𝑨𝒅𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒔: the god of beauty and desire. a man so ethereal, so endlessly godlike, endearing and enthralling it wasn't a wonder how he did what he did or got away with what he did. C.W: contains sexual and violent content. 18+. Started: January 2021. I DO NOT CONDONE TRANSLATIONS OR PDF PRINTING OF MY WORK.

STARTED JAN 2023-- MATURE AND EXPLICIT CONTENT. Viewer Discretion is advised. Priscilla Pearl Wolfe is a Pornstar. Halen Elle used to be. That is until the apathetically charming jackass with a back pocket full of guitar picks and skittles moves back to the Romantix Roommates house in New York. Where dreams come true, pornos are made, and people go missing.

✧ Being the younger of the three, Beatrix sometimes enjoyed life, but she also sometimes didn't. It depended on the day, what was happening during it, who it was going to be spent with. Nine times out of ten it was only spent with one other family, seeing as her dad was the president of the Filthy Freaks MC. She both loved and hated that. Growing up with them was one thing. Sure, they had all built great memories as children, being surrounded by so many people, but everything was amazing when you were a kid, so that didn't really count anymore. Though things changed as Beatrix grew up. It wasn't easy being the daughter of a feared man. Beatrix had dreams of her own that she wanted to fulfil. Somewhere along the way she could have sworn most people had overlooked the moment she'd grown up. But things felt different as her mid twenties loomed closer, they felt different for her at least. Still though, it seemed she could never quite shake the bubble she had been placed in. But so what, right? She was going out into the world, chasing after what she wanted. What her family didn't know simply wouldn't hurt them. But if one more person looked at her in fear of being the daughter of one hell of a scary man, she thought she might truly go insane. She was tired of being known as Little Bea, for god's sake, she was just Bea. Or B. Or Trix, but only Harry called her that. Even though he wouldn't go near her, not even with a ten foot pole between them. Plus, much to her dismay, he didn't look at her like that. Not her. Not in that way. In all of its truth, she was totally, horrifyingly, off limits. *this story contains mature and explicit themes*

18+ | ON HOLD BECAUSE IT'S ABOUT TO GET REALLY DEPRESSING AND I'M NOT READY *** May 2nd, 1998. Oakland, California. Nova Deville attends her Father's political rally to show her support for his Mayoral Campaign. When a group of young, masked 'outlaws' crash the rally to speak out against Deville's corruption, Nova gets wrapped up in their passion and ends up aiding them in their escape. After helping this mysterious group of leather and lace, she slowly gets sucked into their world of sex, drugs and rock n' roll. One member of the group stands out to her; Harry Dawson. He's cold, reckless, brutally honest and wants nothing to do with her. But, Harry becomes the least of her problems when a brutal murder rocks the town and tensions rise in the already politically segregated community. But, it doesn't stop at one. When the murderer starts making victims of Nova's very own social circle, she can't help but think that this killer is closer to her than she thinks and she can't trust anyone. *** "Fuck, Nova, please touch me. I fucking hate myself for this, but you're making me so desperate, please," Harry falls apart in front of me, whimpering and moaning at the words tumbling out of his own mouth. I start to reach out my hand, ready to touch him for the very first time, and he moans out in anticipation from my slight movement, eyes trained on my delicate fingers. And then, the sound of shattering glass and a loud thud pierces the air from downstairs. I go completely still. "No, don't stop, Nova..." He whines at me and wraps his own hand around himself to relieve some tension. I ignore his pleas and grab my gun from off my nightstand, ready to handle whatever the fuck is going on downstairs now. "Wait here for me," I grab his wrist, pulling his hand out of his lap and throwing it back against my headboard roughly, "and no touching." *** Started: December 12th, 2021

Harry and Zoë are complete opposites: he smokes cigarettes, loves to go out on the weekends, reads Charles Bukowski, and drinks black coffee. Zoë has a cat named Rory, knits in her free time, and has a collection of romance novels stacked next to her bed. So how on earth could they be soulmates? A soulmates AU short story about finding your other half, even if things don't make sense in the moment.