#''maybe seven is a cop? he knows lots of things a cop would know''

[realboutfatalfury]

finally finished zero escape 999

[danielcain]

Ripe

In retrospect, I should have gotten fitted in-person for a pair of rubber boots. Ordering shoes online is always a crapshoot. The ones I had on were too big, they just collected water like a rain barrel and waterlogged my socks.

The texture was horrible. A disgusting sensation.

The foyer’s carpet squelched with every step I took. It didn’t help that I was carrying 120 pounds of dead woman.

“This always happens during the honeymoon phase,” said my friend Dan.

“You won’t want to leave the house. You’ll want to be with her all the time. The modern age enables this. Work from home, order from home, live from home, die from home…” He began to rant about how modernity. He always goes there, and I always tune him out. He married a female cop from the sheriff’s department. She came off gay when I met her. Funny.

I‘ve tried to explain my marital problems to Dan before. I had to leave out a few key details. I told him my wife was depressed, in bed all day, not contributing financially. He said wives “tend to do that” and that I make enough money, anyway. Not quite the issue.

The trouble was harder to explain; I’ve only been married to Liana for six months, and she’s killed and replanted herself seven times.

I trudged up the staircase in the loose boots. The way I carried her, the soil from her body fell before us, laying a trail like rose petals.

Creaking wood drummed up anxiety in my chest. I am not a large man. I usually make but a negligible amount of noise when I move throughout the house. That’s something she commented on when we first moved in. The word she used was unobtrusive. She liked this about me. She said we had that in common. In a lot of ways, we really were alike.

Unlike me, her cells interlocked with tightly-woven cellulose walls. She had organelles not found in over 99% of human beings: chloroplasts. When I first met her, her skin had a milky green hue. The first time I touched her, I balked. She was not hot to the touch like others. Not cold, but not hot. Her breasts, thighs, cheeks… remarkably, they had the tautness of an unripe vegetable.

I laid her down in the bathtub. The plumbing was sensitive, not terrible, but sensitive. An old house. Wood and cobblestone on the outside. Folksy, I’m told through clenched smiles of guests trying to be complimentary. Yeah, right. It looks better suited to house a coven of child-stealing hags. I tried to fix it up, stay on trend. Liana convinced me not to hire contractors. She convinced me to buy, too. “I’ve always wanted a house in the woods…”

Now I know why.

The replanting process is nothing short of a natural miracle. I will be the first to admit, it attracted me to her further. Liana could change herself at will. All it took was a little patience, two days of waiting, a 6 foot deep ditch in the backyard, some sleeping pills and vodka. I didn’t understand the science of it at first. What exactly she needed to do to push out the roots and reform her mass. When I finally found out, I was too embarrassed to admit I didn’t know she had to physically die each time.

She was always shy about the details, embarrassed, like it was some sort of bowel syndrome. I did not press her for details, but as her husband, I should’ve researched the condition. I did eventually. But not before telling her she would look good blonde. Telling her she would look even hotter upping her bra size by a letter or two…

She started to wake up.

First, the rattle. A great exhalation and inhalation. It always took me by surprise. Her facial muscles were always the second thing reanimate. Her nose twitched. Her eyes opened. They looked so dry. Matte. “Liana. This is getting dangerous.”

A couple seconds’ delay. Then, she smiled mawkishly. During this stage of regrowth, her skin is taut and verdant like the day I met her. (I once called her belle pepper as a pet name. She either didn’t get the pun, maybe.) With every hour, she begins to flush to her desired shade. She switches it up from time to time, never too dark or too white for most to notice, but I do. She carries Pantone swatches in her wallet.

She moved her lips, but couldn’t speak yet. I said nothing further. I picked up the detachable showerhead. The gentlest setting. I rinsed her body, avoiding the tender roots that twitched and protruded from the tips of her fingers and toes. I read somewhere that touching them at this stage feels like a pressing on a pinched nerve.

“I know why thish bophers you shoo much,” she gurgled, throat half-asleep. Her mouth was filled with soil and rainwater. It seeped from her firm, bloated lips.

I turned away. Washing her feet. She continued, most of the earth and excess sap that gagged her having dribbled onto her nightie.

“You like me like thish.”

I averted my eyes. I continued to bathe her, and stared at the peel-and-stick mauve tile accent above the tub. I had put it there the previous month to cover a stubborn decomposition stain.

“I like you all the time, Liana.” It felt like someone was slowly lacing my throat shut from the inside.

I didn’t have to look at her to know she was smiling.

“Buh you like… thish.”

[rafeyscurtainbangs]

Please Please Please - Rafe Cameron Short Story (Part 6 of 6 Final Chapter and Epilogue)

Bonus smut chapter is complete - making final edits now 💕

+18 Minor DNI

Older MobDealer!Rafe x Female Reader

⭐ NEW DROP ⭐

+18 Minor DNI

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

🪄 Warnings contain spoilers: blood, cheating, swearing, name-calling, threats, soft!rafe, mentions of killing partner, kissing, general violence, guns, fighting, ownership kink, mention of drugs, stabbing, murder, major character trauma, pet names.

📖 Loosely based on the song and music video Please Please Please by Sabrina Carpenter 💕

✨ “You are. You think I’m gonna believe that line of shit. ‘Bout her lyin’ to me? About you beating the livin’ shit out of her to throw me off? ✨

Reader’s POV:

You roll into the parking lot, unable to fight back your smile. The week was long, but the phone conversations with Rafe held you over just enough. The jail in Charleston wasn’t as lax as Kildare County. Understandably, Rafe did not want to push his limits, leaving the phone conversations shorter than you’d hoped they’d be. Until Rafe was out and everything was taken care of, he didn’t want you to leave the penthouse, which meant no face-to-face visits, leaving you craving him even.

Rafe ensured you were taken care of: additional security, groceries sent over, dinner brought by every night, fresh-cut flowers when he thought the old ones had wilted. Rafe had the G-Wagon scrubbed and triple-checked for any additional trackers placed or bugs planted.

He paid a hefty fee to have the cops delete a single recorded call between the two of you. Rafe wanted to know what happened the night he had gotten taken away by the officers. He wanted to know what Tony had said in the voicemail, and what happened between the restaurant and the penthouse. Everything was awful, but the voicemail conjured up the most fury. Rafe dissected each word, dragging Tony; your ex’s vile words just added fuel to the fire, like he needed any more. Rafe was very conscious with his words, careful not to incriminate himself further, emphasizing the importance of the business meeting, and that he was looking forward to it even more now.

Of course, given the situation, you couldn’t ask about Tony. His well-being wasn’t the concern, just curiosity. Where was he? Where did Barry take him? It’s been seven days… He must be well-hidden, or his boys would have found him by now. There’s no way he’s dead… Rafe would never allow Barry to take that pleasure away from him.

A conversation— it’s never a conversation with these men, even more satirical after watching how the first one unfolded. If Tony had been there, this would have been over. Maybe this is how it was supposed to happen. I’m sure Rafe has a few things he wants to say to Tony before he pulls the trigger. There are so many things I want to say to him. I wish I could have been strong enough to take the call at the bar. His words have done nothing but haunt me. But maybe I was meant to hear it too… Any fraction of guilt I had about my choices were eliminated in an instant.

The door of the jail fans open, just like it did the week before; Rafe all smiles once again. He bites his lip as he walks to you, taking you in like it's the very first time. Rafe shakes his head in awe as he looks down at you, clearing the space between as you do the same. You jump into his arms, hugging him tightly, burying yourself in his neck. He kisses wherever he can, mumbling against your soft skin about how you're the prettiest thing he's ever seen and feelings mutual. Seeing the beautiful man before you, paired with all the lovely things he did brings nothing but tears and emotion. “I love you, Rafe. I love you so much,” you snivel.

“Mmm…” He hums happily, taking his turn kissing up the column of your neck to your ear. “I love you, princess.”

You pull back and smile, eyes locked. His ocean eyes shimmer with happy tears as well. Rafe’s gaze falls to your lips, his focus like a magnet pulling you in. Your arms wrap loosely around his neck as he cradles you in his embrace. Rafe backs you against the car, deepening the exchange. Your tongue swirls with his, lips moving in perfect harmony. He smiles along your mouth, nuzzling his nose against yours. “Damn, I missed my girl.”

Rafe grips the steering wheel, the other hand resting on your bare thigh. His gold chain twinkles on his athletic chest, poking slightly out of his black fitted polo. It had taken everything in your power not to pull him into the back seat after watching him change out of the button-down he walked in with, still sprinkled with blood from the club. He looks at you with a smirk, catching you gawking, loving every second of your attention. “It’ll be a short meeting. Aight? Think you can wait?” He teases, making your cheeks warm up as you fight back a dizzy laugh.

“Honestly, I don’t think I can.” You take his hand in yours, lifting it, kissing his fingers one by one. “I still have to thank you, baby.”

Rafe releases a lusty laugh, relaxing in his leather seat a little more. “Trust me, princess. I have not forgotten. I've thought about it every night. But, a ‘thank you’ is not necessary… I love takin’ care of you, and I always will.” The car speeds past the town’s welcome sign, barreling toward the Atlantic.

“Where are we going?” You ask.

“You’re droppin’ me off at the beach house, baby. You can head over to Tanneyhill. I’ll meet you there when I’m done, and we can get out of here. How does that sound?” He smiles. You clear the lump in your throat, trying to focus on the question Rafe is asking, but your mind is fixated on the rest of his words. Rafe wants me to leave? “Baby?” he asks gently. 

“I’m dropping you off…” You question uneasily. “Don’t you want me to come with you? Don’t you need me close by?”

The muscles in Rafe’s arms flex as he tightens his hand around the steering wheel, shaking his head ‘no’ as he narrows his sights on the road. “I don’t want you to see this, princess,” he responds levelly, his eyes landing on yours.

“Couldn’t Barry take care of him?” You invite without thinking. Rafe’s brows knit tightly, a puzzled look pulling on his beautiful face.

“No… Why, baby?” He asks, trying his best to keep his compass on the road ahead.

“I don’t know,” you answer hastily. “I just don’t - I don’t know.” Your stomach sinks, uneasiness setting in. After everything that Tony has done and said, he’s better off dead, but thinking about him dying at the hands of Rafe mere minutes from now had your heart racing. I can't help but think about the fact that he bamboozled Rafe not once but twice. He would have walked into an ambush at the strip club without me there… He had no clue the drugs were planted in the Mercedes. “I don’t know!”

“What don’t you know, exactly?” He asks as he pulls up to the beach house, sailing into the driveway, pulling between a vintage BMW and the white van that Tony got taken away in. Rafe turns toward you, demanding your attention. “Are you having second thoughts about this?” He questions, his words dripping with accusation.

“No!” You gasp. “I - I just. I don’t know, Rafe. I’m just freaking out. Okay?” You whimper as tears start to cloud your vision, your anxiety about the situation making your mind muddled.

“Do you want him to live?” He asks. It’s hard to place his tone; Rafe at the junctions between perplexed and agitated, his frustration with you clear in his body language alone.

“Of course I don’t. I want this to be over with,” you blubber.

”So do I, princess. And we talked about this before. It’s not going to be me and you if he’s here. Do you want it to be me and you-”

”Yes!” You cry out before he can even finish his sentence.

“Don’t think about it then, Aight? Let me handle business. This is why I don’t want you in there. I don’t want this on your conscience. I want to handle this for you. And we will never talk about this again. Okay?” You nod in silent agreement, but he shakes his head ‘no’. “Words, baby.”

“Okay,” you whisper.

Rafe leans in, kissing you softly. You cup his cheeks in your hands, running your thumbs along the stubble that’s grown on his face since confinement. “I’m sorry for doubting you, Rafe, but things keep goin’ wrong. Tony keeps getting in the way. I don’t want him to hurt you. I don’t wanna lose you.”

He melts into your touch, looking at you with adoring eyes. “You’re not gonna lose me. And he’s not gonna hurt me. All right? He’s strapped to a chair. He has been for a week. This is just a matter of me lookin’ him in the eyes and letting him know that he will never get to hurt you again. Yeah?”

“Okay, baby,” you breathe as Rafe catches your tears with his thumbs.

“I love you, y/n. It’s all going to be okay.”

“Okay… I love you too, baby.”

“I know you do,” he whispers. “Once I close this door, I want you to drive. Understand?” He asks as he opens up the navigation on your phone, pulling up the address to his home in Figure Eight. “Remember what happened last time I told you to leave but you stayed an extra two minutes. You gotta listen to me,” he asserts.

“I’ll listen.”

“Promise?”

“I swear,” you whisper.

Rafe grabs the handle of the driver’s side door, pushing it open before walking around the front, helping you to your feet. His arm wraps around your waist, leading you to the other side. He hugs you tightly, pressing kisses on your forehead and cheeks before landing on your lips, kissing you one last time.

“Just a conversation,” you whisper.

“Nah,” he breathes. “Not this time. I love you, princess.”

“I love you too, Rafe.”

Your hand holds his as he steps away until your fingers lose contact. Rafe reaches behind his back just as he did the night you walked into the club, checking the pistol tucked into his waistband before falling out of sight. You step into the driver’s seat, wrapping your hands around the steering wheel, still warm from Rafe. You grab the shifter, putting it in reverse, fighting against the impulse to wait in the wings ‘til he handles business, just in case he needs to flee. This man gives and gives. He has barely asked me for anything in return. Just leave. You roll out of the drive, pressing down on the gas.

Rafe’s POV:

“Barry?” I bark, my voice bouncing off the walls of the beach house. Rap music swells from the basement, the dank smell of weed hazing the place. My aggravation starts to mount; a SOLO cup crushes under the heel of my dress boot, just one of many. Empty liquor bottles and beer cans litter the counter, takeout food strewn across the tables, thongs, stripper heels, and a few stray lines of coke left cut on the counter. “I’m gonna kill him,” I curse his name under my breath as I bound toward the basement door.

I tug it open, my heart plunging as I see a pool of blood gathered on the floor. Shit. I catch my gun, heart banging as I race down the flight. “Oh, fuck… No. Sh-Shit. Barry?” I stutter as I run toward him, his white tank top drenched crimson red. His dark eyes lift momentarily, falling heavy the next. I catch his shallow breathing, leaning in close as he tries to mumble out a few words, quelled in blood.

“Tony?” I ask, watching as he gives me the slightest nod. This blood is fresh. He’s here.

BANG.

I draw my gun again as the door at the top of the stairs bangs shut. Here we go… I sprint toward the wall, half-hidden, listening to his heavy steps as they move closer and closer.

“You hidin’ from me, Cameron?” Tony’s voice cuts through the hush. “That was an awful lotta coke. You come to pay up? Or, did you just come to take somethin’ else from me?” He booms as he steps out, footing right past me.

He looks like shit. His white button-down shirt tattered and bloodied on his large body; Tony’s donning the same worn-in beard as me after his week of imprisonment in the basement. The fucker got the shorter end of the stick apparently, beaten to the edge of death, Barry doing all but killing the bitch.

I check his hands, breathing a sigh of relief; no gun. I adjust my mine as I see a weapon, however, a large kitchen knife clutched in his massive hand. End this. I find his head in my crosshairs, aiming my pistol at his skull, gritting my teeth, battling with the rational part of my brain that’s tellin’ me to fire. The irrational part of my mind yearning to feed my pride and tell him everything I wanna say for her… Tony bends around, smiling with blood-stained teeth. Shit.

“You gonna shoot, Cameron? Or you gonna just stand there like a pussy,” Tony spits.

“We got some shit we need to talk about first. Hmm?”

“You wanna talk about my girl-“

“My girl,” I stop him as I step a little closer, making him shake his head in disbelief, snickering cruelly as he looks back at me.

“Yours? Your girl? Since when exactly. ‘Cause she never said shit to me. Do you honestly think that she loves you? Are you that fuckin’ stupid?” He asks as he rolls up his sleeves, preparing for a fight.

“I know she loves me,” I grunt as I square up with him.

“You think she’d leave me? It was our plan for you to die at the club. She knew it. I knew it. You were just supposed to walk in.”

”You’re lyin’,” I spit.

“Am I?” He smiles again— that same wicked and crazed smile; punch-drunk after a week of torture. “You know I’m not, Rafe.”

“You are. You think I’m gonna believe that line of shit. ‘Bout her lyin’ to me? About you beating the livin’ shit out of her to throw me off? You think I believe you you’d actually let me fuck-”

”ENOUGH!” He thunders, his loud, deep voice making my muscle tense up. “Don’t finish that FUCKING sentence. Because how hard you make this is how hard she's gonna get it after I KILL you. You understand?”

“You can't even let me finish the sentence, Marietta. You can’t even let the words leave my lips,” I chuckle. “Ya know, about fuckin’ “your” girl, on the couch of your club? That same couch you fucked some stripper on. You think I believe that you’d actually let that happen? She ain’t in on this, Tony. This is you losin’ her and settin’ me up.” He steps closer and so do I, the pair of us level-eyed.

“I’m not lyin’. That women would do anything for me. And, at the end of the day, even if I am lyin’, she’d only want you for your money, Cameron. I’m man enough to admit you got more than me— new money and old money in your pocket. She saw an opportunity and took it. She’s either in on this or in it for the cash.”

“She’s not after my money,” I mumble as I try to keep my emotions at bay. “She’s not in on shit.”

“‘Course she is… Your head is just too far up your ass to see what’s really goin’ on around you. N’let’s just say my baby isn’t in on this with me and she just after your money and she finds someone else with more, buddy, you’re fucked. ‘Cause if you get what you came here for and you kill me, everything in my name goes to her: all of the hard earned money that I made that she loves to spend, the club, the law firm, my cars, my jewelry, my homes. Everything that I have she takes from me. And she knows that. You gotta see what’s goin’ on here. Right?” He asks as he looks back at me like I'm stupid.

“You’re pathetic.”

“I’m pathetic?” He chuckles. “You know before your boys picked me up, I was on the way to fuck my girlfriend in that pretty little penthouse you bought her. She even sent me a few pictures in that pretty pink lingerie. You know, the one she was describin’ for you on the phone? Fuck, Rafe. You should see it on her. My princess doesn’t just talk a big game. She knows how to fuck,” he sneers as he catches me battling my emotions. “Why don’t you go look at my phone. Pretty sure it’s in his pocket. You can see for yourself.”

My stomach falls as I hear the door crack at the top of the stairs—one step then another, as the person at the top creeps down. No. No. Tony hears it as well, the man looking over my shoulder with a smile. “Guess who’s here, Cameron,” he whispers. “Princess?” Tony softens his tone with her, the sound of y/n’s slight feet stopping in a flash.

Was this her plan all along?

I scrunch my nose; eyes burning with tears of deceit and rage. There’s no way the story he’s spinning is true. If he kills me, and he’s lying, what will happen to her? I can’t take that risk.

I shove him hard, making him stumble back, kicking him with the heel of my dress shoe square in the chest before he can rise back up to his feet, sending him and the knife to the ground. I hear her soft gasp; her feet quickly clearing the rest of the steps. “Don’t move, y/n,” I bark back at her.

“Rafe?” She whimpers, making me look over my shoulder. The second I do the air flees my lungs, Tony’s big body tackling me to the floor. My skull ricochetes off the hardwood floor; eyes slamming shut in pain, losing my gun in the process. I overpower him, rolling him to his back, grabbing his shoulders I lift him slightly, bashing his head against the ground again and again making him scream out in pain.

He scratches and claws at my face and shirt as I wrap my hands around his throat, squeezing with all my might. "Not so easy to fight a man. Huh?" I hiss.

"F-Fuck you," he stammers as he throws a rough punch, meeting my jaw. I respond with four of my own. The connections, direct and brutal, the dried blood on his face replaced with fresh blood as his body starts to go limp.

Finally.

I stare down at him, lifeless, one with the floor, his breathing almost nonexistent. I draw my hand back, slapping him across the face, his head snapping to the side; body unresponsive to the pain. I drag myself to my feet, stumbling across the living room for my gun. An execution. This ends right here. Right now.

My chin trembles with adrenaline and emotion as I try to get his words out of my head. There’s no way she was in on this all along. Everything she shared with me, the things she said to me, the things we did… That was real. She's here ‘cause she was worried. She's here ‘cause her intuition was right. She's here for me.

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. My heart sinks, the rapid bounding of Tony’s feet stopped almost as soon as it start. It’s quiet, wet gurgling and a soft whimpers are all that remains. I turn around, facing Tony but his eyes aren’t on me. He looks down at his chest, the bloodied tip of carboned steel poking out from his chest. He falls to his knees before me, y/n standing behind him in shock, watching as he tumbles face-first on the floor.

She looks up at me, eyes filled to the brim with tears. I run to her, pulling her into my arms, holding her body close as she clings to me for dear life.

I haven't let her go since. It wouldn't feel right. I hold her, watching as the sun sets in the east; a blood-red sky, painted across the Atlantic. The last sliver of the golden sun dips below the horizon. I kiss her gently on her cheek, down the soft flesh on her neck to the dip on her shoulder before resting my chin on top. “Are you okay, baby,” she whispers. I rest my hands on the top of hers, pressing my chest against her back as we both look over the edge of the yatch, watching the black water swell below.

“M’perfect, princess,” I whisper as I nuzzle into her neck. “Are you okay.”

“I am,” she whispers, “because of you. Thank you...”

“Thank you,” I mumble as she melts into me. “I needed you. I can't believe you did that for me.”

“I’d do anything for you,” she whispers as she turns, resting her hands against my chest, looking up at me with pleading eyes. “I know him. I know Tony probably filled your head with lies but I promise, none of it’s true.”

“I know,” I assure as I cup her cheeks in my hands, guiding her soft lips to mine. “This is almost over and from here on out it’s just you and I.”

“You and I,” she echoes. I kiss her forehead and her lips before pulling away.

“Stay here. M’serious.” She nods submissively, falling back as I move foward. I shuffle across the main deck, grabbing the rail, walking down the small flight of stairs to the carport before raising the hatch. I reach behind my back, pulling out my 9mm, opening the trunk.

There he lies, Tony Marietta. I smile as he lifts his eyes, matching mine; the bloodied knife already laying by his side. I take the gun, pressing it against his temple, tilting my head slightly to keep his eyes on me. “M’so glad you’re alive for this… I could make this fast,” I whisper. “But after all the shit you did, I’m gonna have you dyin’ nice and slow. Too bad I don't get to watch.” He goes to speak but all that comes out is a thick trail of blood. “I know what you're gonna say… Don’t worry. I’m gonna do what you couldn’t. I’m gonna take care of her. And that's a promise.” I toss my gun inside before slamming the trunk.

Moving to the front I step inside, firing up the engine before shifting it into neutral. I give the vintage ride a little push, the pull of the yacht sending the tires rolling. I follow the car as it plunges into the deep, dark waters, the depth snuffing out the headlights ‘til all that’s left is blackness.

Goodbye, Tony.

Epilogue

One year later…

Reader’s POV:

You roll up to Tanneyhill, flooding the big driveway with light after a late night shift at the Country Club. It’s mine now and business is booming; a new staff with increased security. Rafe took it upon himself to turn it from the dive it once was to a luxury experience, all for me. Of course I clean his money, the perfect front. Anything for my man. Stepping out of the car you make your way up the cobblestone walk to the front door, passing the bay window, watching as Rafe shuffles by in a black button down, resting two plates of food down on the table.

“Knock. Knock,” you sing as you open the door with a smile, matching Rafe’s beautiful blue eyes making him return the same.

“Babygirl,” he croons as he walks closer, helping you out of your jacket before, swathing his strong arms around you waist, looking down at you lovingly.

“Welcome home. Happy Anniversary,” you coo as you rise on your tippy toes, pressing a kiss on his lips. “I didn’t think you’d be home ‘til next week.”

He smiles against your lips, recalling his initial plan, the pair of you knowing there was no way he was gonna miss this day, even if it meant flying home from Morocco for one night only. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world, you know that, princess,” he mumbles against your mouth between kisses. “I got your favorite.”

Rafe takes your hand, leading you to the dining room, pulling out your chair, directing you to sit. You look across the table seeing all of your favorite things; the meal, the flowers, wine. Little candles glint in the middle of the table, adding to the ambiance as he runs you a glass of Chateau Lafite Rothschild, the first bottle of wine you shared on your very first night together.

"You look stunning," Rafe praises, lifting his glass to his lips, sipping slowly as his eyes drink you in.

"And you look very handsome, Rafe Cameron," you hum, resting your hand on the thigh of his Armani suit.

"You know baby, you’ve been working too hard. Are you free this week?” He asks, knowing the answer is ‘no’, but that’s not the reply he’ll get. If he’s asking you to go somewhere he’s already worked everything out for you.

"I’m always free for you, baby."

"Mhmm… Barry and his girl are gonna watch the club so you can come to Morocco with me. How does that sound?”

“So nice… You’re so good to me,” you sigh blissfully as you grab him by the collar of his jacket, pulling him to your lips. “Fuck, I love you.”

"Mmm… Yeah? Wanna sit on my lap and tell me how much you love me? We can see what happens next,” he chuckles warmly.

“Don’t tempt me, baby. You know I have no problem taking you right here,” you smile, the blonde smirking as he recalls what happened the morning before he left.

“You are so good to me,” he corrects you. "Y/n, I'm so happy you're mine. I hope you feel that.”

"I'm so happy I'm yours," you smile, spreading a little wider. “Of course, I feel that.”

"You deserve to have the very best, sweetheart. You deserve to be happy, and safe, and loved.” He leans in closer to you, his eyes meeting yours.

"I do… You’re perfect, Rafe.”

“I’m not, princess. But I wanna be for you,” he whispers, swallowing thickly. Your brows rumple as his mood shifts from flirty and light-hearted to serious. His eyes always look bluer when he’s on the verge of tears, yet, his smile contradicts it all. "I got you something."

"Yeah?"

“Mhmm,” he hums and nods as he reaches into his suit jacket pocket, pulling out a blue box.

"Oh my gosh! Rafe Cameron,” you gasp. “It's too much.”

"It's not, princess," he smiles softly. You reach for the box, but he keeps it in his hand, using the other to brush the tears out of his eyes.

"Rafe... Are you okay?" You whisper as you cup his cheek in your hand. He shuts his eyes, relishing in your touch, leaning into you slightly. He takes a few deep breaths before opening his eyes again.

"I’m perfect, baby.” He whispers weakly. "Umm... I'm not sure how I'm this in love with you, baby. But I am. And, at this point, I genuinely can't remember a time when I wasn't. Every night since I saw you I fall asleep with you on my mind, and I wonder if you're doing the same. I can't even comprehend losing you, or someone hurting you. I’ve said this once and I’ll say it a million times I don’t trust anyone to protect you but me and that includes your heart too. It's you, princess. It's fucking you. I can't describe it any more than that. You are the only person I want and will ever want. You make me feel safe. You make me feel loved. And since I've met you, sweetheart, you've always been that person. My girl. I can't love anyone else. And, I don't want to. So, with that being said. Y/n, will you marry me?" Rafe moves from the chair, dropping down to one knee, pulling open the box, the Tiffany engagement ring, resting in the center.

Your eyes widen, hand covering your bright, ecstatic smile. "Yes!" You squeal in delight, making Rafe let out a happy chuckle as he glides the jewelry on your finger.

"Yes?"

"Yes! Yes, Rafe! Oh my gosh. I thought it was a necklace," you gasp as you eye the ring on your finger.

"I figured, when you tried to take it from me. I got nervous," he laughs warmly, guiding you to his lips. You smile against his kiss, Rafe doing the same.

"I love you, Princess."

"I love you too, Rafe Cameron.”

Bonus smut chapter 💕

Thank you so much for reading my short story! I hoped you enjoyed it 💕🩷

Miski 🩷

tag list and masterlist on my pinned post @starkeysprincess @rafesthroatbaby @gri959 @loserboysandlithium @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @akobx @darlydixon83 @hyperfixationgirl @savayvayblr-blog @oxpogues4lifexo @rafesgiirl @sleepiibunniiii

[making-the-crypt-rock]

Lena, the Werewolf

Monster x human reader (pt 1)

Mostly safe for work(nudity, depictions of a strap on), but trigger warning for domestic abuse.

Escaping a bad situation leads you to the small town of Denizen, where the people are hiding more secrets than just a beautiful state park. It's here that you meet Lena, the best bartender you've ever met.

(I'd also like to shout out @momolady , as this piece was inspired by characters in her Hearthway Hollow section)

"Finally away. Finally, I've gotten away." That's all I can think, as I speed down the road. As I wipe the last of the tears from my eyes, I try to control my breathing. Fortunately, I haven't passed any hidden police cars. The way I was driving, I would have been pulled over, for sure. Then again, maybe cops who didn't know my ex would take me seriously.

With clearer eyes, I catch sight of a speed limit sign. I slow down to match the thirty mile per hour limit. I figure that I must be getting close to a town. I'm not even sure where I am, right now. I just ran out of my apartment, got in my truck, and sped off. I didn't even have time to grab clothes, this time. He was so mad... I couldn't stay there. I can only imagine the state that my apartment's in, now. Caleb probably tossed the place and broke all my stuff. It's probably for the best that the majority of my most prized possessions are at my parents' house. But I definitely won't have my computer or a lot of the pictures I had hanging on my walls, when I go back. I shiver at the thought of him still punching holes in my kitchen.

I'm shaken from my thoughts, when I pass a sign. It says, "Welcome to Denizen. Home of Nethermoore State Park." The green of the basic road sign stands out against the fall colors painting the woods around me, making it hard to miss. I don't think I've ever heard of this town, let alone the park. Coming around the corner and over a small bridge, I'm met with a quaint town. Right away, I can identify a coffee shop, hardware store, gas station, grocery store, and a bar, most importantly. The lights on the street have hanging baskets decorated in autumn fashion, with fake, orange leaves and little pumpkins. There's not a stop light, even on the main road. This place is so much smaller than Stillwater.

I pull my truck into a space next to The Raven bar and grill. It stands out pretty well and has a very charming look to it, as it seems it's designed to look like a log cabin. When I park, I notice an older man leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette. He looks at my truck, before looking in at me. Then, he just looks away, taking a drag. Now parked, I take the chance to look at my phone. Fifteen missed calls, fifteen voicemails, and fifty-seven unread messages, all from Caleb. However, there are also a couple texts from my mom, wondering where I am and if I'm alright. Caleb must have called her to see if I was hiding with her and Dad, again. Hiding there didn't go well, the last time, though. He almost fought my dad to get to me. I'm pretty sure he'd do far worse, this time.

I send her back, "I'm alright, Mom. He's upset, because I finally told him that we're over and that I'm going to be moving out of my apartment and away from him, as soon as I can. It's finally going to be over. I'm going to be staying the night, out of town, but I'll stop by after I go collect my things, tomorrow." I watch the text bubble for "someone is typing" dance for a moment, before her reply pops up. She tells me that she loves me and that she's proud of me for finally leaving him. She tells me to stay safe and that she'll see me, tomorrow.

I store my phone back in my pocket and hop out of the truck. I hadn't gotten the chance to eat the dinner I'd made, and now I'm getting hungry. The smoker looks me up and down and nods at me, but gets a bit of a concerned look on his face.

"You alright, Miss?" he asks.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, just getting through a bit of a rough patch. I'll be fine," I reply.

"Well, this would be the place to help with rough patches," he says, pointing his thumb over his shoulder at The Raven. "But this is also pretty good and you look like you could use it." He fishes a tissue out of the pocket of his jean jacket and hands it to me. I take it and wipe the last of the moisture from my eyes and wipe my nose up, thanking him.

"No problem, miss. I'm Elijah, by the way. I own the grocery, next door, if you need anything, while you're here." Elijah smiles, kindly. He reminds me of my dad, in a way; sturdy build with dark hair and kind eyes. He's the kind of friendly that makes you feel calm.

"Also, miss, and not to pry on your business, but what brings you to town? Camping out the rough patch in the park or you just come for the pour?" he jokes, taking another drag from his cig.

"Oh, I'm YN. YN Green, and I'm just passing though. Needed to get away, for the night, and kinda ended up here by accident," I reply.

He chuckles to himself and replies, "Well, Ms. Green, if you believe the old folktales, no one ends up in Denizen by accident. Always something to find. Anyways, I'll let you get to finding what you need." I nod and thank him for the help. He nods back with a smile.

When I walk into the bar, a few people glance over at me. The place is warmly lit with hunting and sports decor all over the walls, ranging from old Wild jerseys and a gigantic, framed picture of the old Metrodome to mounted deer and fish. There are a couple TVs, too. All are silent, except for the one displaying a channel for the music playing over the speakers. Many of the tables are full, but I find a small one tucked in the back. The black chair I sit in has a little duct taped patch on it. The sound of bar chatter and 90s country is almost foreign.

Then, an older woman in a black t-shirt with the bar's logo walks over with a laminated menu. "Welcome to The Raven. Can I get you started with anything to drink?"

"Just a water, please," I say with a smile. She studies my face for a moment as she hands me the menu.

"Alright, I'll bring that right over," she says in a cheery tone. I look down at the menu. Burgers and sandwiches line both sides of the menu, with sections for appetizers and daily specials. Today, it's fish fry, like many Midwestern places do on Fridays.

Looking up from the menu, I take another look around. This place is different from my usual hang outs, but not in an uncomfortable way. Certainly, just... different. My eyes stop at the bar, where I notice one of the bartenders is looking at me. She glances down as she hands a customer a beer, but her eyes come back to me. Her short, brown hair is pulled back into a paintbrush of a ponytail, showing off her undercut. Her face is soft, but with a strong jawline. She looks athletic and like she enjoys her time at the gym. I'd bet she could open any jar of pickles she set her mind to.

The waitress comes back over and sets my water down. "Know what you're having, tonight?" I look from her to the menu and order the fish - three pieces with waffle fries, and I ask her to hold the side of coleslaw. She scribbles it all down and nods, taking my menu. "Thank you much. That'll be out in a bit." I nod and try looking back at the bar, but the woman is gone, pry helping someone at a different corner of the bar or checking in with the kitchen. Elijah walks in and takes a seat at the bar, giving me a wave when he sees me.

I pull my buzzing phone back out. Caleb's latest text says, "Where the fuck are you? You need to come back here and take back what you said. We're not over and you better be prepared to apologize, you fucking bitch." My eyes start to water, so I just swipe the notifications away. I open my phone and message my landlord about the situation. A friend of my dad, Mark has been working with me to document everything that's happened and get me out. He wishes he could just move me to his other property, but it's all occupied. With Caleb and I both on the lease, though, he's making sure that all charges for damages and fees for breaking the lease are going to him. He thanks me for the info and says he's going to go over and give him his thirty day notice. I thank him and set my phone down, again.

The waitress comes back over, but not with food. She hands me a glass with what looks like a kiddie cocktail in it.

"I didn't order a drink," I tell her. She lets out a little chuckle.

"No, but someone sent it over. Lena makes a mean Malibu Shirley." I glance over at the bar where the bartender, Lena, is looking at me, again, while she stands by Elijah, who's giving me a toothy grin and doing a goofy, finger twiddle wave. I smile at him, mouth a 'thank you', and thank the waitress. She smiles and walks off, again, towards a table of older folks having a rather jovial night. I take a sip of my drink. Sweet and fruity, not too strong. It would be great blended, on a hot summer day.

As the night winds on, I eat my dinner and stare at my phone, trying to find a local hotel. There's a motel at the edge of the state park, but it says that it doesn't have vacancy. The next closest one is forty-five minutes back the way I came. Far too close. I sigh, wishing I hadn't taken my camping gear out of my truck bed. I send messages to Mark and my parents, getting and giving updates about what's all been happening. Apparently, Mark took the police chief with him, to deliver the papers, and Caleb was detained, after they discovered all the damage. I still don't feel safe enough to go home.

Elijah came and went, telling me to have a good night. I order a few more Shirleys, as the night goes on. The waitress, LouAnne, gives me a polite smile, every time she stops at the table. I think I only heard her raise her voice, once, and it was to tell this old drunk he had to go home. Lena kept looking over at me, but I haven't seen her for a bit. I get lost in my search for a place to stay the night and the warm comfort of coconut rum.

Suddenly, the chair on the opposite side of the table slides out and the bartender takes a seat. "I'd ask if this seat was taken, but I don't think I've seen anyone use it, since you came in. Plus, it's getting close to closing time and I doubt anyones gonna come in just to snatch it," she jokes. "I'm Lena." She's even prettier, up close. I notice the little freckles on her cheeks and the crescent moons on her ear piercings.

"Yeah, the waitress told me your name. You're the bartender that likes to stare," I joke back. Her cheeks turn pink, but she laughs along, shoulders shanking. Her eyes are soft. They're green, like walking through a spring forest. "I'm YN." We shake hands and I can feel just how strong they really are.

"Yeah, ol' Eli told me about you. Said you blew in out of nowhere. He also said you might need a place for the night, and considering you've had a few more of my Shirleys than just the one I sent over, I'm gonna guess a ride somewhere, too." I feel my mouth fall open, ever so slightly. She sent it? Probably just trying to be nice, I suppose.

"You sent it? I thought Elijah did, cuz he saw me when I got here, so I thought he was just trying to help me feel better," I tell her. Her face gets a bit more serious.

"Yeah, I did. Elijah mentioned that you looked a little worse for wear, when you pulled up. Everything ok?" she asks, leaning in and resting her forearms on the table. I feel tears fighting to come out, but I hold myself together. Between the stress and liquor, it's a real battle. The crack in my voice, however is a different story.

Telling her, "I'm fine, just some stuff with my b... My ex." I have to correct myself. He's not my boyfriend, anymore. There's a slight shift in Lena's expression, but it passes quickly. "He's just being a jerk cuz I told him to get lost. But then I got lost and ended up here. Funny how that works." I know I'm rambling, but the words are hard to stop. Her face softens as her eyes scan me. She looks so amused.

"You're a little drunk, aren't you?" Not a question.

"Yes, ma'am. And youuuu started it." I point a finger gun at her and giggle. "You make a good drink." Lena smiles and lets out a soft chuckle.

"I'm flattered," she says, mockingly, placing her finger tips against her chest. Then her tone turns to the edge of flirtatiousness. "It's not every day I get such praise from such a pretty girl." I'm praying that the flush from the alcohol hides my blush.

"I, um... Thanks," I squeak out, causing her to throw her head back with laughter.

"God, that was adorable," she wheezes, trying to compose herself. Pretty, now adorable? I'm not even sure what to truly say, in response. "Ok, ok. Real talk. Eli said you were pry in need of a place to stay the night. Not to be presuming anything, but I've got a spot at my place. I have my basement listed as an Air BnB, and it's open, at the moment. Since it's just the night and short notice, you can just crash down there, if you need. If you found a spot, that's cool, too, but I just want to make sure you get where you're headed, safely." She sounds genuine about the offer. I didn't find a place and I didn't even think to check that site, with it being such late notice.

"Uh... Yeah, that would work for me, if it's not too much trouble. I promise I'll pay you back." Lena puts up a hand and shakes her head

"No need. I'm offering. Now, I get done in thirty, so just hang here, while I finish cleaning up and clocking out," she says. And that's what I do. I sit with my, now, almost dead phone and watch her work. She wipes down the bar and washes her mats, before mopping and taking out the trash. She lifts the large bag like it's nothing and I have to push a thought out of my mind, when I realize that I rocked my hips on the chair. She looks back at me, for a moment, before leaving the room, a strange look in her eyes.

When she and the cook lock up, I head to my truck for my charger and travel toothbrush. I expect her to head for a car, but she just starts walking. I try asking her about it, but she says she lives only a bit down the road and that she just walks.

"Do you want to just drive my truck?" I ask. I'd feel better not leaving it here, if I don't have to." She agrees and we hop in. Lena adjusts the seat back and tilts the mirrors. She rolls the windows down, too, letting the chilly, fresh smelling air in. Then, in no time at all, we pull into the long driveway of a gorgeous two story house. She parks my truck and we hop out.

"Hey there, Toasty," Lena babbles after pushing the door open. She looks back at me with an uncomfortable face. "You don't mind dogs, right?" Then, before I register it, we're both surprised by a very happy Staffordshire terrier bouncing out of the door and jumping up to sniff and lick at my face and hands, letting out a few barks. I laugh at the excitable dog and scratch his ears.

"I love dogs!" I laugh, as the dog sits for pets. "Is this good boy yours?"

"Yeah, he's my buddy." Lena leans down and pats his side. Then, he runs into the yard to do his business, before coming back to us. "Alright, in." He follows her command, trotting back through the door and we both follow.

Lena's home is beautiful. She has many different potted plants in her windows, a spacious living room, and a kitchen that would make my mom jealous. She gives me a small tour, only pointing upstairs to tell me she sleeps up there, before taking me to the basement. It's finished and she's set up a second entertainment area with a TV and an Xbox 360. I even spot some old guitar controllers, in the corner. There's a full bathroom and a bedroom, in the far corner with a nice bed already made up.

"I know you said it's alright, but I'm definitely paying you back for this. This is really too kind." Lena just shakes her head.

"Not happening," she replies, crossing her arms.

"You can't stop me from trying," I say, crossing my own arms and smirking. Her brow creases as she lets out a light snort. Lena takes a couple steps towards me and I feel the wall on my back. I stare into her eyes and am surprised that I don't feel the same way Caleb made me feel, when he would corner me. This time, I can feel my heart racing in places besides my chest. I see Lena's eyes dilate, as if she can tell that that's what she was doing to me, too.

She places her right hand above me and says in a low tone, "I can't stop you, YN, but I can certainly do my best to make you too flustered to keep trying." I can smell her sweet and musky perfume. Her eyes have the same amused look that they had, at the bar. She's playing with me, like I'm a toy. I've never flirted with another girl, like this. Sure, I kissed a few friends, in college, but I never really took the chance to pursue anything further. It was all just in good fun, but this? This is different. And so much more exciting.

"And just how would you do that?" I look at her chest as I trail a finger along her collar, before looking back up at her. I see her breath hitch as she takes in my response. Then, she gets more serious, an almost worried look in her eyes.

"You really want to do this? I need you to know that I didn't bring you here for anything funny and that, if you're just playing, I understand. I'm not the kind of person to just bring anyone home, especially not drunk girls. I'm... not the type for one night stands," she says, searching my eyes. Wouldn't this just be one night, though? I mean, I don't think I want it to be, but isn't that how it has to go? I just left Caleb. I can't just start in with a new partner, the same night. Then again, I haven't so much as kissed him, in over three months, and with everything he's done, I think I'm ready for someone who wants me.

I look Lena in the eyes, then down to her lips. They're thin and I can tell that she bites them, but they draw my attention in a supernatural way. I want to see more of her. I want her. Looking back up and meeting her eyes, I can almost see sweat forming on her brow, in anticipation of my answer.

I place my hands on either side of her face and let out a steady breath. "My brain has been so fried, this evening, Lena, but if there's anything that I know for certain, it's that I don't think I'd ever forgive myself if I didn't take this chance. I want this and I want you." Her eyes light up and I don't think she really knows what else to do, besides stare at me and bring a hand to my cheek. Her mouth is trying to form words, but nothing comes out. I let out a small chuckle, before leaning in just a little, glancing down at her lips, again. This time, she takes the initiative and kisses me, hungrily. My hands find each other, interlocking my fingers behind her neck. Her right hand, remains on the wall, while her left takes hold of my waist, pulling my body to hers.

"Fuck, your lips taste good," Lena growls. She tastes like peppermint and vanilla chapstick. I can feel my body turning on for the first time in ages, as she kisses me. She rolls her hips against mine and I begin to notice a firm object being ground against me. In my head, I let out a long "fuck." Lena hard packs. She's a butch who hard packs. I moan against her lips, grinding my hips to match hers.

"You're sure about this, YN?" Lena pants in my ear, huskily.

"All bark and no bite, huh?" I goad, trying to control my breathing as I plant a soft kiss on this woman's neck. She lets out a noise somewhere between a low growl and a chuckle, before latching into the side of my neck. Her teeth press against my skin and I can't hold back from moaning, which only seems to encourage her. She hungrily licks and sucks at my neck and I have to push her away, before she leaves a mark.

"Not there, just yet," I whine. "I want it there, but no visible ones, yet." She nods, a hungry look in her eye, as she realizes that this means she will have access to the rest of my body to leave marks on. She licks her lips as she looks me over.

"Fair enough." With a quick movement of her hands, I'm lifted off of my feet. I wrap my legs around her middle as her strong hands caress my thighs. "Then let's take this to my room, huh?" She gives a toothy smirk as she begins to effortlessly carry me up the two flights of stairs.

"God, you're strong," I tell her, making her smile.

"I have a very active lifestyle. When I'm not at the bar, I'm either in the gym or on the trails. And I work at the trail head, for the nature center. They have me split firewood, for the campers at the state park." I get a mental image of Lena all sweaty, wearing a wife pleaser and jeans, with an ax over her shoulder. She hums out a teasing tone, when she feels my muscles clench at the thought. One hand slides further up my ass and gives me a little squeeze, as we get to the second set of stairs. "I felt that, cutie."

I mutter into her neck, "Well, I could feel your strap, when you were grinding on me, so I guess we're even."

"You can do a lot more than feel it through my pants, if you want," she growls in my ear. When we get to the top of the stairs, I feel a wet nose touch my ankle. Toasty is looking at us, happy for company. Lena sets me down and gives his head a pat. "Sorry, buddy. You're going to have to sleep in the living room, tonight." He cocks his head, but trots down the stairs, when Lena tells him to go on.

Lena's room is spacious with a couple of dressers, thier tops covered in little knick knacks, a large book case with books ranging from older hardcovers to more contemporary, and a comfy looking king-sized bed with a maroon comforter on it and a large walnut chest at the foot of it. I excuse myself to her bathroom, for a second. I set my phone on the counter to charge and pull my toothbrush from my pocket. I give myself a quick cleaning and check my neck for a mark. Besides being a little red, I'm ok.

When I come out, Lena is sitting on the bed, looking deep in thought. She gives me a soft smile, when she notices I'm looking at her. I ask her what's wrong and she just gives a little shake of her head.

"I'm trying to figure out the right words, right now..." answers Lena. I give her a confused look and she sighs. "Well, there's... some stuff you need to know, if you're serious about this whole thing. And it's... It's going to be really hard to believe and make me sound insane." She looks almost terrified. I sit next to her and she keeps just looking at the carpet. "I hardly know you, YN... But I really feel a connection that I can't shake."

"I was feeling something similar..." I say. "Back at the bar? I just couldn't stop looking at you. Something in the back of my brain kind of just said 'that is the prettiest, most fascinating person you've ever seen, so you better not stop staring.'" She finally looks at me with a soft smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes..

"I'm... not quite a normal person." I raise an eyebrow at this as she searches for more words. "Well, you how I'm a dog person? Like, how I have Toasty?" I nod. "Well, I'm also a dog-person. With the hyphen, in the middle."

"So... You're a furry? Or is this like a pet-play thing?" I ask, thinking she's just worried about exposing a fetish.

Lena says, voice wavering in a way I would have predicted, "I'm... not entirely... human? I'm... I'm a werewolf." A goddamn werewolf? I turn and just stare at the floor, the same way she had been.

I sigh. "If you didn't really want to have sex with me, you could have just said." She looks shocked.

"I'm being serious!" exclaims Lena. "Want me to show you?" I look back at her and tell her very matter of factly that, yes, if she ever expects me to believe her that she's a werewolf, then I'm going to need proof. Holding eye contact with me, she offered her hands. I watch as they shift from the slightly muscular hands of the butch bartender to a set of furry claws. I jump back, almost falling off the bed. I don't even know what to say.

Lena stares at her hands and replies, "It's a genetic thing, so don't be worried about catching it. This town was made for our kind, a few decades ago. That's why people ask strangers if they're going to the park. It's a total safe zone for us to shift or be in our less-than-human forms. ...I'm sorry, I should have told you, sooner." She can't even look at me. She looks so ashamed. I'm trying to process it all, but nothing is computing, properly.

Slowly, I manage to ask, "Can... Can you always control it, like that, or... you know... Like, does the full moon make you wolf out?"

"I'm in total control, but the pack does get together, during the full moon, for a meeting and other activities. Mostly a midnight run or hunt," Lena explains. I look back down at her hands. They're still the paw-like, furry hands. "February can be a bit hectic, though." She laughs a little at this, but whatever it is goes over my head. Taking everything in, today, must have taken its toll, as this all starts to feel less and less insane. I place my hand on her shoulder and she stiffens.

"I've had... a very rough day, Lena. And I don't know if it's the drinks, the fact I've been so emotionally drained, or the fact that I thought you were a person I was genuinely 100% glad I met, a few minutes ago, but I don't think I care about... any of that," I say, tiredly, gesturing at her claws. She looks up at me, eyes wet with tears she's holding back, like water in a dam.

"You... you really don't mind that I'm..." Her lip quivers and I almost can't help but think it's cute. I give her a soft smile.

"Strangely enough, no." I sigh and replace my hand with my head, resting it on her muscular shoulder. "I just wish you'd saved it for a bit." I can feel her turn her head, a bit. "Not meaning that this was one, but telling a girl you're a werewolf is kind of a second date type thing." Lena bursts out with her hardy laugh, again, wheezing and letting her tears fall. I scoot closer to her and wrap an arm around her waist.

"So... I'll take it you want to keep seeing me?" Lena asks, sniffling and wiping away tears from her eyes and face with her paws.

"Yeah... I want to get to know Lena. But you need to do a couple things, first." She nods, smiling that beautiful smile. "1.) I could use some pajamas, 2.) I want to see your whole body do that, cuz that is so weird and I don't think I'll be able to sleep without seeing how that works, and 3.) you're big spoon." She laughs and leans into me.

She jokes, "Alright, but if you ask me to play fetch, you're sleeping downstairs." I pick my head up and look into her pretty, green eyes. I give her a quick kiss on the cheek and tell her it's a deal. Then, she kisses my forehead and gets up to find me some night time clothes. She hands me a white tank top and a pair of thin, black, cotton pants. As I'm about to excuse myself back to the bathroom, she turns away and pulls her shirt off. She does the same for her sports bar. I can see just how cut she is, now. My eyes linger on her toned back as I set the clothes on her bed. I, similarly, turn away from her, disrobing and watch her out of the corner of my eye, the same way you suspect she is.

As I pull her tank top over my head, I hear the zipper of her jeans come down. I watch with anticipation as Lena slides them over her hips, exposing her red boxers and the straps of the mount she's wearing underneath it. She tosses the jeans onto a chair that seems to house a few articles of "I'll wear those again" clothes as I finish pulling on the pair of pants. She digs in her dresser and pulls out a gray t-shirt and blue, flannel shorts. She casually brings them over to her bed and sets them down, all the while she's smirking, I know she saw my ogling her chest.

"You can look, YN. Wolves are pretty open about their bodies. Can't quite shift well in your clothes and expect them to be in decent shape, after." My eyes are scanning her body and I can practically feel my brain kicking me for not just telling her to shut up and fuck me, after I got out of the bathroom. Her tits are great and the outline of her strap is just... Ugh... "Also... I can smell every time you've been turned on, tonight. Glad I waited for you to be looking, when I did the trash." She winks as my face flushes bright red.

Then, moment of truth, she slides her boxers off. Her mounted dildo springs up from her thigh - dark blue and purple, large, and in a very uncommon shape. Of course the werewolf lesbian has a Bad Dragon. I make a mental note to look for the model, in the morning. Unfortunately, I don't get to enjoy it, before she slides the toy from her hips and puts it in the chest with what looks like more of her gear. Now I can see her well groomed bush. And she's about to get more hairy.

Lena looks at me, nervously, as she steps back to the center of her room, stark naked and asks, "You're ready for this?" I nod, sitting sideways on her bed. I take a deep breath as I watch her. She groans as her body shifts and elongates, growing hairier and more monstrous. I feel my body start to shake with fear, but I don't look away. Her kind eyes change to add tones of rich amber to the forest green. Her chestnut hair covers her body, changing to gray in many places. She's so much taller than me, now. And she has a tail! She looks straight out of a movie. Twilight, eat your heart out.

As I try to speak, Lena rasps out, "There's more." Then, she begins to shrink onto all fours, hands becoming paws, broad chest slimming, and cut muscles becoming less and less defined as a wolf, unrecognizable from any other, now stands in Lena's bedroom. She pads over to me and looks up with the saddest puppy eyes I ever saw, laying her head in my lap. She can definitely feel me still shaking, because she lets out a sad whine. I don't suppose she can talk, like this.

Carefully, I set my hand on her head and her tail starts to wag, ever so slightly. I pet her coarse, yet still fluffy, fur. She's like the husky my friend had, when we were kids. She lets out another whine, looking at me expectantly, but I just stare back. I think to scratch behind her ears and she seems to enjoy it, but shakes her head and takes a step back. I watch as she shifts back, groaning and growing more and more nude, until she's just plain, naked Lena.

"I forget that you can't understand me, like that." Lena walks back around the bed and hikes her boxers back up. She comes back around, pulling her shirt on and squats in front of me. "Are you alright? I know that seeing that is a lot, the first time." I put my hand back on her head and just play with her hair. She sighs and stands up, crawling onto the bed and pacing herself at the center. Her arms are open and she motions for me to come closer. I do, sitting between her legs as she wraps me in a warm hug. She sways and hums one of the songs that had been playing at the bar. I hardly even register it, when I start to cry. It feels like my body is just all of a sudden racked with sobs as I cry against her.

"It's alright, YN. It's going to be alright. I've got you." Three little words to make you feel at home. Two strong arms to hold you together. Lena feels like the one person in the whole world with both, and she is, right now. "I don't know what all you're going through, right now, or how much I've just added to all of the things on your mind, but I'm right here, for you, YN. I'm right here." She continues swaying and rocking me until I can't cry anymore. She wipes my teary face either thumbs and holds my cheeks in her hands, until I look at her.

"That's it. It's going to be ok. Want me to grab you some tissues? There's a box right over there." She jerks her head over to her right. I nod and she leans back, stretching out. She comes back with a small box of Kleenex and I take one, blowing my nose, loudly. She rubs my back and just sits, patiently waiting. After a few more tissues and a few more lingering hiccups of sobs, I'm left puffy-eyed and all cried out, leaning into Lena's warm hug.

"I think it's time to get some rest. We'll figure this out, in the morning, alright?" Lena softly asks. I nod against her chest. She scoots back, leading me with her hand, as I crawl behind her. "Ok. Let's just scoot back, here, and get comfortable and we can fall asleep, when you're ready. Come here." She pulls back the comforter and tosses the decorative pillows off the end of the bed. Lena, then, pulls the covers over both of our laps, as I lean into her, finding comfort in her warmth.

"Lena?" I whimper, trying to find my voice.

"Yeah?"

"This is all real, right now?"

"I'm afraid it is." I nod. "Is there anything I can do for you, YN? Anything at all that would help you though this?" She sounds so sincere, almost pleading.

"Just... Don't... Don't let me go. Okay? Promise me that."

Lena's face softens and she kisses me on the top of my head. "YN, when I said that thing about not doing one night stands, I meant it. There's nothing set in stone, but I trust my instincts and they're completely drawn to you. Wolves mate for life."

"I know this sounds weird, but haven't you had partners, before? You seem so confident and practiced." She laughs through her nose.

"I've had a few standing partners, but those relationships were for mutual physical needs. I'm twenty-seven and it's a bitch to be as horny as wolves can get, without having an outlet. Mostly women, but one was nonbinary," Lena explains, gently, rubbing my arm with her thumb.

"Men, but mostly because I was unsure. Looking at you... I don't know, it was just different." She nods along.

"It can feel like that, sometimes. And it's ok to feel unsure." Lena rests her chin in my head. "Also, and I hate to do this, but I'm going to run downstairs and let Toasty out, for just a second. I'll be right back, ok?"

I nod and reply, "Yeah, go ahead." She kisses the top of my head, before slipping out of the bed, putting on her shorts, and telling me she'll be right back, before disappearing out the door. I head to the bathroom, myself, while she's gone. Checking my phone once more, finding nothing but random notifications, before grabbing it and plugging it in next to the bed, for the night. I swipe away all of the notifications for calls and texts from Caleb, the fear of that whole situation feeling like a distant memory. I take a chance to look at his messages, all the same as they've been during previous fights. I know I have to go back to my apartment, tomorrow, to assess the damage.

When I hear Lena coming back up the stairs I shut my phone off and set it back down. She flicks the light off and climbs back into her bed to snuggle up to me.

"Can I ask one more big favor?" I ask.

"Anything."

"Can I come back, tomorrow? Stay a while?"

"Nothing would make me happier. Stay as long as you'd like. Preferably forever, but..." she jokes. I laugh and that makes her smile. "Aww, there's that cute laugh. ...Alright, now. It's been a long day and it's getting really late. We'll get you all settled, tomorrow. I already told Vix, that I'm not going to be in, tomorrow, anyways." Lena holds me close as she prepares to fall asleep. With the weight of everything, both being away from Caleb and from everything since I entered Lena's house, I fall asleep almost immediately. I barely make out Lena's, "Goodnight, YN," as I fade into the darkness of sleep, dreamless and safe.

[saintsenara]

Wait why are you not a fan of Snape and Hermione?? 2 nerds who care a socially awkward amount about the things they care about nerding out together at levels of romance people who can be chill and normal about things can’t comprehend?? It’s not one of my fav ships but I can definitely see it!

I headcanon that Snape picks on Hermione being a muggle raised know it all thirsty to prove and lacking self awareness because he was one himself when he arrived at school and James and Sirius picked on him for it! It’s like that you’re most repulsed by the things you’re self conscious of in yourself thing to me. Or maybe a him trying to live out being the “cool” one in that dynamic thing

But when she’s a grown woman and more self possessed like he became too I feel like that same energy ness has potential for love!

Hermione is famously respectful and compassionate enough towards all beings to be more understanding than say Lily Evans of his prickly tender ego if he had another m word style outburst and such a people pleaser she’d keep coming back for more snark as long as he peppered it with the odd encouraging compliment

And I feel like a Snape in reciprocated love could absolutely veer into inventing beautiful and helpful spells to impress his lover or sending “made me think of u 😘” notes with verses of elaborate obscure poetry territory that would be frankly the level of literary and academic courtship our Herms deserves 😌

Is it cause they’d both be the highly strung worrier one and they both need someone to ground them? Or maybe too pessimistic together and one of them needs to be the cheerful one?

anon, i genuinely love this for you - i'm always thrilled to get people explaining their love for ships in the ol' inbox, especially when they're ships i don't instinctively vibe with, and i have been won round to stranger premises than this by a passionate defence of why two characters should kiss.

where i still think snamione isn't clicking for me, however, is that the way you describe both snape and hermione here doesn't align in any significant way with what i personally think would be interesting to explore about either character in a relationship and have them still feel meaningfully like their canon selves.

[i will say, though - because i always think it's worth reiterating my fandom commitment towards being neither a cop nor a priest - that i literally don't give a shit about either the age gap or the student-teacher dynamic. i know that's an objection to pairings like snarry and snamione which lots of people do express. but i will never be one of them.]

the primary reason that i don't vibe with many of the more... sapiosexual hermione ships [by which i mean not only snamione but tomione] is that they hang on the idea that hermione's intellect expresses itself in a way we never actually see in canon.

or, the idea that snape and hermione are intellectually compatible [and that they would enjoy hanging out being nerdy about stuff] is just... not true.

throughout the seven-book canon, the way that hermione shows herself to be clever is that she displays an excellent memory and an enormous capacity to rote-learn. her intelligence is overwhelmingly demonstrated - both in the classroom and during the trio's year on the run - by her being able to regurgitate swathes of information, very usually verbatim from the source she got it from.

she is clearly able to use this ability to retain information to understand the theoretical component of magic in a way neither harry nor ron ever manage, and she is able to use this understanding of theory to work out how to perform spells which are ahead of her expected level on the hogwarts curriculum.

and this is intelligence - and i want to be very clear that i'm not trying to suggest that hermione shouldn't be thought of as intellectual, or that her academic achievements should be devalued. but it isn't the way snape's intelligence manifests itself.

because hermione is never shown - at any point in canon - to be a particularly creative or experimental thinker.

she places an enormous intellectual trust in disciplinary authority - teachers and textbooks - and is frequently rattled when these are revealed to be partial or incorrect, as we see in her shock at hogwarts: a history not mentioning house elves or her anger at harry getting better results by following the modified instructions in the prince's textbook [despite knowing nothing about the theory underpinning them] than she does with the "official" ones.

she also regards the gatekeeping of inquiry which disciplinary boundaries enforce to be a positive thing and she never displays any inclination to step beyond them. she dislikes the spells in the prince's textbook because they aren't ministry-approved - and i must say that i think the idea that she'd be won over by a man creating spells for her is wishful thinking...

she is immediately mistrustful of anything she can't find something she regards as an empirical source for - notice, for example, that she only comes round to the idea that prophecies might be real once she encounters them in the ministry of magic.

even when we see her using magic on her own terms - the jinx she uses on marietta edgecombe, for example; or the protean charm on the da coins - the magic she's using is sophisticated, and is being applied in a way which wouldn't be classroom-sanctioned, but it's not magic which is being used in a way which is removed from the spell's original purpose. the protean charm on the da coins is impressive because it's a flawless execution of newt-level magic by a sixteen-year-old. it's not impressive because hermione is using it in a strange, experimental, or radical way.

[in contrast, the dark mark - which harry notes the coins mimic - is clearly a spell voldemort himself invents.]

snape, on the other hand, is an experimenter. he's someone who clearly sees magic as a creative force which he has every right to shape as he sees fit by adaptation and invention. and he's someone who evidently rejects the logic of disciplinary gatekeeping - one tension in his relationship with dumbledore prior to half-blood prince is that snape evidently retains an enormous intellectual interest in the dark arts [which, as he tells us, are an area of magic which is feared precisely because they can't be neatly contained within disciplinary boxes - they are ever-changing, unfixed, mutating...]

and it's these conflicting views of what magic is and how it should be used and thought about which is the cause of the intellectual incompatibility we see between snape and hermione in canon.

he is unequivocally in the wrong for his dismissive classroom manner towards her - because he is an adult and she is a child. but he isn't wrong in principle that hermione just repeating what she's read in the textbook and refusing to synthesise her knowledge [she always goes massively over word limits! she never gives answers in class in her own words!] isn't actually a demonstration that she understands the material. [and therefore something a good teacher would guide her through conquering... snape having no interest in doing this is his own fault.]

and - from a snamione-specific perspective - it's all the evidence snape needs that, actually, they're not going to enjoy hanging out chatting about academic pursuits. hermione values knowledge like a dragon hoards treasure. snape wants to take that treasure, melt it down, and turn it into new and weird things.

once again, i don't think this a flaw in either of their characters - it's just something which is. and i don't think it's an insurmountable obstacle to writing snamione, because i believe any ship is possible if an author has enough nerve. but it's an aspect of both characters' canon personalities [and hermione's above all] which never seems to make it into snamione fics - all of which, as far as i've encountered them, are beholden to an idea of hermione's approach to academia which is considerably more flexible than we actually see in the books.

of your other points, i'm not particularly convinced by the idea that snape sees his younger self in the teenage hermione. this isn't just for the reasons outlined above - hermione isn't trying to prove herself in the same way he was, which was by creating and experimenting in a bid to be noticed and considered impressive - but also because of the massive gulf in their respective class backgrounds.

hermione is really posh - and, while she's obviously subjected to discrimination at hogwarts on account of her blood-status, she also comes from a family with both the financial resources and the cultural language to make her familiar with the vibe of the elite muggle boarding schools hogwarts is a pastiche of.

the teen snape - in contrast - stands out from his cohort in that he is visually identifiable as working-class [which does appear to be genuinely unusual at hogwarts]. his class background is something which clearly drove a lot of the marauders' bullying of him [i'm sorry to the girlies who think james and sirius targeted him out of some righteous desire to stamp out his prejudice - it was because he was poor and uncouth] and which he still has a chip on his shoulder about as an adult.

this - again - is not an insurmountable barrier to a snamione relationship [as it's not a barrier to thousands of real-world partnerships and friendships]. but it is something an author needs to grapple with if they want to make the pairing - at least, in my opinion - seem plausible. but the standard vibe seems to be that snape would be comfortable in the grangers' home fairly quickly, and that he'd be delighted to have hermione swanning around offering suggestions for how they could do up spinner's end... instead of him resenting this as the unwelcome meddling of people who've never had to worry for money.

i'm also not particularly convinced by the idea that hermione would get over being called a mudblood - especially by an adult man. while i think it's completely plausible that she'd handle this differently than lily [although lily's reaction is entirely justified - and i don't think we should throw the baby out with the bathwater of contextualising the teenage snape and the motivating factors behind his decisions by pretending that cutting off your friend because he called you a slur is a petty, ill-thought-out, or unreasonable move], i don't think that her reaction would be automatically forgiving.

hermione is compassionate towards kreacher when he calls her a mudblood because kreacher is a slave, whose prejudicial views are inextricably bound up in the magic used to oppress him [i.e. that if he received an order to use the term, or to refuse to serve a muggleborn food, from his masters, he would have to punish himself violently if he disobeyed it]. she is not - quite rightly! - compassionate towards someone like draco malfoy when he calls her one, since he is a free person with full agency to choose not to do this.

could she forgive him - or snape - for using the term? sure! absolutely! but i don't think it's a given - and i also think she'd expect a demonstration of how sorry snape was which wouldn't necessarily align with how he'd think he'd demonstrated his regret.

i do agree that - as you say - hermione is a people-pleaser, and she definitely has a far greater tolerance for being treated cruelly by people she wants to impress [especially authority figures - including snape himself] than either harry or ron. and i think this has the potential to introduce an extremely thorny dynamic into a snamione fic - in which the power dynamic inherent in the age gap [which, to reiterate, i think is completely fine for an author to enjoy] is compounded by hermione being unwilling to anger or contradict snape [which is a vibe - as i've said in answer to an ask about harmony - we also see in her relationship with harry... it's also obviously exactly how snape's relationship with dumbledore works.]

on a couple of the more minor characterisation notes, i'm afraid that the idea of snape as a great romantic has never hit for me. it seems really bound up in the way alan rickman portrayed him in the films, which i've always found a bit toothless. i also don't like the trope of "actually snape's really hot" which seems to always accompany it - ugly, odd men to get to bone too!

[what he would be - i think - is a magpie. get ready to be handed odd stones and bits of leaves on dates.]

i also think they're highly-strung in ways which differ enough to mean they'd just annoy each other. hermione is highly-strung in that she flusters easily and is very poor under pressure, but she's actually pretty emotionally stable [and i'd dispute that she's a pessimist - this is a girl who thinks that she's successfully eradicating slavery at hogwarts by knitting hats; she's pretty robust, funny, cheerful, and idealistic]. snape is highly-strung in that he has a hair-trigger temper and is very emotionally volatile, but he's obviously an extraordinarily good liar, very quick on his feet, and very good under pressure. he'd think she panicked too much [and over insignificant things he didn't care about], she'd think he tanked the vibe of a date by taking offence at someone breathing too loudly.

where are they similar? well, they have a shared self-serving streak [hermione is appalled by behaviour from harry and ron she considers perfectly moral when she does it]; capacity for cruelty; tendency towards secrecy; tendency towards pettiness and pleasure in the misfortune of others; loathing of flying a broom; cutting sense of humour; stubbornness; resilience; clear dislike of slumming it in nature; love of puzzles; and a weakness for red hair.

i think you could make it work on the grounds that they'd probably have the time of their lives being haters together - especially, i feel, about rita skeeter.

and - y'know - because love is weird.

[lightshiningforth]

Maybe the way to have saved the world was to stay in the 1960s at the end of season 2. After the last battle, the Hargreeves all slip away and live quiet lives. Yes, they’re wanted criminals… but it’s also prior to a lot of technology that would make them easy to track. They could skip town, change their names, lay low.

What real reason is there to go back to 2019? Five believes that if they go back, the original apocalypse will not happen, but there’s no basis for that other than the Handler’s word, and the Handler is untrustworthy. The Commission wants them to go back, since they don’t belong in the 1960s, but they just defeated the Commission in battle. They’ve already mucked up the timeline, anyway - they met Hargreeves before any of them were born and told him things he wouldn’t have known, otherwise. They’ve also caused several national incidents. Going back to 2019 will NOT bring them back to the 2019 they knew. Five, of all people, should know that (and it always bothered me that he didn’t, and that everyone was shocked to find a new reality in season 3). They’ve changed history. It’s too late.

So, why not exist in this timeline? I think it would be hard for Allison, who would have to give up on the possibility of ever seeing Claire again. But this time, she would have Ray with her. This time, she would be able to mourn safely, and wouldn’t spiral.

Luther would find a new job, move on from his unhealthy fixation with Allison, come to care for her in a normal brotherly way and love Ray as his brother in law. Maybe he and Diego would live together as chaotic roommates.

Diego would get twitchy trying not to do things that draw attention to himself. Maybe he’d be a vigilante again. Maybe he’d be a small town cop. But when Lila comes back (and she will come back, there’s no reason she couldn’t try her trick with Stan in the 1960s), they work things out and build a life together.

Klaus would struggle for a while, absolutely. No Ben. No Dave. Freshly relapsed. But he would come out of it, too. Maybe Diego would help him, like he does in the first season. Or Allison would, like she does in the fourth. But he won’t be alone again. Perhaps Dave survives the war - don’t we see him join a different military branch at the end of the season? Perhaps Klaus changes the timeline just enough that he lives. Perhaps they meet again, by chance. Perhaps they hit it off.

Or perhaps not. Maybe that’s too much of a paradox (if Dave joins a different branch and never meets Klaus and lives, then how can Klaus have met him and lost him and gone back to warn him?). That wouldn’t stop Klaus from meeting another nice young man and living together as “roommates.” He still remembers his relationship with Dave. That’s real, that matters, he mourns it. But he moves on and he’s happy.

Five retires. Sure, he’s twitchy for awhile. Still waiting for the other shoe to drop. But finally he relaxes, puts on the retiree hat he does in season 3. Goes fishing and road tripping. Jumps in to see his family whenever he wants. He and Lila hate each other, but they agree not to kill each other for Diego’s sake. Hate eventually morphs into begrudging respect.

Ben is gone. It’s tragic. But he saves Vanya, and he crosses over. He’s at peace.

Vanya, Sissy, and Harlan would run away together. Vanya would become Viktor, making them all the more difficult to track. They would realize Harlan has powers, but it wouldn’t ruin his life with Viktor there to help him manage. He’d also help him cope with the guilt of having caused the death of his abusive father - who knows more about destruction and guilt than Viktor Hargreeves? Maybe Viktor would even remove the powers, and let Harlan be a normal little boy who grows up to be an ordinary man.

Now for the fun part. Since Harlan isn’t out of control in this reality, he’s not going to accidentally kill the mothers. So, all seven Umbrellas will still be born. Now what? Five is adamant that they don’t meet each other, but when have the others ever listened to Five?

The real question… will Reginald Hargreeves adopt the Umbrellas, or will he adopt the Sparrows? If he adopts the Sparrows, there’s the difficulty of watching another superhero team (plus Ben! A Ben who looks just like their brother!) go through their traumatic childhood. Plus wondering how their other childhood selves are doing out there. But if Reginald adopts the Umbrellas… oh boy. Now the clock is ticking on another apocalypse.

Imagine the Umbrellas, old now, trying to stop their younger selves from causing an apocalypse. When do they intervene? Do they try to stop Five from leaving? Save Ben? Tell little Vanya that she has powers? Threaten Reginald into being a better father? Or is it Leonard they try to stop? Or each other - does Viktor talk down Vanya, does Luther talk down Luther, etc.? Is this now another potential paradox - for if they prevent the apocalypse, then these versions of themselves won’t jump back in time, so how are they now here and elderly and preventing the apocalypse?

Anyway. This would be fascinating to me. And I’d like it more than whatever season 4 was.

[klbwriting]

Broken Prism

Chapter 3

Fandom: Red Hood

Pairing: Jason Toddxfemale!Reader

Warnings: none, this chapter is actually just kind of fun

Summary: You are trying to figure out who Batman is and make him explain why he just replaced Robin, and maybe punch him in the face

You did a lot of research in the seven years since the color had come back into your life. You ran away from the group home, figured out life by yourself, established yourself as a runner and a finder. You stayed away from the drugs and the alcohol that seemed to flood the streets of Gotham, did work for the cops, for the poor, for those looking for lost loved ones. You didn’t want anyone to get lost in the shuffle, you didn’t want anyone else’s world to go grey, and you really wanted to punch Batman in the face. That mystery, who was the masked vigilante?, was still on your list of cases to solve. Once you figured out who Batman was you were going to find him, tell him what an asshole he was for replacing Robin, and then punch him in the face. It was the least you could do for the Robin before this one, the one who mattered. And hopefully this last lead would put a name to the mask.

You put on the glasses you had stowed in your backpack, mussing up your wig to look like you had just come out of the bar nearby. You giggled, stumbling some into a man waiting by the curb. He steadied you, taking in your features as you pretended to be tipsy. He smirked and you knew you had him.

“I’m sorry,” you cooed, righting yourself before giggling again. The guy whispered something to you, and you just nodded. Asking you to his place before your name? Classy Andrew. You knew him but he didn’t know you. One of Penguin’s guys, another one like you, getting information, selling it off to the highest bidder. In Gotham information was sometimes worth more than cash so if you were able to get some knowledge someone else wanted you were supposed to always expect threats. This guy, well, he was either new or thought he was invincible with Penguin’s money lining his pockets. Idiot.

You could see why Andrew thought he was hot shit when you got back to his penthouse. Sparkly clean and furnished with all the latest and most expensive trends. You played with your purse pulling out a syringe you had hidden there, giggling again, looking for a way to get him close before he actually tried to do what he wanted with you. He looked at you as you bumped into a couch, pretending to almost fall. He caught you, and you struck, injecting the sedative into his neck. He stared at you for a moment before his eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed on the floor. You stood up straight again, brushing the wrinkles from your dress, and got to work. He wouldn’t remember anything in the morning, so you put him in bed, stripping him down to his briefs, discarding your dress on the floor and finding some clothes from his closet to wear. You made sure he didn’t have trackers on his clothes before sliding them on, finding a duffle bag also.

Once you were sure that his things couldn’t be tracked you started poking around for his files. If he was missing some random valuables he would just assume you were a thief, but if he realized you took the information he had stored away in his safe and laptop he would realize you were a finder. You didn’t need another bounty on your head, you had to be smart. The safe was easy find and considering you had his body around you were able to use the bioscanner to open it with ease. Inside was a hard drive that you copied, followed by a burner phone that you checked the messages on. Well, the cops could use a lot of this, looks like this trip was going to get you a bonus. Still, wait you wanted wasn’t there. He still had paper filing cabinets in a panic room he thought was hidden behind a fake bookshelf so you helped yourself to those, using your own phone to scan the paperwork. Nothing still. Grunting in frustration you tore apart the kitchen and then the bathroom, finally striking gold in the air vent. A USB drive, taped to the top of the vent. This had to either be pictures taking part in an orgy or the name of the most infamous vigilante in Gotham. You took it, replacing it with a blank USB, before putting everything back in its place. You took a few trinkets that looked expensive, stuff you could pawn, and headed out. This had been a good night, a clean getaway. Or so you thought.

Jason had no idea who this woman was, but she knew what she was doing. He had been staking out Andrew Garish’s apartment, needing to know exactly how much information he had on Bruce and Batman. He hadn’t had time to grab the USB before Andrew brought back this random woman, so he had slipped out, heading to the roof across the street to wait until you were done. He hadn’t expected the flash of a syringe and Andrew collapsing. He was going to intervene, thinking the woman was just someone working for another criminal overlord, but then she had put Andrew to bed and started searching. Jason was curious and felt an itch, like he should know this woman. She was blond, had glasses, walked with a chip on her shoulder, but nothing was familiar about her, still he couldn’t bring himself to go in there after her. He watched her finish her search and head out, deciding to follow her. He needed that USB drive if anything, and finding out what this lady was up to was probably a good idea.

At some point she must have realized that Jason was following her because she stopped, ducked into a hotel lobby and headed straight for the computer in the business center. One of the employees walked over and she spoke to them quickly, them nodding the whole time. Whatever she said worked and soon she was inserting the USB drive and reading whatever was on it. Fuck. Jason had hoped to corner her before that happened. She read over the contents, pulled it out of the computer and headed out of the lobby again, turning down a side alley. Jason expected to have to chase her but when he landed in the alley, boots barely whispering on the pavement, she was gone, all that was left was the USB, smashed on the ground. Shit.

You weren’t sure who was following you, but you figured you’d better get your information and destroy it. Jessica, one of your old high school friends, worked at a downtown hotel and she let you use the computers if it wasn’t busy and well, 2AM on a weeknight they weren’t busy. You had read what you needed, a little surprised at the name of Batman’s supposed benefactor, mind reeling at how simple the mystery was to solve if literally anyone paid close enough attention. You weren’t surprised that no one, including yourself, hadn’t thought that Bruce Wayne was bankrolling Batman. Who else would honestly have that kind of cash? But in Gotham Bruce Wayne was one of two things, a legendary playboy or a legendary philanthropist, why would anyone suspect him of funneling money to vigilantes? Either way, you hadn’t thought of it, but someone had, and they had, at least for a brief time, advertised the idea online and Andrew had found the last part of the dark web where the theory hadn’t been scrubbed clean. It looks like it's time to visit Mr. Wayne and see what he has to say for himself.

Wayne Manor was an icon in the city. Bruce Wayne allowed tours during some parts of the weekday, his trusted butler Alfred making sure all was well. You signed up for a tour, paying out the ridiculous fee to see this rich guy’s shit, and arrived during the bright and relatively sunny day. You were glad the weather was working for you rather than against you today. If it were rainy and dark like usual, then spotting the cameras and other traps scattering the lawn and the driveway would have been difficult. As it was you counted a dozen cameras facing the front of the house, pressure sensors scattered in the perfectly manicured grass, and inferred detectors by the front gate. You pretended to be absorbed in the guide in a hallway, taking a left instead of a right and hearing an alarm buzz. The guide called out and you looked back, feigning confusion.

“We mustn’t stray into the family’s private quarters” the guide reminded you with a tight smile. You blushed, forcing embarrassment.

“I’m so sorry, the information on the architecture of the home is just fascinating,” you said, brushing the brunette hair you donned today behind your ear. You noticed an older gentleman walking down the hall you had tried to sneak down, watching you. You caught his eye and waved, apologetic, as you joined the tour again. The house would be too hard to navigate, probably better to get stay outside, get Bruce Wayne to come to you. The next thing you needed to figure out was how to get that to happen. You were finishing the tour of the kitchen when you noticed a receipt in a drawer, the corner just sticking out. The group was standing by the fine china, discussing the origin of the pottery display, so you took a moment and slid the paper out. It was for a car that was being delivered that evening, a brand-new McLaren 750S. You let out a low whistle, then froze, looking at the tour group. They were still wrapped up in the conversation, so you went back to the paper, noting the time of the delivery. Good, it was to be delivered to the servants’ entrance where Bruce and someone named Alfred would be signing off on delivery. You slid the paper back into the drawer and followed the group.

You dressed in all black and waited in the shadows of the servants’ gate for the car delivery truck. It arrived and once the gate began to open you hit the button on the jamming tech you had to scramble the camera footage, just for a few seconds, while you snuck in behind the slow-moving truck. It stopped near the backdoor and you slid behind a golf cart, staying low and listening as the delivery men discussed things with Bruce and Alfred. She assumed that the butler was the British one, speaking to the delivery drivers more than Bruce. He only said ‘thank you’ once the car was out of the truck. You kept listening as the truck started up and headed down the driveway again.

“You can come out now,” you heard a gruff voice say. Well, guess they noticed the camera malfunction. You regretted not wearing a disguise now, at least then when they tried to give the police a description it wouldn’t lead to you. You stood, brushing the gravel off your clothes, taking your time. You glanced at Bruce Wayne and noticed that he was unbothered by your delay, seemed his had all the time in the world. You walked around the golf cart, eyeing the black car that now sat in the driveway.

“Nice wheels,” you said. “How much tech is in that thing?” Neither of the men seemed amused by your antics.

“What do you want?” Bruce asked. Alfred moved past you, keys to the new car clinking as he put them in his pocket. You looked back at Bruce, hearing Alfred shuffling around the car, probably checking for any damage you might have done to it.

“How much money do you give the Batman every month?” you asked. That seemed to throw Bruce and Alfred off balance a little bit. It gave you a chance to look back at the butler as he passed you, your hand sliding cleanly into his pocket and removing the new keys.

“Excuse me?” Bruce said, a moment too long in his reply. You smirked.

“Do you ever think about the fact that Batman just replaced Robin like he was yesterday’s trash?” you asked. This question brought a flash of anger and guilt to the billionaire’s face. He masked it quickly and said nothing. “Now my last question, are you the Batman and are you the man who I should punch in the face?”

“I mean, if you think you could, go ahead,” he said. It appeared he had regained his wit and you considered actually trying to hit him but stopped yourself for now. “Now please, I’m going inside to call the police, I recommend you get off my property immediately. Good evening.” He turned with Alfred and headed inside. You turned and smirked, sliding the keys out of your pocket. You figured it probably had a tracker on it, but taking a McLaren for a spin wasn’t something you got to do every day, or you know, ever, so why not?

Jason had listened to the conversation the woman had with Bruce, not surprised at the information she had garnered from the USB. He was surprised when she asked about his replacing Robin. That still wasn’t the information he wanted. He wanted to know who this new Robin was, find him, and pummel him before leaving him on Bruce’s doorstep. Look who’s better now Batman. Instead, he just felt another compulsion the follow this woman around. He noticed her steal the keys from Alfred and figured Bruce had noticed also but chose not to say anything. Maybe he was amused with this woman, maybe she would be the next Robin whenever the newer model didn’t live up to the Dick standard that Bruce had. She waited for a few moments before getting into the new car and revving the engine, just to rub it in, and took off. The McLaren was fast, but Jason’s bike could keep up just fine.

She drove the car towards downtown, not stupid enough to take it to East End or the Bowery. She kept to the nicer areas, finally parking it in the most expensive garage she could find, leaving the ticket in the glove compartment. As she exited the garage and headed down an alley towards the Diamond District, playing on her phone, probably getting a ride to her actual home. Jason landed in front of her and this time she hadn’t expected it, bumping into him. She dropped her phone, letting out a curse as she picked it up.

“Dude, what the fuck?” she said, pulling a small handgun out of her jacket pocket, stepping back and aiming it at his chest. When she noticed the helmet and the armor she sighed and tossed her hands up, gun going back into her pocket. “Alright, that’s useless, who are you working for?” She looked at him and his heart stopped. Those eyes, the ones that he saw in his dream. The ones that seemed to keep the rage at bay, those brown eyes stared at him. He would remember those for the rest of his life. He felt his throat constrict. Instead of doing anything he brought out his grappler and just headed back to the roof, leaving her very confused and alone. “That was fucking weird.” She continued down the alley and got in a car. His soulmate drove away and Jason stayed still, not sure when he would be able to move again.

[mysouleaten]

raining cats and dogs !

tokyo rev cats x gn! reader

summary ... it only started with [name] taking in two strays when they were driving home from work, it was pouring and the two poor strays were soaked! you couldn't leave them… so you took them in

warnings ... fluff, fluff, fluff

[part two]

it was pouring, pooooourrring!! pouring!

honestly, this was one of the most giant rain storms that has happened this year

it was around six-thirty pm when you got out of work, you worked in two pet shops, one in the morning and one in the afternoon, and then had the evening all to yourself

but the afternoon pet shop hours bled into your evening rest, which meant you had to stay a couple more hours because some brat threw a fit when he couldn't have the specific breed of dog he wanted and the mother wasn't much help either, threatening to call the cops on the pet shop because we had 'poor' customer service...

entitled people really are a pain...

you were stuck in traffic by seven pm and it lasted almost twenty-five minutes! you might have as well brought a pillow and blanket for a nap, and by the time traffic started to ease its way.. the storm had hit at first it was small droplets of rain, then it started to increase, and then finally a nice heavy water fall let down on gods stupid creation called earth

you liked the rain, it was nice and calming, when you weren't getting wet but one thing you didn't like about the rain was when you were driving!! you couldn't see a damn thing especially in the dark streets of tokyo! >:(

god knows if you accidentally hit someone but you wouldn't know! because it's dark as hell out here! even with the bright lights of the city that were being dimmed because of the heavy rain

maybe you would know if you hit someone? because you would obviously feel a bump? or a scream? or a- okay enough of that

you let out a breath when you finally saw your apartment complex

'bright lights tokyo apartment complex'

was the name of your fancy apartment complex, it was nice, spacious, and had a nice view of the city

and another plus was the strays that would walk around, some strays would let you pat them and feed them and others didn't like that all too much but it was still nice seeing them

though you wouldn't be staying for long, you were moving into a house soon. it was much closer to your jobs and it was known to have more strays around there, so that was a plus!

you parked your car near your building and turned off your car and just sat there for a little while, contemplating if you wanted to make a run for the stairs or just sleep in your car until the rain was over.. why? because you didn't bring an umbrella

you kissed your teeth and looked out the window, 'yep still pouring' you thought, you'd hoped the poring rain would decrease after a while but sadly it didn't

you looked around inside your car and let out a long breath "yep, gotta make a run for it" you said

quickly opening your car door and slamming it shut, and running towards the stairs that led you up a floor-to-your-apartment, finally having some shelter that stopped the rain from drenching you even more

you made it halfway up the stairs before hearing a small faint 'meow'

"huh?"

"meoww.."

you made a confused face before looking over the railing and down to see if you could see what was making that sound, you didn't see anything

"curiosity killed the cat," you said to yourself and then started to slowly walk back up the stairs before you again heard the sad cry

you turned your head back and looked out into the car parking lot and then looked down to the bottom of the stairs

"well at least it isn't an old man crying for help... so how bad could this be?" you quietly said, you made your way down the stairs and looked left and right

you heard the sad cry from the cat again in the bushes on the left side of the wide opening, finally making your way all the way down the steps and then crouching down, wiping away the rainwater that was sliding down your face

"meoww.." there it was again

you stood up and walked closer to the wall, crouching beside it to look out into the bushes, there you saw a soggy shoe box with the lid half off of the box leaving whatever is inside open to the heavy rain that was pouring through the leaves of the bush

"meeoww..." hearing the sad cry again made your heart clench

"okay buddy im coming," you said, you stood up from your crouched position next to the concrete wall and quickly reached your arm into the bush to drag the shoe box out, you heard a whimper and a small hiss

"it's ok.. not gonna hurt you" you whispered finally getting the shoe box completely out from the bush and the pouring rain

you sat on the second step of the rain, letting the soggy shoe box have a place on your already-drenched lap

looking into the box you saw two cats, a yellowy-orange cat with stripes and a brownish-pinkish cat

they were curled up next to each other, seeming to keep each other warm

the orangy cat looked up at you with its cyan-blue eyes and blinked a couple of times and then pawed at its face to get rid of the extra moisture of its face

"hey, there buddy lemme get you inside it's cold out here" you quietly said, you didn't want to scare it. the cat didn't seem to protest so you carefully got up with the box in your hands and made your way up the stairs finally

when you got to your apartment door, you reached inside of your pockets to find them empty...

right.. all your belongings are inside your car..

that was in the parking lot...

in the cold pouring rain..

that's great, you had to make another trip in the rain, you most defiantly are gonna catch a cold now

"meow?"

"meow to you too buddy..."

[metaldeputy]

Layover in North Dakota by littlebitofkeery

Rating: Explicit Relationships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson/Gator Tillman Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Alternate Timelines, Post-Stranger Things 4 Vol. 2, Stranger things meets Fargo, No Fargo spoilers, Gator Tillman - Freeform, steddie, Lots of Sex, all the sex, did I mention there’s sex?, Gator Tillman is a little unhinged, Post-Vecna (Stranger Things), Not Beta Read, Lust at First Sight, Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington, Love Confessions, Threesome - M/M/M

Summary:

The crossover that a very select group of people will look for, I’m here to serve 😉 This fic ignores the timelines of both shows involved, meets somewhere in the middle of the two. Eddie Munson needs to get the fuck away from Hawkins. He has survived a near death experience, has been acquitted of the murder charges brought against him, has had maybe the toughest six months of his life. But the cherry on top of the mountain of shit, the straw that finally broke the camels back, was Steve Harrington getting a girlfriend. Pathetic as it is, Eddie could handle the monsters, the lynch mob, the nearly being eaten alive. But he could not handle seeing Steve with someone else. With $500 of government hush money in his glove compartment, he bids the party and uncle Wayne goodbye. Tells them he needs a break from Hawkins for a while. Tells them he will be back but he doesn’t know when exactly. Steve hugs him, holds him, tells him he gets it, tells him he wishes he didn’t have to go.

Short little blurb under the cut!

He leans in close to Gator, whispers in his ear “you wanna escort me to my chambers, Deputy?” The flirting has been cranked up to 100 because Eddie wants this guy. This fucking, pretty-eyed-Steve Harrington lookin’-bad boy- potential-psychopath with the Metallica shirt.. who’s also a.. basically, a Cop? What a heady mixture, Eddie’s dick is already half chubbed beneath his ripped jeans. Truth is, he hasn’t fucked anyone in seven long months. Too busy pining like a pathetic prick for the straight guy back home to even attempt to get his dick wet. Well, that ends tonight. He’s gonna dick this guy down so fucking good he’ll be walking with a limp for a good while after.  Gator tilts his head, their faces now mere inches apart. His eyes are even more incredible this close up. “Well now, what kinda Deputy would I be if I let ya wander these strange streets all by yourself huh?” He murmurs, wetting his bottom lip before biting it into his mouth.

[stellar-constellations]

An Alliance (Part 6)

        Fem! Spy! (Y/N) x Yuri Briar

        Parts: One, two, three, four, five, current part, seven, eight, nine, ten (to be continued when Spy x Family has more Yuri content!)

        (Y/N) is given her own backstory that is important for the story!

        The setting for this story is based off West and East Germany's (because Spy x Family is heavily based off Germany in the 1940-1950) laws (or at least replicated to the best of my abilities since it's unknown what time period Spy x Family is exactly in, we'll go with 1950 for the sake of this story). 

        Historically-accurate women misogyny and mistreatment! Only small comments and historically-accurate laws (replicated to the best of my ability). 

        The story, plot, and settings might not match up to the Spy x Family manga as it's not completed and the manga is still being crafted.

        This series contains spoilers for the manga and anime!

        My dad read the Westalis newspaper where the headline was: “Ostania Threatens Westalis with Nuclear Warfare!” as me and my siblings played outside. He was outside on the porch watching us play in the sun. It was springtime, a nice and warm day where there were lots of clouds in the sky that helped with shade. My mom's nowhere to be seen, she's been gone for a while now. She left us when we were young so we didn't have a two income household, it made it hard to pay bills or cook dinners; but it taught me a lot about the real world, so I'm a glad I can see the bright side of it. 

        I had the rest of the day off from working at the bakery. The lady owning it told me to enjoy myself since things were really starting to look bright for us ever since Westalis and Ostania made that peace pact with us. I agreed, taking my paycheck and running home to go play outside with my siblings.

        My two younger brothers both chased my older sister around, playing tag and enjoying their youth. My older brother sat in the background (he wasn't much for socializing with us).

        My older sister had a pure heart and loved to spoil me as I was her only little sister. My two younger brothers were both troublemakers that very often got away with stuff (somehow nobody ever looked their way when things went south). My older brother never liked to hang out with us much, but I know he cares about us (he's just in his "I'm independent and don't need no family" phase).

        I don’t know why, but I decided to look up at the sky that day. Maybe because I wanted to see how long it'd be until sunset, but I found myself looking at something else. The clouds parted a path for a weird yellow thing in the sky. I gawked at it in amazement, before smiling and running to my dad in uneven zig-zags as any child does when they've not properly mastered balancing.

        “Dad! Dad!” I called out. “Is that a shooting star?” I questioned, pointing up to the sky. 

        He looked up at the sky, trying to see what I was talking about before his eyes widened.

        “Oh no.” He muttered, utter fear in his eyes and voice. “Everyone, get inside now!” he shouted.

        I looked at him confused, looking up at the sky in curiosity.

        “Why?” I questioned.

        “That’s a nuke!” he exclaimed, grabbing my arm as everyone ran inside due to his panicked voice.

        I quickly squirmed out of his grasp, scared of his sudden change of attitude. I didn't understand what war was; if anything, I thought it was good! Why else would neighboring kids be running around and playing games such as "cops and robbers" or "army"? Why would kids be playing a game that glamorizes the death and suffering of others? 

        “N-no! I have to make a wish, otherwise it won’t come true! That’s what sissy said.” I spoke, making a dumb excuse.

        “We don’t have time, come here!” he spoke, lunging for my arm. 

        I quickly retracted, turning and running away with the excuse of “at least let me get my chalk!” 

        I was scared and confused of his sudden change of attitude. It won’t hurt me, I’ve never heard of shooting stars crashing into Earth. I was set it was a star, not a nuke (not that I was even aware of what nukes were at the time). Besides, the star will be tiny! When it falls, I can pick it up and keep it in my pocket as a pet. That's how naive I was as a child.

        “(Y/N)!” my father screamed, frustrated.

        I turned around, seeing how the star went from over my to hitting something I couldn’t see from far behind the house. I looked at it, shocked at the sky flashed red for a second, before it returned normal. A blackish gray mushroom cloud appeared behind the house, growing big by the second.

        “Woah.” I spoke, shocked.

        It took a second, staring amazed at it, before I was hit with powerful winds as the sound of glass broke and the sound of trees getting ripped from their weakened roots. I barley heard the screaming of people before I was taken in the powerful wave of wind as my ears started to hurt. My body slammed against a tree, knocking the wind out of me as I hit my head. 

        The wind stopped and I fell to the ground, not defying gravity anymore as I cried, covering my ears. I could barely even hear my own cries, just the sound of a church bell that hurt the headache I was immediately forming. I smelt something awful as I realized my vision was completely gone.

        I held my ears, desperate to hear the ringing stop, and cried, curling myself into a ball from the pain. I don’t know how long I sat there before I tried standing up, swaying side to side as I took a blind step forward, only to trip on something thick and fall onto my knees. I crawled around, desperate to find a sense of familarity, before feeling a sharp pain stab into my hands. I wept louder, not knowing what hurt me as my vision didn't approve. 

        I stayed on the ground longer, waiting for something, anything, to happen. Eventually, I regained my vision from this light, but darkness. It was black and white, I really can't explain it in words. It's just not something you can explain. 

        I looked down at my hands and noticed blood that came from my ears. I ran to go tell my dad, but saw my house crushed, barely standing. I looked around in the rubble, trying to see if my dad or any of my siblings were alright. 

        I saw a hand from the rubble and notice it was my dad’s from the size and skin tone. I tried to move the bricks and debris but couldn’t. I tried to tug his hand but to no avail. I gave up, sitting down on the ground next to the hand and resulted to screaming and crying, hoping somebody would hear and save my family and I.

        I don’t know how long I was there, crying as my ears rang miserably and how my body ached, but I eventually heard shouts and the sounds of heavy tires and machinery, and looked up. People in green and huge, huge tanks came around.

        I realized it was the military and cried, standing up and running to them.

        “Oh, shit. A kid’s alive!” someone shouted. 

        They had a terrifying gas mask on their face as they looked at me.

        “My dad! My family! They’re trapped under the house!” I cried, pointing. "You gotta help them. I can't do it on my own!"

        The man looked over and sighed, kneeling down.

        “I’m sorry, kid, but we can’t save them. You can't be there, the Ostanian army is here.” He spoke as another man came up with a gas mask in his hand and on his face. “Here, wear this. It’ll help you breathe.” He spoke, taking the mask.

        “It’s a miracle we got here when we did. Ten minutes more out here in this radiation and you could’ve died, that, or the Ostanians...” The other man spoke, muttering that last part to himself.

        Even though I was seven at the time, I knew what death was; however, I didn’t know how gruesome it was. I didn’t know how cruel people could be. When I thought of death, I thought of old people with gray hair dying peaceful in bed, not young people robbed of their lives and lying in their childhood home's bricks and their own blood surrounding them.

        “W-what’s gonna happen now?” I questioned. 

        “The military has a shelter going on right now. We’ll bring you there. After that, the state government is gonna take care of you. Probably put you in an orphanage.” The first man spoke.

        And yet, even though I was seven, I had no idea how kids could live without a parental figure. I had no idea how someone could live in a house full of strangers. I had no idea how to accept their death, or my own that would probably be nearby.

        The tank’s hatch opened up, revealing another guy in a gas mask.

        “Then after we’re going to go kill those Ostanian fuckers for this!” he bellowed loudly, obviously angry.

        "Rancher, could you shut the hell up?! A kid is present!” the second man yelled back at the third one.

        A white van pulled up, their windows tinted, iron prison bars covering them as the door opened.

        “Hurry up and get into the van. Keep your gas mask on too while you’re in there for extra safety.” The first man spoke, pushing me into the van. 

        I entered with my head racing and my heart pounding. There wasn’t many survivors they’ve found. Five people out of the sixty seated bus must’ve been here. Some napped while others cried, and some stared outside of the window with disappoint and rage to see their homes and families gone.

        I sat down alone, deciding to be another one of those people who bottle up their emotions and stare out the window as their head bangs against it from the bus’ movements. 

        I’m going to destroy Ostania for everything they’ve done to us. I thought to myself. They'll atone for what they've done.         .         .         It wasn’t long after that nuke dropping that I found myself in a large shelter where alive civilians and the military were huddled down. I saw those guys once and thanked them for saving me, to which they said it was their jobs. 

        I was still mad at losing everything I had in just thirty seconds, so I decided to try and find a way into the military to help Ostanias downfall. Despite my many attempts to get into the military, they declined me each time for being under 18 and for being a girl.

        I slammed my head on the metal table, ignoring the sting on my forehead as a military officer came up to me.

        “Hey, Net.” I sighed, lifting my head.

        “You keep doing that every time you don’t get in you’re gonna kill yourself before even getting your application accepted.” He spoke, taking a bite from his food.

        “It’s no use. I’m a girl” I groaned. 

        “You’re still trying to get in?” he questioned.

        “Not try, I am gonna get in.” I stated defensively.

        “Here.” Net spoke, sliding me a piece of paper.

        “What is it?” I questioned, picking up the paper. 

        I recognized the form instantly from stealing it so many damn times. 

        “Woah. Dude, why are you giving me this? You could be in serious trouble!” I whispered.

        “Instead of remaining calm and peaceful like how you'd normally fill the form out, just fucking obliterate the thing.” Nat spoke.

        “Oh.” I muttered. “Thanks?” 

        “No problem. Hurry up and get to Gerald. But if anyone asks, then you stole it…again.” Nat ordered.

        “Yes, sir!” I chuckled, standing up from my chair and stealing a pen from Nat’s pocket.

        I ran to the military counselor’s tent, sitting down and quickly filling out the form with the most unprofessional and colorful vocabulary I never even dared to utter alone to myself. I reread it proudly, determined to get that position in the Westalis military. I opened the tent and sat down, seeing the military counselor was there with one of the squad captains. 

        "Excuse me, sir and sir." I acknowledged, bowing to show my respect. 

        I handed the paper to the counselor as he groaned, already knowing why I'm here and what this paper meant.

        "Yet again, you show up in my office like the stubborn little brat you are. I told you, children, and especially girls, aren't welcome in the Westalis mil–" Gerald gasped loudly, his face going pale as he stared at the paper with white-shot eyes. 

        He quickly flipped the page, and the next page, rereading the papers over and over again. 

        "Y-you..." he spluttered. "The audacity of you!" he shouted, grabbing a nearby yard stick and slapping my wrist with it.

        "Oi! You fucking wad of earwax!" I yelp, retracting my hand back as his face went even paler.

        "In front of the recruiter too?! Brats like you have no chance into the Westalis military!" Gerald spoke.

        "You bet! I'm done with your fucking shenanigans! You better count all your lucky pennies because if I don't get that position in the military, I'm gonna sneak my way into them tanks and rapid fire your tent to match my hometown!" I shouted, slamming my hands on his desk and taking his yard stick, slapping it against his wrists instead of mine.

        I ripped the paper out of Gerald's hands, giving it to the recruiter instead. 

        "Take it. You read it instead, you're the boss; not this leprechaun." I spat.        

        The recruiter kept a straight face before taking the paper. He read it, unamused and blank faced as I impatiently tapped my foot.

        "Twenty-six times I've entered this tent within two months, and no results. I'm not going to stop until I join your squad." I stated, standing my ground as I stood straight and tall, hoping to seem determined enough to make up for all my weak strength and sour attitude. "I know that I don't look like much, nor do I act it. I'm seven and a quarter. I'm not very strong or tall, and I've barely lived long enough to even be a pre-teen, but I'm smart enough to understand the government and give advice of a seventy-year old, and I swear to whatever God there is that there's no fucker in Ostania that going to want to cross me after they see what I'll do with their soldiers." I spoke. "So if you could give me a chance and prove myself to you, that'd be really fucking fantastic." I spoke, allowing the colorful word to brighten my sentence.

        "You're seven?" the recruiter spoke.

        "And a quarter." I spoke. "I can be useful! I'm fast and stealthy and my size helps me hide good. Ostania would never expect a girl to fight in the military, let alone a kid." I smiled. 

        "You realize you'll most certainly die within two days, maximum?" the recruiter questioned.

        "Sometimes you just gotta jump to know what's there." I replied, determination filling every ounce of my soul and body.

        The recruiter stared at me for a second, before looking at Gerald. 

        "Do you have this kid's other application forms?" he questioned.

        "You're not seriously going to allow this brat? Out of everyone?!" Gerald questioned.

        "Shut the hell up, Gerald." I snapped, slapping his wrist with the ruler. "Ain't nobody gonna join; everyone's too afraid to die or they're suffering from some major PTSD. You aren't gonna find a gal as determined as me to get this job." 

        "Give me her recent form." The recruiter demanded. 

        Gerald mumbled alienated words under his breath as he searched through his desk, pulling out a paper packet I gave him last week. The recruiter scanned through the papers for a good three minutes, before setting the papers down. 

        "You're recruited. Welcome, (Y/N) (L/N), to the Westalis Military." The recruiter spoke, a small smile on his face as he held out his hand. 

        I shook it proudly, cackling as Gerald tried his best not to break down to tears in the background. 

        .

        .

        A month went by with me in the military. It felt longer than it was, and it was absolutely exhausting. Just because I was a kid doesn't mean that the recruiter took any mercy on me. 

        ("You've got the body of a crazy kid, and the mind of an even crazier adult.") The recruiter once told me. ("If you give up now, I'll kill you myself for making me look like a fool to have you join us.")

        I experienced many bombings, tank firings, gunshots, and many comrades die. Nat and Hujo (that second man that helped me when Nat found me in Luwen, Eastern Westalis) both died in combat, their bulletproof vests being false advertising. I saw ####, a boy from my hometown, here. 

        I feel like I should’ve been happy to see someone I know alive, but me and #### never really got along well, even before the war. While he was seven years older and a quiet kid, he was a total pushover and aimed to please people. I was the rowdy and opinionated kid, ready to kick someone in the stomach and shout insults if they decided to pick on me. 

        We both lived in the small poor town of Luwen, the more poorer side of Westalis, but we made it work. And despite our many differences, we both had one common goal: to appease our parents. It amazed me how I never once saw him cry despite everything we've been through. He was older, taller, and stronger than me—something I was extremely envious of—and he became a squad commander after too many deaths, of my damn squad!

        I hated him for being tough. I hated him for being an amazing liar. And I despised that he knew how to keep his emotions to himself, while I frequently lashed out and cried. I was predictable; and he was a closed-book, and it pissed me off beyond belief. 

        Rations were getting smaller and smaller, but it wasn’t too much of a problem for soldiers since they kept falling like dominoes, but it was a problem for the survivors we kept finding. The survivors came with missing fingers, broken limbs, and charred faces, it was almost like Ostania wanted the civilians of Westalis to suffer, and that just pissed us off further. 

        I sighed, resting my head on the cool metal table. My body ached from the training I’m out to before having to be dispatched out for another rescue mission. 

        “You should eat that shit. You’re getting glares.”

        I sighed, lifting my head.

        “Sup, Rancher?” I spoke. 

        Rancher was off-duty for a few days after Nat and Hujo died. Rancher was best friends with the two of them for years, so he really took it to heart when they died. He was the loud and rowdy guy in the tank when Nat and Hujo found me. He looks like total shit too. His tanned skin got paler and his brown eyes seemed dull and darker then before, the death of his two buddies really took a toll on him.

        “You look like shit.” I admitted.

        “Not like you look any better.” He chuckled.

        “I’m still growing, so I have a chance at being tall and pretty; you’re too old to keep growing and you still look like a rat’s ass, just worse.” I laughed.

        “The bigger the bark, the smaller the dog is.” He smiled, causing me to glare at him.

        “Yeah? W-well…the stupider you are…the uglier!” I retorted, having no idea what I said as he laughed.

        “Alright. Well, hurry up eating. I’m going to join the rescue mission before I get kicked out.” Rancher spoke.

        “You sure, dude? I can come up with something for you. Like, something you ate went bad and you have food poisoning or some shit like that.” I suggested.

        “Nah. I figured Hujo would be pissed off and Nat would be scolding me if I stayed in bed any longer.” Rancher smiled sadly.

        “Take it easy, man. I’ll look out for you during the mission.” I spoke, patting his hand on the table before quickly shoveling my food down my throat, ignoring the plain and slightly repulsive taste it had. 

        I took a large sip of water to drown out the taste, then stood up.

        “Rightie-oh!” I spoke, faking a British accent to cheer Rancher up. “Shall we go?”

        “Yeah, sure.” He stood up—stretching and complaining about back problems—and walked out of the shelter’s roof to join the other soldiers. 

        The squad was—unfortunately—led by ####, who took the fake name “Roland” from Luwen to join the military. I was already in a sour mood thanks to #### and we haven’t even left!          .         .         A total fail. That’s what the mission was. Rancher was down, clutching his arm as he looked down at the wound. He had a hole in his chest and another in his forearm. The gun must’ve not been sighted since they missed all vital organs. 

        What an amateur… I thought, stuffing the wound in his chest with gauze.

        “The bullet is stuck deep in there. It’s not something I can remove, but the nurses at camp will get it. Show me your arm.” I demanded. 

        I grabbed his arm, slapping his other hand that tried to stop me.

        “Kid, you gotta get out of here. They’ll find you soon.” Rancher spoke, taking heavy breaths.

        “Shut the hell up, Rancher. You and your big ass mouth. I know they’ll come here!” I snapped. 

        “Then fucking abort the mission. You shouldn’t even be in this whole mess.” Rancher sighed.

        “Don’t try and give me final words like you’re dying; you’re going to live and I’ll make sure of it.” I spoke, determined as I stuff gauze into his arm, causing him to hiss at the pain.

        “You need to live and do whatever you can to complete that goal you decided to join the military for.” Rancher argued.

        I heard a branch snapped and quickly grabbed my gun, listening and shooting into the trees, as someone screamed and fell onto the ground not to far from here. 

        “Shit. I’m low on ammo.” I sighed.

        “Just get out of here.” Rancher ordered.

        “No.” I defied. “If I die, then I die. But I won’t. That mission can be postponed 'cause we’re both going to live. Now stop bitching.” I spoke, wrapping his arm with bandages to hold the gauze. 

        “You’re stubborn.” He growled.

        “You’re stupid.” I retorted. “Can you stand?” I questioned.

        “If I stand, I’ll pass out.” He spoke. 

        I nodded, grabbing his walkie-talkie from his belt and switching it to the channel our military agreed on using.

        “I need medical assistance. Soldier was shot twice and I’m low on ammo. His wounds have been caused and wrapped but he needs professional assistance. Over.” I spoke, repeating the line over and over until I heard a voice.

        “Affirmative. What’s the coordinates? Over.” The voice questioned.

        “Uh. Shit, probably...” I pulled out the map I had, fumbling with it. “Like... like 50°46'46.8" North 10°00'09.1" East? Over.” I spoke into the walkie-talkie.

        (Author note: These are random coordinates I found in Germany and are no means accurate.) 

        “Negative. We can’t send anyone there, over.” He spoke.

        “Well why the fuck not? Over!” I questioned.

        “Enemy territory. Abort the premises with or without the soldier. Over.” They spoke.

        “We’re in enemy territory because you fucking sent us in this mess, fucker! Over!” I hissed.

        The line went silent before speaking: “Abort the mission with or without the solider. Over.” 

        “This is (Y/N) (L/N)! I can’t carry him! Rancher is down, over!” I informed.

        “Oh, shit. You’re the kid? The seven-year-old kid?” the radio spoke, surprised that he didn’t even say “over”.

        “Yes! And I can’t get Rancher to a safe place with my size and strength. I need either back up or medical assistance! Over.” I hissed.

        “…Leave Rancher and get the hell out of there. War isn’t something a kid like yourself should be in. Over.” The man spoke.

        “I'm sick of everything telling me what I should be doing! I chose this path. And I’m choosing to save Rancher, and I swear to god if you don’t help us I’ll haunt you when I’m dead because mine and Rancher’s blood will be on your hands. Over.” I spat. 

        The line went silent for a bit, before it picked up: “We’ll see what we can do. Over.” 

        I sighed, grabbing my gun and unloading the magazine chamber to check how much ammo I have. 

        Five bullets. As long as I don’t run into any trouble, I can make it. I thought to myself.

        I grabbed Rancher’s gun to see how much ammo he has, not too surprised when I saw he had blew through it all. He's always been unsparing in our resources, whether it was food or ammo.

        “You can leave. They said they’ll probably do something, so I’ll be fine.” Rancher sighed, his face pale as sweat ran down it, whether from the heavy uniform we’re wearing in this heat or the blood loss.

        “Probably." I shrugged. "However, I told you I ain’t leaving. I told you I got your back, man.” 

        There’s no way I can turn back and leave, that’s how Nat and Hujo died. 

        “And do you have an off switch? Can you just shut up before the enemy finds us?” I sighed.

        “Can you not be so stubborn?” Rancher retorted. “And I’m not the one that was yelling in the walkie-talkie two minutes ago.” 

        “And?” I dared, causing Rancher to roll his eyes.

        I heard a branch snap and immediately raised up my gun.

        “Wait! It’s Roland! I’m on your side.” 

        #### stepped out of the bushes, causing me to groan and roll my eyes.

        #### looked like shit. He had a small stubble and had large eyeballs, obviously his sanity has deployed ever since the war officially set off, but so has mine, I supposed.

        “You’re so damn lucky I didn’t shoot you.” I sighed, placing my gun down on the dirt.

        “Yeah…” #### sighed, relieved that I actually didn’t. “Is Rancher okay?” 

        “He got shot twice; in his chest and arm. The bullets are too deep to get by hand, we need medical assistance. I’m afraid if we don’t get help, either he’d die from blood loss.” I sighed. 

        “Smart thinking. Good job.” #### spoke.

        I ignored the praise and the fluffy feeling in my chest, glad to have been seen as useful and smart, but I don’t want to here praise from that prick.

        “Yeah. I know from the med class I had to take to join...” I muttered. 

        Not like you didn’t take that class too. I thought, sarcastic.

        Gun fire broke out nearby as you can hear stomping from not to far off.

        “Crap…” #### muttered.

        “Pick him up and let’s go!” I whispered harshly.

        “I’m not going to be able to carry him with the heavy uniform and run and shoot.” #### stated.

        “Of course you can, you have to save him. That’s why you’re here!” I whispered, ignoring the tears that started to build up in my eyes from the hopeless feeling in my chest. 

        “We have to go.” #### spoke, calm and collected despite the gunfire and steps getting louder.

        “No.” I hissed.

        “(Y/N)!” Rancher hissed. “Fucking go. I would never forgive myself if I’m the cause of your death; not when you have so much left to do.” 

        “B-but… I can’t abandon you…” I whimpered.

        “I want you to listen to me. Leave and go do whatever you want with your life. Please. Do something I’ve never done and continue your legacy.” He chuckled.

        “No….” I muttered, unsure of my words.

        “We have to go!” #### whispered harsh.

        “No!” I hissed back.

        #### stared at me for a good second, our eyes rivaling each other before he swiftly scooping me up, balancing me on his shoulder, and running.

        “Hey! Let go!” I squirmed. “We have to go back and get Rancher.” By now, the panic and hopelessly fully took over, causing the dam in my eyes to break. “Please. We have to go back…” I whispered, my bottom lip trembling as more tears fell.

        “Sorry. I’m sorry.” #### spoke, his voice shaking.

        I could tell it was hard for him to leave Rancher too. Despite not knowing Rancher well, he was ####’s teammate, an ally, an amazing tanker with an amazing sense of humor, and a human. But for me, most importantly, he was my friend, and he reminded me of myself; stubborn and ready to fight no matter what. It’s hard to trade one’s life, even if they asked for it. 

        “I’m sorry, (Y/N).” He repeated. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do anything for Rancher, or our families. I can’t change the past to where I was stronger or where this war never happened, but I can at least change the present. And I want us to live.” 

        “I hate you.” I whimpered. “I hate how tough you are. How calm you are. And how you always know what to do and say. You stupid pushover and golden goose. I hate how you’re always Hercules.” I whined softly as more tears came down my face as I listened to the gunshots and yelling fading away as #### ran.

        “I’m not as perfect as you think.” He chuckled poorly.

        His tone surprised me, and I turned around to see his face. His blue eyes crying out their own sorrow as he focused his eyes ahead. I focused my attention back to the blurry ground as I allowed myself to cry some more.

        Sometimes. Me and #### are different people; stubborn and smart, strong and weak. Other times, we’re the same person with the same goal; trying to appease our parents, or just trying to survive.

        He stopped, placing me down and catching his breath as I sat on the ground, tears still in my eyes.

        “You’re not injured, right?” he questioned.

        “No.” I muttered. “Why’d you join the military?” I questioned.

        The question came out of nowhere, yes. But I wanted to know why #### joined. What could his reason be? 

        “When Ostania crossed the border. In just 60 seconds, everything I cared about was taken away from me. All that was left, was thing I despised. And that’s more than enough for me to pick up a gun and destroy Ostania.” He admitted.

        “We’re pretty similar…. Same reason I’m here.” I chuckled, wiping the tears out of my eyes.

        “How’d you even get in?” he questioned. "You're too young. I had to fake my age and name."

        “I had to do a lot of pestering and cussing.” I laughed. 

        A shuffle in the bushes was heard, causing me to stand up and #### to draw his gun as someone appeared out of the brushes. It was a man with curly brown hair and circular glasses and a piercing on his left ear. 

        “Bwah! Time-out! Time-out! Stop! Don’t shoot!”

        Did that grown-ass man really just “time out?”

        Surprisingly, #### held his fire, sizing up the man.

        “You’re Ostanian Infantry, yeah?” #### spoke.

        “Gah! Westalis soldiers—is that a kid...?” he muttered the last part confused as he held his hands in the air.

        I glared at him and pulled my own gun out, causing him to begin freaking out again.

        “Where is your gun?” #### asked.

        “I don’t have one! I’m unarmed! I surrender!” he quickly spoke, then sighed. “I… look, I deserted. I just couldn’t take it anymore. But I got lost and have been wandering around in these mountains for two whole days… so please can you give me something to eat?!” he shouted, putting his hands together and begging.

        “I don’t have rations to spare on dead men. Say goodbye.” #### spoke calmly.

        “Wait! Please! I’m begging you! I don’t wanna die having never been with a woman!” he screamed loudly.

        Men are so simple minded… I thought to myself, yet chuckled as #### did.

        “All right. I can give you one cigarette.” #### spoke. 

        “Oh, thanks.” The man spoke, taking a cigarette has #### lit it.

        “I didn’t know you smoked.” I spoke up.

        “There‘a a lot of things I do that you don’t know.” #### commented.

        “Oh, okay, creep. Like that wasn’t weird.” I commented myself.

        “What’s with the kid?” the man asked.

        “Are you the one holding the gun? No? Don’t question it.” I huffed, holding up my gun.

        “Sorry, sorry!” he quickly wailed.

        Soon enough, #### and the man started to click together, a weird combination in this war.

        If I go back now, I wonder if Rancher would still be alive, if unspotted from the Ostanian military, that is. I thought to myself, sighing as I drew my focus back to the conversation.

        “But you know, they actually do some interesting research at that university!” the man spoke. “Like, they got all these test subjects and showed ‘em a film of a guy getting slapped, right? And they showed signs of discomfort ‘cause their brains emphasized with the guy’s pain. And that means its human nature to avoid violence.”

        “But the thing is they ran the experiment again, and this time they told the subjects that the guy gets slapped by his lover because he cheated on her. So what do you think happened? When they watched it, the subjects brains showed signs of pleasure!” he explained.

        I think if I saw someone get slapped, I’d laugh without even knowing the reason. I thought to myself. Maybe if I convince #### to slap this guy, we can see. I thought impulsively.

        “I mean, doesn’t it freak you out? They have no idea if they’re being told the truth, but once the idea’s in their head, they do a complete 180°. Weird, right?” the man spoke.

        I feel like this is going somewhere. But I can understand what he’s saying. I thought to myself. I looked at my gun, feeling the weight in my hands and the heavy burden it was to carry it. 

        It’s be easier to drop it and walk away. I can barely hold this weight on my own. Someone else can; someone stronger and less sensitive. 

        I looked at ####, who seemed slightly frustrated. 

        “Just say what you’re trying to say!” he ordered.

        “I’m just saying, isn’t it stupid? This whole war between East and West, it’s all the result of some diplomatic fiasco. So why is it that all of us worthless peona gotta be the ones to clean us their mess?” he sighed. “They tell us to hate each other. So we fight. And then we die. It’s the most pointless thing in the world.” 

        I didn’t know it at the time, but I was playing as a small cog in the machine—we all were. But the things with machines, is that they’re specially designed and assigned certain tasks. But once a cog is lost, the machine cannot perform its chores unless another cog takes the place of the previous one. It's easy to replace an old, broken cog with a new, naive one.

        To put it in simple terms, the government, the war, needs us in order to win, and when we die, we’re easily replaced by another solider. 

        I’m surprised I’m not dead yet. I thought to myself. I have no major injuries and I still have a comrade with me—I doubt most of our soldiers have that. 

        All of the soldiers sent on this rescue mission are probably dead (with the exception of me and ####). 

        “Yeah, except it’s you Ostanians that started this war.” #### pointed out.

        “In the East, they say it was the West that started it.” The man stated. “They say that first bombing of Luwen was a false flag operation. They’re even rumors Westalis got operatives from some other country to incite the Ostanian Army was doing it.” 

        I turned my head to ####, curious of his reaction.

        I’m an open-minded person when it comes to politics or law as long as it doesn’t go against my moral code. I’d rather research to the ends of the Earth for the truth rather than believe in a simple lie. I’ll take this man’s words and place it on the back burner for when the time is right, to where I can find the truth, whether it’d be today or tomorrow or years from now.

        Some Shakesphere I am, I thought to myself, watching has #### held his gun to the man.

        “That’s just blatant propaganda to get your country off the hook!” #### shouted. 

        “Yeah! Yeah, right, of course it is! I’m just saying, how could a bunch of foot soldiers like us know the truth about anything?” the man immediately spoke, putting his hands in the air to prove no threat as I groaned.

        #### isn’t really all that open-minded, though.

        “That day! That bombing! Those bombs killed every last one of my friends! There’s your truth!” #### spoke.

        “Our families died in that bombing. Whether Westalis or Ostania started it, it’s no way for anyone to die.” I spoke, closely eyeing ####’s finger as he held it on the trigger.

        “Well, I’m in the exact same boat!” he spoke.

        #### gritted his teeth and kicked the man down to the ground, his glasses getting knocked off his face. Just then, gunfire from the bushes danced in the wind, causing me to yelp and duck to the ground, helpless as a I felt a searing pain in my side and leg. A bullet hit ####’s helmet, but luckily it didn’t pierce it.

        “Gah! The Ostanian army squad that’s been chasing me! You just had to try and shoot me and give our position away!” the man complained. “Well, no way in hell I’m letting them catch me! See ya! Thanks for the cigarettes, I guess.” He yelled, running away.

        I crawled to #### using my body to protect his down body. 

        His ears are probably ringing since the metal helmet just got hit. I thought. 

        “If you can run, go away. I’ll be fine.” I spoke through the gunfire.

        #### huffed, getting up on his knees and picking me and his gun up. 

        “I’m not gonna abandon you! Not when I have the power to save you!” #### yelled through the bullets.

        I sighed.

        He’s just as stubborn as me. But he should really let me die. It’s not like there’s anyone alive who’d miss me, and ####’s using me as a replacement for the friends he couldn’t save. So there’s no point for me to live, and all I’ve been is useless and problematic. I couldn’t save any of my friends, family, comrades, or even myself.

        “Thanks for being such a suck-up.” I spoke, wincing at each step he took since it threw my body around like a rag doll, hurting my wounds.

        “Let’s save the tears for when we get back alive.” He gruffed.         .         .

        What am I doing? Getting emotional like this? I hate getting emotional. I thought, snapping out of my thoughts and rubbing the tears from my eyes. I guess that's another reason I quit being a spy. I thought. 

        I don't really like to use violence anymore. I'll fight and shoot if I have to, but I don't like turning to it unless it's necessary. I'm afraid if I pick up a gun again, then all of my anger and sadness would return and control my actions just like it did before.

        ...That's stupid. I can't believe I just lied to myself in my own head.

        The real reason I don't want to fight is because it hurts more than anyone can imagine. When people see war movies or read the books, they always think "yeah, I can do that." But once the first bullet flies, they all follow. When the sky has turn gray from tank smoke and fires from the bombings. When the bullets fall from the sky like rain and you're ordered to engage in battle; you don't want to. Who would want to?

        Nobody wants to actually die. When they're in the face of danger, they're looking for a way to fight or a way to flee. When you're actually experiencing something as stressful and traumatic as that, you realize that every plan you've been brainstorming inside that little head of yours had ran away with your bravery and rationality. The only thing you'll be thinking of is a way out, a way away from the men in guns, a place to hide or a weapon to protect yourself with. Humans are made with fear; it's how we survive. 

        Fear is a human's best friend and worst nemesis. Fear navigates you away from danger, and it also forces you to think unclear. Fear is one of the human's survival instincts, so when you find it hard to breathe or your chest starts racing; don't ignore it.

        I sighed, turning my body to Yuri and observing his face. 

        He's seriously so annoying. He's always so focused on work and how I'll betray him. He's probably always thinking about his sister, I wouldn't be surprised if he was dreaming about her. I thought, reaching my hand up and letting my intrusive thoughts win as I poked his injured forehead lightly, just barley any touch.

        "You. Are. Stupid." I spoke, believing the words I said with every poke. "But..." I paused, thinking of what to say to the unconscious Yuri. "I don't think I'd want to be anyone else's wife." I admitted. "Don't think it's a compliment though, jerk." I huffed, going back to poking his forehead until I got bored. 

        I sighed again, trying to close my eyes and sleep, but the silence and the dark really started to bother me. I could hear the steps of the neighbor's above us, or is there something crawling on the ceiling and watching me. I could hear the air conditioning, or is it a monster breathing? Or the neighbor's opening their doors, or is that our front door?

        The bedroom door creaked open and I froze, my arms immediately latching onto Yuri as I kept quiet, my heart in my throat as I could hear it beat loudly.

        Wait? What the hell am I doing?! I should be protecting Yuri since he's unconscious!

        I gathered my nerves and opened my eyes, almost screaming once I saw a face staring down at me. They quickly covered my mouth, then spoke.

        "Don't scream. It's me." They spoke. 

        I recognized the voice as Twilight's and immediately felt angry and relieved. I carefully got out of the bed, gripping Twilight's sleeve and dragging him out to the living room, delicately closing the door as to not disturb Yuri. 

        "I almost pissed myself, asshole!" I hissed, slapping his arm. 

        "Sorry..." he whispered, then cleared his throat. "I just wanted to know why you're quitting the spy industry." He spoke.

        "Oh ho ho! Is the ever so great Twilight actually caring about me?" I teased, then cleared my own throat. "In actuality. I don't like risking my life all the time. It's not fun to get hurt and worry about if you'll ever see the people you love again." I sighed. 

        "What are you talking about? You don't have a lover—" His eyes widen, voice silently before he looked at me, mouth gaping open and shut like a fish. "Y-you actually love Yuri?! I thought you were kidding!" he questioned.

        "Tsk! Of course not!" I exclaimed, slapping his hand. "I want to be able to live long enough to have a lover, and in this case, Yuri is my 'lover!'" I spoke with quotation marks on my fingers.

        "How'd you meet him?" he questioned.

        "Oh yeah. Some mole ratted me out like a little bitch to the SSS when he got caught, then they caught me after a long chase that lasted a few weeks, next thing you know, I'm being interviewed and signed a contract to work with the SSS in order to keep my life—" the words came out of my mouth before I could think of the consequences from them.

        I started to open and close my mouth like a fish (and like what Twilight did earlier).

        "So, you're leaving because they've got you hostage?" Twilight spoke.

        "No! No!" I quickly shut down the idea. "Well. I mean, I don't want to work with the SSS, and I don't want to work with Westalian Intelligence either. I just want to live a normal life, but then this happened." I sighed. 

        "So there's nothing between you and Yuri?" he questioned.

        "Nope." I spoke, popping the p.

        "And you're sure?" Twilight questioned.

        "Of course I'm sure, why do you care so much?" I questioned.

        "Because he's the enemy!" Twilight hissed. "That, and he's the one killing off our spies. You don't care about that?" he spoke.

        "Of course I care." I snapped, offended that he would think I wouldn't. "But I'm not going to mope about the past and get myself killed. Besides, it's not like the Westalian Intelligence cares about if I ditch or not." I sighed. "But they'll kill me if they know I'm in the SSS, so you better not spill it. I told them absolutely nothing about the people in charge or even you, Twilight. So you better keep your mouth shut because I don't care if we've known each other for years or if you're the greatest spy, you cross me and I'll find a way to make you regret it." I threatened, pointing my nail to his throat.

        "Alright. I understand." Twilight spoke calmly. "But you're sure there's no feelings attached?"

        "Yeah. I don't need to be worrying about that stuff. I'm only here so I can live, and trust me, he doesn't care about if I live or die either." I smiled.

        "I don't know, you two were quite something today." Twilight spoke, causing my face to heat up.

        "W-well, of course! I didn't just work on hacking into databases or gathering information inside forces, you know. So, you're not the only one who can lie and disguise themselves. Remember, I trained alongside you, so I know almost everything you know." I spoke, turning my head away to hide my face. "Besides, he's more of a jerk behind closed doors." 

        I sighed, remembering his douche personality. 

        ("Just so you know, I'm not looking for this to be a real thing. When we're in public and at work, we'll act close—but don't expect anything kind of special treatment behind closed doors. Our 'marriage' is just a piece of paper that can easily be destroyed. The only thing that we have in common is work; nothing else." The second-lieutenant spat harshly as he walked closer to me, standing tall as he looked down at me in more ways than one.) 

        Yeah, he's a mega douche. I thought. I still wanna know his damn problem...

        "Alright. Good." Twilight spoke.

        "What about you and Yor. I don't know about you, but I almost facepalmed eight different times in five minutes. You need to get Yor to work on her acting skills." I pointed out.

        "I know." He sighed. "But she's just so..." he paused, thinking. "She's a little...simple-minded, I guess." 

        "It runs in the Briar family." I laughed. "Now, you should leave before Yuri wakes up and freaks out. He doesn't really like you, if you haven't noticed." 

        "Yeah." He spoke, fixing his coat. "Thanks for your hard work at the Westalian Intelligence. I hope we'll meet again." 

        "Don't think because I'm leaving the force that you're never going to see me again. You've been a close friend of mine for years now, so I consider you my family. Besides, we're in-laws." I teased. "And even if we never see each other, I'll just haunt your ass from beyond the grave." I joked.

        Twilight chuckled. "I wouldn't expect anything less. Goodbye, (Y/N)." He spoke.

        "Bye, ####." I responded.

        He stood there for a second, shocked to hear his birth name after so long of using Twilight, before smiling and parting.

        I'm not too sure why they gave #### the codename "Twilight" but I know they gave me the codename "Vixen" because I usually went undercover, disguising myself in the night and manipulating others to get information out of them (I'm not too fond of it either, but I convinced myself that business is business).

        When we got our codenames, we were told that our old names meant nothing and that our old lives don't matter anymore. I agreed to the terms, but there was no way I was gonna forget my past, not when it's made me the person I am today. 

        Twilight left, closing the front door as I locked it. I looked at the time, noticing it was 1 A.M. 

        Damn. Tonight's been a long one. I thought, sighing as I stretched and walked back to the bedroom.

        Yuri was still dead asleep. I carefully observed his face to make sure he wasn't faking it in case he heard the conversation. I grabbed Flower and dangled it over his head, seeing for a reaction, but none. I poked his cheek, making sure his eyes didn't twitch before concluding he wasn't faking it.

        Good. It must be the alcohol that made him pass out. I thought.

        I crawled back into bed, placing Flower in my arms and lying on my side to face away from Yuri. I concluded I didn't like the position, and switched to facing Yuri. He was still in the same spot as earlier, still facing me. I grabbed his hand and held it, believing that his position was comfortable enough before sleeping. 

        Parts: One, two, three, four, five, current part, seven, eight, nine, ten (to be continued when Spy x Family has more Yuri content!)

        Want more Yuri content? Check out these headcannons and one shots!

        Yuri Briar x Sick! Fem! Reader

        Slightly mean! Yuri Briar x Fem! Reader

Yuri Briar x Fem! Reader headcannons + other fandoms!

        Have any requests? Check my masterlist to see the characters I write for: Masterlist (Please request, I have too much free time and too little fics).

[ofliterarynature]

MARCH 2024 WRAP UP

[loved liked ok nope dnf (reread) bookclub*]

Supernova • The Last Unicorn • Cahokia Jazz • (Heartstopper Vol 1)* • The Hero of Ages • Godkiller • Humanly Possible • Traveller’s Joy • The Well of Ascension • Babel-17 • The Final Empire • Loot • The Death I Gave Him

Finished: 11 books (9 audio, 1 print, 1 ebook)

Not many books this month but by god I read THREE Brandson Sandersons, so -

I guess I may as well start with Sanderson while we're here. I promised a mutual years ago (who's sadly left tumblr) that I would read Mistborn and it's probably been at least half a decade but I did it Lourdes! I've read a few one-off Sandersons before, but nothing I fell in love with. The Final Empire definitely had some issues, some things felt a little off, but overall I think I liked it! Except those things did not then improve in the next two books, and by book 3 I was dragging and solidly decided that I wouldn't continue past the original trilogy. I was so mad at that ending y'all, and if the mixed vibes from the copy for the next books wasn't enough that definitely sealed the deal lmao. Happy for the people who like him but it's not really my vibe. (but god, did it remind me how much I love big, grand, epic fantasies. I really need to find a good one). 3 stars

Babel-17 (3 stars) - idk, I think I found this on a rec list for sci-fi about linguistics? Which it sort of was, maybe, ostensibly. It was weird in that old sci-fi way and I kind of wish I'd DNF'd it when I originally considered it.

Traveller's Joy (5 stars)- look I will never say no to more in the Greenwing & Dart series, especially if it's my good good boy Hal. Not to mention more info about the immediate post-college times, and an outside POV on Jemis (Jemis my dude I love you so much but you are not a reliable narrator). Victoria picked a great piece of canon to explore!

Humanly Possible: Seven Hundred Years of Humanist Freethinking, Inquiry, and Hope (4 stars) - I've been wanting to read this since I first heard about it (and Humanist thought in general), and while it was interesting and I'm glad I read it, I found my attention drifting a lot. It spent a lot of time in the early/distant periods of humanist thought, which ended up not really being what I wanted - I think I'm more interested in the modern Humanist movent, but at least I know I'm on the right track!

Godkiller (4.5 stars) - It was great! It was kind of idk, epic fantasy with fairy tale and D&D vibes sort of? My brain is throwing out T Kingfisher and Robin McKinley for comps, but I'm not sure if that's accurate. A great one for fans of less-than-benevolent voices in the back of your head that are nonetheless very concerned for your well being! A solid 4/4.5 stars from me, it switched pov a little to often and didn't stick well in my head as well afterward as I'd have liked. Can't wait to get the next book!

Heartstopper (5 stars) - so cute! at least half the people who have ever come to book club at some point have said they loved this, so since we're in our graphic novel era it just made sense! I read a good chunk of the comic online ages ago and it's still great (and much easier when not fighting my wifi to load pages lol)

Cahokia Jazz (5 stars) - y'all I lost my fucking MIND OVER THIS ONE. Absolutely going to be one of my top books of the year. I'm such such a sucker for books about an outsider trying to find themself, their place, and reconnect with their culture, and hnnnnnng it was so good! Not always easy, but I loved it. I sobbed over that ending so much, I had to get up at work and go hide in the restroom for a bit and couldn't stop tearing up for the next week. Warning that the opening is pretty gory/crime novel/these-cops-are-corrupt vibes that *did* almost make me dnf (GASP), but it gets so much better I promise. Give Joe a chance, he's got hidden depths.

The Last Unicorn (3.5 stars) - It was ok? I didn't really get into it and was glad it was short, but I'm sure if I'd gotten my hands on this as a kid I'd have read it 10x times. I've also never seen the movie. I'm debating if I want to keep my copy for future niblings, but probably not.

Supernova (3 stars) - finally, I am DONE with this series. I admit, the second book almost got me and had me reconsidering if I should keep my copies after all, but this one yanked me back to reality. The undercurrents of ethics/morals/philosophy? to this series are fascinating, but uh, I'm not sure the author is aware of them as much as I was? Because the ending was fine, but all of these questions it felt like the series was raising were just ignored or pushed past. Not a bad series, just don't think about anything too hard.

DNF's

Loot - I was here for the automaton tiger and clockmaking, but that wasn't really the focus? I'm not quite sure what was, actually, I dropped this pretty quick between that, not liking the writing style, or the narrator's voice.

The Death I Gave Him - I was SO sad to give this one up. It's told through excerpts and transcripts and all sorts of things pieced together that hint at events in the future, which is one of my favorite things!!!! Except I don't know shit about Hamlet, and it was giving more psychological-thriller vibes and less murder-mystery, and I wasn't really having fun. It made me want to reread Sarah Gailey's The Echo Wife.

[pickledpascal]

Bewitched

Chapter One: Who Is She?

Warnings: mentions of murder, hating on cops a lil bit (deserved)

Word Count: 2.5k

Bewitched Masterlist

Next Chapter |

Beau Arlen stepped out of his beloved truck, Pedro, and took a glance at his surroundings. He parked just outside Dewell and Hoyt Investigation Agency as he usually did after Denise gave him a meal to take home with him. This time it was vegan stuffed peppers. He wasn't sure how it was vegan, it tasted a lot like meat but wasn't. Somehow. He grabbed the dish out of his passenger seat and then looked around to make sure he wouldn't accidentally bump into someone. 

His lips parted when he saw a woman walking in his direction. She wore all black—a long skirt, sweater, shoes, socks, and a brimmed hat—the only thing that wasn't jet black were her earrings. They were silver and dangled below her chin. Her hair was what caught Beau’s attention, jet black with a section of it dyed blonde in the front of her face. Her olive skin gave him an indication of her ancestry. Beau wanted to get a better look at her first.

Before he could even think to try to walk up to her and ask her name, she disappeared inside a café just a few storefronts away. 

Beau took a breath, shaking the mystery woman from his thoughts as he entered the office. He smiled as he saw Denise. No Cassie or Jenny. Jenny was likely at work already. “Hey! Dewell out?” He greeted as he handed over Denise’s cookware. It was cleaned so well that it shined in the overhead lights.

“Yeah, new case and all that.” Denise smiled as she took the dish and set it on the side of her desk, away from important papers and things but close enough that she wouldn't forget it when she went home. 

Beau sat at the edge of Cassie’s desk, facing Denise. He tapped his fingertips on the desk and pursed his lips. “I, uh, saw this girl outside,” He began. If anyone knew who she was, it was likely Denise. “Wore all black. That's not too common around here, is it?” 

Denise had a knowing look in her eyes, letting out a small laugh. “No, not at all. You must be talking about Kiera. She's our town goth.” She hummed as she organized a few papers for Cassie to look at when she came back. “She's originally from New York. A single mom and her child is,” She paused. “She's interesting. She got pregnant young, I think. She's twenty-six, her daughter is seven.” 

Beau hummed as he took in the information. In all his years in Texas, he encountered quite a lot of different kinds of people. For some reason, he never saw a goth walk on the streets of Houston throughout his life. Maybe there were, he just never saw one. He wanted to get to know her. She had easily captured his interest without getting a proper look at her.

“I also think she's a lawyer.” Denise's eyes narrowed slightly in thought. “I see her going into a local firm a lot but I'm not a hundred percent sure.”

Well, shit. 

Apparently, Beau had quite a thing for lawyers. Carla was one and he was interested in a few pre-law students in his college years.

Beau let out a sigh as he exited the office, trying to catch a glimpse of Kiera yet again but it seemed she was either still in the café or had left this part of town. He needed to get to work anyway. 

For the first time in a few months, the station had nothing big going on. No missing backpacker somehow connected to a decades-long cold case. Jenny’s mom was in custody. Tonya and Donno seemed relatively tame. For the time being. Beau had decided to stay as sheriff, deciding the change of scenery would be nice. Even if it was connected to a hell of a lot of stuff he wanted to forget about in the long run. 

Unfortunately for him, that meant Jenny had more time to flirt with him. Which was fun at first. When he reciprocated. He realized, in the long run, that he liked Jenny better as a friend. Yet he hadn't said that out loud to her. 

Early one morning, Beau went to the café he saw Kiera enter. He wanted to check it out. And if she just so happened to be there then that'd be a plus. There was a mix of people inside. Young and old. Different races. The café itself was cozy with an array of furniture, loveseats, armchairs, mismatched tables, and vintage posters—framed and unframed—tacked onto the walls. The smell of freshly baked goods hit his nose as his gaze found the display case and front counter. How did he miss this place? Beau had been on the hunt for a nice café to drop by before work for a while. 

In front of the counter was Kiera. Still in all black but this time she wore loose jeans, platform boots that made her quite a few inches taller than Beau, and a leather jacket with an array of multi-colored patches sewn on.

She noticed him when he stepped closer. She lifted her head and gave him a small smile, stepping away. She motioned for him to go ahead of her. “Sorry. I'm just waiting for my coffee.” 

Beau was blown away. Her cheekbones were well-defined, as was her jaw, her cupid's bow wasn't as well-defined so her top lip was more ovular. What astonished him more were the spikes peeking out from her nostrils, her dusky eyes, her hair that was pulled back into two long braids, and the heavy, dark eyeliner on her eyes. He had never seen a lawyer quite like her. 

“No, uh, I'm new here,” Beau recovered as quickly as he could. He knew he was staring. He shifted his eyes to the menu. “Anything you recommend?” 

Kiera glanced down at the badge on Beau’s hip then looked into his eyes. He could tell there was an internal battle going on inside her. He was oblivious as to why. “I like the chai lattes. But you seem like a black coffee sort of guy.” Her tone was clipped, weary. 

“You'd be right about that. My daughter can't believe it, she drinks coffee that's almost white and calls me weird. Sometimes I can't believe she's my kid. Looks a lot more like her mother.” Beau laughed. He could chat anyone's ear off if he really wanted to. “What about pastries? They all look so good.” 

Kiera looked at Beau weirdly, skepticism in her eyes. “The raspberry and cream cheese croissant is pretty good.” 

Her name was called. She quickly grabbed her coffee and left the café, not sparing Beau a second glance. 

The officer let out a sigh. That didn't go how he planned. Kiera was standoffish and he couldn't exactly place why. 

Beau ordered what she recommended and didn't dig in until he made it to his office and sat at his desk. He let out a hum of satisfaction at his first sip of the latte. It was more sugary than what he was used to but it was delicious nonetheless. It went down his throat smoothly and sent warmth throughout his body. The croissant had a similar effect. Flakey crumbs fell on his desk but it was too delicious for him to stop and clean them off. The soft crunch, the velvety cream, the tart raspberry jam. It became apparent why Kiera frequented that café. He was having an out-of-body experience in the solitude of his office spurred on by a simple pairing of a chai latte and an immaculately made croissant.

Yeah, Beau would go there every morning. Not just to see Kiera. 

“Woah, boss,” Poppernack walked into Beau’s office, an astonished look in his eyes. He had never seen his desk so messy before. Beau usually liked to keep it clean, no matter if he ate on it.

Beau coughed, wiping his face with a napkin as he gathered the crumbs in his hand to throw them away at the trash can next to his desk. “Yeah, Pop?” He asked with his signature smile. 

“Uh, just wanted to let you know there's a new case that might need your attention.” Mo explained, a case file in his hands. 

Beau tilted his head. “Might?” He held his hand out to take the file and flipped through it. Mo watched nervously. After everything that happened with Emily, Beau wanted to take a step back from going out in the field. At least, he didn't want to do it often. But there was an occasional case that called for the head Sheriff. “God, Poppernack, maybe bring this to my attention earlier?” He sighed. 

It wasn't anything too crazy. Just a double homicide but the trail had gone cold after a few weeks. Beau wanted to let his deputies do the work, trusting them enough to do so, however, they weren't perfect. They made mistakes, looked at the wrong places, saw the wrong things, and made bad calls.

“Hey, Em,” Beau hummed as he closed the door to his truck and walked up onto his porch. He didn't solve the case from earlier but they did get a lead. He adjusted his phone a little as he opened up his Airstream. “How's your day?”

“Fine, midterms are coming up and that sucks but mom got me a slice of cake to cheer me up since I started studying.” He could imagine Emily shrugging. Beau had a fond smile on his face as he listened. “What about yours? Catch any bad guys?”

Beau let out a chuckle as he heated some leftovers and leaned against the counters to his small kitchen. “No, no, not today. But, I–uh–saw this girl.” He admitted softly. It was hard to be open with Emily, especially with everything that happened in Houston, but he wanted to try. And he knew Emily thought he was lonely. 

Truthfully, he was. Jenny, Cassie, and Denise were nice friends but it wasn't exactly what he was looking for. Beau longed for someone like Carla again. Someone to share his life with. 

“Oh? Like a crush?” Emily's voice teased. 

“Yeah,” Beau made his way back outside to sit on his porch with a bowl in his hand. “She’s really pretty but, I dunno, she seemed skeptical of me. I know I'm a big guy but I didn't think I gave off mean guy vibes.” He took a bite from his bowl as it balanced on his thigh. Talking with Emily like this was the highlight of his day. 

Emily let out a snort. “You don't. But you're a cop. Not everyone likes cops.” She reminded softly. 

Beau pursed his lips. She was right. He wasn't sure why he didn't think of it earlier. Beau could be an oblivious man sometimes. He was a cop. Sheriff of the county at that. And he never went anywhere without his badge attached to his belt. Unless it was a weekend and he specifically took time off. 

“Out of curiosity, what ethnicity is she?” 

Beau sucked at his teeth. “Native American.” Kiera’s features clued him in on that fact. 

“Well, there you go. Even more of a reason she doesn't trust cops,” Emily laughed softly. She had a point. “Don't worry, though, if you keep pushing—which I know you will—she’ll see you're not bad. Just take it slow.”

Beau smiled softly as he looked down at his bowl, it was nearly empty. “Why are you giving me dating advice? Shouldn't it be the other way around?” 

“I wanna see you happy, Dad,” Emily admitted softly. “And I wanna help you get there. I know…” She went silent for a second. “Avery was mom’s second chance. And it didn't end well but she was happy. For the first time in a while. I want you to have your second chance.” She sighed. 

Beau closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He rubbed his forehead and listened to Emily's breath on his phone’s speaker. “I love you.” He murmured.

“I love you too, dad.” Emily immediately returned. “I have to get to sleep or else mom will yell at me about not having a proper sleep schedule. Talk tomorrow?” 

Beau nodded even though she couldn't see him. “‘Course, kiddo. G’night.”

“Night.” 

As the line died, Beau’s phone fell to his lap. He bit the inside of his cheek as he stared up at the starry night sky. The forest around him made a few noises, like the rustling of trees or hops of insects, otherwise, it was silent. 

And Beau was alone.

His eyes shifted down to his lap. There was something about Kiera. Even Emily knew it and she hadn't seen her before. She was Beau's second chance. The only woman Beau had shown an interest in for a while. The only problem was he'd have to try. Kiera wouldn't just fall into his lap because he said hello to her every morning. He'd have to put in the work. 

He didn't expect anything less. 

From what Beau heard from Denise, Kiera had a complicated life. A single mother, young, and moved all the way out to Montana which must've been a shocking change from living in New York for most of her life. Unusual. For the short amount of time Beau had lived in Helena, he gathered that most people just liked to blend in and not draw too much attention to themselves. Unfortunately, Kiera had—unknowingly or knowingly—drawn a target on her back because she didn't fit in. Her all-black attire and tall height were enough for anyone to have to do a double take at her but then there was her Native ancestry. 

Montana was no stranger to Native people since there were plenty of reservations around but it was the icing on the cake for Kiera. No wonder she was hesitant around him. Beau hoped he could change that. He was a good person who tried his best to keep his deputies in line, even if it cost him his job in the end. So far, it hasn't. 

Taking a breath, Beau retreated into his airstream for the night and set his bowl in the sink. 

Tomorrow was another day. Another day to try to become friends with Kiera. At the very least, he could try that before anything else. Beau knew he was easy to be friends with even if the person was a little cold towards him at first. A few citizens were like that when they first met. Others stood their ground but that was because they were on the receiving end of handcuffs. Beau couldn't care less if those people hated him. 

However, Kiera was a lawyer. What kind, Beau didn't know. She had to believe in the law to some capacity if that's what she was doing. Maybe he could appeal to that somehow… Or just be himself. 

Yeah, Emily always said he was better off as himself and not playing the hero all the time. She liked Beau as a hero, he was her hero, but he needed saving every now and then too.

------

taglist: @deans-spinster-witch

taglist open here !!!!

[final-girl96]

My Boyfriend's Back Chapter Thirty-Seven

YN

I laid there for about thirty minutes before I got up and went to the bathroom to take a shower. Stu had fallen asleep ten minutes ago. Shame filled me, guilt settling heavy in my gut. What the fuck is wrong with me?! He's a fucking psychopath! He's been hiding from the cops for four years because he's killer people!

He killed my mother, one of my best friends, and tried killing me and my sister. He kidnapped my father. He's stalked me for fuck sakes! And here I am letting him fuck me like nothing is wrong. He was never supposed to find out about Reese. Hell, when I found out I was pregnant it wasn't much of a shock to me. I'll even admit that I was happy. But then when that happiness started to calm down I remembered he was the father.

Of course he was. He's the only one I had sex with. I was taking birth control, but there were days I missed it because I forgot about it. It wasn't the first thing on my mind at the time. I was more worried about surviving ghostface��again. When I told everyone I was pregnant they didn't even ask who the father was. They know who her father is. They never bring it up and have never asked me about it.

It's very clear when you look at Reese that she's Stu's. She has his eyes and a lot of other features of his. I can't say that I thought I could hide her from him forever because I knew eventually, one day he would find me. I was just hoping it wouldn't be for a long time. Maybe when she was a lot older, and started asking who her father was. I should have known he would find me.

After I got out of the shower I slipped out of the room and went over to Reese's room to check on her. She was fast asleep in her bed. One hand was gripping her teddy that Randy got her. I sat down on the rocker in the corner of the room and watched her until eventually I fell asleep.

When I woke up she was sitting up playing with her teddy and babbling. "Good morning, beautiful." I cooed, standing up and stretching. Her big blue eyes looked up at me and she smiled, tiny little arms reaching up for me to pick her up. "Let's get you changed and cleaned up. Then we can go get something in that belly." I poked her belly gently making her giggle.

After I got her cleaned up and changed out of her pajamas we went to the kitchen. I stopped in my tracks when I saw Stu standing by the coffee machine. "Why are you still here?" I asked. He turned to look at me then directed his eyes to Reese. "Hello, beautiful." His voice was so soft and gentle while talking to her. She looked at him for a second before pushing her face into the crook of my neck. "I want to spend the day with my two girls."

"No. Get out. Last night was a mistake. Besides, Randy comes over everyday around noon." He looked at me with a garden stare, "I'm fucking staying and I'm going to spend the day with my daughter. So you can call Randy and tell him not to come over." I raised my eyebrows at him and scoffed. "Excuse you, you do not tell me what to do…" before I could go further the phone started ringing.

I walked over to it in the living room where it sat on top of the end table by the couch. "Hello?" I answered. "Hey, you're awake." Reese started to try and grab the phone which only meant she heard Randy's voice. "Hey. Why wouldn't I be awake?" I asked him. "Because you're stubborn and hate getting up early. You never wake up until I call you like a hundred times or just show up."

I rolled my eyes, "Excuse me, I always get up early, someone doesn't know how to sleep in." I looked at Reese and she laughed. I heard Randy chuckle on the other end. "I was actually calling to tell you that I won't be able to come over today," he said. I looked over my shoulder at Stu who was already looking at me. "Oh, why not?" I asked. "Ran!" Randy laughed at hearing Reese yelling for him. "I have a date," he said.

"With a girl?" I asked, kind of shocked. I knew he lost his virginity to creepy Karen before we went off to college, but he's always been so caught up on Sidney that he never paid attention to other girls. "Yes, with a girl. Why did you say it like that?" He asked. "I'm just shocked, is all. I thought you were still madly in love with my sister." He was silent for a few seconds before he cleared his throat. "Well…I'm not…"

"That's not very convincing, Ray. You know someone is going to be very sad that you're not coming to see her," I said. Reese looked up at me for a second before she tried grabbing for the phone again. I pulled the phone away from my ear and hit the button for the speaker so she could hear him. "You're on speaker so you can go ahead and tell her yourself."

"That's so not far!" He said. "Ran!" Reese babbled loudly. "Hey, buttercup!" She started babbling more and he just hummed as a response to her like he always does. "I won't be able to come over today, buttercup. I'm sorry." She looked at me with a pouty face. "She's giving me a pouty face," I told him. "Don't tell me that! You know what? I'm just gonna cancel my plans…"

"What? No, don't do that, Randy. Go on your date and have fun. She will be just fine not seeing you for one day." There was silence on the other end for a long few seconds until I heard him let out a long sigh. "Fine! Okay, I'll be over tomorrow, I promise!" He said. "Okay, have fun and don't be fucking weird and scare the poor girl off," I said. "Oh, ha ha ha. You're so funny." After he said goodbye to Reese we hung up.

Reese wiggled in my arms, a pout still on her face. I let her down and watched her flop down on the floor. "Uncle Randy will be over tomorrow, baby." I knelt down in front of her and wiped her cheek where a tear had fallen. "Are you hungry?" I asked. She nodded her head and lifted her arms for me to pick her back up. I took a deep breath before turning around. Guess I will be introducing her to Stu. I don't see any other option than to let her get to know her dad.

"Looks like we got lucky, huh?" I glared at Stu and set Reese in her highchair. "Why don't you be useful and get your daughter some apple juice. And make sure to dilute it with some water." I pushed past him and opened the cupboard where the cups and glasses were. I pulled down a sippy cup and shoved it into his chest. Today was going to be interesting.

[ramblings-of-a-mad-cat]

Have you ever read Borrasca?

Yes Anon, I read it.

I don't even know how to start this. My instinct is "Content warning" but like...where to even begin in terms of listing the content I would warn people about with Borrasca. I'll just say, that if you've already read it, you know what I'm about to discuss. If you haven't read it, do not go under the cut. Because it's better to experience this story yourself.

But only if you have the strongest of stomachs. You are not prepared and neither was I.

Still here? Okay. Content warning: Child sexual abuse, kidnapping/trafficking, (gruesome) murder, discussion of remains, infertility, incest, parental abuse, horror....did I cover everything?

I don't normally like creepypastas. I am not a horror fan. Never have been. It's easier to consume horror via reading because it ensures a lack of jumpscares but I still don't like it. The content all too often makes me queasy and just don't fit me. So it was fortunate that when I picked up this story, I had no idea it was horror. Because that genre just has telltale signs and, at least to me, those signs weren't initially there. It wasn't until the characters first visited the Treehouse that I began to feel uneasy, (especially the first instance of the Shiny Gentleman's "song of death") and not until Whitney disappeared that I knew the story would be dark. But then it throws you for a loop by doing that time-skip without any notification, no "Seven years later" etc. They just leave it to you to figure it out, House of The Dragon style, so it took me a bit to figure out what happened and that kind of wrapped up my attention. (Speaking of, as a major fan of the Thrones universe, a lot of this was stuff you'd think I'd be able to handle no problem, but that didn't make it any easier.)

Unfortunately, the story had fish-hooked me by this point and I wasn't going anywhere. One moment that properly stood out to me was Phil Saunders talking about all the missing people going in the ground, or, as he put it, "grounder." In hindsight, that is downright cruel foreshadowing, or maybe it was purely coincidental (but I doubt it) and it stuck out to me the first time. That whole sequence did, of him basically saying that when he got high, he would figure out that all these people going missing was no accident, and that everyone in town either knew, or chose not to know. For some reason, the "grounder" line stuck out to me, and the next time we heard the Shiny Gentleman, the description of it being metallic and everything just made me pause. I remembered the "grounder" line and...a truly horrifying thought crossed my mind about the place where bad things happen. And when I make obscure predictions about stories, I often wind up being exactly right. (It's a strange gift, I'd rather something useful like Sign Language or Tax Lax, but I digress.) What kept sticking in my mind was "Why?" I couldn't place who or why people were taken there to be put in the "grounder" or what they were wanted for.

Side note, a lot of my thoughts were wasted on trying to figure out the "skinned men." A masterful red herring with an actual explanation that works. I didn't think of the answer as a cop out, I just went "Ohhh...." The whole concept leads you on a wild goose chase to assume there is some sort of supernatural element to this story when there isn't, because reality is so much more frightening than fantasy. It all feeds into the Borrasca folktale, which helps build a mythos for the place and acts as a gateway for people in the town learning about it as they grow up without questioning it too strongly. Which is useful for things like the "song of death" which will be heard periodically but mustn't be something anyone overthinks. They ignore it, because they assume it's just a logging company up the mountain, or because they fear the whispers and legends about the "skinned men" and want nothing to do with it...or because they know. Or, even worse...they don't want to know. Like Tom Prescott said, the townspeople probably don't know everything, most of the time...but some of that is willful ignorance and complacency with a system that they must sense is rotten to the core. Even the more sympathetic characters like Anne and Meera, they aren't innocent in all this. Anne says it herself - everyone is guilty. Meera's refusal to participate in Borrasca to get a baby until she eventually wilts...that's not her "falling to the dark side." She was already there. Because clearly, she knew. She knew, and she did nothing. Then again...what can she do? What can any of them do? This is how evil institutions rise and remain in power. Complacency and hopelessness.

The other moment...I could call it prophetic, but like, I don't want to pat myself on the back. The story is just very well told. But I remember the moment, distinctly, that Graham Walker told Sam and Kyle that he would "never let Whitney go." And the wording...I noticed the wording. And I thought to myself in that moment, "You have her. I don't know how, but you have her." And it made sense. When children go missing, sometimes it's the parents who are behind it. I mean, we've all seen SVU, right? Up to that point I genuinely hadn't suspected Walker at all, because I just thought - if there is some deep conspiracy in this town, how could Walker be a part of it? He moved here, only a few years ago. But it's quite possible that he was involved with Drisking even before moving his family there because he did something "bad" that caused them to reassign him. Honestly, that entire act is filled to the brim with amazing foreshadowing. Like, the adults really shouldn't be talking about any of this or even hinting it around the kids - that's just a writing tool, right? Well, yes, but, all of the adults know and are either involved or they turn a blind eye, so it's the kind of thing they would want to introduce to the teenagers gradually - Owen and Meera's cryptic conversation about the "only other option." comes to mind. Especially Sam, as Walker undoubtedly wants to recruit Sam to the "business" even at this point, and so they have to start grooming him early.

Kimber. Probably my favorite character, though both her and Kyle are compelling. Kyle's fate may be the saddest part of the story, actually. But the entire journey of Anne's death, about the mysterious suicide note and the lengths Kimber had to get to in order to read it. The way her father slipped and mentioned it within earshot, and then all anyone could do was try to gaslight the kids into believing he never said that and there was no note. The way Kimber knew Prescott was involved but also just knew it wasn't an affair. Like, sure, she probably didn't want to believe Anne would do that, but it was much more than that too. The clues just didn't point in that direction - oh, and don't get me started on Tom Prescott's ravings, by the way...why did they put him in a home outside of Drisking if he's going to be ranting about Borrasca to anyone who talks their way into a visit? But I digress. Nothing made my heart pound more than Kimber's final texts. How she was so unresponsive for so long before just sending back "I found it." Like. She definitely had already read it, and was processing what she had been told. Of course, after being told that the police were coming to find her (complete with her father "objecting" to something with them) all she texts back is "They're here." And that's the last thing she sends, and jesus cartwheeling christ, that is basically proof that the cops kidnapped her but of course, Walker pretends he does not see it.

The foreshadowing is everywhere. There's a scene where Kyle says "She's my...my..." And Sam notes that he "still can't say it." Which, in hindsight...yikes. Like, the story itself stops short of saying what Kimber and Kyle are to each other. Obviously, Kyle meant "girlfriend" and that's what Sam understood. But rereading that moment is another punch in the gut. And so many of the most twisted reveals aren't actually reveals. A lot is left implied. You have to read between the lines and put the puzzle pieces together to figure some of it out. Like how the last baby born in the story is called "William" and then the Shiny Gentleman sings his song one more time. They don't explain what that means. But if you pay attention to the naming rule, then you know who William's father is. Whitney was putting out "shit babies" and Walker said he would "never let her go." He had to be the one behind her being sold to Borrasca, but he was seemingly the only one "visiting" her. I don't know how he arranged it that way but I know he did. They don't even directly confirm what the "Shiny Gentleman" is, if I recall. Oh, and Kyle and Kimber are an incestuous couple but honestly, that is the least of the town's problems and it's probably not a unique situation. They're all unknowingly unrelated, and it's not as though Kimber will be having Kyle's babies, right? Not in this town.

Like. Once you read it over again (or listen to one of the many live readings/podcasts) things become clearer. Jimmy Prescott is initially the worst human being in the story (and don't get me wrong, he's still a monster of immeasurable proportions, I cottoned onto that as soon as Kimber said he was checking her out when she was in fifth grade) but on a second consumption of the story...Graham Walker is the one I want to throw into The Shiny Gentleman, and he's never outwardly wicked the way Prescott and Clery are. He hides his darkness very well until his last scene and even then, he admits to nothing. Based on the scene where he tells Sam that he'll be taking the blame for what happened to Kyle, it reads in two ways. You think to yourself, he's definitely in on it, but on the other hand, maybe he just chugged the koolaid and is believing this town's bullshit over his own son. Until little William is born, and Anne's clue about the naming smacks you in the face. No, he's not just ignorant to the point of being part of the problem, he is so emphatically the problem.

Borrasca is...devastating.

It's horror, to be sure, but it's good horror, and I don't even come out of it scared. I come out devastated. Angry. Feeling hopeless. Because the villains win. The corrupt and wicked institution isn't going anywhere, because why would it? Prescott and Clery let Sam go, because why shouldn't they? The situation is under control no matter what Sam does. The entire town is either part of Borrasca or willing to turn a blind eye to it. Except Kathryn. I honestly believe she didn't know a damn thing and bless her for being a wholesome light in this dark facade of a town. There's nothing to be done except get the hell out of Drisking and never look back. To just try and forget.

P.S: I am aware of the sequel.

I didn't really talk about it here because I have mixed feelings about it. I appreciate the happy ending and god knows Sam and Kimber have earned it, but there were several aspects of the story that I just didn't enjoy. Don't get me wrong, the prose is as well written as ever, but the plot feels like wish fulfillment and without a mystery to drive the story I just wasn't as engaged. I mean, there was kind of a mystery but the answers didn't really click for me. While it's realistic and painful, seeing the way Sam treats Kimber is hard to read. It hurts. These two were best friends, and none of this is her fault. Obviously, she was a victim of Borrasca too. Also, I do not buy that Kimber would have ever trusted Prescott, even if he dangled Kyle's name before her. No way, no how. I don't know why Sam kept using his real name after he escaped, enabling both Kimber and Walker to find him again. I also think it's rather...I don't want to use the word "convenient" but the fact that he was best friends with a hacker...also, why would Borrasca have any records to begin with? Fine, fine, business and all, but why keep them for so long? Prescott talks about destroying all of them, including the backups, and it's like....motherfucker, why don't you do that on a regular basis? Why do you even have backups?

I also feel like the sequel just takes some of the dread out of the air by removing the ambiguity and the lies. Everything that was left implied in the original story is outright confirmed. Walker is shown to be the monster that we know him to be, when he never fully revealed those true colors in the original story. Ultimately, the idea that two people could walk into a criminal empire like this one and topple it so successfully, not to mention that they both survive...it just stretches my suspension of disbelief, especially for a story that has already established itself as gritty and heartless. I'm glad there's a happy ending out there for people who wanted one, and in my own way, I obviously wanted one too, but I remember being both sad and a little relieved that Kyle's years of trauma had taken physical toll on him and that he didn't just immediately embrace Kimber and Sam. Because there needed to be at least one bittersweet aspect to all of this, especially if they were getting Kyle back at all. Something about the way Kimber "reverted to her old self" and was even more than fine with physical affection again after the climax....like, no, that's not how that works, and the original story wouldn't have tried something like that. It's hard to explain but I just couldn't get into it in the same way.

[mantisgodsdomain]

Once again we return to Old Faithful Format (discord conversation transfer so we don't have to write things out in a post in a more coherent manner). This time about Scarlet. Transcript below cut.

Mantis God: Problems on purpose!!! Problems on purpose!!! Mildly off topic but we think Scarlet's the kind of guy where, like. He'll say or do Literally Anything if he thinks that it'll benefit him or get him out of a situation and it'll absolutely bite him in the ass if he hangs around somewhere for too long because that setup means he's absolutely willing to, like. Flip sides on a whim and eternally denounce something he was singing the praises of five minutes ago if he thinks it'll get him somewhere

Lavender: Yeahhh He's such a guy

Mantis God: He's a good actor but he's the sort of chameleon that personalizes his persona to whoever he's dealing with and it gets really obvious if he ever gets put in a situation where he has to juggle conflicting personas Guy of all time tbh we love him very much

Lavender: Yeeeee If I ever write him I'm sure I'll have a grand time In a similar vein to how I'm writing Hunter rn like "would he fucking say that?? no. no surely not. …but maybe???"

Mantis God: Scarlet is so fun to write But admittedly we're biased He's great because he has. Literally seven lines of dialogue total in the game and he chameleons enough in those seven lines that as long as you get the right cadence he'll, like. Always scan correctly.

Lavender: Whereas Hunter has probably more samples of his character voice than probably any other character in Hollowed Aight and we get plenty of his perspective on prey but no examples of him talking TO prey so I'm struggling

Mantis God: Antisocial

Lavender: I feel like I'm making him sound too much like a stereotypical villain

Mantis God: Tilt him around a bit rewrite the scene We suggest trying, like. Write it bad then go over it and see where it comes apart Then do it again better

Lavender: Probably a good idea

Mantis God: …it's how we pull like half of our fic & scenarios fhdkfjdf We're very good at figuring out where failure points are and we then just try and avoid them in our own work He's great because he has. Literally seven lines of dialogue total in the game and he chameleons enough in those seven lines that as long as you get the right cadence he'll, like. Always scan correctly.

Mantis God: We've seen some really badass and skilled and, like. Actually Malicious And Predatory Scarlets out there but honestly that doesn't scan super well to us specifically if only because, like. Scarlet has VERY little in means of motivation for killing people, so if you don't fill that gap he'll feel flat, and a lot of people who do Genuinely Malicious Scarlet don't… do that? He's not killing people for a reason, per se, he's just, like, a Semi-Generic serial killer dude, and generally if they go into him needing to gather life force it's more treated as, like. Stores? He's got a decent supply and just kills to supplement that or, like, save up, without really going into anything like "what happens when he runs out" we are ofc superior in this regard because we like cornering him like an animal

Lavender: Make him quite literally fight for his got damb life

Mantis God: But, uhh, the general cadence usually swings more towards confidence and security in his skills, giving him that aura of, like. Distinct Power, if that makes sense? Same set of tools that often get used for people like the Wasp King. A power fantasy sort of cadence. He's in charge and he knows it and he could beat your ass And though that's all well and good, we like to tinker more with… resourcefulness, we suppose? He's smart and strong and cunning, because he kind of needs to be to keep himself out of range of the cops for that long, but we don't tend to have that… security? We mean, the guy lives in a cave with no worldly possessions but the clothes on his back and One (1) book. He doesn't exactly have a safety net to… allow for that sort of confidence?

Lavender: Lmao yeah He's sure good a Faking Everything though !

Mantis God: He's REALLY good at faking everything, and it fools the audience as well. But he's still, uhh. He's living in a cave and hiding behind a stick. Not really the finest of accommodations and definitely not the sort of thing that gives that self-assurance. It's a persona, almost definitely, and the way he turns on a dime from faux-nice to faux-confidence kind of just… hammers that in?

Lavender: He's a guy with nothing to lose! Except his life. And he would really quite like to keep that please and thank you- And freedom I suppose

Mantis God: Though the actually confident and self-assured Scarlets are fun to toy with having to scavenge to survive and live paycheck-to-paycheck can have some VERY long-lasting effects on your brain especially when it comes to, like, budgeting resources and such, and a lot of the depictions here act like… a guy who has fallbacks? And he doesn't, really. It's plan A or nothing because if he's caught, he's done for.

Lavender: Hhhh yep

Mantis God: Something something class gap or whatever we're very conscious of this because we have eight hundred thousand hours research looking into shit and as it turns out your circumstances impact your mindset and you will act differently depending on external positions Unfortunately it's also really hard to articulate this without either Eight Trillion Words or saying shit like "he acts like someone with a house and a refrigerator but he has neither of those things"

Lavender: The latter does articulate it very well Note that I am reading all this in fascination and also agreement I just don't know how to express that much

Mantis God: Scarlet's an incredibly fun character to handle because he's got that specific set of circumstances where changing things even a bit can dramatically change his circumstances but the people writing him do him very, uhh. Middle-class? Which strikes as off to us, because a lot of what draws us to Scarlet is the fact that he very much has the motivation to lie and cheat and do anything he damn well can to end up on top, because pretty much anything he tries is gonna wind up being a zero-sum game.

Lavender: He comes pre-packaged with Circumstances and you can Do Things to these circumstances to see how be reacts

Mantis God: It just feels a bit… more dull, we suppose? To make him someone who can simply stop and chooses not to, because if you play him as, like, someone who could simply Not Do That at any time and is just evil for fun, then it feels like you lose a bit of something.

Lavender: Yeah, makes him more two-dimensional …..in a metaphorical sense of course One-dimensional

Mantis God: You've got a character here who could be brought to care for someone so deeply it hurts and still have to leave them behind and betray them because his very life depends on his capacity to stab people in the back for the sake of his own skin

Lavender: Ah yes, the Painge

Mantis God: Selfish means very different things if you have Something compared to having Nothing, is what we're saying. And Scarlet's very, very selfish, but in the very specific way that you get when you grow up having few enough resources to need to hoard.

Lavender: No yeah exactly Not for fun, debatably for profit, mostly just for survival

Mantis God: We know he's got like no canonical motivation besides "he kills people" but given canon evidence there's only like two possibilities for the Reason for that because unlike almost everyone else who Kills People he has no special cause or conviction or even, like, firm code of conduct, he just goes for. Literally anyone who answers his requests. Either he's Like That For No Reason or he's doing the exact same thing any other hungry ambush predator does and honestly the second one is far more interesting

Lavender: Love to give him motivations and depth!! Take this paper binch and make his actions comprehensible!!

Mantis God: We are holding him like a purse dog and making him grapple with horrors

Lavender: It is far more interesting than just another villain who exists for you to fight and get rewarded for it put him through the horrors

Mantis God: MORE horrors He's very fun to tinker with bc like all of his motivation can be boiled down to the same handful of Needs Of Life you see on, like, those goddamn basic needs pyramids And as such we can put him in basically any situation ever because he'll do fucking to slightly extend his life

[eyes-of-mischief]

weekly fic recs | 46

fandoms: aftg, atla, dc, mdzs

aftg

raze it to the ground by ilgaksu

It stops being about Neil entirely, and it starts being about this: Andrew is really, really fucking tired.

Dead of Night by NikNak22

(explicit) (graphic depictions of violence, rape/non-con)

It’s Kevin’s senior year at PSU, and things are…okay. But that changes when a single question from a nosy reporter sends his life spiraling. The descent is slow and maddening – memories and trauma from his past weave together to form the image of the man that stands there today. As Kevin begins to look around him with a new and critical eye, though, he’s no longer sure that man is who he wants to be.

So the question is - when faced with the truth, is it a case of Kevin finally getting what he deserves? Or is it about time to prove a lot of people (including himself) wrong?

Aka the fic that’s all about Kevin Day.

Clickbait by Frostandcoal

It is fitting that Josten is set to don a Dragons’ uniform. Like his new mascot, Josten is a fire-breathing, relentless, somewhat mythical creature whose very existence seems larger than life. And Minyard is the perfect manifestation of a Cyclone; an inescapable, violent maelstrom of unpredictability, where your only chance of survival is to hunker down and wait out the storm.

What happens when a dragon battles a force of nature? That’s what we’re all waiting to find out.   The media reacts to teammates-turned-rivals in the summer before Neil Josten’s first year in the pro’s.

Latchkey Child by vicariously kingly (pelted)

(underage)

The segment’s title declared EXY’S DARLINGS - WHERE WILL THEY GO FROM HERE? in a yellow banner along the television screen's bottom. It was a spotlight feature on where Kevin Day and Riko Moriyama were planning to go after their high school graduation. Of course they were expected to join the best, but a few reporters speculated on favoritism from the Raven’s coach if they signed on at Edgar Allan, and if that’d impact the Exy prodigies’ relationships with their potential teammates.

Usually his mother would box his ears for looking at anything Exy-related, but he changed the channel long before her shower finished, the black ink on a younger Day’s cheekbone haunting him worse than the date in the corner.

( Neil wakes up seven years younger, and, slowly, takes matters into his own hands. )

atla

While Mighty Oaks Do Fall by WitchofEndor

High Sage Kenji blesses Fire Prince Zuko with the resilience of the reed, who bends in the wind and never breaks. When he is done, Fire Prince Ozai narrows his eyes, seemingly displeased by this blessing. But Kenji does not speak for himself; he is only a vessel. 

-

The newly-crowned Fire Lord Ozai offers his firstborn son to service in the temple.

This turns out to be a catastrophic mistake.

rabbitbrush by curiositykilled

There’s the sound of Katara groaning and Toph thumping Sokka with a rock, but Zuko’s chest is tight and cold. He can’t laugh at Sokka’s pun. He has to swallow to speak.

“Azula’s not going to prison.”

dc

An Internal Affair by nirejseki, robininthelabyrinth (nirejseki)

Leonard Snart, the CCPD Captain of Internal Affairs, is known as Captain Cold for a very good reason: He hates corrupt cops with a merciless vengeance, and once you're on his list, you're in serious trouble.

His next target?

A CCPD lab tech named Barry Allen who's developed a suspicious habit of disappearing at random intervals.

Family You Made (Go Back, Do it Again) by JUBE514

He’s nine again– nine and new and knows so many things now so rather than try to go back–

He thinks he has the chance to make things right.

The bright blue trainers he puts on are a pair he hasn’t worn in forever, something he never thought about after he grew out of them (will grow out of?) a year from now, and sets off into the night and into the rain.

The plan he has in his brain is not really a plan, moreso just a couple of half thrown ideas and maybe five steps into building back the life he had in the most painless way he could.

Maybe, he thinks, maybe this plan can start off with the family he misses– because he’s sixty and most of them too injured or too old or too dead–

Call him selfish but he misses them. He would rather find them than get himself back into that lonely existence he called a life before he woke up at nine.

Dick makes do because that’s all he can do really.

-

Dick gets sent back in time, but don't worry, he's got this. (Probably)

mdzs

Lynchpin by ShanaStoryteller

He can’t get Jin Guangyao’s words out of his head.

If he’d only believed in Wei Wuxian, if he’d only been willing to stand up for him, could it all have been avoided?

Bend by ana_cp

(explicit)

Wei Ying does not have a crush on Lan Zhan anymore. Those feelings have been gone for a long time. He's over Lan Zhan. He is.

Deep down, he knows they'll never be compatible in a relationship. Even though Lan Zhan is gay. Even though Lan Zhan is also into BDSM. Because Lan Zhan is a Dom.

And so is he.

-

or, Wei Ying makes some very wrong assumptions about Lan Zhan's preferences, finds out just how far from the truth he is, and immediately makes a plan to fix it.