#yes i will go on a date with you but you give me dormant alcoholic tendencies so like idk that's the end

[enigmasandepiphanies]

i dont get men

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

let me be your ruler.2

Warnings: guns, dubcon, noncon, handjob.

This is a dark! fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Pairing: (dark!mob!) Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: You try to forget about Peter but he won’t forget about you.

Note: I hate that I am the way that I am. I wanted to keep this to two parts but you know me. 

Anyways, I’m excited for this and hope you are too.

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Drowsy in the afterglow of sex and alcohol, you fell quickly into a deep sleep. You didn’t even change before you sank into bed. You hardly recalled the elevator ride up or stumbling into your apartment and tripping around the shadows to your room. It was only a fractured journey from the car to your mattress.

You woke as your phone vibrated under your pillow. You must have buried it there before passing out. You groaned and rolled over as you dug it out. There were several notifications next to a single name; Peter. You thumbed through each message; written in the same tone as his voice. Demanding, without question.

‘Great night, Princess.’ ‘We’ll do it again Saturday.’ ‘Wear something nice.’ … The messages escalated smoothly from doting to commanding. It jolted you back to the night before, the way he seemed to just thrust you through the night. The dress, the drinks, the men, the guns…

You sat up, your panties crooked on your hips. You muttered and swiped away the messages. You weren’t seeing him again. You couldn’t. You had stuck your toe in too deep already. It was best to nip these things in the bud. Not to let yourself get dragged in so far you couldn’t see the surface. 

Peter was more than mysterious; he was dangerous.

You went to the kitchen and waited for the machine to grind as the scent of coffee filled your heavy body. You drank too much, did too much. You still felt Peter’s hand between your legs. It made your chest tight and your head spin. You looked down at your body, the red dress wrinkled and askew.

You left the coffee to brew and retreated to your room. You tore off the dress and your panties. You pulled on a cotton shirt and loose pajama pants. You stormed back into the kitchen and shoved the clothing in the bin. You snatched your phone from the counter and swiped up the lock screen.

‘Sorry, I don’t think this is going to work out.’ You typed. Your hand shook as you hovered over send. You heard Halle’s door and you pressed your thumb down. You looked up at her before you pulled up the block option.

“How was your night?” She asked as she inhaled the aroma of your morning ritual.

“Eh, you know, another dead end,” you pushed your thumb down and the conversation disappeared. “Just not my type.”

“Really?” She whined. “He seemed so nice. And he liked you so much.”

You blackened your screen and placed your phone face down. “Well, you know, things don’t always turn out.” You shrugged and pulled out a mug, “You want some?”

“Are you at least going to tell me about it?” She pouted. “And yes, lots of sugar.”

You poured her coffee and handed her the sugar dish. You frowned at how much powder she scooped into her cup but it was her most endearing trait. She knew what she wanted and she didn’t care what anyone thought.

“Uh, well, it wasn’t anything special. He took me to a party but… I don’t know. What kind of first date is that? Take me somewhere I don’t know anyone…” You ran your finger around the rim of your cup. “Maybe when I was younger but now.”

“You sound like such an old lady,” she snickered, “Oh my god!” She stood straight, “Are we old?”

“I am, but you’ll always be young at heart, Hal,” you rolled your eyes.

“So you’re not going to try a second?” She prodded.

“I don’t think so,” you cradled your mug, “He… hasn’t even messaged me back.” 

You hated lying but Halle had gotten you into this mess and you knew she’d harp on you for not even giving Peter a chance. But you had. He wasn’t what he seemed and you didn’t want to stick around and find out what exactly he was hiding.

“What?” She huffed. “Well, fuck him then.” She sipped from her coffee and her lips curved as she swallowed. “Wait, did you…”

“Hal, come on,” you snipped.

“Oh, fine, but you know, maybe if you got laid, you wouldn’t be so uptight.” She teased.

“Not this again,” you groaned and slid your phone off the counter. “You know what, I got work to do.”

“Uh huh,” she hummed as you turned to leave, “Work. When did you get so old and boring?”

“One of us had to,” you called back over your shoulder, “And we both know you’re never growing up.”

✨

Your phone was pleasantly still for the rest of the day. You felt a twinge of guilt having blocked Peter but then you recalled the men and their holsters. You found your mind drifting away from your work and your fingers hovered over the keyboard as you thought back. 

The company he kept added to the uneasiness in your chest. Steve was friendly but arrogant. The way he looked at you, the way he spoke to you, what was it he introduced you as, “Peter’s girl”. And that man, Bucky. He didn’t seem too fond of Peter but the way he’d grinned at you, as if he knew something you didn’t. Well, he did, they all did. Your head stormed as you tried to figure out their secret.

You shook off the curdling paranoia and hunched as you squinted closer at your computer. You made yourself focus as you skimmed the tight font and added your suggestions in the margin. You sent off your edited draft as your stomach groaned; empty and churning from the acidic coffee.

You grabbed your phone and your mug as you stood. You checked the time. Almost noon. You grumbled and went back to the kitchen, thankfully empty as Halle had left for work an hour ago. You set your cup down and expanded your notifications. A single phone call from a private number and a new follower on your mostly empty Insta.

You opened the neglected app and hit the notification. The profile was emptier than yours. the profile pic was just black and there were no posts. The name gave you no hints as it was obviously generated by the site. 

You went back and a comment popped up on the picture of your and Halle at last year's winter market. ‘Gorgeous, Princess.’ You read and reread the two words as you leaned against the counter. You bit your fingertips and went back to the mysterious profile. You hit ‘block’ and locked your phone.

Surely, he’d get the hint sooner or later. It was one date and the man seemed to have no trouble with women. He’d move on and you’d both forget about that off putting night. You just had to wait him out.

✨

A week rolled by as you kept yourself busy with your work. The phone calls stopped after the first day and you had no more peculiar alerts awaiting you. Your plan had worked. It wasn’t exactly the best; it was a bit cowardly, actually. Yet, knowing how Peter was and how ‘no’ seemed beyond his vocabulary, you had more faith in your evasion than his understanding.

As the weekend approached, Halle convinced you to come out with the girls. You had eluded those opportunities for the past year as you found yourself disillusioned and disinterested in the club scene. You felt as if you were aging out of it and seeing all those fresh-faced coeds assured you of it. Even so, the girls liked to dance and in their words, you need to ‘let loose’.

You couldn’t disagree. You had been on edge and the mounting emails in your inbox didn’t ease the stress of everything else.

With a pre-drink burning a whole in your stomach, you pulled on a pair of flats as your bag hung across your chest. You were comfortable but not stuffy in your tight jeans and the bright pink top with the criss-cross straps. You felt pretty good and the vodka made you optimistic.

You headed down to the street and caught a cab. The dread evaporated the closer you got and as you pulled up to the front of the flashing club, Molly and Desiree waved at your approach. The four of you joined the line as you searched out your ID.

“So,” Molly said, “Halle told us about your little date!”

“Date?” You blinked. “Oh, yeah, that didn’t pan out.”

“Of course,” Desiree scoffed, “That guy was so cute though.”

“Yeah, he was nice, but we just didn’t…”

“He’s ghosting her!” Halle interjected, “Didn’t even text the next day, ugh.”

Halle crossed her arms and you nodded. You weren’t going to correct her, you didn’t need the other two piling on about your dormant love life. You came out to have a good time, that’s what they promised you, and you didn’t want to think about the night that still stood so vividly in your mind.

As you stepped up to the bouncer, he barely looked at your card. You were almost offended as he waved you through and carded the next party more closely. You glanced around at your friends but they hardly seemed bothered. Well, only Halle had reached that big three-o with you, and the other two girls still had a year or two to go.

Madonna’s voice pumped from the speakers as you neared the bar. You looked around at the streaming lights and the bodies shadowed in the strobe. You were surprised you recognized the song and you nudged Desiree as she waited for Molly to order the first round.

“What’s up with the music?” You asked.

“It’s retro night! Duh! Just for you!” She giggled and you elbowed her harder.

Molly turned and passed out the plastic cups with their thin straws and you followed Halle to the low stage where the smoke machine billowed. You coughed at the taste of the fog and sucked on your straw. You began to sway as the other girls led the charge. You could help but be enlivened by the deep base and the energy all around.

As you danced, the girls yelled back and forth about their recent drama. Desiree’s date had been more successful than your own, Molly was certain she was in love with Charlie? You still didn’t know. And Halle was just riding the vibe.

You finished your drink and the other girls stacked their cups in yours before you crossed the stage to leave the garbage on the table just beside the platform. 

You looked over at the bar, pondering another, and your eye was caught by a figure who seemed out of place. The cut of his suit, the way he leaned on hand on a stool, and the intense gaze sent in your direction startled you.

You blinked and stumbled over to the single step down to the floor. You pushed through the bodies, nearly tumbling as a tipsy guy crashed into you. You got to the bar and looked up and down it. Girls waved their hands to get the bar tender’s attention and guys sidled up to them. 

Bucky was gone. It was him. Maybe the air was filled with smoke and the lights were flashing like a siren, but you were certain. Why was he there? How had he found you among the city? Among the reverie in that club? Why had he been watching you? And where had he gone?

You went to where you’d seen him and searched the perimeter of the bar. You went back through the club and slipped past those just getting in. You tapped on the bouncer’s shoulder and he grumbled before he turned and bent to hear you. “What is it?”

“Did you see a guy in a suit leave? Dark hair and--”

“There’s a lot of people here,” he shrugged you off.

You snarled and turned back. You got ahead of the flood of new arrivals and fought your way back to the three girls on the stage. As you walked up, Halle pouted and grabbed your elbow. “Boo, we thought you were getting another round.”

“No, no, I…” you squirmed and tried to get back into the rhythm, “I had to use the restroom.”

“Well, how about now? Wanna refill the tank?” She jibed.

“Uh, sure,” you picked at the purse. “Be right back.”

“Make mine a double,” Molly called after you. “Thanks.”

✨

Despite drowning yourself in alcohol, you barely slept and when you did, you were back in the club, staring at a man you never expected to see again. You wondered if maybe you’d imagined it or if Peter had sent him after you or if it was someone else and you were just tipsy and blind. Whatever it was, you couldn’t shake the foreboding that followed you into the next morning.

Your Saturday was painful and lazy. You spent your hangover on the couch and barely saw Halle as she cowered in the dim light of her room. You fell asleep there and dragged yourself to bed just before nine. You really were old, or at least, getting there.

Sunday slapped you in the face after another night of disjointed dreams. Peter and the room full of men, Bucky at the bar, and static in between. Responsibility called you from your mattress and you cleaned up and dressed for your weekly trip to the grocery store. 

As you came out, Halle was glaring at her phone. “What’s up?” You asked as you shoved your wallet in your purse. “You coming to the store?”

“I got called in for one.” She pouted. “Tell me why I fucked that asshole?”

“Shit, Hal, I’m sorry. Well, I’ll just do the shop myself.” You frowned, “Let you get ready to deal with all that.”

“It’s all because he fucking texted me on Friday and drunk me decided to reply and then… urgh, why do I do this?”

“I don’t know why you’re asking me?” You grinned.

“Oh, please go before I throw this at you,” she shook her phone, “And don’t forget my oat milk.”

“Whole milk?” You asked as you slipped your shoes on, “Got it.”

“Don’t,” she warned.

“Alright, alright. Hopefully I catch you before you go,” you stood and grabbed your keys from the hook. “Have fun with Mr. Bossman.”

“Shut up,” she buried her head in her hands, “Oh my god!”

You tried not to laugh as you left. You felt bad for her as you didn’t know what you’d do in her situation. Looking for a new job had been her first thought but the market was never very good and the man who was driving her away, wasn’t exactly a shining reference.

You took your usual route to the grocer. You had your list on your phone and loaded your cart. You filled the reusable bags and set off for a very inconvenient subway ride home. Your arms screamed as you carried the load up your street and struggled to find your keys at the door. The elevator was too slow and you ended up hauling it all up the stairs. You were out of breath as you got to your apartment.

You turned the knob just a little and kicked open the door. You stomped in and dropped the bags. “So, I got your damn milk--” You stopped short as your voice collided with Halle’s. She was already dressed for work but her braids were still loose. She stood behind the couch as she talked to your unexpected visitor.

“Oh, there she is,” she said snappily, “I wouldn’t blame her for kicking you out but I’ll leave it up to her.” Halle turned to you, “Look who’s here. Only took him a week to come around.”

“Hal,” you said softly as you set the bags down. “What--” You lowered your voice, “Why’d you let him in?”

“So he can apologize to you,” she huffed loudly and passed you to close the door, “Don’t you worry, I still gotta finish getting ready so you have lots of time to hear him out.” She looked at him sharply.

“Really, it’s…” You gulped as you peeked over at Peter. He sat calmly in the chair as he watched you. “Yeah, okay.”

She marched into her room and as her door closed, you reluctantly approached the back of the couch where your roommate had just stood. You stared at Peter, uncertain what to say. You hadn’t been prepared for this; for him to be there in your apartment, your home.

“Peter,” you ran your hands over the couch cushions.

“You lie to everyone you know?” He asked. “As I recall, I’m not the one who’s been… ‘ghosting’, as your friend says.”

“I…” You shifted and picked at the seam, “Look, I told you it wasn’t going to work--”

“You barely gave me a chance. Gave us a chance,” he said as he pushed his legs apart. “That’s hardly fair.”

“Well, you know, I have work and it’s just not a good time for me right now.” You sniffed. “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings, but--”

“Ha, princess, I don’t hurt so easy,” he smirked, “Why don’t you sit down and we can talk properly… finally.”

You scratched your brow and cleared your throat. “I don’t think we need to do that.”

Your voice trailed off as Halle opened her door again. She swept out and you waited as she scooped her purse off the counter and sidestepped the groceries still sat on the floor.

“Gotta go,” she sang, “I’ll see you after work.” She stopped by the door as she wiggled into her heels, “Let me know how you deal with… him.”

“See ya,” you said quietly and watched her go. You looked back at Peter slowly as he chuckled.

“What did you tell her about me?” He wondered.

“Nothing. Really.” You said. “I have your jacket. You want it back--”

“Sit,” he gestured to the couch. “We’ll worry about that later.”

“No. Peter, please. I’m just not interested, okay?”

“You seemed pretty interested in the car,” he purred, “Seemed real interested.”

“I…” You looked at the wall and squirmed. “I didn’t ask you to do that.”

“You were asking for it in that dress,” he intoned. “Now,” his movement drew your eye as he reached into his jacket, “I don’t like playing things like this.” He pulled the pistol from its holster and rested it on the arm of the chair, his hand firm on the handle. “Please, sit down. Let’s talk.”

You stared at the gun. Your blood burned hot and you felt blindly as you came around the couch and dropped down. Your eyes never left the muzzle. Would he use it on you?

“Oh, princess, don’t you worry, I’m just getting comfortable.” He taunted. “Now, I’ve been tryna figure out where I went wrong. I got you a pretty dress, I took you to a nice party, I fed you champagne, and I even gave you a little dessert,” he mused and his lip curled, “So I gotta confess I’m confused as you why you’ve been hiding from me.”

You were paralyzed. You clutched your knees and gritted your teeth. You didn’t know what to say. You’d convinced yourself that you’d never see him again. Your method was tried and trued, at least, when it was used against you.

“Don’t be afraid. You can tell me. I really would prefer the truth.” His finger slid along the short barrel as he spoke. “So?”

“I… Peter, I don’t think that we would, uh, work out. Look, I don’t like guns and…” Your lashes fluttered, “I don’t really know that I wanna be around someone who carries one. Not too mention, your friends--”

“My friends. Princess, your mine. They won’t touch you.” He raised his chin. “They’re not that bold.”

You were silent. Your heart pulsed loudly and you took a breath. You stood cautiously and crossed your arms. “Peter, we talked. I told you my reasons. I think you should… go.” You said as firmly as you could.

He laughed again. His cheek twitched and the smile fell away from his face. He rose slowly and turned his gun to tuck it away under his jacket. His eyes never left you as he did.

“You really want me to go?” He asked.

You nodded and held your breath. “Yes.”

He threw his hands out and clapped them against his pants. He shook his head and crossed the room. You turned to watch him as he passed and suddenly, you were thrust towards him. His hand was on the back of your neck as he pulled you against him. He held you tightly and you felt his gun poking through his jacket.

He grinned, his lips only an inch from yours. “I’m going, princess, but not without you.”

“Let go of me!” You struggled with him. “Get off!”

“Princess,” he warned as his fingers dug into your neck, “Settle down.”

“No, I told you to go.” You hissed as you grabbed his wrist. “Please.”

“Let’s get this straight,” he said, “You don’t tell me what to do. Even if it gets me hard.” He crushed his lips to your suddenly and you wrestled with him, your teeth grazing his lip before he pulled back sharply, barely escaping a bite. “You don’t wanna do that.”

His hand went to your chin and he looked you in the face. He rubbed his nose against yours and growled. You beat on his chest and he squeezed tighter.

“Shit, let’s not just rush out of here,” he released you, “You should get those away before they spoil.”

He stepped back and placed his hand on the front of his jacket, where his gun was hidden. You gaped at him and your eyes flitted to the door.

“Ah, don’t worry, we’ll be on our way soon enough,” he said, “So long as you hurry up.”

You swallowed and he moved with you as you went to the bags. He blocked the door as you pulled the straps apart and began to unpack shakily. You dropped a can and it rolled along the floor before he stopped it with his foot. He kicked it back and leaned an elbow on the door frame.

You picked it up with several other cans and went to the cupboard. You snapped the door closed as you felt around the drawer with your other hand. You heard a click and looked to Peter as he aimed his pistol at you. He tilted his head. 

“Don’t do that,” he intoned as your hand lingered just inches from the knives inside the drawer.

You went back to the spread of groceries and tried to ignore him as you put everything in its place. As you bent to fill the crisper, he purred, a sizzly ‘princess’ under his breath. You finished up and packed the bags one into the other. You left them on the counter and again, he put his gun away.

“Princess, let me tell you something,” he gripped the door handle, “I don’t take that out without using it very often so don’t press my patience.” He turned the knob slowly, “I’ve waited on you long enough.”

✨

The car ride was tense and long. Peter drove you uptown and you watched out the window helplessly. You rubbed your palms together nervously as they dampened with sweat. He’d taken your phone when you reached for it. He tossed it and it was somewhere on the floor.

He drove past the condos and the walk-ups and continued on nearly the exact path he’d taken on the momentous night. Another grand house awaited you but you remained in the seat as Peter climbed out. He opened your door and still you didn’t move. He reached across you to unbuckle the seat belt and grabbed your arm. He jerked you out onto your feet and sighed.

“Peter,” you begged, “What’s going on? Please, you’re scaring me.”

“Princess, have I done you wrong?” He asked but you didn’t answer. “I won’t hurt you.”

“You’re hurting me right now,” you wriggled your arm and he shoved you ahead of him.

“In,” he demanded as you stumbled up the rounded steps. “Now.”

You opened the door and stepped inside. You crossed the marble floor of the foyer as he directed you from behind. He followed at a pace, close enough that you couldn’t flee. Even if you did, you wouldn’t make it far.

“Pete,” the voice startled you and you stopped at the bottom of the wide staircase. Bucky stood in a doorway to your left. His gaze moved from you to Peter and back again. “I didn’t realise you brought company.”

“You’re still here?” Peter snipped.

“Was I supposed to leave?” He sneered. “You got me and Steve running around and you’re gonna kick us to the curb.”

“You don’t look very busy to me,” Peter growled and neared to rest his hand on your lower back. He leaned in and whispered in your ear. “Upstairs, turn left, the room at the very end. I don’t like hide and seek, you got me?”

You nodded and looked at Bucky again. His mouth slanted knowingly and his tongue poked out for just a moment. You turned up the stairs and left Peter behind. You reached the top and listened for a moment to his muffled voice.

“You and Steve do your fucking job and leave me alone. Understand. I don’t want to be bothered.” Peter snarled.

“Oh, I wouldn’t wanna be interrupted either,” Bucky snickered. “Not with her.”

“Go,” Peter barked. “Now.”

“Ay, you might be Tony’s man but you still gotta watch yourself,” Bucky warned. “This little arrangement isn’t gonna last forever…”

You went to your left and to the door at the end, like he said. You entered and couldn’t help but gasp at the immense bedroom. The black and white decor was expertly matched in marbles and exotics woods, plush velvet and polished sconces. You couldn’t help but admire the luxury.

You didn’t close the door. You glanced around dumbly and stood in one spot as you feared you might break something. You wrung your hands as you heard the steady footsteps and you spun as Peter entered. He looked even more agitated as he cracked his knuckles.

“Sorry about that, Princess,” he said, “Now where were we?” His eyes roved the room as he thought, “Ah, yes, an apology.”

“Apology. I…”

“Should I close the door?” He raised a brow, “You’d be surprised how sound carries in here.”

You frowned and he laughed as he swung the door shut. He neared you and bit the tip of his tongue as he considered you. His brown eyes bore into you and you took a step back. He stayed near and caught your wrist. His other hand fumbled with his belt and he let out a slow breath through his nose.

“Princess, I’d love to treat you how you deserve but you gotta be good to me too.” He pulled on your arm and twisted as you tried to resist. You hissed and he pushed your hand against his crotch. “I don’t forgive easy but I’m sure you can change that.”

“Don’t... don’t make me do this,” you uttered.

“Oh, but princess, you did this,” he pressed your hand around his bulge. “You take care of me and I’ll do the same.”

You parted your lips to argue and he grabbed the back of your head. He kissed you roughly and guided your hand to the top of his boxers. He slid your fingers under the elastic and urged you on, wrapping your fingers around his dick with a groan.

He squeezed until you gripped him firmly. He led your hand up and down as he held you to him, his hot breath filling you as it picked up. He forced his tongue into your mouth and you clawed at his jacket as he kept your other hand around him. He parted from your mouth at last and pressed his cheek to yours.

“Keep going, princess,” he purred as he slowly withdrew his hand from around yours. “You don’t wanna use your hand, I might think of something else.”

You quivered and slid your hand up and down his length. He nuzzled your neck and nibbled as he moaned against your skin. You could only move your hand as you stood against him stunned and rigid. He gripped your waist as you felt him tense and he murmured hungrily.

“Oh, princess,” he breathed and pushed his pelvis against your hands as he came. 

You felt the slick heat seep down your hand and slowed until he was breathless. He stilled your hand with his and carefully eased your hand from his pants. He stood straight and eyed your glistening fingers.

“Shit,” he swore as he caressed your cheek, “You made a mess of this suit.” He dropped his hand to the front of his pants as he smiled. He inhaled and pushed his shoulders back. “I forgive you, Princess.”

[mutedsilence]

I decided to create a post with links to all my work. They include summaries and the tag list. It’s under the split. I’ll update as I write more. 

Or, here’s a link to my dashboard MutedSilence 

The Towel  Johnlock Domestic Fluff Domestic Pride Gay Sherlock Holmes Bisexual John Watson Towels Flags Words: 2,002 Chapters: 1/1

Summary: John and Sherlock have been living together for just about a year in this. Sherlock is given a towel from Mycroft for his birthday.

Ianto Sings Janto Dancing and Singing Singing Fluff Domestic Fluff Tooth-Rotting Fluff Words: 844 Chapters: 1/1

Summary: Ianto is alone in the hub. He decides to start singing, he doesn't know he's not alone. 

Soldier and his Detective Series Johnlock Mystrade New Meeting Fluff AU Kissing papa lestrade Worry Sherlock is a Brat Established Mystrade Protectiveness Protective Sibling Rivalry Texting Mycroft is really protective but a bit of a dick too Feelings almost break up First Dates John Watson in Afghanistan Homophobic Language Phone Calls email BAMF John Background Case Mycroft Being a Good Brother Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings Jealousy Words:45,738 Works:3 Complete:Yes

Summary: Sherlock is on a case. Just as he's about to be taken down by the suspect, a stranger takes down the suspect and Sherlock begins to fall for the blond stranger. (This is a story set in with a different meeting, John is on leave from the army and Sherlock has started his career with the met.)

Trying to Forget Ianto Janto The 456 Aftermath Grief/Mourning Drinking Jack Needs a Hug Hurt Jack  Words: 438 Chapters: 1/1

Summary: So, in the doctor who episode - End of Time part 2 - the Doctor tips off Jack to Alonso. It takes place in a bar and I decided to carry it on.

Mission to Flirt Johnlock Pining John Fluff Angst with a Happy Ending Slow Burn Flirting Jealous Sherlock Oblivious John Mutual Pining First Kiss Hospitals Background Case Greg Lestrade & John Watson Friendship Sherlock Holmes Loves John Watson John Watson Loves Sherlock Holmes Bisexual John Watson Gay Sherlock Holmes Proud Greg Lestrade Words: 9,064 Chapters: 1/1

Summary: Turns out John has been staring at Sherlock like a love sick teen. Greg decides that John just needs to flirt. So, he does. Sort of. He certainly tried to at least.

Fine. I admit, I love him. Johnlock Pining Texting Mycroft's Meddling Pining Sherlock Holmes AU Fluff References to Oscar Wilde Language of Flowers Background Case Distracted Sherlock Holmes Mycroft Being a Good Brother No Reichenbach Secret Admirer Sherlock Holmes Loves John Watson Oblivious John Words: 9,237 Chapters: 14/14

Summary: Mycroft has had enough of Sherlock's pining and decides to make him do something about it. Starting with Sherlock figuring out his feelings for John. ((Set before the Reichenbach fall))

Christmas at Holmes Manor Johnlock Mystrade Christmas Party Developing Johnlock AU Different First Meeting Mentions of drugs Depressed John Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism John has been discharged Developing Relationship First Kiss Developing Mystrade Mycroft is good with Children Words: 4,838 Chapters: 6/6 Collections: 1

Summary: Mummy is known for her Christmas parties at Holmes Manor. Sherlock hates the parties and tries to avoid them. This year he can't get out of it. He hates every second. But will he hate it after meeting an army captain?

Hannibal Montannibal Alternate Universe - Hannah Montana Fusion Pure and utter crack beggar's clay chicken inspired by a shitpost Will is a fanboy Hannibal in a dress and wig?? just go with it Ambiguous/Open Ending Words: 613 Chapters: 1/1

Summary: Hannah Montana/Hannibal fusion. No one knows that Hannibal is Montannibal, that is until he invites Will Graham for dinner.

The Soul Patch IronStrange Soulmate AU Tumblr Prompt Heart Attacks First Kiss CPR Post-Doctor Strange (2016) Stephen saves Tony it's a little cheesy Words: 1,411 Chapters: 1/1

Summary: Soulmate AU: Everyone is born with a black section of skin where their soulmate touches them skin-on-skin for the first time. When this happens, the mark changes to said soulmate’s eye color. Tony Stark and Stephen Strange both hate it because they’ve had to live with the stigma of having black lips all their lives. Tony goes into cardiac arrest at a gala, and Stephen ends up giving him CPR.The prompt I based this off. Set after the events of Doctor Strange (2016)

Who is Victor Trevor? Johnlock Teenlock Unilock Jealous John POV Sherlock Holmes victor is made up practice date First Dates Sherlock Holmes and John Watson Being Idiots Words: 3,256 Chapters: 1/1

Sherlock is in love with his best friend, John Watson. When confronted, Sherlock makes up Victor Trevor - a person that Sherlock wants to ask on a date. John offers to help by taking Sherlock on a practice date. The one thing Sherlock wants more than anything.

I Feel Like I Don’t Even Know Him! Johnlock Fake/Pretend Relationship Developing Relationship and Friendships Implied/Referenced Suicide AU Different First Meeting couples counselling It's For a Case Parental Greg Lestrade Protective Mycroft Holmes Slow Burn idiots to lovers Implied/Referenced Drug Use Miscommunication Eventual Happy Ending Did I Mention They Were Idiots? It's Sad Seriously It's Sad You Have Been Warned  Words: 26,108 Chapters: 25/25

Summary: John is leaving therapy. Sherlock needs to get into the office of a couples counselor. A frantic Sherlock bumps into John as he's making his way out. John - with nothing better to do - agrees to pretend to be a stranger's boyfriend for the afternoon. Beats going home.

Let Me Share Your Pain IronStrange Hurt Stephen Strange Hurt Tony Stark Protective Stephen Strange Friends to Lovers Arguing First Kiss Hurt/Comfort Words: 3957 Chapter 1/1

Tony begins to feel stronger and better than ever. He doesn’t question it, not when his movements are quicker and his mind is sharper. His anxieties and pain appear to have diminished altogether. And the next time he’s facing a villain he finds there’s barely a scratch on him. Funnily enough Doctor Strange looks ten times worse himself after battles lately, even in ones he hardly has a hand in. Tony slowly discovers that Stephen cast a spell to absorb all of Tony’s injuries as his own.

I'll Tell You Until You Believe Me IronStrange Jealous Tony Stark Pining Pining Tony Stark Oblivious Stephen Strange First Kiss Love Confessions Insecurity Insecure Stephen Strange author projecting their insecurities onto the character check Words: 2231 Chapter 1/1

Stephen is quite popular, what with his status as sorcerer supreme, good looks and compassion. Stephen is oblivious to it all, chalking it up as just weird alien customs. One day, an interdimensional being aids Stephen and Tony in battle, flirting with Stephen the whole time. Tony feels protective of Stephen but lets it go for now (pre-relationship, Tony’s kinda jealous yes). Only this keeps happening and it builds up, Tony can’t take anymore and confronts Stephen about why he never shoots down nor reciprocates the advances of the inter-dimensional beings. Light angst where Stephen accidentally reveals that his obliviousness stems from his insecurities. He thinks Tony is pulling his leg. 

Eastern Seaboard Ironstrange Established Relationship Bottom Tony Stark Established Tony/Stephen Is this crack?? Humour Tony's nicknames for the team Words: 717 Chapter 1/1

The only time Tony sees a hint of Stephen’s full power, without his moral limitations, is when they make love and Stephen’s magic accidentally causes an earthquake that knocks out the power of the whole eastern seaboard. Tony decides it's an achievement worthy of a nickname.

Super Fucking Long Sherlock Fic, Stop Being a Bitch and Finish It. Johnlock Slow Burn really really slow Angst Smut Fluff Eventual Sherlock Holmes/John Watson Unrequited Love mutual unrequited love Mutual Pining Violence Murder Case Fic Homophobia Homophobic Language POV Sherlock Holmes Idiots in Love they're really stupid and can't see past their noses but we love them Masturbation Oblivious Hate Crimes Hate Speech Hurt/Comfort Copping Off Coming Out Greg Lestrade & John Watson Friendship Sherlock Whump Words: 31,275 Chapter 48/? 

Sherlock is bored out of his mind - luckily Lestrade has a string of murders. Even luckier - Sherlock and John have to go undercover in a gay bar, and John's in tight clothes. But what if going back into that scene reminds Sherlock of his uni days? And what if he reverts back to shameless pleasure behind clubs? What if John never returns his affections? A series of life-threatening problems could both bring them together, and drive them apart.

Our Journal Mystrade Developing Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade Lestrade Can Draw switching POV Slow Burn Fluff mystrade Mystrade is art Mycroft is a Softie Even if just in his head Words: 3,798 Chapter 6/?

When the sketch artist is off, Greg is asked to step in. Like any artist - he thinks he's no good and hates his work. Mycroft just so happens to be around to lend some paper. After becoming enraptured in Greg's drawing, Mycroft's once-dormant feelings begin to fester again.

[masked-buffoon]

Chapter 13: Filled emptiness (Part 3)

Warnings: addiction, mentions of murder

Author notes: here is part 3...! It is a quieter part compared to the previous one, I hope you’ll like it!

We went back early enough for me to take a small shower and trade my shirt for a clean one. The doctor wanted to meet me in front of the dorms at half past seven, which also allowed me to have breakfast. While I was getting prepared, Dazai had gone to his bedroom to rest, but I was convinced he had most certainly fallen asleep. He rarely did sleep, even when he felt exhausted, so I hoped he could at least close his eyes without becoming an easy prey for his nightmares. I took a deep breath and exited his apartment to start my day, which would be the first of my therapy, too. I had not slept at all, yet I felt more energised than ever, and determined to finally turn a page of my life to start anew.

As expected Yosano-sensei was there, easily recognisable by the peculiar hairpin in the shape of a butterfly she wore everyday. I walked towards her, and greeted her with my brightest smile.

"Good morning sensei…!"

"Ogawa…! Just on time…! Today—"

She stopped, then grabbed my chin to take a closer look at my face. She narrowed her eyes, annoyance clearly changing her expression.

"... Are you kidding me, Ogawa…?"

"W-Well…"

"You didn't sleep, did you?" She clicked her tongue "I refuse to start your treatment today. You'll only feel pain, and it won't help at all."

"I see… I should have expected as much…"

"It doesn't matter." She patted my shoulder lightly "You surely had something important to do… I still have something to show you, though…!"

"And I'm impatient to see what it is…!"

She took a couple of keys out of her pocket, then led me towards the door to an apartment. I first thought it was her place, but that guess was pushed aside the moment I saw the room was empty. With a smile, she showed me around, and I quickly understood what was happening.

"Is that… My future home…?"

"You're wrong." She corrected me "It's not your "future" home, it's your home from now on. The former resident has just left, so you can use it."

"But… I don't have enough money to rent it… I thought that was why I was still living at Dazai's…"

"Money isn't an issue since the Agency pays for us. It was simply a matter of freeing some space for you. And, at last, it happened…!" She exclaimed, rather proudly "Do you like it?"

"Do I like it…? I love it…!" I answered, wholeheartedly "I finally have a home… Ever since I was born, no place had ever felt so warm… I'm so glad, thank you, Yosano-sensei…!"

"I'm happy for you, then." She smiled "You already have a futon, and a table. You can add other furniture when you have enough money to buy some."

"Yes…! I can already picture a bookshelf right here… It would be filled with books… And a pillow too, to create a cosy reading space…" I imagined.

"That's not a bad idea." She agreed "Oh, and… Look inside the wardrobe."

I was curious, so I did just as she said and opened it, only to find a set of new and colourful clothes. There were a few identical white shirts, as well as a navy blue suit composed of a jacket and a pair of pants. I looked at the doctor, astonished.

"Sensei, I… That's so much… I can't accept it…"

"It's a late welcome gift to the Agency." She said softly "Your clothes are… Well, I'm not sure you can call them clothes anymore… This is a new life, you need some changes."

"Even so, they are so beautiful…"

"You also have a new pair of shoes at the entrance, although you were too amazed by the place to notice them." She chuckled "I'd also like to do something for your hair… But let's wait for that addiction  to go away first."

"I agree… I'll really be freed when morphine won't control my life anymore."

"That's right. For now, you should rest. Have some sleep, too. I'll see you tomorrow at the Agency for your treatment."

"Thank you again, sensei… Oh, and… I have a case, too… A request from a friend… I have to go to Hokkaido by the end of the week." I remembered.

"I see… Do you think you can handle this while following your therapy…? It might be too hard…"

"I want to be cured. And I can't go back on my word. Besides, it is rather urgent, since someone's life is at stake. I'll manage, somehow." I assured her.

"If you say so, I have no other choice but to trust you." She nodded "See you tomorrow at the Agency, we'll discuss the case and prepare for your departure."

"Yes, sensei…!" I smiled at her "See you tomorrow…!

As soon as I closed the door behind her, a feeling of relief and joy overwhelmed me. I had a new place… My own place, one I would call "home", where I would go back to, where I would hide from the world… Since I had been generously given a day off, I grabbed my keys, enjoying the light tinting sound they made between my fingers, and decided to head off. I at least needed to buy a teapot and a book to occupy my quiet day, before starting one of the toughest times of my life, my therapy. I had lived in the streets, killed people for the Port Mafia and had even merely escaped from death, yet separating myself from morphine seemed like an impossible challenge to overcome. The simple thought of not getting my injection anymore made me crave the sweet sensation provided by the product, and I immediately stopped in my tracks. After all, it would only start the next day… For the moment, I was still an addict and had the right to consume morphine. For the moment…

Once the drug was freely flowing in my vessels, I was ready to leave and go shopping. I also needed to fill my empty fridge, and Uemura-san's store seemed like the perfect place to spend my money. He knew me, and it would not be an issue to use the laundered money I had earned from the Port Mafia. From an illegal point of view, I was pretty rich, but it was money I could never use, except with a few rare people. The man welcomed me warmly, glad that I had finally settled down somewhere.

"And how is my disciple? I hope he takes good care of you." He said, scanning the price of my purchase.

"He does." I told him "He's too worried about me for my liking, but I suppose I can't help it… I'm touched, but…"

I sighed. I could not say it made me feel irrational when it came to Dazai…

"He can be pretty insistent." He shrugged "I think you remind him of his sister, that's why."

"His what…?" I frowned.

"He didn't tell you? Well… He had an older sister, back then… She was very kind, and lived absolutely unaware of her brother's activity. A nice girl, really…"

I took the bag he handed me.

"What happened to her?"

"She met a man. The wrong one. She went on a date with him and her body was discovered the next day. Her head, however… It was never found."

I felt a shiver running down my spine, then recalled the case. It was a famous one, I had heard about it, even in the Port Mafia. The culprit was a serial killer, and had never been arrested…

"He was only seventeen back then… A young teen with an incredible gift for his current activity… It left him with quite a trauma."

"I see… That serial killer…"

I clenched my fist. I was not one to work for justice, nor to defend Yokohama, but, somehow, it angered me that such an awful man was still running free in the world. Besides, since the case of the Fox's sister, many other headless female bodies had been found in our city… It was strange that the Agency and Ranpo-san had not already arrested the criminal… Maybe he had not been requested to work on the case, after all…

"Well, now, you may understand his behaviour better. Don't tell him that I told you." He winked.

"I won't." I promised "Oh, and, thanks for your advice. About cooking, I mean."

"Don't worry about that…!" He chuckled "I can't let you eat junk food everyday after all. Besides, if you want to start a new life, you've got to start by eating better…!"

"Still, thank you." I smiled "I'm very grateful that you support me so much… I'm not sure if I deserve your kindness… But I'll try to be worth it."

"You sought my support, and I am glad to give it to you." He patted my shoulder "Do your best. You're a good person, Ogawa."

"Thank you, Uemura-san… Thank you…"

It felt comforting to have someone who believed in me and in the fact I was able to redeem myself, somehow. I had never been a good person, and it was a lie to say that the Port Mafia had turned an innocent girl into a monster, for that beast had always lied dormant within me. However, being given a chance to be a better human was something I would forever be grateful for. We all had the right to change, after all…

When I came back to the dormitory, I instinctively walked towards Dazai's door, before remembering the reason I had gone out was to slowly inhabit my own place. Delighted, I inserted my key into the lock to open my door, and immediately relished in the quiet atmosphere of the room. Slowly, I removed my shoes and went to my fridge, feeling oddly satisfied as I placed the diverse vegetables and goods I had bought for the first time. I had never gone grocery shopping before… The only shop I had ever visited was an old pharmacy to buy morphine with a forged prescription. Even so, the pharmacist had never taken a look at the said prescription, too eager to chase an addict away from his store quickly, which explained why I had never lacked pain relievers despite leaving the Mafia. Truly, it felt… Normal.

Delicately, I unpacked the kettle Uemura-san had given me to celebrate my new place. With it, boiling water would be so much easier, and making tea would only take a blink. Five months ago, when I had just become a detective, I had decided to stop drinking alcohol whenever I needed a distraction from the world. Yosano-sensei had strongly warned me about the state of my liver, and I had decided to listen to her. Following her advice, I had discovered tea, which had then slowly replaced sake and whisky, although I still drinked alcohol from time to time. Immediately, I prepared a cup of tea, ready to relax for the rest of the day, before realising that I had forgotten to stop by the bookstore to buy the first book I would read in my new home. It was important to me, and I needed time to choose… Thus, I prepared to leave again, but when I opened the door, a small package had been placed in front of it, accompanied by a note.

"Welcome, neighbour!"

I giggled as I recognised Dazai's handwriting, and unwrapped the gift. It was a book, of course… The mystery I had been reading just the previous evening, and which I had yet to solve. That one would be the first book of my home, and it was not a bad thing that it was one I would continue. Because I now had a home, it did not mean I had to start everything anew… With a slight smile, I went back inside. Finally, I was ready to spend a relaxing day off, the last one before a series of troubles. Even so, I knew that everything would be fine, eventually.

[peach-jaehyunie]

The Descent

Pairing: Lee Taeyong x OC, (minor) Johnny Suh x OC x OC, (former) Kim Taehyung x OC

Rating: 18+

Warnings: swearing, suggestive content, implied drug use

Pt. I

Words 4,263

Genre: Fantasy, Fallen Angel AU, slow burn

Synopsis: Vada spends her days working in a restaurant, letting all the desires of her true nature remain mostly unfulfilled. Where passion had once been in her life she is left with only half memories—secrets of her past that haunt her heart. A man with blue hair catches her attention he and his friend begin to ignite the feelings within her that have long been dormant.

You had known a man like that as a sophomore in college. He had been your dorm roommate’s boyfriend, and he had radiated an unfamiliar energy. He was ethereal and his aura pulled you in. One time you asked how he got the two scars on his back “I had my wings ripped off,” he joked. He was gorgeous, but one day he was just gone and your roommate curled up in her tiny bed to weep over everything Kim Taehyung had taken and given.

He had made you look twice when you had first seen him a month ago. He rode a bicycle and his blue hair ruffled in the wind, you couldn’t help but look at him—the ethereal beauty you had seen before in someone else. It had become routine to see him as you walked to work: he would fly past, his shirt billowing, sometimes followed by a hooded figure with downcast eyes on a longboard. Eventually, his eyes would catch yours as he passed: they were deep brown and calming, there was always a twinkle of hope to be seen in them for a fleeting moment as he sped by. You noticed days you didn’t see him, they felt slightly emptier and work would be lacklustre.

“Vada?” You snapped to attention as your coworker said your name,

“Yeah, sorry, what did you say?” You quickly replied as you went back to whisking a pastry cream twice as hard.

“Katerina needs to know what to put on the menu for the desserts this week.”

“Oh, um,” Devo had caught you at a bad time as you were daydreaming about a blue haired stranger. “I made a white cake filled with almond pastry cream between the layers and an Italian meringue icing; I have blood orange panna cotta setting right now, which will be served with a blueberry sauce...oh! I’m making trifle with the leftover cupcakes, and I’m going to make a chocolate cherry mousse and serve it in martini glasses.” You noticed that Devo didn’t write any of this down and braced yourself for when Katerina would inevitably come and nitpick your work. You furiously whisked in the eggs yolks and were relieved that the cream remained perfectly smooth as it took on a yellow hue. You felt as though you could probably whip up a triple batch of pastry cream in your sleep, so thinking about the two men that chose a bicycle and a longboard as their methods of transport in a hilly city like San Francisco kept your brain busy.

A handsome man caught your eye for a second as you walked home with your bag of groceries. His eyes met your gaze and you felt unable to turn away. A chill came over you and you felt that his eyes were enough to suffocate you in the crowded sidewalk, every step drew each of you closer together. You fought back a grimace as the street narrowed and the mass of people were forced closer together. You were able to force your gaze from him, but the stranger’s arm bumped into your shoulder as he walked past. The hair on your neck prickled, your stomach felt like ice; he felt wrong. You couldn’t shake the feeling of repulsion even when you got home and set your TJ’s bag on the counter and began to unpack it.

“Hey, Vada,” your roommate greeted you without even looking at you as she breezes from the bathroom, through the tiny living room, and into her bedroom before shutting her door. You could hear two voices through the door; Brian must have been over and now they were getting ready for a night out. You considered an evening spent at home alone: you weren’t much of a Netflix watcher, and a string of bad first dates had left you in a dry patch romantically. You couldn’t go out with Ana and Brian, because you had fucked Brian first and now it felt awkward because he wasn’t quite your sloppy seconds; he just mostly was.

You ate the dinner you had brought home in a to-go container from work; it was delicious and the flavours were balanced, an array of textures should have been enough to excite your palate, but tonight it felt as tantalizing as eating cardboard. You picked up a book; any attempts to read it failed as you continuously got up to scour the cupboards and fridge for anything attractive. You spent the evening fidgety and almost...hungry. It was an odd sensation, a mix of physical hunger; for food, excitement, sex—anything to pull you from the mundane— and an even deeper hunger: a yearning. You thought of the blue-haired man on the bicycle, a warm and pleasant feeling filled you. It was the exact opposite sensation that you had felt from the other stranger while walking home. A streetcar outside the window clanged and you rolled over in bed, irritated by its sound.

The next day the blue-haired man was not to be seen on the way to work. A somewhat familiar feeling of unfulfillment took hold of you upon reaching your apartment at the end of the day. While you got ready to out to a bar with Devo you remembered someone else filling you with that feeling before: warmth, hunger, and insatiability that you couldn’t describe. You flinched like a wounded animal when you recalled the sharp grip of guilt that had clawed at you in punishment for giving in to such base desires.

“Here, you look like you could use it,” Devo said, sliding you his Manhattan as he ordered another.

“A Manhattan?” You looked at him skeptically.

“Sophisticated; like me,” he immediately quipped “No, but seriously, what happened in the two hours since I last saw you?”

“I guess I’m just kinda bored and very lonely.” You take a sip of your drink, already regretting the lasting taste the alcohol leaves on your tongue and the cloying aroma it will leave on your skin.

“What about your roommate?”

“She’s out with Brian,” you weren’t jealous, or at least not of the Brian factor, but no one would have possibly known that from the way you gulped down the rest of your drink.

“The one you fucked first?” Asked Devo.

“Yes,” you replied with a laugh in his direction, “The one I fucked-first. I’m very generous that way, you know, bringing people together like that.”

You and Devo’s friend, Adrian (boyfriend, but Devo’s parents don’t approve and, no, he doesn’t want to talk about it) must nearly carry poor, drowsy Devo back to his little bachelor apartment. It’s tidy but dark; there’s enough room for two men in love as long as lavish amenities like oxygen aren’t that important to you. The only pieces of furniture are a bed, two bean-bag chairs in front of a TV sat on the floor and a table in the kitchen area that’s used as an extra counter when Devo is experimenting with a new culinary delight at home.

“Vada, let me walk you home,” Adrian tells you right after you two have put Devo in his bed.

“Sure, thanks,” you tell him. You like Adrian, but he proves to be a slow walker and a fast talker on the way home. He asks you what Devo is like at work—Devo is the first guy he’s gone out with since moving to San Francisco from Ohio.

“What brought you out here?” He’s young and curious: Devo is the mutual friend, but no one talks about your past because the parts you make public are boring and you keep all the gritty and smutty stories to yourself.

“UC Berkeley,” you sighed, but not audibly. “My dream school; I dropped out Junior year, first semester.”

“Shit, didn’t like it?”

“Nah, it’s a great school, it just wasn’t what I wanted at the time.”

“What did you do after that, I mean before working as a pastry chef?” Damn, could he walk any slower.

“Just kinda bummed it on what I had leftover from student loans,” Liar. Someone had gotten you a lucrative job as a stripper in a club off of Broadway. You thanked Adrian and quickly left him out on the street as you hurried up the two flights of stairs to your apartment. There wasn’t a sound from Ana’s room, but empty takeout containers sat on the counter illuminated in the dark kitchen by a strand of lights that hung above the sofa. Your mouth felt dry as your senses were suddenly overcome with the bass of loud club music and a hint of chemical cleaner to cover up the odour of spilled alcohol. Your skin felt sticky with sweat and your hands felt grimy from money—but when you opened your eyes it was just a little two-bedroom apartment in a house with a blue facade staring back at you. It was not special, it was not grand; there were fairy lights strung up and a half-dead cactus (too much water) in the corner. You could close your eyes and remember a room for special guests who wanted a private show...after they inhaled from a blue balloon they were too out of it to do anything more to than slip a hundred into your g-string.

That night you had a dream (or maybe it was a nightmare, but it wasn’t all bad) that you were back in your Berkeley dorm. You laid in the bed and felt warm and full, it felt like happiness but there was a dusting of excitement: a *secret*—which is sometimes just a cute word for a lie. Your limbs felt tangled and you could hear yourself whispering, which was strange because you felt that you were alone until Ally came in and saw you on your little bed and started crying as she shouted and threw items from her side of the room at you. She didn’t want your apologies—were they yours? The dream began to feel claustrophobic; Ally wouldn’t talk, only cry and push away any comforting hands and you could feel yourself standing there...were you apologizing? watching? All you knew was that guilt was suffocating you.

You felt him before you saw him. For the first time, you were aware that you weren’t the only one who looked at him as he passed by on his bicycle. His gaze was as welcoming as a lover’s kiss and his eyes still felt hopeful and warm. You thought (foolishly? hopefully?) that he only looked at you.

You saw him again the next morning and you brazenly returned his gaze: his eyes were like a deer’s, you wanted to spend hours staring into them because they felt safe, welcoming, nonjudgemental. His sharp jawline made your mouth water, but the small smile that broke from his beautiful lips made you feel warm and happy.

Devo came to where you worked in the kitchen to complain about the new line cook.

“Does he ‘Yes, Chef!’ too much for your liking?” You ask him with a straight face.

“No—“

“Oof, he reeks of Axe—“

“No,—“

“Does he have mutton chops like the last guy? Those were gross.” Devo often came to you to complain about the new staff. You enjoyed listing off his complaints about coworkers more than you would like to admit.

“This dude just...creeps me out. Like, he seems nice and everything, but fuck, this sounds ridiculous, I just get this really bad vibe from him, you know? It’s like bad...energy.” You stifled your laugh because Devo was so earnest.

“Well, I feel like I have to meet him now.” You say wiping sticky sugar from your hands and setting a timer on your phone.

“He’s nice! He just makes my skin crawl,” Devo nodded and laughed as he said this before heading back to his prep station.

“Behind, oven door!” You said loudly as you stepped onto the line to put a sheet of rolls on the oven.

“Oh, hey, Vada?” The chef addressed you,

“Yes, chef?”

“This is our new line cook, Johnny.”

The tall cook turned to you and despite having not seen his face before today you knew, you felt that he was the man on the longboard.

“Hey,” Johnny gave a small wave “Vada...I like that name, have I seen you somewhere before? You look really familiar.” He looked at your face intently for a moment before you spoke.

“Um, no I don’t think so. I haven’t worked at many restaurants before.” Being under his gaze felt like a microscope, but...it wasn’t a bad feeling. He shook his head as if to get rid of a thought.

“Well, it is nice to meet you, Vada.” Johnny offered his hand for you to shake. There was a strange and sudden internal pull when you grasped his hand and he must have felt it too by the way he smirked at you.

You couldn’t be sure that he was the longboard guy; when Johnny left work he left on foot to catch a tram. He was talkative and easygoing, behind his outgoing demeanour there seemed to lurk a sedate and tormented individual. You could only see it sometimes: it was there behind his eyes as he worked, sometimes it was written on his face for just a second before the jovial mask would return. Devo avoided him as best he could and Johnny (strangely) didn’t seem at all offended, regardless of how obvious Devo was.

“Drinks and staff night out at Gus’s tonight!” Katerina yelled into the kitchen as closing started. You quickly cleaned up your work station and grabbed a bucket of cutlery for polishing to help the servers get out faster. An hour later the group of you were turning out the lights and locking up, stuffing the split tips into a safe place to be spent later on. Gus’s Bar was a short walk and extremely casual and therefore suitable for a bunch of sweaty kitchen workers.

“First round is on me,” Katerina stated as she sat down at the bar and the old barkeep slowly approached while he was polishing a glass. He nodded and remained quiet as everyone placed their orders, never writing anything down, and began to make drinks more efficiently than you had ever seen in your life. The barkeep (possibly Gus) soon had a row of drinks up for all of you. As soon as Johnny downed his first in one go he exclaimed with a mischievous glint in his eye:

“Third round is on me!” He winked at you as you realized what that meant because no one had offered to buy a second round.

“I guess I’ll buy round two,” said one of the waitresses with a chuckle, her long, blonde waves shaking as she laughed. You felt pleasantly buzzed after round three, not really needing a lot more but also not anywhere near turning down an offer for another one. You ordered a whiskey sour—neat; this one you were paying for. You sat between Miles and Johnny at the bar: Miles was laughing at everything anyone said but paying you no mind because you just wanted to sit there and enjoy the feeling.

“I know where I know you from now,” Johnny spoke resting his arms on the bar comfortably.

“Oh yeah, where?” You grinned at him, unfazed.

“The Velvet Angel,” he said it loud enough that you knew you could only hear him, but you still felt that your heart stopped for a few moments. His eyes stayed on your face, but your thoughts raced and your mouth felt dry when you realized what this meant.

“How did you—“ you began licking your lips

“Don’t worry, I won’t say anything—it’s our secret.” He assures you upon noticing your hands shake as you tried to bring the whiskey sour to your mouth. You looked at him, blushing at how kind and welcoming his gaze seemed despite the fact you felt nearly like drowning. You wanted to run away...but you couldn’t, not from Johnny. Everything seemed foggy, but you finished your drink and ordered another. Adrian came and you felt the brush of his hand on your back as he said ‘hello’ and you thought you must have said something back but you couldn’t remember. Miles fell asleep with his head on the bar as Johnny comfortably nursed a beer on your other side. Strangers came and went, and one by one your coworkers left until it was just the three of you—two if you considering that Miles was passed out.

“Do you know where he lives?” Johnny asked you as he finally finished his beer.

“No,” you had to clear your voice as it cracked from disuse. Why weren’t you more shattered, why did this not feel so bad to have Johnny know of your past life.

“I have someone in my couch at my place, can Miles crash at your place?” You wanted to ask Johnny if it was the blue haired man of your fantasies that was on his couch. That thought felt silly and hopeful, especially because you were nearly just operating off of a hunch.

“Yeah, I don’t think my roommate will mind. Wait—“ You grabbed Johnny’s arm as he moved to get up and, you thought, leave. “—I don’t think I can move him by myself,”

Johnny chuckled at your panic, and you felt your face heat up even more than just from the alcohol.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get him home for you; I won’t leave you.” He said as he gently patted your shoulder. Johnny went to help Miles up, but the young man turned out to be drunker than expected and your jaw dropped as Johnny picked up Miles easily and began to carry him out.

“Are you okay to carry him by yourself? That’s not what I meant when I said I couldn’t; I can help if you want!” You called after him, nearly tripping out of your barstool and trotting to catch up with his long strides.

“No, I’m fine, he’s light. Just walk us in the right direction.”

It’s quite a few minutes before you pluck up the courage to say anything to Johnny about The Velvet Angel. You choose your words carefully, wanting to keep the conversation lighthearted.

“No offense, but you don’t really seem like the type of person that would have frequented The Velvet Angel.” You finally say.

“A man?” Johnny joked after a moment. His breathing wasn’t laboured even though he was carrying another person up a hill.

“No, I mean, like that place had other stuff going on.” You began to feel uncomfortable, maybe you had completely misread him.

“Oh...you mean the private rooms and the balloons...well, I try to avoid that a bit now, but I haven’t always.” His voice was soft and low, you turned to look back at him and there was that sad tortured look again. You regretted saying anything.

“I think I deserve some credit for remembering your face, though.” Johnny suddenly quipped with a shy smile.

“Yes, that was very gentlemanly of you,” you replied sarcastically.

“It was the expression you wore on your face,” he began after a pause, “Some of the women...you could really tell that you were just paying to see their body, and some liked to play as if they were teasing you, but you—your face was that of a lover.”

“A lover?” You dubiously queried.

“It’s… You looked like someone in love, your eyes invited an intimacy if you looked closely enough. You didn’t look fake or cheap, it was all art and the beauty of love in your face.”

Your mouth felt dry, and your walking slowed down as Johnny spoke. Love, what did that even feel like? Did you remember, had you ever known it? There was a void where memories of feelings like that should be stored. All you could remember was guilt...disgust, remorse, and guilt. You had slowed to a stop without realizing it.

“Are you okay?” Johnny asked, worried as he stopped by your side. You looked at him, unable to form a complete thought until the building behind Johnny took shape in the dark.

“This is my house.” You finally manage as you lick your lips and think to take keys from your bag. You unlock the main front door and hold it open as Johnny walks in carrying Miles.

“I live on the second floor, I’m so sorry,” You grimace thinking of him having to carry another man up the stairs.

“I said not to worry about it, Miles is light.” And he easily carries him to your apartment where Miles is laid on your sofa with a pillow from your bed and a spare blanket.

“Thank you so much, I hope you don’t have too far to go.” You tell Johnny as he walks toward your door to leave.

“Nah, it’s fine. It would be faster if I had my longboard, but I can catch a bus.” He shrugged.

“You have a longboard?” You asked, hoping you didn’t sound too curious.

“Yes,” he turned to you and chuckled a little “But you already knew that.” He couldn’t see your blush in the dark. How could he have known that you suspected him?

“Vada,”

“Mhm,”

“If you ever want to meet Taeyong...all you gotta do is ask.” In the hallway, a streetlamp illuminated his face enough for you to see his grin and wink in your direction before turning around and trotting down the steps and out.

———————————————————-

The blue haired man is absent for the rest of the week, but on Saturday night you follow Johnny out the back door to shout after him:

“I want to meet him; I want to meet Taeyong.” Johnny sets his longboard down and pulls his phone out to check it before he answers you.

“Okay,” he looks at you with a slow grin, “I’ll find out when he’s free. Now get back to work, I gotta hot date I have to meet.” He winks at you as he gets on and rides off.

You feel giddy—butterflies like a schoolgirl when you get back inside the restaurant. You have trouble sleeping that night: trying to figure out every possible scenario as to how Johnny knew about your hunch; all the ways you could meet Taeyong, and imagining a first date in which you were overflowing with wit, intelligence, and good things to say; and also a terrible dread and anxiety that Taeyong was just some random person and not the man with the blue hair.

Your eyes are bleary the next day, the cookbook in front of you seems to keep going out of focus.

“Fucking shit!” You curse as you burn your hand on a cake pan, a silent stream of fucks threatened to be uttered by your tongue as you cup your tender wound. Disheartened, you peer into a mixing bowl of clumpy custard. It will need to be strained. Nothing is going right and you feel frazzled. You check the fruit purée in the freezer to see if they have set in their molds yet—they haven’t. You go up to the main kitchen and pour yourself a coffee with extra cream, avoiding the warmth of the mug with your burnt hand. It’s not a glamorous place to enjoy a coffee or a five-minute break, but the sun lights up the alley and even the dumpster doesn’t look too bad in this lighting.

He hops lightly off his bike as he reaches the alley corner, his frown is matched by your own. The hood of his sweater is up but it doesn’t stop the blue fringe from peaking out. He walks straight up to you with his bike, his frown softens and his eyes look like two inviting pools of melted chocolate.

“Is Johnny here?” He asks after a moment of you staring at him. You nearly choke as you try to speak and swallow your spit at the same time—

“Um, no he hasn’t come into work yet.” You finally manage after clearing your throat. The beautiful man’s frown returns and he almost seems to scowl at the back of the restaurant.

“He was off early last night, and said he was meeting up with a hot date.” You added, it felt rude but you were really unable to take your eyes off of him.

He looked back at you, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. His expression was safe and inviting and you suddenly felt less bad for having been staring at him.

“He didn’t come home after his date, and I can’t reach him on his phone; so I thought I’d check here just in case.” His grip on the bike loosened and tightened. Finally, he shyly averted his eyes for a second before offering you his hand to shake.

“It’s nice to finally meet you; I’m Taeyong.” His eyes confidently search yours out when he says his name.

“I know—“ you want to slap yourself as the words fall from your lips, but your hand meets his and you feel a warm and familiar pull in your very core. “I mean, my name is Vada.” You blush as you stumble over the words.

“I know,” and a soft blush breaks out over his smooth cheeks, his grip on your hand never loosening.

[santoteez]

The Dormant Beast - Jongho (2)

Read Part 1 HERE

Part: 2 of ?

Idol: Jongho of ATEEZ

Genre: Fantasy, Romance, Friends to Lovers

Word Count: 1,490 (i think)

Warnings: Slight prejudice and bullying (non-racial and it’s not body shame either) MC is Black Female

Crescent shut the door to her two-story home, walking into the kitchen. She grabbed ice from the freezer, applying it directly to her knuckles, sighing in relief.

A couple of Doberman auras ambushed her on her way home, the moment she parted ways with Jongho. Cowards, all of them. They wouldn’t dare attack her when he was around. Hell, they wouldn’t dare attack anyone with such a domesticated animal as their aura. But without an aura, Crescent was at everyone’s mercy. So, she did what she knew best.

She beat the shit out of them.

They eventually ran out of energy, allowing Crescent to slip away. She headed upstairs to her room, slipping into a tank top and shorts. She attempted her homework, but her mind kept going back to The Void. He was getting closer and closer, and her loved ones had pretty strong auras, which put them on his hit list. She pinched the bridge of her nose. She wished she wasn’t so useless.

“Why couldn’t I have been a dog? Even a mouse would be useful in the right situation! Way better than a human.” She said, doodling on her paper.

Suddenly, her door swings open, and her brown eyes are staring straight into big, gold ones.

“IS THAT SELF-LOATHING I HEAR?” She said, whisking Crescent away from her desk, up the stairs, and out to the roof.

“Can you NOT run with me in your arms? You’re too fast for my slow brain.”

“Again with the negativity? Relax little one, your big sister’s got you.” Eclipse said, popping up with a six-pack of beers from the fridge.

“You know Mom and Dad would kill you if they found out you gave me these, right?”

“It’s a good thing I’m faster than them. In and out of the store before they blink.” Eclipse winked.

Crescent shook her head but grabbed a bottle nonetheless. This was Eclipse’s way of lightening the mood: alcohol. Ever since her sister realized her…condition, she did everything in her power to lift her spirits whenever she got into one of her funks.

“What’s on your mind this time?” Eclipse asked, taking a swig from her own bottle.

Crescent leaned against the railing, looking out onto the street. “The Void.”

Eclipse sighed. “I told you not to worry about that.”

The younger girl shook her head. “What if he comes for you, Clips?” She said in a small voice.

“Listen to me. I don’t want you thinking like that, okay? He’d have to catch me first. And plus, there isn’t a person in this world that can take me from your side.” She hugged her little sister. “Besides, if by some weird chance he does get to me, I know you’re in good hands.”

Crescent rolled her eyes. “I’m guessing you don’t mean Mom and Dad.”

“He’s so good for you, Cres. The way he cares for you, looks at you when you aren’t looking! He’s gone above and beyond to help you find your aura! How many 14-year-olds would have spent their allowance on some sketchy potion that wasn’t even for their benefit? All the signs are there, Cres. You just can’t see it.”

“Even if I did see it, it would hurt less to be blind. The top of the food chain doesn’t fall in love with the bottom of the barrel. You know how this goes, Clips.”

“And how many times do I have to tell you he doesn’t care about the damn hierarchy? Think about it, according to the rules, he’s supposed to be head over heels for Desire, ignore you, and be overly violent when putting others in check. But none of that has happened. He gives you his undivided attention and is a docile leader. He’s nothing like the rest of this town, and neither are you. That’s what makes you perfect.”

Crescent shook her head. “He’d be shunned if he was ever with me romantically. I can’t do that to him. He’s already seen as less of a leader for associating with the ‘challenged one.’ Sometimes it’s best to leave things alone. There are better things Jongho could do. Better girls he could be with.”

“And yet, there he is. Walking up to our house. Right now. Look down.” Eclipse said, cracking open another beer.

Crescent tiptoed to peek over the railing. Just as Eclipse said, there was Jongho crossing the street to her house. Just then he looked up, smiling and waving when he caught her eye.

“Are you guys drinking again?” He asked nonchalantly.

“Why? You want one?” Eclipse asked.

“It’s Monday afternoon.”

“Sooo…Is that a yes?”

Jongho shook his head. “Cres! Look what I finally got off the waiting list at the library!” He fished out a DVD from his backpack. It was the last season of Marvin, an old sitcom from auraless times. They had put in the request months ago, never expecting to see the day it was fulfilled.

“No way! There was a thirty-person long wait!” Crescent called out.

“Apparently, the line just suddenly cleared up. Let’s pop this bad boy in!”

“Coming! I’ll make popcorn.” Crescent called out. She started down the stairs. “You comin, Clips?”

“And let this beer go to waste? I’ll pass. Have fun on your date.”

“C’mon, Clips. Just friends.” She left downstairs.

“That’s what you think, lil sis. But you have NO idea.” Eclipse said, taking another swig.

Downstairs, Crescent let Jongho in.

“It’s about time you came back indoors. You look cold.” He said, glancing down at her chest.

Crescent smacked his arm. “You’re just greasy.” She said, earning a laugh from Jongho.

“Choi boy. I see you are invading my house. Again.” A dark skin man with thin-rimmed glasses emerged from the back of the house.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Moon. How are you?”

“How many times do I have to tell you, boy? Just call me Lunar.”

“I’m sorry, Lunar. How’s everything? How’s the book coming along.”

Lunar sighed. “Somedays more than others. But, it’s on its way. What are you two kids getting into today.”

“Marvin!” Crescent said, her response muffled by the popcorn in her mouth.

“I see. Well, if you need me, I’ll be in my dungeon. And no funny business. Like telling my daughter she looks cold. Understood?” Lunar pressed, his eyes showing a glint of hyena green.

“It won’t happen again, Lunar. You have my word.” Jongho said, unfazed.

Lunar nodded, heading back the same way he came. “And tell your sister she’s not fooling anyone stealing my booze and running to replace it.”

“Ignore him. He knows that if he so much as touched a hair on your head, he’ll have to deal with me.” Crescent said as they climbed the stairs.

“Your dad is a hyena. He’ll find a way around your little clause. Besides, it’s not hard to abide by his rules. It’s understandable he wouldn’t like a comment like that.”

Crescent shook her head. “You’re really a big softie, huh?”

Jongho smiled, popping the DVD in. They relaxed on the bed as the intro blared through the speakers.

Minutes turned into hours, and the tv was soon watching the pair napping when a sudden gust of wind engulfed the room. Jongho jumped up immediately, noticing the window was now wide open.

“Crescent, get up. Someone’s in here.”

“What?” Crescent said, looking around. “I can’t see anything.”

But Jongho, with the keen eyesight of a gorilla, knew better. He noticed the fingerprints on the sill, fresh.

“Wait here. I’ll check the hall.”

But that was Jongho’s mistake.

The minute he turned his head, Crescent screamed, a masked individual snatching her up.

“Crescent!” Jongho shouted, grabbing onto her just as she was being pulled out the window.

“Jongho! Pull me back in!”

Straining to hold on, Jongho gritted “I didn’t have time to power up! I’m using my human strength, but it’s not enough!” He shouted, his converse scuffing the windowsill. He was sliding off.

“Jongho, please don’t let go!”

“I’m trying!” He said, but whatever aura this person was, it was strong. Jongho slipped out of the window, falling out to the front lawn, and unfortunately, letting go of Crescent.

“Jongho!”

“Crescent!” Jongho shouted, finally powering up. But it was too late. This was a flying aura, and Jongho couldn’t outrun it. Just stand back as his best friend was whisked away.

The masked person flew for what seemed like hours, until they reached the Enchanted Ocean, miles away from town.

“What are we doing here? Who are you? What are you gonna do to me?” Crescent asked. The person turned to her, immediately letting go as she screamed.

‘This is it, I’m gonna die.’ Crescent thought to herself.

But what Crescent wasn’t expecting was instead of water, her lungs seemed to be filled with newfound oxygen. No matter how many times she breathed in, she exhaled unscathed.

“What the fuck,” She said to herself, “I can breathe underwater?”

dONT HATE ME FOR THE CLIFFHANGER PLEASE I LOVE YALL

But anyways, Stephie here! The story is kicking up, now the fun can begin >:)

[ghostofviperwrites]

Lost Chance

Requested by  @lclb3

Pairing:  Bushi/FC

Category:   Angst/Smut

Word Count: 1818

Warnings: Smut, language, choking

140.“I can’t stop thinking about you.”

It had been just over three years since you had made the biggest mistake of your life in walking away from Bushi.   At the time it had seemed like the right thing to do.   His career was taking off, he was traveling the world and it was hard on both of you.   After too many lonely nights you had ended it.  Shattering his heart and breaking your own in the process.  You loved him.  More than you had thought apparently as three years later you were still alone and pining after him.  You just couldn’t move on.  Nobody could measure up to Bushi in your mind.  Every date you went on your partner was compared to Bushi and found lacking.  If it ever did proceed to the sex stage they couldn’t make you feel like he did. 

The first few times New Japan had come through your town you had stayed far away.  Unable to handle the heartbreak and the thought of seeing him again.  Instead you stayed locked in your house until they moved on.  You couldn’t imagine accidentally running into him in public.   However tonight you had bought a ticket to the show.  Front row.  It had cost you a pretty penny, but you couldn’t go on like this.  You had to see if there was any hope for the two of you.  

If you didn’t know him so well you would have thought he didn’t notice you.  Bushi covered it well, only pausing for a slight beat as his gaze fell on you.  Not enough for anybody in the audience to notice.  But his stablemate sure did.  The hulking man with the hooded robe and scythe immediately locked eyes on you as he ushered Bushi past you to the stairs making shivers run through you.   Once they were all on the apron you felt like the center of attention as the four other men with Bushi gathered around him while he stared at you.  You always hated his masks.  You couldn’t get a read on him when he wore them.  Though you were grateful for the privacy they afforded you in your personal lives.   Your breakup had come before he had joined this group, so you weren’t familiar with them, but judging by their actions they were rather close to Bushi.   Protective if the side-eyed glares you were receiving were any indication.  

It had been a long time since you had seen Bushi in action and you found yourself impressed by just how fluid he was in the ring, his passion unmistakable.  You felt a stab of guilt for trying to make him quit what he loved for you.  In that moment you felt incredibly selfish.  You had known what Bushi did for a living when you started dating him.  He had warned you what it entailed and after a lot of deep thought you had assured him that you were in it for the long haul.  That you would be by his side as he pursued his career and you could deal with the lonely nights.  Until you couldn’t anymore.   The breakup had been nasty.  You had thrown his career in his face; accused him of cheating though you knew he wasn’t.  You had given him an ultimatum of his career or you before immediately retracting it and declaring yourself done regardless.  Once it was out you couldn’t take it back and the hurt on Bushi’s face had about killed you.  So you had walked out on him. 

Pulling yourself from your thoughts as the bell rang you tried to get Bushi’s attention through the wall of protectors he had seemed to find for himself. 

“Bushi!”  You yelled making him look at you only to be ushered along by his friends.  Reaching out in desperation you grabbed the arm of the one closest to you and pressing the piece of paper you had written a note and your number on in his hand.  The man with the black cap on looked from you to the number and then turned without a word. 

Shoulders slumping you left the arena knowing you had done everything you could.  It was out of your hands now.  All you could do was hope your note made its way to Bushi and he contacted you.   Checking into the hotel you turned on the TV paying mindless attention to the movie as you checked your phone every five minutes in hopes of a message or call.  Just as you were about to turn in for the night a message lit up your phone.  Holding your breath as you read it you nearly cried in excitement when you read the text from Bushi saying he was in the hotel bar.   Telling him you would be down in ten minutes you hurried into the bathroom for a quick freshen up before digging through your suitcase and pulling out the slinky red dress you had brought just for this occasion. Bushi had always loved you in red and you were willing to pull out whatever stops were necessary to get him back. 

Walking into the bar you were relieved to find him alone, adding a little extra sway to your hips as you walked towards the dark corner booth he was seated in. 

“No guard dogs?”  You teased lightly sliding in across from him pleased to see his appreciative glance. 

“I had a difficult time convincing them I didn’t need an escort.”  Bushi said simply.  “They’re rather concerned you’re going to stomp all over my heart again.”  You blanched at his cold words lowering your eyes from his accusing gaze.  “I assured them that wouldn’t be the case.  I have no heart left for you to stomp.” 

“I’m sorry Bushi.”  You said softly forcing yourself to meet his cold gaze.  

“Took you three years to figure out you’re sorry?”  He asked skeptically taking a sip from the wine glass before him.  

“No.  I was sorry immediately.  But you’re right I should have apologized sooner.” You said signaling to the bartender for your own drink.   “I was stupid to wait so long.  I kept hoping I was going to get over you.  To find what I was looking for.  But it hasn’t happened.  Because I can’t stop thinking about you.  You’re what I was looking for.” 

Silence reigned as the tender delivered your drink and you nervously gulped down the red wine, quickly asking for another as Bushi stared hard at you giving you no insight into what he was thinking.  He had really perfected his poker face in the time of your separation you thought wryly.  

“Well?” You finally asked impatience winning out as you continued to get no response. 

“Well what Y/N?”  Bushi asked.  “What do you want from me?  Do you want me to fall at my feet grateful that you want me back?  Want me to forget you ripped my heart from my chest?  What do you want?”  You hated that he seemed so collected, so unfazed calmly sipping from his wine.  Tossing back the rest of your second glass you scooted from the booth needing a moment to collect yourself.  Moving to the bar you got a new glass and hurriedly gulped it down wincing as your head felt light from the quick intake of alcohol.  Asking for a bottle of the wine having a feeling you were going to need it, you returned finding  Bushi had moved to the middle of the booth his intense gaze watching your body move as you approached.  That give you a bit of confidence.  At least he wasn’t completely immune to you. 

Resuming your seat you crossed your legs towards Bushi, your knee brushing his making a flare of lust flash in his eyes.  Filling your glass you took another sip of the wine before meeting his eyes. 

“I want to know there’s a chance Bushi.  That I didn’t fuck everything up by walking away from you.” You said answering his earlier question.  “I miss you.  And I need to know I didn’t throw away the best thing that ever happened to me.”  

You were startled when Bushi leaned forward capturing your lips in his but eagerly opened for him, his tongue sliding across yours stroking fires you had long thought dormant.   He pulled you to his body sitting you sideways on his lap as he deepened the kiss, practically devouring you as your fingers ran through his hair pulling him impossibly closer.  You had forgotten how good he felt underneath you and you could feel the evidence of his arousal against your butt making you grind down on him eliciting a groan. 

Remembering where you were you pulled from his mouth flushing as you looked around the crowded bar.

“Let’s go up to my room.’ You suggested climbing off his lap.  Bushi slid after you allowing you to pull him by the hand towards the elevator.   It was a quick ride with Bushi’s hands on your hips and lips sucking on your neck.  As soon as the doors opened you pulled him down the hallway to your room barely making it inside before he had your dress pushed up over your hips and was between your thighs on the bed with his jeans around his ankles. 

You sighed as he ripped aside your lacy thong and pressed his thick cock into your waiting cunt.   You had missed just how good he felt inside you, his hips pumping quickly as your legs wrapped around his waist heels digging into his buttocks as he fucked you hard and deep.  Your eyes widened in surprise when his hand moved to your throat, clenching it tightly though the heat pulsing between your thighs told you that you definitely liked this aggressive move he had picked up.   You moaned the sound almost cut off by the tightening of Bushi’s hand making Bushi smirk down at you. 

“You like that?”  Bushi asked.  “Like me choking you?”  You nodded frantically your hands flying up to grip his shoulders as he pounded into you.   When he finally released your throat you gasped for air, crying out as your orgasm tore through you, your cunt clenching around Bushi’s cock.  

With a last brutal thrust Bushi stilled his cum filling you as you spasmed around him.  Pulling out Bushi rose and pulled his pants up, casually buckling his belt as he looked down at you with something akin to disgust on his face.

 “In response to your earlier question?  Yes, you did throw away the best thing you ever had.  I’m fucking done with you and your pathetic apologies.”  Bushi spat turning towards the door.  “Don’t ever attempt to contact me again.”  

You stared in belief at the closed door long after he left, his cum leaking onto the bedspread as tears fell from your eyes.

[virtual-crisis]

⭐Alpha Centauri⭐, Part Ten

I really need to crack this writer’s block. Third of this was already ready to go, then block happened. Again.

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I had a dream overnight. Lucid as always, and everything was a blur, like a picture out of focus. I narrowed in on something, and saw the vague figure of a capra—a goat demon—shuffling away. No doubt it was Scape- I’d only seen him in human form, but when you look at a demon side-by-side to their human form, you can just tell. As he faded into the jumbled void of latent imagination and dormant creativity, I felt myself fall…

I yelped, which had to have translated to a yip outside. After a brief moment of plummeting though, I landed on something soft and fluffy, like wool… It was coating the back of some long, slender and scaly figure, that was at once moving as well. A dragon? A dragon. A reverse hammock, my body said…

I looked down the length of its body. It gently oscillated up and down like a sine wave, gentle enough that I wouldn’t notice without looking. Its scales were azure, and its wool like the midnight sky. Not quite black, but close enough a blue to deceive the less-knowledgeable.

I lifted my four hands, gently placing my palms on the serpent’s back. I wanted to see its face, what was in front… It was so far away that if it was out there, my compound eyes were too feeble, even in a dream. Carefully, I heaved myself to my feet, like a toddler trying to stand on a train set. Not the smartest move, but my wings kept me steady.

I tried to bring the beast’s head to me with my lucidity, to no avail. Instead, I began to walk along it like a balance beam, following its motion through the subconscious abyss. As thoughts soared by like stars in space, I mindlessly kept on my way. Several times, I’d pass a pair of spindly arms, grasping at the nothingness and pushing it away, though still no sign of the head.

Perhaps there was no end. Was this just my mind clung to the East and its counterparts to my kind? I wanted to know the meaning to this entity. I had to…

My eyes opened, and I took in a confused breath. My head was hung over the side of my bed, and my body sprawled across it, still fully clothed. Moments later, my 7 o’ clock phone alarm went off. Great.

Chialer wouldn’t be up yet, and by all means I wasn’t supposed to be getting up for another hour [the alarm was meant to be snoozed], but beast-damnit I got to sleep early, so I’m clim—well, flopping out of bed early too.

So I trotted out of my room…. And spent an hour watching an animated movie. One with dragons and Japanese spirits, y’know the one. In the middle of the third act, Chialer trudged out in atronach form.

“...The fuck is up with that lady’s nose?” she grumbled at the TV.

I glared at her. “What the heck is up with your fa—”

“Yo that dragon’s fucking hot.”

I thumped my fists on the couch. “He’s an ageless spirit that presents himself as a preteen! You can’t fucking say that!” I spat.

Chialer’s eyes went wide, and she gulped, turning to dart into the bathroom. “Shit, fuck, yeah, got that.” she said hastily.

“Wash your whore mouth out with soap!” I called after her, going ahead and turning off the movie. Mood was shot for watching it now, so time for slightly higher-than-normal quality ramen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So we wouldn’t be lurking around eachother all the time, Nebb and I bunked in different dorms, so I took several minutes walking myself over there. The uni campus was nice and quiet with 8 AM classes having just started, so I enjoyed the lovely sight of the last few moths flittering away to sleep for the day, trading places with butterflies and other diurnal bugs.

For a minute, I stopped at a flower garden, staring down the various butterflies. Unlike with other humans, they looked back. I could feel the nervousness and anxiety as they looked up at me: a moth fifty or so times their size, wearing the flesh of a human and walking plainly among them. I smiled.

“I wonder how many of you will be impaled on plaques by collectors with their little nails… If you live that long, even.” I said passively, my eyes going blank. From the facing side of me, the white spots of my wings faintly showed, all watching the little bugs, each making eye contact with one.

I seized up after several moments at a sudden noise. I turned around to see another student having just opened a bag of chips as they passed by several yards away. Better only the nonsapient mortals see me being… Me.

I knocked on the front door of Nebula’s dorm, getting a rude reminder of his poor taste: three jockish frat boys burst out the door, reeking of tobacco as they barged past me. “Haha, bad timing yo, we’ve got places to be!” one said.

“Date tryouts are next week, plenty time for weight watchers!”

The trio laughed as I clenched my fists. “Hey, you Nate’s sis? Y’look like it- make him get on it too!”

I let myself into the ‘dorm’ [being generous to the frat house] as they meandered down the street. Nebula was in the kitchen, combing the messy curls of his unfittingly-bright blonde hair whilst examining some liquid suicide of a drink.

“Still haven’t arse’d those dickholes?”

“I can’t just poison whoever I want, Ally, there’s these things called laws…” Nebula said passively as he glanced over.

“Then make it look like an accident, give ‘em moonshine that’ll drop them. Lucy knows we’d be doing the gene pool a service.”

Nebb put a hand to his face, setting the comb aside before taking a swig of his concoction. “You wanna fight the police, do it yourself. I’m not here for that kinda shit.”

I sighed roughly. “Whatever. Didja get that makeup assignment done?”

“Yeah, no thanks to Ty. I watched the recording I took yesterday and reenacted it as best I could.”

“Good. Any idea what we’re gonna be yelled at about?”

Nebula slid himself over to the sink to delicately dunk his glass in. Yes, delicately. “The quiz-een day-la Fronse.” he said, waving his hands pretentiously as he dipped into an offensively bad accent. “Moan sherry, you entered at zee PERFECT time.”

I rubbed my fingers on my brow in attempt to stave off a cringe-induced headache. It wasn’t working. “Careme, Careme… So he’s talking his own specialty.”

“Yup, he says he’s named after one of the great culinary innovators from there, so you know he’s serious.”

“Riiiight.”

I looked around. The kitchen was horribly ‘maintained’ by the fraternity, and a demon of sloth was far from about to fix that. Nebula took the awkward silence as an excuse to slip away to the fridge and pitch a beer can at me. With how often he did so, I caught it reflexively.

“Get drunk, what’s up,” he said, putting his hands up. Perfect timing too, since I threw the can back and beaned him in the nose with it.

“Go chat up Bear Grylls if you wanna drink piss, I actually have a sense of taste.”

“Says the stoner?”

“Yeah, for medical purposes. I don’t see dad telling you to drink alcohol for your health.”

“That’s ‘cause it’s implied.”

I sat down at the kitchen island as two other guys came in, talking to eachother. Nebb picked the beer can off the floor and popped the dent in the side into a hole he could drink out of, courtesy of a knife handle.

“Seats taken?” one of the frat guys ‘asked’, sitting next to me. His ‘buddy’ sat on his other side.

“They are now,” I quipped boredly, leaning an elbow on the counter to prop up my chin. “Bartender, gimme a solid cup of maple syrup.”

Nebb gave me a cynical look while the other two snickered. “Seriously?” he grunted.

“Yeah? Did I fuckin’ stutter?”

The guy next to me waved a hand at Nebb. “What, thought you were mister ‘two packs is nothing’ Nate?”

“Four packs of something meant to be drunk by itself.”

“Sounds like someone’s a wussy!”

The guys went into uproarious laughter. I’d cupped my hands around my mouth to make a sound akin to a vuvuzela, and reveled in how red Nebb’s face got. The next ten minutes were primarily him ‘relenting’ and drinking pancake syrup straight from the bottle, before challenging the others and myself to do so with other condiments. I got pushed to eat a whole cup of mayo, which… Ew. When I inevitably upchucked it on Nebb, only he got laughed at as he skittered away to clean himself up.

Once he was presentable again [and in new clothes], Nebula and I made our way to the main campus, where Nebb affectionately referred to Scape’s lecture hall as its ‘belly’. Chai was lurking at the side entrance, and I pulled out a cellphone to group-text the two my frustration about having to stay in human form.

“Y’think if Careme gets enough of us in his class, we won’t have to worry about that?”

“Nah, security cameras. And the doors are windowed.”

“Fucking home.”

I glanced over my shoulder as we skulked through the halls, ensuring nobody would catch onto our whispering and muttering.

“Why’s he want us in this class anyway?” Chai grumbled.

Nebula puffed out his chest haughtily, speaking up. “He believes the more students attend his class, the more chances they’ll get to have his greatness rub off on them!” he said, teasing at nobody in particular. Chai and I both rolled our eyes, but I quickly pulled out my phone again as I got an email notification.

] (AUTOCORRECTED) You’ll be seen as under the protection of an elder demon. Makes things safer for us.

I caught Nebb’s eyes in my periphery, and we both nodded. Chai stared at us in confusion for a moment, before pulling her phone out to read the message.

When we entered the lecture hall, it was set up like a recording studio for some Iron Chef-lookin’-ass cooking show. Scape waved Chai and I down to the podium at the front, surrounded by plug-in kitchen appliances stood on three layers of tarps.

“Bonjour, salut, everyone, we have two new students in the class!” the professor said. “They’ve been taking the class online before, but now they’ve gotten a schedule opening to start showing up in person!”

Our new classmates nodded along as Nebula set the ‘make-up assignment’ on a metal folding table, before finding a seat. I was pondering what sort of job to say I had quit to make room for that excuse.

“And who better to help out in today’s lesson?”

My blank expression turned to a frown. Nevermind, I was thinking up excuses to get out of that.

“Uh, I missed this part’a the syllabus. What’re we doing?” Chai said, leaning an arm on my shoulder.

Scape planted his hands on a stove, smiling warmly at us. “Crème brûlée. Should be easy for you, yes?”

Never-nevermind. This class might just be my favorite.

[oceteva]

Sacrifice | The Vampire Diaries ~ Ciao, Fratello

[Elena Gilbert x oc]

Word count; 3,738

Info | Chapter 1

The light source that brightens up the world everyday was currently resting on top of the bright green mountains, which overlooked the beautiful turquoise water that the residents of Italy knew as Lake Como that wraps around the small village of Lenno. The village was very well known for their gorgeous villas and their giant mountains. Tourists from all around the world would always stop by the small village to see everything they had ever read in brochures and on the internet. However, there was one place in Lenno that was off limits, unless of course there was a party being thrown by the owner, and that place was Villa del Balbianello.

Natalia Mikaelson was the very owner of the famous villa. She had bought it as soon as she spotted it on a trip when she was traveling the world in the late seventeen hundreds. She fell in love with the building as she did with the small village. It was the perfect place for her to settle. It was quiet, so there wouldn't be too many people. It was by the water, which she adored. But what Natalia loved the most about it was that it was less than two hours from Milan, the fashion capital of the world.

Natalia has lived there ever since she bought it. Of course, she wold take vacations to other countries when she got bored but she would always find herself back at the same place. Natalia's favorite part about the small village was that no one cared that she hasn't aged in over two hundred years. Well, that's really only because the brunette took the liberty of compelling every resident to not notice how young she still is. It was the easiest way for her to have a permanent home.

While the small village of Lenno began to get ready for bed, the original vampire was wide awake in her very large villa. If someone were to stand on the top of the mountain that overlooked Lake Como, they would see light shining from the villa like it was the only light source in the world.

The vampire had the brightest lamps and candles surrounding the room she called her studio. Natalia used the spacious room for writing, drawing, and most of all painting. She was very much like her younger brother, Niklaus, in that way. Ever since Natalia moved to Italy, she would paint for the best museums in the world. There wasn't a single thing she wouldn't paint; mountains, buildings, statues, flowers, lakes. But her favorite thing to paint was people - which explains her current painting she was working on.

Natalia had gained many different muses over the years to paint, but her current one was a beautiful brunette girl named Sofia. The original vampire was dating the girl, well that's what she told the human. But in reality, Natalia was just using the girl for her own needs. Natalia wasn't one for relationships. She just liked to have fun and have something that could hold her interest.

Natalia's current muse was sitting on her gold throne seat with only a pair of red lace panties. The girl's right leg was thrown over the right arm of the chair with a red silk blanket covering her upper thighs. Sofia also had Natalia's artistic touch which was the point of a wooden stake between her shiny white teeth and several bloody bite marks on the left side of her neck, on the swell of her ample breasts, and down her arms and legs.

Sofia took the wooden stake out of her mouth once she noticed Natalia was focusing on painting instead of how her body was positioned and asked with her sweet innocent voice, "È meglio di una ciotola di frutta, bambino?" ["Is it better than a bowl of fruit, baby?"]

Natalia chuckled lightly at her lover before she looked up from her painting and stated with a seductive smirk, "si, amore mio. Hai anche un sapore migliore." ["Yes, my love. You also taste better."]

Sofia's tan cheeks took a deep cherry color as the words fell easily from the blue eyed girl. She quickly coughed in embarrassment before she opened her mouth to speak. However, before she could tell Natalia to stop, a male voice called out from behind them, "now don't tease the poor girl, sister."

Natalia didn't bother looking over to the voice like Sofia did while she tried to hide her uncovered breasts with her hands. Instead, Natalia vamp sped towards the human girl and wrapped the silk blanket around her body before she whispered, "vai nella mia stanza." ["Go to my room."]

Sofia shakily stood up from the chair and held the blanket in a tight grip as she looked between the strange man and her lover. "Cosa c'è che non va?" The human girl questioned with furrowed brows. ["What's wrong?"]

Natalia gave the girl a gentle smile as she whispered, "ho solo bisogno di gestire alcuni affari. Ci vediamo presto, cara." ["I just need to handle some business. I will find you soon, darling."]

Sofia continued to move her brown eyes between her lover and the man in worry. But the easy smile on Natalia's pink lips convinced her instantly. Sofia nodded her head before she spoke quietly, "sarò in attesa per te." ["I'll be waiting for you."]

Natalia moved her soft hand up to the girl's tan cheek and said, "non ti preoccupare, amore mio," before she swiftly pushed her plumps lips onto Sofia's. ["Don't worry, my love."] They stood like that for a couple of seconds with the sound of Natalia's brother impatiently tapping his foot before Natalia finally pulled away.

The Italian girl switched the blanket into one hand as soon as their lips separated before she grabbed her vampire lover's neck and brought her into another needy kiss. She felt like she was always addicted to Natalia's lips. However, once she remembered that they had an audience, Sofia quickly pulled away before she dashed up the staircase with her cheeks painted in red.

Natalia watched the human girl run up to her bedroom in amusement before she turned around to face her brother with an annoyed look as she questioned, "what do you want, Niklaus?"

The dormant hybrid smirked as he took a seat on the chair that is sister had been sitting on while she was painting before he wondered, "what? I can't visit my lovely sister?"

Natalia swiftly grabbed the painting and moved it away from her brother's view as it was only for her entertainment. She placed it against the wall before she turned back to Niklaus and stated, "you don't visit. You only come by when you want to annoy me or you want something." She rose an eyebrow as she questioned, "so which is, brother?"

Niklaus only shrugged his shoulders but didn't give Natalia the answer she wanted. Instead, he slowly walked around the large villa before he picked up the canvas his sister had been painting on before he arrived. He quirked an eyebrow at the brunette as he questioned, "don't you think the bite marks and the wooden stake is just a little cliche?"

Natalia huffed out a sigh as she realized she wasn't going to be able to get rid of her brother any time soon. She walked over to the glass table that was filled with centuries of alcohol before she poured bourbon into a crystal glass. Natalia took a heavy gulp before she finally explained, "I like the humor and the truth it tells." She threw her brother a smirk as she took a seat on her leather couch before she added, "plus, who doesn't like to see a beautiful shirtless woman?"

Niklaus had joined his sister and poured his own glass of bourbon while she was busy talking. But once Natalia finished with a question, Niklaus smirked right back at his sister and lifted his glass and uttered, "here here." He took a seat across from Natalia before he wondered curiously, "I thought you scorned love from your life?"

Natalia rolled her eyes and mumbled, "yeah, no thanks to you."

Niklaus chuckled as he innocently held his unoccupied hand up before he recalled, "hey, it is not my fault I wanted my favorite sister to stay with me instead of running away with that strumpet of a woman."

Natalia bit the inside of her mouth as her brother reminded her of the painful memories that happened in the late thirteen hundreds. She had fallen in love with a beautiful blonde girl with the most gorgeous blue eyes that still haunts her dreams. Natalia thought Victoria was her one true love. However, when the two women decided to run away together, Natalia's lovely brother slaughtered the blonde while Natalia went to fetch a boat. Natalia did end up forgiving her brother years later, thanks to the cursed saying she and three of her siblings had - always and forever. Family above all.

Natalia cleared her throat as she tried to push the past to the back of her mind before she stated, "if you must know, that stunning Italian girl happens to be my muse and plaything for the moment."

Niklaus rose an eyebrow at his sister in disbelief as he muttered, "oh?" He stared at Natalia for a moment before he broke out into a heavy laughter and wondered, "has my sweet older sister turned into a heart breaker?"

Natalia shrugged her shoulders carelessly and downed the rest of her bourbon before she stated, "I have you to thank for that." She swiftly stood up from her antique furniture before she poured herself another drink as she questioned in a serious tone, "so, what can I do for you, brother?"

Niklaus placed the crystal glass onto the table in front of him before he stated as it was the simplest request in the world, "I would like you to join me in ending this wretched curse our mother has on me so I can finally turn into the hybrid I was born to be."

Natalia stared into her brother's blue eyes to see if he was lying but when she noticed there was not even a single spark of amusement in his orbs, Natalia knew her brother was dead serious. "You got to be kidding me, Nik," she groaned. Natalia shook her head before she questioned in annoyance, "another bloody doppelganger?"

Niklaus nodded his head as he revealed, "my connections told me recently that my lovely doppelganger resides in a small town in Virginia called Mystic Falls."

Natalia sighed as she took a seat back onto her couch. She rose an eyebrow as she suddenly wondered, "and why do you want me to come?" She chuckled lightly as she reminisced, "I did almost ruin the last one for you."

Niklaus smirked at his sister as he remembered the late fourteen hundreds when they found his doppelganger. "Ah, yes. I remember clearly that you fell for Katerina and tried to stop me from completing the sacrifice," Niklaus recalled.

Natalia held her hand up as she corrected the hybrid, "now wait one second. I didn't fall for Katerina Petrova. I stopped feeling things for women a long time ago." Natalia shrugged her shoulders lightly with a smirk as she explained, "your doppelganger was just a good lay. It wasn't my fault she fell for me while she tricked my lovely twin brother to help her." Natalia took a sip of her bourbon before she wondered, "speaking of beautiful women, where is that lovely girl these days?"

Niklaus grabbed his glass of bourbon from the table and swiftly downed it before he commented in annoyance, "she better hope she's halfway across the world if she doesn't want to feel my wrath just yet." He rose an eyebrow at his sister as he wondered suspiciously, "have you seen the vampire doppelganger lately, sister?"

Natalia chuckled as she shook her head before she stated, "the last time I saw Katerina was when she was moaning underneath me before I heard that she got away and turned into a vampire." The female original didn't tell her brother the whole truth because she knew he would be angry with her. In reality, Natalia had ran into Katerina in 1629 during a trip to France. Natalia barely stayed a couple of days before she quickly left as she didn't want to be caught by her brother or any of his minions.

Niklaus nodded his head silently before he stood up from the couch and questioned as he pointed towards the stairs, "so, should you go say goodbye to your little plaything? We have a long road ahead of us to reach the states."

Natalia crossed her right leg over her left thigh as she muttered while she played with her perfectly done nails, "I don't remember agreeing, dear brother."

Niklaus rolled his eyes in frustration as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Don't make me beg," he mumbled before he stated, "I would like my favorite sister with me when I finally become a true hybrid."

"I hope baby sister doesn't hear that from the ocean you threw her in," Natalia commented before she wondered, "or did you bury our siblings, Nik?" She shrugged her shoulders dismissively as she uttered, "I could never get a straight answer from Elijah when I asked where our siblings were." Natalia was still petty and hurt that Niklaus would just throw away the rest of their family like they were trash. She and Elijah were the only ones lucky enough to never have angered him.

"Stop acting like a baby, Natalia. I will not ask you twice," Niklaus told his sister in annoyance. He did not have time for her games. He wasn't going to let his doppelganger get away from him. "I will meet you at Malpensa Airport in two hours, sister," Niklaus stated before he swiftly vamp sped out of the villa.

Natalia rolled her eyes at Niklaus' temper tantrum. But she knew there was no point in arguing with him. She heaved out a sigh as she realized she was going to the states for the first time in less than a century. She has always tried to stay away from the states since she was in Chicago with Niklaus and Rebekah years ago. It didn't go well thanks to their father. Natalia downed the rest of her bourbon and placed it onto the glass table before she vamp sped up to her bedroom, where she spotted Sofia lying on her bed with a silk robe wrapped around her tan body.

Sofia's honey brown eyes widened in excitement once she spotted the original. She quickly moved to her knees on the large bed and exclaimed, "mi hai trovato, amore mio!" ["You found me, my love!"]

Natalia gave the brunette a smirk as she uttered, "corretto, ho travato la mia prinicipessa." ["Correct, I found my princess."] She placed her cold hand against the girl's cheek before she brought her into a kiss. Even though Natalia didn't have feelings for the girl in front of her, she still liked the idea of someone loving her like Sofia did. But it wouldn't last. Natalia always gets bored of her lovers. They would either get too needy or want to be more than just someone that screams her name during sex. The original vampire made a promise to herself years ago that she would never fall for another women and she wasn't going to break that.

Sofia wrapped her small arms around Natalia's neck as she wondered softly, "continua il dipinto?" ["Do we continue the painting?"]

Natalia placed her plump lips against one of the bites on her lover's neck before she mumbled, "non posso." ["I can't."] The vampire sunk her teeth into Sofia's neck and drank her sweet warm blood while she listened to the human girl moan in pleasure before she pulled away and added, "devo andare, amore mio." ["I must go, my love."]

"Bambino," Sofia whined like a child. ["Baby."] She didn't want Natalia to leave. She hadn't left the vampire's side ever since they met at a fashion show in Milan over two months ago.

Natalia let a groan fall for her lips when she noticed the human girl was beginning to cry. This is why she didn't do feelings. Who wants to cry all the time? Natalia rubbed the human girl's cheek softly before she pushed her bloody lips against Sofia's soft ones. She knew if her words wouldn't work then her actions definitely would. Natalia moved her arms and wrapped them around Sofia's waist, which caused the human girl to wrap her bare legs around the vampire's body while they continued to make out. Natalia vamp sped to one of the white walls and slammed the girl's back right into it. She swiftly tore the robe off the human's body before she moved her hungry lips to Sofia's full breasts. If Natalia was going to leave with Niklaus for a while, then she was going to at least have one more time with Sofia's amazing body.

Sofia moaned and ordered desperately, "prendimi." ["Take me."]

Natalia didn't need to be told twice before she vamp sped to her bed and roughly threw the human girl down before she began to worship the body that she had claimed as hers these last couple of months. She knew exactly what needed to be done for Sofia to lose all control of her body. Natalia was extremely talented when it came to pleasing women. It would only take her five minutes or less until Sofia would be out of breath and satisfied.

True to her words, Natalia had Sofia's body laid out on her bed in exhaustion in less than five minutes. So, while Sofia was busy trying to get her bearings, Natalia sped around her bedroom as she packed all the clothes she could fit into her suitcase. Natalia usually would be picky with what she brought with her when she would leave Italy, but she knew she could always just compel her some more clothes.

"Stai partendo?" Sofia whispered in a sad voice as she laid on her lover's bed. ["Are you leaving?"]

"Si, amore mio. Mi dispiace de non portarti con me," Natalia told the human girl. ["Yes, my love. I'm sorry I cannot take you with me."] Natalia knew she had to let the girl down or she would never reach Niklaus in time. She looked into Sofia's brown eyes and continued her believable lie, "tornerò per te." ["I will come back for you."]

Sofia pouted before she questioned, "promettere?" ["Promise?"] She nakedly got out of the bed and walked slowly to her lover and kissed down her neck before she wondered, "hai intenzione di andare a letto con altre ragazze?" ["Are you going to sleep with other girls?"]

Natalia rolled her eyes mentally. She hated when girls got too clingy. Natalia pulled Sofia's naked body against hers before she brought her into a heavy kiss. Once the original vampire pulled away, she whispered, "mi dispiace, cara. Ma ho finito con te," before her face instantly turned into the monster she truly was. ["I'm sorry, darling. But I'm done with you."]

Natalia smirked as she enjoyed the scared human girl beginning to struggle in her arms once she realized she was going to die. Natalia always loved when her victims tried to fight her. It made the kill so much more satisfying. After a couple of minutes passed, Natalia grew tired of Sofia's kicking and screaming, so she easily tossed the girl towards the wall before she vamp sped over to her and locked her teeth into Sofia's jugular.

Natalia breathed out a sigh of relief once she drank every single drop of blood that was in her plaything's body. The waiting and teasing she did these last couple of months to savor the sweet taste of her blood was completely worth it. That was usually how Natalia dealt with her playthings. She would use them, pleasure them, and trick them into believing she loved them before she would finally end their lives just to have their sweet blood.

Natalia dropped the dead body to the ground without a care in the world before she moved to her full body mirror, where she wiped the blood from her mouth and made sure her outfit was perfect. Natalia smirked evilly into the mirror once she was finished before she swiftly turned around to grab her suitcase before she began to strut down the long staircase.

Natalia gave her villa one last look, knowing that she wouldn't be able to see for a while now that she was helping Niklaus. She opened the front door to her home and walked a few steps until she spotted the familiar man that watches her villa. Natalia compelled Don once she had bought the building to make sure no one would bother her. She turned him before he could grow old and he's been a great confidant ever since.

"Ciao, come va, Don?" Natalia questioned with a polite smile on her face. ["How are you, Don?"]

Don gave the original vampire a small nod and stated, "sto bene, signora Mikaelson." ["I'm good, Ms. Mikaelson."] He glanced down at the suitcase in her hand and wondered, "stai andando in gita?" ["Are you going on a trip?"]

Natalia rolled her eyes as she answered, "mio fratello ha bisogno di me." ["My brother needs me."] She twitched her head to the side and questioned, "potresti affrontare il corpo mentre me ne vado?" ["Could you deal with the body while I'm gone?"]

"Certo, signora Mikaelson," Don agreed before added, "e buona fortuna a tuo fratello." ["Of course, Ms. Mikaelson. And good luck with your brother."]

Natalia chuckled lightly and commented, "ne avrò bisogno," before she slipped on her sunglasses and walked away from her home and headed towards her garage. ["I'm going to need it."]

Natalia tossed her suitcase into the backseat of her black Bugatti before she drove away from the small village of Lenno and headed towards the airport to meet Niklaus. "Addio, Italia. Ciao, Mistica Caduta," Natalia whispered to herself as she began her journey to help her brother find the Petrova doppelganger so he could finally break their mother's curse. ["Goodbye, Italy. Hello, Mystic Falls."]

Tagged: @wecantgiggleitsafandom

[actingdeep]

Jean & Cat

Give me your hand. Only give 'yes' or 'no' answers for now. We will go back later at the end. Close your eyes. I'm going to start by saying the Lord's Prayer.        "Okay."        That was all Lorraine could say these days. She would eat oatmeal when we set a bowl for her and she would smile. We put a red cigarette in her fingers and told her to inhale. She would cough twice in an elderly way, with sunken eyes staring straight forward, and she would smile.        We shifted our intimate yet quaint and twisted car songs and dialogues to the back porch around 6 a.m., after tiptoeing past conked couple Jean and Ryan crashing on their living room floorbed, making coffee, using the restroom and watering the silly-looking dog. There is a very alien type of relaxation that comes with being the last ones alive from a late night civil war on your own good health, with everyone else defenseless and asleep like regrettable casualties.        The horizon stretched and yawned. Past our feet, in the dew-covered grass, layed the sheepdoglike Lily, with her green bone flinging around her teeth. Cat had abilities within her revealing dormant truths and hidden pasts in others. I had amphetamines within me releasing all boring skepticism and reason. By the end of the night, she had given me a personal palm reading. The accuracy was daunting at first (and still is). It was a superstitious and almost laughable act, yes; but it was pinnacle altruism--and at that moment, after all these years, it was finally clear to me that she was my friend.        I was feeling a little effete as a hidden star burnished the scale of an overripe and infirm world. Cat and I had inadvertently stayed up all night. We were either still drunk, or low-key tweaking, or probably both. Our eager spirits were about to be given another boost out of their usual pockets of time and space. We lounged with sleepless energy in squat gray outdoor chairs on the small back porch, with blowing trees and birds singing in the early summer morning. Jean had already long fallen asleep on her living room floorbed, and now that I finally had Cat out of the car, I could let my blood cool between easy nature and cheap science.        The dome of the pipe we were smoking Annie from caught some outside debris from the wind that was blowing and made a slight brownish blemish on the inside, which made the taste of the rolling smoke a little less clean than the previous hits. Many a time when Jean and I were gulping down cherry-flavored vodka around this time six or seven years ago, in the bedroom right behind Cat's, when they still had their old house, I had never fathomed a table could turn so drastically: the table being my relationship with these two women--mother and daughter--over time frames scattered and separated by intermittent spaces of buildup and decay. The days when talking to Cat filled me with dread seemed like false memories when I looked at her now. I almost liked her more than Jean these days--a funny thought, indeed.        "Are you still hungry?"        "Okay."        At 4 a.m. we were back from the bar, and pulled in the driveway of Jean's grandparent's house. She struggled to shut her car door and sauntered inside. I followed, but before I made it in the house, I heard my name called back from behind me from the driveway. I turned to see Cat gesturing for me under the dim car light. She was looking around in the car for something I don't remember what. I got back in to help her search for something likely of the highest unimportance. As we began to talk more, we ended up being in the car for at least an hour. When Cat begins to chatter with you, an angel should come down from Headache Heaven to give you a Valium and a bucket of popcorn. We hadn't talked very much all night, only because once she dropped off Jean and I at the bar, she didn't come in to join us finally until around the last half hour we were there, where I would eventually start a scene that would close the entire bar for the night.        We laughed about that, and caught up with one another in general about the changes and differences in our respective current lives. Her overall pleasantness caught me off-guard, somewhat. As conversations in parked vehicles usually go, especially with our current bodily chemical states, we eventually graduated from serious discussion, to banter, to no words--just full duet performances to bands like The Violent Femmes and Fleetwood Mac, stridulate and true.        This is nothing like using Tarot cards. Those things are complete bull shit. I am going to try to knock something loose here.        They're screaming again: this time, passively-aggressively around the edges of the room, little hash symbols and asterisks and ampersands tunneling in the air and in and out of Lorraine's smiling ears. At first, the day was calm: quiet snores, with the T.V. playing The Price is Right, as some were still laid out on the floor asleep, some in chairs with coffee and paper, awake. The small house seemed much more open than it should have been. I watched the game show and sat on the couch next to Brenda, Cat's girlfriend, as she was scrolling her finger on a phone screen and grimacing a little. Jean's disheveled head was zzzing right next to my left foot. I put back large gulps of the coffee Brenda made me to put off my ineludible crash, and had cigarettes on the bright, thin clean carpet.        Brenda started it; it was around 11:30 a.m. Grunting, she staggered over to Cat's floorbed to lean down, and WHUP!, smack her on her overturned body, making her yelp in a terrible way, like a little, running dog that pivoted wrong and twisted it's paw. Some moments you don't want to ever remember--that is--until you really can't. She had only been asleep for about twenty minutes, and immediately:        "Fuck! What is...what is wrong with you?" cried Cat, still stridulate.        "Who's all these motherfuckers in yer phone messagin' ya? Always fuckin' around on me, ain't ya? Don't give a rat's ass about me."        "I don't talk to anyone, Brenda. I don't know what the fuck you're talking about!"        "Ah, bull shit," waved Brenda, turning away like a troll.        "Fuck you!"        "Fuck you right back, bitch."        "I haven't gotten any sleep all night, Brenda. I was up talking to Derek all night, and I just fucking fell asleep."        "Well, good morning bitch!"        And so on. This match lasted hours; piercing echoes branching off into littler sub-arguments (but just as loud) over other things they thought would be good also brought up, neither showing mercy, except to make a jeer and cackle at the other's expense. Dan had already taken Ryan to his morning college class and hadn't gotten back yet, so between sleeping Jean, contented Lorraine, and highly tired I, no one was attempting to dampen the vicious quarrel in any way. I was sitting quietly, looking down at my feet and Jean's stirring hair ball, not from lack of sleep, but from the plain child greenness of these two women.        I knew Cat as a married woman to a husband, once. But no surprise came to me when I met her current girlfriend (womanfriend). I knew this was more of an emotionally-hinged relationship and sexually less so; only the emotions in use were nothing but petulant combativeness, desperation, and cold resentment; they were fools together. After a while, crash impending, I would simply walk outside, away from it all, until the screams muffled themselves in the distance.        "Okay."        Dan was the man of the house, and also Cat's dad. He was a few years shy of sixty years. Although I had never met him before, having stayed the night at his house, he was quite jolly and approachable. He smoked cigarettes with the front door open. His wife Lorraine sat by him in a low-back rocking chair, onlooking. The rooms of the house were typical in the grandparently sense: white-gold ceiling fan, porcelain figurines behind glass cases, mini fish tank, placemats on multiple kitchen tables, a smiling woman sitting in a smiling rocking chair, big television. The only thing out of place was the smoking; it was a subtle invasion of a seemingly innocent atmosphere, akin to squeezing your girlfriend's ass at church service. I couldn't believe I was smoking a square on a davenport.        Did you know the dead see the future?        Back in school, when Jean and I dated as teenagers, her mother Cat was in a seriously disobliging state--dependent on drugs like Xanax and methadone. She would stay in her room twenty-four seven and roar at us to turn the music down. She only left the house when absolutely necessary, and had a round, evil scorn forever in her floating eyes. She was ponderous, choleric and painstakingly contrary, instigating daily screaming matches with her husband, or daughter, or both. She was always in carping pain, and loved to spite her old pasts to herself in drugged, futile insanity. When she would bring her mom her dinner trays, Jean usually took accusation and insult as gratuity. On the occasions she was in good spirits (which usually implied she was unusually zapped), she would talk to you for what seemed like long hours about things like ghosts or glory days if you weren't careful to sneak past her bedroom door, which was permanently ajar, with a low, rambling sound leaking out of it always. I loved being in Jean's room more than anywhere in those days. I remember a pink sheet covering an overhead window making every movement and shadow a cotton candy daydream, sitting on a stack of two single mattresses, with us both leaning against a wall with blanketed legs and her kitten, soft and white between us, with secret, window eyes.        And there would be Jean: beautiful and youthful in blonde and black and pink and brown eyes. She was in the school's color guard and I would watch her practice double and triple rifle spins in her backyard for hours, smoking dirt weed to her music playlists. We were underage drinkers; but she always had a guy to buy alcohol for us (to them, just her), and once he would drop it off, she would cutely thank him and send him away, bringing it into her room where I waited, and we would drink from the bottle, giggling; or, we would just stay in her room for hours to avoid Cat by playing music, taking pictures, or just making each other laugh hysterically in various ways. I hope I never forget that laugh.        "Okay, honey."        We carried our drinks over to a rounded booth in the corner and talked for a while, saying hello to the barkeep Stephen as we walked in, and to all the other puffy, smiling faces we recognized, but didn't know. It was just Jean and I right now, talking like we always could, no matter where or when we ever were. Apparently, Cat was sticking around the parking lot for a while to connect to the internet on her phone for something rather (or was she?), and selling soupcons of various pills here and there to her bar regular buddies, amiably, with wrinkled eye corners.        Something is coming through. A man with a flattop military haircut. I also see an older man sitting in an easy chair. How well do you remember your childhood? Does the name Tom mean anything to you?        Jean and I sat near the DJ booth, which wasn't really a booth inasmuch as it was a large man sitting in a folding chair with a laptop. We laughed, but were loving what he was playing. Her and I have always been able to listen to music together comfortably for long periods of time, often with naps and cool silences. In the moment, I felt that we were actually a good couple when we were seventeen, even though it only lasted a couple weeks, tops; but being friends was barely different, and easy to do. She had many boyfriends, one at a time, in constant replicating sequences--one, and another, and another. I never minded that--it is a task for most people to be alone. Ryan was her current boyfriend, but she didn't bring him to the bar--and not just because he was underage. She used men like a body pillow or an aspirin; leave them at the house and use them for comfort as needed (and they were always young). She was dull now. I had to entertain her because she was dull, and I loved her; but of course, in loving her, I was dull, also. After some rounds, we would smile more easily.        I asked when her mom was going to join us, because, to this point, I really had no clue as to what Cat was even doing, us having sat there drinking, unjoined for an hour or two now.        "She's in the car, smoking speed. That's her drug of choice now." After I gave off a questioning look, she continued: "I really don't mind it. I mean, at least she can function."        Hmmm.        I rounded my eyes, and curled my wet lips. I excused myself, and bolted outside towards the car. I knew Cat would share; greed a moral hit-man. The dim car light was on across the street.        After twenty minutes or so, I sat back down in the booth and readjusted my eyes, feeling fresh. Jean was standing by the DJ booth.        "Do you take requests?"        "I take donations."        An older woman with a strained gait and a proud, pauper air waddled up to our booth and gave a friendly hello-how-are-you to Jean, but not to me. Jean had a subtle knack for being pleasurable and forebearing to humdrum dishwater persons, the subjective soul inside me under a spell of well whiskey, and also Cat's treat, slowly making my thoughts increasingly insubordinate here.        "Aye! A Jeanie in a bottle!"        "Hi, it's good to see you."        (No it isn't. She's foul!)        "Been missin' ya round this place. Where ya been, girly?"        "Just working, and taking care of grandma."        "Oh, bless your heart! How is she?        (She's okay.)        "Y'know--good days and bad days."        (Too bad this Jeanie can't grant wishes; she'd make it no days.)        At one point, I reached over and took a sip out of Jean's beer bottle. The woman slowly straightened her mouth and furrowed her brow, glaring at me.        "You're disrespectful."        "I bought this. I've bought all her drinks." A cheap maneuver. She turned to Jean:        "You should find better friends."        I saw Jean's mouth twitch a little, then turn up again. "This is my oldest friend," she defended me cooly, with an undertone of hate only I could detect. I smiled at the woman as if to say, "How about that?" She had a countenance that was one part protectiveness for Jean, another part antipathy for me, and a third part, something I couldn't place, but that was definitely for herself.        "It's okay, honey, he's really okay," said Jean sedatively. Jean looked more allayed than I was once the woman had eventually returned to her table.        The front door was slowly staving off tottering bodies as the night bloomed into day. As she passed by them, coming back in from a cigarette, Jean looked up and noticed an old school friend of hers, who was talking to a man that happened to be sitting right next to me, at the far end of the bar. This made her face light right up, I noticed, which contented me quite well, as Jean in general wasn't particularly boisterous. She skipped up to the old friend and gave a kind and delighted hello. But this girl was obviously completely disinterested in her, and gave her a lowbred, patronizing sneer.        "Okay."        Freshly cold-shouldered, Jean rubbed her arms, and became specially downcast, then: this was not okay. Seeing her so depreciated so abruptly sparked a most tender agony within me that would prod my heart, even under the many obtunding whiskeys I had imbibed over the night. I called the insipid girl's attention, and seconds later, she looked up at me, and when she looked up at me, I vengefully, and without restriction, said:        "What kind of rude, phony, fucking bitch are you?" Her body didn't move, but her fingers and face started to contort as she glared at me. She dropped her jaw a little, and then clenched it, and widened her thick, black eyes as a fire rose in them. Jean stood back a little, and the girl began to defend herself in belligerent fury, while I held my own ground in the meantime. Every sentence she spoke bumbled over the next; she was clearly plastered, and in rage. I continued to fuel that rage as I rebounded spurring insults like "Fuck you!" and "What do you know?" with gibes like "I can't! I'm outta cash!" and "Fish swim, birds fly, and you're a cunt!"        This soon started a mini-uproar on that end of the bar, and very quickly had all the remaining bar-goers perking up from their glasses. Some people began to hover nearby us gingerly, in case of the possibility that things could get physical, as her and I continued to altercate, teams now forming behind us.        After about three more minutes of her drunkenly calling me names and I relentlessly making fun of her for being fake and angry, the bartender Stephen kicked her out. He was good friends with Jean (a regular there), and had saw us together all night, and must have been partial. He told the friends of the girl I accosted, now a tornado of nails and hair and fury, body still unmoved, to take her outside, and so they did. He locked the doors, then turned to give me a face of exhausted vitriol. I still sat there at the long bar next to my friend Cat, the medium, and her deservedly defended daughter, one of my most nascent and esteemed loves from years and years ago. Because of our mutual friend Jean, he would only give me a little hell for causing such a row, and I gave him a most disingenuous apology.        We reset and regrouped, and were soon out the door. What a perfect pleasure it is to mislay all complacency and trepidation, and to actuate defiance in the face of all of our false, permeable cordialities, and to see just how easily it can all fall away. To feel what I did to be an imperative as to glorify a strayed memory of a forgotten devotion only moreover authenticates my conviction that the ways we go, and the happenings in our lives, occur for no reason at all but for our own attempts at nullifying an unavoidable and steadfast state of lifelong suffering. Jean thanked me for standing up for her, and gifted me an old look and smile that, so many years ago, I would have never believed I had forgotten.        "Okay."