looking forward to it too.”

“Another night then,” he promises, his voice low and dangerous in your ear. “Tonight I want to take my time with you.”

And how can you say no to those kinds of promises?

[atebyflowers]

Just some random abby HCS (⌒▽⌒)

Bc she would definitely fund your dream lifestyle.

She'd buy the two of you a city view apartment and let you decorate tf out of it, not complaining one bit about the designs or theme.

Whenever you wanted to go out and she couldn't come, She'd always give you her card. Telling you to splurge for both you and whatever friends your with at the time. Money is really nothing to her, especially when it comes to spending it on her girl..

You'd absolutely never have to worry about shit, she works for the both of you. All you have to do is be pretty and have fun ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

definitely a red wine girl, but she'd buy and drink pink whitney js for you.

You'd absolutely never drive her car, yet it would be filled with your shit. Nobody knows if you even have ur license cause she refuses to let you drive, yet the entire car is basically yours. I mean filled with interior you picked out, shit you forgot in there, etc.

She'd prolly make her dad sit in the back seat to avoid distrusting your reserved passenger space too 😭 dpwm !!

Also let's you rest your legs on the dash, blast ur music & drives extra carefully when you fall asleep before she reaches home

Drives to random places at night & in the rain js cause u like the car rides

Did I mention she's extremely rich. Like, CEO.. has her own employees and company's type of rich. So she absolutely has all the time in the world for you. And on the occasions where she doesn't, and needs to attend to big girl business, it's made up to you within the next 24hs TRUST 🤞🏽

Also a vacation girl... not only so she can see all the photos you'll post on insta after, but also bc she knows how much you find peace in traveling and exploring the world.

its her missionnnm to let you live to the fullest.

If you mention a specific view or event in another country, she's making plans for y'all to go within the next few months.

I feel like this would apply especially if you didn't have much wealth growing up, like she'd especially prioritize letting you experience everything you dreamed of when you were younger... like I imagine her taking you to Disney world or some shit like that js because you mentioned once that you always wanted to 😭

She's SOO gentle, like her tone of voice completely changes the moment you ask her a question or call her name. Even when she gets mad she's so soft with it so you don't feel like she hates you.

She'd scold you for being irresponsible or some shit, but in a way where it sounds like she's just genuinely concerned and correcting you.

She listens to drake. Idc.... like u cannot convince me this girl don't listen to finesse

Ok rant over someone pls write rich ceo Abby god I'm STRIVEDDD