#my boi has a rifle and a dream

[maysrinn]

During Coriolanus' peacekeeper officer training, how often Billy Taupe tries to get Lucy Gray to marry him? And how often does Lucy Gray have to tell Sejanus to keep quiet about it so Coriolanus doesn't run back to District 12 to kill Billy Taupe?

LOTS OF TIMES…

He tries so hard to get back into Lucy Grays good grace and fails miserably every single time. That train left the station Billy Taupe and the only reason why she didn’t shoot him yet with one of the riffles Coriolanus got as “wall decoration” is him being related to CC.

But yeah he does make here and there drunk suggestions, even proposes or trying to get a bit too physically like the night at the hob (I can see it)

And since this didn’t stopped while Lucy Gray was pregnant for the first time…after multiple rejections, he started to call her names and even made Lucy gray believe for quite some time, that Coriolanus wouldn’t accept as Capitol a bastard child.

…Coriolanus would skin Billy Taupe alive if he knew.

[inkchwe]

enchanted ↦ jww

⋆ pairing: jeon wonwoo x fem!reader ⋆ word count: 6.1k ⋆ genre: fluff. semi-angst ⋆ tags: cinderella-ish retelling, royalty!wonwoo ⋆ synopsis: Life as the housemaid and an inconvenience to your family is not what you wished for, but Wonwoo brings a new, royal perspective that turns your world around.

Scrub, wipe, shine. The chant plays over in your head, a symphony to block out the call of your horrendous stepsister trotting down the staircase. She says your name with a shriek but you pay her no mind. More than likely she has another errand for you to do. One she will take pleasure in you finding uncomfortable, no doubt. The color of the suds and sloshing sounds of the water bring you comfort. You dip your rag in the bucket next to you and plop it on the tile floor. Taking pleasure in the most menial tasks makes life a lot more bearable.

Heejin calls your name again when she makes it to the last step, knowing well enough you can hear her when she’s standing over you. “Are you deaf? We need new clothes from the market!”

You look up to her, a confused but indifferent expression on your face. You don’t bother asking what the clothes are for, but you know she’ll tell you regardless.

“For the ball, you imbecile,” Heejin says.

Minha, the younger of the stepsisters, pipes up behind Heejin, her voice a squeak compared to her older counterpart. “It’s the prince’s coronation.”

You nod and continue scrubbing the tile. If the task at hand isn’t done before your stepmother gets home, she will have your head on one of the pikes lining the kingdom’s outer walls.

“Finish this and then head to the seamstress. The fabric must be on my bed by sundown, or Mother will not be pleased,” Heejin says, a warning interwoven with the smirk on her lips.

Heejin purposefully kicks your bucket of soapy water across the floor on her way to the sitting room. The liquid drenches your apron and face thoroughly. You wish you could sling an insult at her for her entitlement along with her lack of care for anyone’s wellbeing but her own. Minha’s face transforms into a small frown, her eyes expressing sympathy as she follows her sister’s trail.

Since your father took gravely ill five summers ago, you have yet to receive an ounce of kindness from your newfound family. “Family” is barely a word you’d use to describe the relationship between yourself and them, the wolves who invaded your home on the eve of your fourteenth birthday, just a year after your mother’s passing.

Minha is the kindest of them all for her inaction during your stepmother and Heejin’s abuse, but you wish you had a confidant somewhere in the world. 

You rifle with the letters you saved from your father and mother, the inscriptions inside of them the last memory you have of them both. Some written to each other, others simply their musings and thoughts you wish you would have discussed with them before they left this earth.

If only someone knew you truly, who cared to hear your words and valued their meaning. Who saw life as a gift rather than a tool used to induce a person’s misery. If dreams could become reality, you would not be alone another day.

Wonwoo mentally checked off the items in his head that the king and company expected to be done for the coronation ball. The town baker was provided with the list of desserts and bread necessary for the feast. The lute and harp players were given an excellent amount of coin for taking part with their instruments. Even the meat and dairy from the kingdom’s best butcher was safely stored in the horse-drawn carriage behind Wonwoo’s own stallion. The final task in need of completion was a trip to the seamstress. In the words of the king, “it’s not every day my boy finds a bride.”

On arrival, Wonwoo was enraptured with color. He absorbed the rolls of fabric and material encased on the shelves, the finest satin and puffiest tulle displayed for ladies and gentlemen to spare no expense on for the upcoming celebrations. He gave the specifications to the shopboy almost an hour ago, but Wonwoo doesn’t mind spending a bit longer outside of the castle walls.

The bell above the door pierces the air with its chime, and Wonwoo looks up to see the most encapsulating view in existence. Would someone disbelieve him if he said that view included a girl with cheeks caked in soot, her hair pulled back underneath a common scarf, and her clothes as drab as a servant girl’s? Probably. But the sunshine on your face and twinkling eyes suggests to him that he should continue looking for as long as he can.

The seamstress and owner of the shop comes from behind the store, a sketching pencil tucked atop her ear and a vibrant smile on her lips as she says your name, the letters together a lovely orchestra. “Here for the usual order?”

“No. Heejin needs something spectacular for the ball. Her words, not mine.” You raise your hands in mock surrender, and the seamstress laughs.

“I’ll see what I can do. Just wait a moment.” In a flash, the seamstress walks back to her private area of the shop, and Wonwoo is left alone again with you, the mysterious but mesmerizing girl. A maid perhaps, given the nature of your visit?

All he knows is that he must talk to you, whether you recognize him or not.

You lightly tap your hands against the wooden counter, waiting for Miss Jae to come back with a fabric to take home. Hopefully one that Heejin loves enough to keep. That way you don’t have to come back on foot a second time today.

“Blue is best.”

You turn with a gasp. The man attached to the voice is adorned in royal clothing, golden cufflinks and buttons matching the royal purple material of his clothes.

 “Sorry,” you stutter, hands suddenly clammy.

“Your color.” He slides over to a roll of sky blue satin, placing a patch of it over his arm. “It looks terrible on me, but on you, I believe you would outshine any commoner.” He lets out a breathless chuckle and intakes a deep gulp of air.

It has been so long since another person wanted to engage with you, especially someone as handsome as the person before you. He may be as nervous as you, given his awkward introduction, but you know your conversational skills are worse for what. You aren’t sure how to converse anymore about topics outside of dinner orders and cleaning supplies.

“Thank you, but I won’t be attending the upcoming festivities.” You try to hide the sadness that threatens to break free on your face, but you’re too late. The stranger sees it and responds in kind.

“Everyone is welcome to the coronation,” he assures you.

“I’m afraid ‘everyone’ does not involve me…Your—” You stop short, unsure of his title as you don’t know his name or his face from recent memory.

“Wonwoo. Just Wonwoo.” Wonwoo breaks into a smile. You’re unsure whether you like his laugh or his smile more, but both seem to make your cheeks heat up all the same. He reaches out his hand for you to shake, and you give yours back, curtsying in response.

You tell him your name as well, a blush on full display. “As I said, Wonwoo, I usually stay in. Not in my nature to court or be courted.”

“That’s a shame. I’m sure your company is surely missed.” His hand is still caressing yours, thumb rubbing up and down your palm softly.

A shopboy suddenly comes into view. You both separate quickly, the intimate bubble bursting at the intrusion. The boy stuffs the garments in Wonwoo’s hands and bows swiftly before going back to his duties.

“You must be hard to miss as well, Wonwoo.”

“Well, you could say that.” You both hear a horse neigh outside the shop doors, and Wonwoo barely fights the urge to stay with you. “Until the next time.” He says his goodbye and your name with determination. If only you could assure him there will be a future where you cross paths again, but that hope may be squashed as quickly as it was born. It wouldn’t hurt anyone to hold onto it, though.

“Not terrible,” Heejin says when you come home, running her hand over the material Miss Jae gave to you. “If Mother needs more yards of it, you’ll have to go back immediately before they run out.”

“Of course, sister,” you say. You hate to use that word for someone as vile as Heejin, but Stepmother Jung enforced the rule as strictly as the list of chores you were to complete before the sun set every day. “We must always be a family in the eyes of society,” Stepmother Jung told you once after your father passed. “Even if you will never be a part of this one, you have to play your role.” If only that role extended to social gatherings.

Minha looks over Heejin’s shoulder and smiles. “It’s a beautiful pattern.”

“That’s why it’s for me. Mother will give you one of my old gowns to wear,” Heejin tuts and pats Minha under the chin with her free palm. You know Heejin spares her worst behavior for you, but in your eyes, Heejin doesn’t deserve the title of sister in any form. Just as your stepmother has no business being a mother to anyone.

“You’re dismissed,” Heejin says to you, the hand that was under Minha’s face used to wave you off.

“Sister, if I may.” She grimaces at you, but a curious spark remains in her eyes. You think back to Wonwoo, plucking up every ounce of your confidence. “I was wondering if you may consider letting me attend as well. Stepmother may not let me go of her own volition, but if you told her you approved then maybe-”

“And why would I do that,” Heejin says. She knows exactly what you want, and the only way for her to entertain the idea is if you grovel.

“Because I have never asked anything of you before.”

“As you should.” Your stepmother’s figure and shadow encompass the entirety of Heejin’s bedroom doorway. You immediately lower your head; it’s one of the humiliating rules you have to obey in the wake of becoming the family servant. You hear Heejin snicker, but it’s cut off immediately by Stepmother Jung clearing her throat. “Your purpose in this household is to do what is asked of you without complaint or question, not the other way around. Asking for anything else is an insult to me and my daughters.”

You feel tears prick the back of your throat, but you hold onto your resolve with a steadfast grip. “Stepmother, I am begging you—”

“I do not know what is worse, girls,” Stepmother Jung says, addressing Heejin and Minha, “hearing someone beg for something that will never come true or seeing someone forget their place in this world.”

Your bottom lip quivers without your approval. You can only hope none of the other people in the room are paying attention to your despair. Heartbreakingly, it appears they don’t.

“Now, Heejin, we need to measure you again for your dress. I swear you grow an inch every time you require a fitting, dear girl. Minha, I know exactly which of Heejin’s dresses will look perfect on you.” She motions for you to look her in the eye, and you force the tears to evaporate. “As for you, you have chickens to feed.”

“Seungcheol, I told you already, the conversation is over.”

“That’s Prince Seungcheol to you, kid.” Seungcheol juts Wonwoo in the arm. The practice swords whip through the air as the birds sing throughout the courtyard. “And who’s to say a royal summons would embarrass her? Everyone is to attend the ball. Maid, mare, or otherwise.”

“She seemed certain she was not supposed to be there. I don’t want her to feel forced to do anything.” Wonwoo huffs as he lands a blow on Seungcheol’s hip.

“What good is it to be royalty if I cannot help a dear friend and the future Hand of the King find love?”

Wonwoo and Seungcheol grew up together due to their fathers’ stations, one bearing the crown and the other gaining the responsibility of advising him. Although Wonwoo had no place without Seungcheol’s family, they had become close in their own right. Once Seungcheol ascended his throne, Wonwoo knew he was to be standing beside him with the title his father had worn for most of his life. 

With that in mind, it seemed both Wonwoo and Seungcheol were on respective quests to find a bride to continue the long-held, individual legacies they were born into.

“All you have to do is smile and dance with every eligible woman in the next three kingdoms while I hope my mystery girl decides to step out of the shadows, unprompted and entirely by her choice.” 

Seungcheol scoffs, sweat on his brow from trying to find an open spot on Wonwoo to exploit. “You place high priority on a stranger’s independence and choice-making.”

Wonwoo blushes. His thoughts go back to the fabrics, the jasmine smell in the air, you walking into his life and halting his day in the best way possible. He wishes he had said more, learnt more about you, held your hand longer before he was whisked away back to his priorities. Now he could only hope you would find your way back to him, whether by fate or of your own free will.

With his thoughts occupied, Seungcheol takes the opportunity to knock Wonwoo in the shoulder. Seungcheol smiles triumphantly, biting his lip. “Finally, for fuck’s sake.”

Wonwoo chuckles. “You won’t beat me again, Choi.”

“Wanna bet?” Seungcheol jokes.

Wonwoo immediately thwacks Seungcheol’s sword out of his hand in response. The tip of Wonwoo’s meets the column of the prince’s throat, and he grins. “You should train more if you want to be half as good as me.”

Dust, sweep, clean. You repeat the list in your head with traces of melancholy in your heart. You weren’t expecting to be allowed to go to the ball without a fight, but Stepmother Jung was right. What was the point in fighting if you had no standing at all to barter with?

Minha calls your name, her appearance in the kitchen is like magic. You must’ve been too lost in your morose thoughts to notice her walk in. Or she seems to know how to sneak around the manor better than you do.

Her arms rest behind her back, concealing something. “I’m sorry,” she says immediately, surprising you.

“I cannot blame you for Heejin or your mother.” A part of you wishes you could be more cruel, but you’re certain you have little to no capacity to be, even to your worst enemy. “You have done nothing to require an apology.” 

“I have. You deserve to go to the ball as much as any of us do.” She looks over her shoulder for someone, or a lack thereof. Satisfied, she throws a lump of fabric on the kitchen island. You notice the bandages on Minha’s fingers with a quick glance before focusing on the dress. The turquoise material sparkles in the light of the stained glass windows. “So you will.”

“Minha, I can’t-” You feel the same tears coating the back of your throat again, grateful to her but incapable of accepting the gesture.

“You can. You were right when you said you’ve never asked for anything before. So don’t ask. Take the chance, and the dress, and go to the ball.”

With that, Minha disappears quietly from the room, leaving the decision in the air for you to either seize or surrender.

The main ballroom is filled with swathes of dancing couples alongside gossiping nobility and local townspeople. To a stranger walking in, it was a display of royal decadence, the party lit from within with the sounds of joyous laughter, heavenly harps, and gorgeous decor. To Wonwoo, it’s nothing out of the ordinary.

 Seungcheol and his parents sit in their royal chairs, the gleaming gold of the upholstery almost too polished for Wonwoo’s eyes. The young men share knowing glances when someone particularly obnoxious makes an entrance or wishes to greet the royal family. Wonwoo wishes he could joke with his best friend openly about the noble women’s copious frills and curly mops, but now is not the time or place.

Wonwoo’s father leaves the king’s side to pat his son on the back. “You did well with your part in this, Woo. Maybe you’ll be rewarded with finding someone to wed as well. Wouldn’t that be luck smiling on us all,” he says with a loving grin.

“I doubt that someone will show up.” Wonwoo frowns.

“Have faith, my boy.”

Like luck was indeed shining on him, Wonwoo looks up and sees you at the top of the stairs, horns blazing to signify your arrival. Even in a mask, he can tell it’s you from the skipping of his heart. With your hair in a loose bun, tendrils framing your face with precision, you look nothing like the girl he met in the dress shop yet the exact same. He wonders how the color blue had the capacity to take his breath away. It doesn’t help how the dress’s bodice hugs you perfectly, the bottom of the gown a cloud that Wonwoo wishes he could rest his head upon forever.

You fidget with the tops of your gloves that brush the neckline of your dress, the sleeves dropping loosely on your shoulders. Wonwoo wants to rush up the stairs to assure you there is no need to be nervous.You’re the most beautiful woman in this kingdom, tonight and always.

When you reach the bottom, everyone is looking at you, the mysterious stranger that nobody can recall or pinpoint. You hear murmurs as you pass, some predicting you’re a long lost relative of the prince or whispering of you being a foreign beauty. You laugh to yourself at their capacity to chat and how far they are from the truth.

You catch Minha’s eye from her corner of the room, Heejin and your stepmother sneering at you. Minha smiles, a silent cheer in her expression, and you respond with a mirrored grin.

You make it to the center of the room, the pathway cleared for you thanks to the shock and awe of the crowd. To your content, Wonwoo meets you halfway. A hush falls over the spectators when he meets you on the dance-floor, but you don’t care about their perceptions.

Wonwoo says your name and bows. You curtsy in response. Despite feeling out of place for half of your life, it seems instinctual now to be in this room. Not with the strangers surrounding you, but definitely with him. “My prince.” 

A look of shock over Wonwoo’s face, and he immediately laughs. “No, I-I— I should have told you before. I’m not—“

You place a hand to your mouth, the realization a flood. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize—”

“I didn’t tell you before, so I wouldn’t expect you to—”

“I did say I don’t attend many social gatherings.”

You both share a laugh, the confusion dissipating your embarrassment at your slipup. You notice a well-dressed young man that steals all the glances in the room away from you, the man you now know is the prince himself. He strides over to Minha, her expression a pale sheet. He takes her hand for the next song, which she gleefully accepts.

Wonwoo pulls your attention back to him with the taking of your hand in his. “May I ask you to dance?”

“I would be delighted.”

You sit on one of the many balconies in the royal castle, breathless. Your feet should hurt more than they do with the multitude of waltzes you danced with Wonwoo, but they don’t. You wouldn’t mind if every limb ached, though. With Wonwoo beside you, breathless as well from the night’s excursions, you feel light as air. Free from the obligations you never asked for.

If only you knew Wonwoo felt the same way. He could not remember the last time he smiled this much in one day. Seungcheol was his best friend, his father the biggest influence in his life, and yet both of them reminded him daily of what the future entailed. With you, he didn’t feel anything but ease. 

“What if they send a kingsguard looking for us?” Your mouth is upturned in a smile, but you know Wonwoo shouldn’t be gone too long from the events. He was of some royal standing, and he needed to be there, shaking hands and bowing to subjects.

Wonwoo furrows his brows, his smile mirroring yours. “Seungcheol is the one who needs the most protection tonight. And besides, it would take ten of the best men to pull me from this balcony.” He chuckles. “Right now, there’s no other place I’d rather be.”

You nod and sigh happily. Looking over the edge of the marble landing, you agree with him. The town square is visible from your vantage point, the torches and homes, big and small, specks of light celebrating the coronation. “It is a beautiful view.”

“Is it indeed,” Wonwoo says, his eyes pinned to you and the bare skin of your upper chest. Your skin looks lit from within, your entire being a star amongst a sea of darkness. It’s at this moment Wonwoo knows his father was right. Luck has given him the greatest gift and more, and he won’t let you get away again.

You turn your head. His words make your breath hitch, but you try to reserve yourself. You smile in response and take his hands in yours. Your bodies are closer than you initially realized, and the look in his eyes begs you to move further towards him. 

All your life, you have lived at the whims of others. As you see it, there’s nothing wrong with taking your power back. Choosing at this moment to throw other parts of your life out of focus. Wonwoo is all you want, so you take your chance.

His mouth softly collides with yours, his lips careful to press too hard onto yours. He presses one hand to your neck, deepening his kiss and igniting a fire inside your heart. Every insult or slight you’ve endured over the years seems to fade away in that instant. You’re grateful, even, if it meant it all led to the moment in front of you, a man who seems to share your feelings confirming so with a kiss you’ve never experienced before.

You break away from him, each others’ lips still centimeters away. Wonwoo inhales a shaky breath, eyes hazy with longing. The desire to kiss him again and hold him closer is strong, but timing proves the night can’t last forever.

Your stepmother’s carriage suddenly comes to the front of the palace, and you feel your stomach fall.

You quickly step back from Wonwoo and take a breath, nerves spiking and your heart telling you to defy your head at this moment. It would be so easy to stay here and not look back, but the fallout would be too incredible to bear. And you wouldn’t wish that on this beautiful man in front of you.

“I must go,” you say, a sob caught in your throat.

“Please don’t leave. It’s only midnight,” Wonwoo insists, squeezing your hand. In the same fashion as the day you first met, he’s rubbing circles into your palm, almost like an incantation. With his words and his touch, maybe he can convince you.

Unfortunately, your choices can’t be that easily swayed when so much is on the line.

“I told you before Wonwoo. My life isn’t filled with parties like this,” you reply, tone wavering, “or people like you.” You take his hand in both of yours and press a kiss to the knuckles. “But I’ll cherish this forever.”

Before the pleading look on his face breaks your resolve, you gather your skirts in your hand and run.

You run down the staircase Wonwoo brought you up only moments before.  He calls out your name,  but you refuse to look back now, knowing it will break you to look into his eyes and walk away again if need be. You feel yourself fading the further you run away from him and out of his life.

It’s true, you’ll never forget him or the way he’s made you feel. But it’s also true that it is terrible to forget one’s role in the world. How does one witness all the colors of the world and accept going back to living in black and white?

Little did you know the paper you carried in your skirt's pocket had fallen out on the way out of the palace. Wonwoo looks through the forest lining the castle and curses, you disappearing successfully in the darkness. 

Before he can walk back into the ballroom, he notices the aged paper on the brick steps of the stairs. He unfurls it and reads the handwritten text. He exhales with relief, feeling in his gut he has found the key to finding you again.

No matter where he has to look, whether it’s beside a babbling brook or the highest castle on the far side of the ocean, he promises himself the next time he sees you he will make sure you stay by his side forever.

You feel the sticks and twigs scrape your arms and legs as you run into the forest, the fabric of your dress in ribbons by the time you make it home. Thankfully, you don’t see the coach or footmen anywhere in the distance.

Once you’re inside, you discard the clothes and makeup into the cellar’s hearth. Each item burns slowly, reminding you with every new cinder of your harsh welcome back to the reality you’re familiar with.  The smock you quickly tied around your waist and the soot you smeared across your face to avoid suspicion. The calluses on your palms from the endless, menial work. Your pliable acceptance of cruelty.

It’s all you’ve known, but it feels foreign at the same time. You don’t want to go back to your routine now that you’ve had a taste of what life could be.

Your stepmother and stepsisters waltz into the foyer. Minha looks starry-eyed and love-swept, all of which relate back to her dallying with the prince.

“I can’t believe he danced with me but was looking at you the entire time,” Heejin sneers at Minha, removing her gloves with tense fingers.

You smile to yourself, happy Heejin was knocked down from her high horse and the tides turned in Minha’s favor.

“The good thing is that the prince showed one of you attention, my love.” Your stepmother splays her fur coat out on the loveseat, your cue to immediately scoop it up to carry to the coat closet.

“Tomorrow you need to clean inside the cupboards. I noticed they were a tad dusty,” Heejin says before you can walk out of the room. Your heart was heavy before, but now it’s numbed and frozen to the habitual torture.

"Of course, sister."

Wonwoo rubs his fingers over the page’s text as his father interrogates the young girl in front of them. Seungcheol sits back in his throne beside the king’s chair, curious if this is the girl his best friend whisked away four nights prior.

Wonwoo’s father plucks the writing from Wonwoo’s hand and gives it to the knight. The knight hands it to the girl, her face doe-eyed and timid. “Is this writing familiar to you in any way?”

She looks down to the floor and shakes her head. “No, Lord Hand.”

She didn’t look familiar at all to Wonwoo, just like the last dozen women who came before his father and the prince.

Seungcheol’s idea to find Wonwoo’s mystery girl by interrogating every noble and common girl in the kingdom sounded stupid the second Wonwoo heard it. But with the king’s approval and the hand’s enthusiasm to find his child a bride, the plan was enacted.

Now, in paper and practice, Wonwoo feels more defeated the longer they continue. The only thing that gives him solace is the paper he found, his only connection to you keeping him grounded.

The girl bows for Wonwoo and the royal figures in front of her before being escorted away from the great hall. Wonwoo’s father hands the paper back to his son and sighs.

“I feel we are much closer,” his father says to lighten the mood.

Wonwoo laughs sadly. “It seems you’re the only one who feels that way.”

Seungcheol stands from his chair and pats his friend on the back, his version of a hug. “Closer or further, we’ll do whatever we must,” Seungcheol says to Wonwoo’s father.

Wonwoo’s father exits, a handful of knights marching behind him.

Seungcheol puts a hand on Wonwoo’s shoulder. He looks at his best friend with sincerity, a vulnerability he rarely shared with anyone. “You cannot lose hope now.”

Wonwoo nods. “That’s not what I’m afraid of losing. The longer this search continues, the more I feel our chance slipping away.”

Wonwoo traces the familiar pattern of the words with his thumb, the lost paper the one thing holding him steady.

You rifle through the documents you’ve held onto over the years, fear triggering the tremble in your hands. You had brought the dress home from the ball and immediately threw it in the fire. If you had accidentally discarded one of your father’s most precious letters along with the items you burned that night, you’d never forgive yourself.

You hear a horse-drawn carriage outside of the manor and the shrill wail of Heejin calling your name. It stamps down your anxiety enough for you to focus on following the sound.

Walking into the room, you see your stepmother lacing up Heejin’s corset while Heejin is putting a dab of rouge on both cheeks. “The royal carriages are outside!”

You gulp and nod at your sister, unsure what she wants from you.

She exhales with an angry breath and motions for you to go upstairs. “Get my shoes, you idiot!”

Minha stands at the top of the stairs and looks at you sadly. “I could’ve gotten them for you if you just asked, Hee.”

“Like you could do any better,” Heejin remarks. Her voice becomes airy when your stepmother reaches the final inch of tightening on Heejin’s corset. You run up the stairs to quickly follow your orders.

You squeeze Minha’s hand as you pass her to walk towards Heejin’s room. When you find the slippers and place them on your stepsister’s feet, someone knocks on the door forcefully.

Minha and Heejin stand in the center of the room as your stepmother walks up to the front door. You run back down to the cellar. 

Typically you would answer the door for company, but you knew your stepmother wouldn’t want the royalty welcomed by the unbecoming help.

Regardless, your heart thumps furiously at the sound of the stranger at the door delivering his greeting. And you can only wonder what will occur because of his presence.

Wonwoo waits in the carriage as the knight addresses the lady of the house. Wonwoo vaguely remembers his name and feels guilty for not keeping it to memory. Mingyu, was it not?

The lady of the house, her mouth a permanent grimace, nods and opens the door wide for the company to come inside. Wonwoo’s father steps out and Wonwoo follows behind him. Seungcheol exits his own carriage as well.

They all enter the manor, and Heejin can’t help her squeal at the prince’s presence in their home. Wonwoo stifles an eye-roll, keeping his mind focused on business.

As soon as Seungcheol locks eyes with Minha, he smiles. “My lady,” Seungcheol says, striding over to her to bend down and kiss her hand. Minha’s cheeks turn a deep scarlet, but she bows accordingly and smiles.

“‘My p-prince,” Minha stutters.

Heejin sneers at her younger sister, but the prince is too enamored with the young woman in front of him to pay any attention to her.

Wonwoo’s father coughs, redirecting everyone’s attention to him. “Madam Jung, our records indicate there are four residents in this manor. So, to be correct, outside of the three of you here now—”

Madam Jung giggles uncomfortably. “Forgive me, Lord Hand, I have not been to the registrar in some time. Those records must be outdated.”

“So, the third child referenced in these documents-”

 “Took ill some time ago. Again, an oversight caused by immense grief, I assure you.” The words leave her mouth instinctually. Wonwoo feels the confidence in her words and how false it is. From the conduct of her oldest daughter, he’s not surprised lies and negativity are commonplace in the household.

A rumble from the below startles both the women and Wonwoo’s father. The knights instinctively grab the hilts of their swords, but to no danger, a girl covered in ashes from the hearth saunters into the center of the foyer, tears streaming down her face and fists clenched.

In that second, Wonwoo feels he could cry as well.

He wants to run over to you and kiss the tears from your face, squeeze you tight, and get down on his knee in front of everyone in the room. The weight of the ring box in his pocket reminds him of what he has wanted to do since you left him alone that night. He inhales a deep breath, both elated and terrified at once, wondering what is going through your mind at the sight of him here.

I’ll never let you go again, he thinks with steadfast certainty.

Wonwoo comes back to reality when he realizes you’re stomping towards your stepmother. You have barely noticed anyone else’s presence in the room besides hers, and he’s sure you heard every word of her lies from the cellar. The pain on your face is a mixture of incredulity and anger. The emotions are knotted together in the expression on your dampened face.

“How dare you,” you whisper, lips quivering but voice solid as a stone.

“How dare I-” Your stepmother starts, but you raise a hand to her. She blanches. Surely she’s shocked to see this side of you rear its head.

“My whole life, the only act of kindness you’ve shown me is pretending I didn’t exist, in spite of my father’s love for both of us. And now, after everything, to wish me dead…” 

You muster what is left of your strength to continue. “I’m unsure what I did to deserve such hatred in this family, but all I’ve ever wanted was to belong. Was that worth me being punished for this long, mother?” The word tastes like venom on your tongue. It prickles the flesh on your arms to call her such a title, but spitting it back at her with vitriol makes a part of your anger subside.

“You w-will not speak to me like that in my own home, you l-little pest,” she stutters. To your satisfaction, her insults have no weight now.

“This house could be eaten by the hearth, for all it’s worth. It’s no home of mine anymore,” you say.

Done with her and your speech, you begin to walk away. You stop short at the audience in front of you, failing to recognize their presence before. You bow to the Hand and Prince Seungcheol, but you freeze instantly when you see Wonwoo barely ten feet away.

A burden lifts from your heart when your eyes meet. Suddenly, the two of you are in each others’ arms, the pain you felt prior a vague memory.

“I knew I would find you,” he whispers, placing a kiss on the top of your head. He cups your cheeks with his hands, some of the soot scraping off onto his fingers.

You smile wide. What could you say to encompass the feeling of seeing him again? No words would do the sensations justice.

Wonwoo continues before you can respond. “Like the stars you look to above.”

Hearing your father’s words on his lips makes your heart swell. Of course he had the letter. It had to be fate. It was meant to be lost and then found by the man you fell in love with so easily.

“Follow your faith home, and you shall find my love,” you finish, biting your lip to hold yourself back from weeping more.

Unable to stop himself, he presses his lips to yours. He steals the smile on your mouth for himself, his mouth turns into a grin through the kiss. Even when you separate, your foreheads remain touching. 

You had been led to believe, through years of darkness and cruelty, dreams couldn’t come true. And now, with a full heart, you realize love can make every dream come true if you believe.

[lucrativesoul]

The Neighbor

summary: you just moved into a new condominium and have the pleasure of meeting your new, older neighbor, Leon. instantly, you are smitten, and he wants to know more about you. oh, and you work as an online cam model.

pairing: id!leon kennedy x fem!reader

word count: 7.3k

warnings: smut, fingering, masturbation, turning leon into an obedient little boy

a/n: take a shot every time i use a boring title... this plot came to me in a dream. of course, i immediately had to turn it into a leon story. sorry for being gone so long! life has been crazy for me. don't worry, i'm still here and trying to think up new ideas! help is always welcome. I'm still getting love on my other fics which is soo appreciated. i hope you all enjoy this one, and i will be back with another!

You were exhausted from the day, and you had to take a moment to splay yourself out on your floor, taking in your new environment. You worked to bring yourself here, so you will enjoy it however you please for the moment.

You found yourself in a new location, able to move out of your one bedroom apartment into a large condo, with the addition of a loft and second bedroom. Surely you knew it was more than you needed, but the satisfaction of knowing you could make this price back easily was too much to resist. 

Pushing yourself up onto your hands, legs still stretched outward on the carpet, you grazed your eyes over the large boxes you had spent all day moving into this room. You had friends helping you all day with furniture and other boxes, but these you knew you had to take care of by yourself, in case one of them accidentally opened. Yes, your closest friends knew what you did for work, but you would prefer to keep it to your small circle. 

Taking a deep breath, you pushed yourself up onto your feet, immediately getting to unpacking and setting this room up. You were sitting on a small stockpile of content to post white you were in the process of setting up, which you did warn your audience about and were slowly posting your way through, but you were too eager to put this room to use. It made you want to turn on the camera at the mere thought.

Two hours later, the sun was now kissing the tips of the trees and the sky was golden. The windows all around were open, cooling you off, and before you could comfortably retire for the night, you had one last touch to your filming room.

You reached into the final box, intending to pull out the tripod, but seeing the box empty. 

“What the…” You mumbled to yourself, looking around the room. You knew it was the last box, and were sure you didn't already take it out. You signed, almost a groan. “Fuck.” At least this would be the real final trip to the car.

The air felt nice on your heated skin, and with every passing minute it got darker. You popped open your trunk, rifling through the miscellaneous bags that were littered back there, probably with shoes and clothes that you could take in later. The tripod was buried underneath them.

Closing the trunk, you were about to stalk back inside when a figure off to the left made you jump. A man was standing by the street, headed your way.

You almost ran for it. You had your anxieties related to doing what you do, but you kept very cautious, and knew no one except your friends knew where you were located. Plus, there were units all around. You had to assume this was a neighbor.

“Hey, I’m sorry, I didn't mean to scare you.” You shook your head in an it’s alright response. A man with a medium build and a few inches on you walked over, and stopped a few feet from your car. At least he had the decency to keep distance. “I live right next to you. I was watching everyone bring boxes in earlier, please know I would have helped if I wasn’t home for only an hour in between my shifts. I’m Leon,” He held his hand out to you, you shook it, and responded with your own name.

“No, please don’t worry. We were totally good with help, there were almost too many people in there.” You giggled lightly, no longer feeling an intimidation off of him. “One day was all we needed. I’m sure I’ll be unpacking for months to come though.”

He chuckled. “That’s how I was when I was younger too, I moved a few times and put all my friends on an unpaid job to move and pack for me, saved me a ton of time, but that was the last time I trusted them to not lose any of my things.” In the last wisps of sunlight, you could see the golden light bouncing off his hair, long-ish, almost fell over one of his eyes, but cropped behind the ears. Stubble framed his strong chin. Good to know I have an attractive neighbor.

“I was keeping a very careful watch over them, trust me.” You shifted on your feet, recognizing the feeling creeping up inside of you. The urge to bare yourself for your audience, the innocent look in this man’s eyes, but your thoughts were forcing his face into itself. You almost felt guilty, you were sure Leon’s family would not appreciate these thoughts. “Glad I got to meet you, though, better sooner than later, so I can feel familiar with at least one person so far.” You looked towards his house, kitchen light on. “Hopefully I can meet your… um, wife?” An audible question on the last word, you could only assume he was old enough to be married.

He laughed stronger this time, but not at you. He shook his head. “It’s just me.” He said softly. His eyes grazed down to what you were holding this whole time. “You’re a photographer?”

You looked down, remembering what you had come out here for. “Oh, um… not really, I… make content. Like, youtube.” It was the safest option that you could throw out on the table, definitely not about to air out your business to this man you just met a minute ago. You were suddenly glad your filming room didn’t have any connecting walls to his space. 

“Hey, that’s cool, I can’t say I’m familiar with that profession, but I can imagine it's more fun than a 9-5.” Oh, it definitely is, you thought. “I don’t want to keep you out here, go get settled, I’m sure it was a long day.” He took a step backward, but his eyes didn’t leave yours. “If you ever need something, I’m here. Don’t be shy.” With a greeting, he disappeared into his house, and you soaked in the air to cool your skin before you knew you would be heating up again in due time.

–

Nothing but waves of bliss racked your body. It was exactly how you planned on ending this night.

You can’t really recall when you made this decision to switch from your original career path to this. A basic, calm life just wasn't what you were looking for. You liked the thrill, you liked doing what you shouldn’t be, and baring yourself online to hundreds of strangers was the furthest thing from your old path of being a teacher. Naturally, it attracted you, and it took over your life. You were always rational about it, no one on your page knew what you looked like, and you always found that ironic, how you felt so comfortable showing anonymous people you masturbating, but got nervous at the idea that they knew who you were. You didn’t care, though. It put you in this new home.

You closed down your stream with many thanks and gifts from your audience, and simply laid there for a moment, cooling down and catching your breath. Your phone showed it was 10:33 PM. You probably could have gone for much longer, but the day was finally catching up to you, and after a shower, you knew you would be sleeping instantly.

What you hadn’t expected, however, was the immediate dreams about your older neighbor, whom you had just met hours before.

You felt his large hands over your waist, on your neck, pulling you in to be closer to him. His body enveloped yours, the heat between you two spreading, his soft mouth gracing the skin of your neck, and you ached to be with him. The touch was so real, you were melting under him. You needed him to keep touching you, you felt him all over you. With every inch he moved his hands, you felt fuller by the second, ready to explode if he told you to. 

You rolled over, face hitting the pillow, the last of his touch fading off of your skin. You sighed deeply, annoyed that this dream put you in this mood first thing in the morning, not even a chance to wake up.

Pushing your dream aside, you still had a ton of work to do in your new home. Boxes were still laid about everywhere, and it felt like it would never come together at all. Now or never, and you dragged yourself out of bed.

–

The evening was already closing in, and you stood in your opened garage, breaking down the boxes that no longer needed to serve its purpose. You had gotten more done than you were expecting, and subconsciously, every time you stepped outside to dispose of more cardboard, your eyes darted sideways to your neighbor's house. You hadn’t seen his car when he walked over last night, probably parking in his own garage, so you had no idea if he was home right now. You didn’t risk staring, as you could only assume the dark windows meant he was working. It at least gave you a little peace of mind while you worked.

Your phone started ringing a few seconds later. Seeing your friend’s name, you sighed, grateful for a moment of relief. Typically, these moments turned into an hour or two, but you weren’t complaining, you had done enough organizing today.

As predicted, you spent the next thirty minutes leaning against your car and chatting with your friend, who, yes you had just seen yesterday, but still had more to say. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw headlights pull down the street to your unit, and swung in and disappeared next door. Your stomach involuntarily lurched, being nervous to see Leon again.

You weren’t sure why, the interaction you had yesterday was nothing extreme, was barely anything at all, and the dream lasted a minute at most. It couldn’t have been anything besides the dream, it felt all too real for you to just forget it happened. Now, you knew, you were cursed with this knowledge that you had a sex dream about this man. 

You watched as the garage door shut behind his car, let out a sigh, and changed the topic of conversation.

“Okay… something odd happened last night.” You spoke to your friend, keeping your voice low.

“Odd? Oh god, it’s not haunted, right?”

You rolled your eyes. “No, it’s not haunted. I met my neighbor.”

You heard your friend gasp. “Oh, my god, and he's totally hot, right?” You could hear the fake voice she was putting on. “This is just like a lifetime movie. The hot neighbor, the little shy girl.”

“Shy girl? Where are you getting these ideas about me?” You smiled as you heard her laugh. “But, no, you’re like, right. He is hot. I don’t know how old he is, but definitely way older than me. I said I would look forward to meeting his wife, too, but he said it was just him. He was literally in my dream last night. I don't know what’s come over me.” You sighed, peeking to your left again.

“Woah, so, what I’m hearing is you’re making a movie with him.”

You scoffed. “Are you kidding me? I am not telling him. This is way past his time. He probably thinks it’s whore-ish.”

“Gotta prove him wrong, though.”

You pondered it, but knew it was no use trying to think it into reality. This was the one thing you knew you couldn’t tell anybody, they might say it doesn’t bother them, but it always did. Leon was nice enough to introduce himself the day you moved in, and waiting even any amount of time to tell him what you do would be a huge mistake. Better to let him keep thinking you did youtube-type content.

“Thanks for the idea. I’m definitely not taking your advice.”

–

You were standing in your kitchen, washing the few plates you used for your own dinner when the doorbell ringing out through the home made you jump. It was probably a friend, but you were confused at the lack of warning before showing up. At least you weren’t upstairs.

Opening the door, you were stunned in a momentary silence when none other than Leon was standing at your doorstep, one hand in his pocket, the other holding his mail. 

“Oh, hi Leon, I thought you were one of my friends.” You opened the door wider, but stayed planted, letting him stay outside.

“I guess I don’t have a great track record for not scaring you so far.” He smiled and tilted his head gently, and you responded with a smile. “I got some of your mail by accident. Couldn’t open your mailbox back up so, just thought I’d bring it by since I saw your light on.” You reached out and took an envelope from him, realizing it was from your cam company. Your stomach twisted for a moment, but you just hoped he didn’t recognize the name.

“Oh, thank you, I hope you won’t be making this trip too often for just that, then.” You lowered your hand, and suddenly remembered a problem you encountered earlier in the day. “Actually, Leon, since you are here, do you think you could help me quickly? I was trying to put things into my kitchen cabinets, and I accidentally pushed something too far back, and I can’t reach it now.” You bowed your head bashfully.

“Yeah, of course, lead the way.”

You stepped aside to let him in, and after shutting the door, walked through the hall into the kitchen. You pointed up to the cabinet above the refrigerator, instructing Leon on what you needed to be pulled forward. You stepped back, watching.

He acted like it was nothing, while you had struggled to even reach it in the first place. With one hand bracing himself on the counter top, he reached up. Your eyes were instantly drawn to the hem of his shirt, which lifted with his body movements, and you were in a trance immediately. His waistband was sitting just a hair below the band of his underwear, which sat delicately on his hips. You could see the curve of the muscle along his torso, clearly evident that he works out or has an active job, and from the side, the thin hairs of his happy trail were showing, disappearing into his pants. It lasted for all of a few seconds, but it burned in your brain. It was all you needed.

When you looked up, hoping to cut yourself off, Leon was already looking at you. You had no words, hoping he had something to say, knowing he for sure saw you staring.

“Easy fix. Try not to push it too far back all the time.” He turned around, giving you a lingering glance, a small grin on his face. You followed him back to the door. “Unless you just need more excuses to talk to me besides a mail mix up.” You nodded, standing at the threshold while he hopped down the stairs, turning his head and throwing a wink at you before disappearing. It took another ten seconds of collecting yourself before you could shut the door behind him.

–

It was not long at all before you saw Leon again, you couldn't resist needing to see him. There was no way he didn’t catch you staring when you invited him in, there was no chance he couldn’t tell the way you were looking at him. God, you barely knew the man but there was something about him that made your stomach stir. You were thinking about him while filming your content, the thought of him made you finish harder than you had ever made yourself finish before. You teased the thought of filming with him, even, and that had you weak. You knew he would never do it, whatever he did for work, it was probably much more legit to society than yours was.

You had invited him to come over tonight for drinks a few days ago. He was on his way out as you were on the way in, and decided to rip the bandaid off and invite him over to spend time with you. What brought this on? Nothing except the onslaught of thoughts of him, and a little convincing from your best friend, of course.

Taking a shot in the dark, you had on a small black dress. It was casual enough to be worn around company, but styled so it read obviously as, we’re drinking at my house and I need you to look at my body. You hoped the message would be received. 

The nerves were starting to boil up, and he wasn't even in your house yet. You unscrewed the nearest bottle of clear liquor and threw back a shot, needing to warm up your system and shut down your nervous response. It wasn’t going to be a big deal, he’s just the neighbor.

There was no time for the shot to kick in before knocking was heard through your quiet home. Swallowing the heartbeat rapidly rising in your throat, you stalked over to the door and swung it open.

Leon was casual, but looking the same as he did the night you met him. Nothing about it deterred you, it only drove your inner lust even further.

“Not too early, right?” Leon grinned as you slid aside for him to enter.

“Not at all. Maybe even late, I’m a few drinks ahead already.” He laughed as he followed you, and you were hyper aware of the way your body was moving throughout your house. You grabbed a glass and offered him what you have, and sat next to him at your island, facing him with a wine glass in hand.

“What do you do for work, by the way? All I remember is you mentioning your odd hours.” You took a sip as he started answering you.

“I work with the government, technically. I used to be a lot more active when I was younger, but now They have me just go in whenever they need me. Used to be a lot of physical work, but I’m not that good anymore.” He had a shy grin on his face and lowered his gaze into his glass.

“What? You’re kidding, You still look like you’d be perfectly fit for an active job. I don’t believe that.”

He looked up and made eye contact with you. “I’m glad you think so, someday I’ll have to prove it to you.” A lapse of silence, for once the alcohol didn’t give you a prompt to respond with. Leon was still looking into your eyes, and you felt a heat rising in your chest. He straightened up suddenly. “You know, I’m curious how similar this unit is to my own, I’ve never been in any of them. Tour?” He grinned, and you slid off your seat after a giggle.

You walked into the dining room. “Still empty, obviously, I probably won’t ever use this, I like eating in my kitchen more.” Leon kept his drink in hand as you two walked. You left the dining room and down the short hall into the living room. “Maybe one of my favorite rooms, I love looking up into the loft.” You both looked up to the high ceilings and the loft railing to the left.

“Let’s go up there.” He lowered his gaze from the loft to you. You felt your stomach twist momentarily, knowing exactly what was up there, but you couldn’t say no, that would make it all the more suspicious. You nodded after a second, leaving the living room and turning left to take the stairs. You could feel his eyes on you, your body felt hot, and you hoped to god that you shut the door when you were done last night.

At the landing, you sighed with relief, seeing the closed door. You needed to make sure it stayed shut.

“This is just… storage, really. Since my room is downstairs and I don’t have much stuff.” You walked further down the landing, gesturing to your left as you did so. “And the bathroom. Is this similar at all to yours?”

Leon approached you. “It actually is, just a little different. I guess I should have expected that.” He let out a low chuckle, and you mirrored him. You turned back to the railing, looking down into your living room.

“Once I think I’m really settled, I’m probably going to paint these tall walls. I really love the idea of a dark space, hopefully the office will sign off on a dark color, you know how they are sometimes.” After no immediate answer, you continued. “It’s crazy moving into this space, my old apartment was like… the size of my entryway, so I barely have anything to fill it here, but I have high hopes.” Lost in your daydreaming, the silence snapped you out of it. Leon was not standing next to you like you thought.

Turning your head to the right, you found him standing in the doorway of your filming room, which he had cracked open and flicked a light on inside.

“Leon!” You could only stand there as he remained still, looking into the room, hand on the doorknob. When he turned his head to look at you, he was grinning.

“Sorry to pry.” He stalked back over to you, not bothering to close the door. “I get curious sometimes.” You stared at him with wide eyes, no words coming to your head. “You make… youtube videos?” 

You could practically hear the light goading in his tone, the smile still on his face. You didn’t need to look into the room to know what he saw, and now he knows you were lying. 

You weren’t exactly the tidiest person, especially when it comes to this room. While you are on camera, you shed your clothes and lingerie and toss them off to the side, and usually don’t pick them up until the next day. You were no stranger to using toys during performances, and you were sure there were plenty of those lying about on the floor as well. You couldn’t see them, but you knew you used them last night, and don’t remember putting them away after cleaning them.

You struggled to think of something to say, the silence was stretching thin now, and you hated looking so… guilty. His grin was growing by the second. It was making your stomach churn.

“I… never actually said youtube.” You sputtered.

He chuckled, a low, throaty sound that almost made you weak. “No, I suppose you didn’t. So, what kind of videos then?” He tilted his head, obviously knowing the state he is putting you in right now.

You took a deep breath in, tying together all of your courage to maintain eye contact with him. Quickly, you assessed the situation. One: He liked what he was doing to you. He seemed entertained by the embarrassment he was bringing you right now, much to your annoyance that you would deal with later. Two: He caught you staring at his body the other night when you asked him for help. He didn't say anything at the time, but you locked eyes right after you were staring at his muscle ridges, and he had that same shit-eating grin on his face. Three: He was not deterred by the idea of you doing this for a job, in fact, it seemed like he enjoyed the idea, just as much as he enjoyed teasing you.

After these brief thoughts, you forced yourself to spit out words that you never would have otherwise.

“Would you let me show you?”

Leon’s head slowly straightened, and the grin melted from his features, but his eyes never left yours, and the fervor in them only grew stronger. His dark gaze pierced into you, and you felt it straight in your heat, and in that moment, you knew you had your answer to that question.

With the hand that was free from your drink, and eyes never leaving his, you took Leon’s into your own, the rough, warm skin heating your fingers and palm, and you walked past him into your filming room, and you heard him close the door behind you.

You turned around, wasting no time in ridding your hands of both of your drinks, and you stared at him again for a moment. You couldn't help the shaky inhale, overwhelmed with the absolute excitement of getting to do this right now. You took a step towards him, lifting your hand up and gently placing it on his cheek, pulling him in for a kiss.

He immediately responded to the touch, his lips pressing into yours. His hand snaked around your hips, pulling you in closer, and you could feel his torso on yours, the heat radiating, adding to your burn. You could feel his grip, and by the mere workings of his mouth alone, you could tell he wanted this just as much as you did. 

He backed you up a step, pushing you further into your room, feeling the plush carpet underneath your feet, knowing he was most likely going to try and attempt to lower you onto your bean bag behind you, but you had other plans. 

Right before Leon could lift your legs to set you down, you stood up straight, breaking away from his mouth with a thin saliva string. He looked caught off guard, mid-lean into a kiss, opening his eyes to watch your moves with confusion.

“Sit down.” You whispered loud enough for him to hear. He obeyed your request, sitting on the plush bean bag looking eager. You sunk onto your knees in front of him, watching as he leaned forward with anticipation. You gave in to one last urge– you leaned in and kissed him briefly– before leaning back, supporting yourself on your hands and your legs presented in front of you. You watched as his stare worked all the way down your body, over your chest, onto your legs, in between them. You were sure your lingerie was on display under your dress by this point, but this was the exact reason you put it on. 

“I want to show you my favorite kind of video to make.” You spoke without shame to him, wanting to see the reaction you can pull out of him. You could swear you saw him visibly swallow at your words, aching to see what you were going to show him. “You’re going to listen to me, okay?” He locked eyes with you, deep and sultry, and slowly nodded. “And you aren’t going to touch me until I tell you to.” He audibly sighed at this, both frustrated and turned on by the idea of only getting to watch. You felt slick gathering, stomach in a knot still, all too excited about the show you were about to put on.

“Tell me what kind of videos you think I make, now.” You never broke eye contact, but he wasn't ashamed to let his own eyes roam. You could tell they were glued onto the black panties plastered onto your wet pussy.

He sighed, and shuddered quickly. “You probably show yourself off to a whole audience.” He tilted his head, looking further into you. “Do you play with yourself on camera?” 

You leaned forward, shielding your core from his gaze, and he met your eyes. You pulled your legs under you, sitting up on your knees, slowly peeling your dress off your body from the bottom hem, bringing it over your head. Despite being momentarily blinded, you knew he was looking at every inch of exposed skin. The tiny matching bra didn’t leave much for imagination, your nipples clearly on display under the mesh fabric.

The dress was thrown behind you without grace, and you returned to your position in front of Leon. He was practically sliding off of the bean bag, wanting to touch you all over, but listening to your earlier command. 

“Did you think someone like me could do something like that?”

In between rapid heavy breathing, he replied, “I… I don’t know. I do now. Your body is incredible. You could.” 

“Would you watch me?” He nodded, spitting out a few ‘yes’s. “What would you want to see me do? I usually do what people ask me to do.” You slowly leaned in closer, bringing your face just under his, waiting to see if he would move. You backed up again, scooting backwards on the floor, and with a gesture of come closer with your finger, he followed, sitting on the floor now, still not touching you. 

“I would want you to take it all off. I want to see your body.” You giggled at his request.

“I could make that work… eventually.” He groaned at this, and you couldn't help but smile even more. “What else? Tell me.”

He sighed again, still locked in a stare with all your bare skin. “I want to see you play with yourself. I want to see you finger yourself… and play with your clit.”

You felt a sharp sensation travel straight to said clit at these words, and your thighs quivered with anticipation. You were sure you got your dominating point across– as dominating as you could stand to be in this situation. Leon was struggling, visibly, at that, and you were, too, but you were enjoying this too much to want to stop.

“Would you be touching yourself while I fingered myself?” Your legs fell open wider at the knees, feeling your folds peel apart. You needed contact there, but you could wait. 

Leon nodded. ”I would. I wouldn’t be able to help it.” Only at this moment did you decide to divert your gaze, leaving his sculpted face to look at his crotch, an obvious erection straining against his pants, and his face almost contorted in pain from the pressure of it. 

“Do you want to touch yourself now?” 

He groaned again, his head rolling to the side. “So bad… I want to touch you so bad.”

You took a moment to examine the state of this grown man in front of you. You didn’t even know his age, but he was at least more than ten years older than you. He was practically begging for you to do something, for you to let him do something, sitting on your floor, falling apart at the seams, probably going to cum in his pants if you exposed yourself to him right now. You almost wanted to see it happen.

You held out your left hand to him. “Give me a hand.”

He wasted no time in outstretching his right hand to you, and once you had it in your grasp, you leaned forward and closed your mouth around his middle and right finger. Even just the contact of your tongue on his hand was enough to have him writhing, wanting more but not asking for it. Your tongue circled each finger individually, both at the same time, biting lightly to tease him. He was leaning as far forward as his body would allow without crashing into your body, and you couldn’t remove your eyes from his face, pleasure written all over it.

You were in full performing mode now, but this was a whole new level, giving you the added adrenaline for the moment. You knew exactly how to seduce, and while that had never been a problem for you, you felt like a professional right now with the way Leon was falling for you.

With one last long lick to his fingers, you removed his hand from your mouth and held it out in front of you. “You get to touch me, I want you to finger me,” His eyebrows furrowed for a split second, relieved at hearing those words. “But you can only use this hand.” He came even closer, but didn’t touch you yet. You still held his hand in yours. “Okay?”

“Okay…” He whispered breathily, and without even blinking, he watched as you propped yourself up onto your knees and pulled your underwear off of your body, casting them aside, and resuming position.

Your heart thrummed erratically in your chest as you felt totally in control of what Leon could do to you right now, you felt like you might die. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from your naked core, fucking you with his stare, and you felt that twist in your gut again, wanting to make it happen, but needing to show him who was in charge. 

He sighed, sounding like he was, too, having a hard time holding himself together, and he didn’t waste another second before you felt his hand make contact with your aching pussy.

It started with the pad of his thumb, you almost bucked your hips up in relief at the feeling of him pressing firmly into your clit, you allowed yourself to shakily exhale at the feeling of being touched, but you kept your half lidded eyes trained on Leon.

He tentatively rubbed circles into your sensitive bud, and you softly whined at the contact, not letting your guard down while he worked your sweet spot. He had his head still tilted, eyes flicking in between your core and your face, and every time he looked up, you held contact, and silently egged him on. After a few more circles, and eliciting more whines from you, he ran his spit-slick fingers over the length of your opening, you sighed, needing him inside of you. Without removing his thumb, he pressed the tips of his two fingers into you, pushing past the resistance, and both of you sighed in tandem when they were in all the way.

You rolled your head back slightly, enough to still be able to watch him, to make sure he wasn't going to disobey your orders. He was breathing heavily as he worked his fingers into you, making sure to deliver you the utmost pleasure, and also seeming to be pleasured from it himself. You could see the twitching of his cock through his jeans, and you were dying to get your hand on it, dying to get his own hands on it. You wanted, you suddenly decided, to get the both of you off at just the work of himself. 

Watching him now, you knew it would happen, he was about to release all over the inside of his pants if he kept this up, if any more lewd whimpers and moans spilled from your lips, he would be finished. He seemed like the type of man to do more than one round, and you could definitely put that to the test.

Leon crooked his fingers upward in you, causing you to lose monetary control of your body, and your hips bucked upward slightly. You were fighting against it, but you used it to your advantage, using it to see exactly how your pleasure would affect Leon. He groaned at the way you writhed for him, writhed because of him, and he shifted his legs, allowing his denim to be the source of his own friction. You almost felt sorry for him, if only you didn’t enjoy seeing him so submissive for you.

Wanting to get the words out, they caught in your throat as he continued twisting his fingers and hitting every spot inside of you that had your legs trembling, and you could feel that you were close. His thumb was still pouring over your clit, making it harder to stay held together. 

“Leon…” You moaned out. He looked up at you sinfully, understanding the way he was affecting you, but not halting his movements to hear you speak. You didn’t command him to stop, so he kept going. “You make me feel so good…” You whimpered again, letting him work you loose. “Listen to me, keep going,” He followed those orders, still watching you. “I want you to take your cock out. I want you to take it out and leave it out, don’t touch it until I tell you to.”

He groaned at this order, most likely relieved that he could finally touch himself. As much as you would want to be the one doing it, you’ll save it for round two. 

“Can I stop to take it out?” His voice was nearly cracking, his emotions overflowing all at once, threatening to burst.

You cocked a tiny smile. “No. Keep your fingers moving.” 

He visibly gulped, and his movements started stuttering as he attempted to do the two tasks at once. 

You were now focusing less on his initial task just to watch him struggle with the new one. He sat at an odd angle, using his free hand to undo the button and pull his zipper down, trying to move himself just enough to pull his waistband down, but not enough to separate from your throbbing heat, which he stayed glued to like he was being sucked in. 

Finally, it was low enough for you to see the bulge and wet spot from the precum on his boxers, and you were drooling with anticipation as he pulled the elastic down, freeing his girth from its restraints. Now, you were the one in a trance as his hard cock sprang free, hard as ever, straight at attention pushed against his abdomen as he did his best to not touch it as he took it out.

You sighed loudly, and when he was done, he looked back up at you. “Is that good?”

You nodded slowly, feeling his fingers come back to life inside your pussy, which was now aching for more of a stretch. “So good. So good…” You moaned out the last words, and you noticed Leon had to clench his other fist to stop himself from doing anything you didn't ask of him.

“Go ahead,” You whispered, but you knew he absolutely heard. “Slowly touch yourself. Follow my directions…” He immediately wrapped his other hand around the base of his dick, choppy moaning spilling from his lips as he did so. 

You watched as he hesitantly tugged at himself, not helping any of the sounds he was making, but it was only helping you to climax. Half of the time he resorted to keeping his eyes closed as he did both at once, undeniably being overcome by waves of pleasure. You watched as strings of thin precum followed on his fingers every time he stroked himself, the pink head of his dick looking so neglected, so soft, you wanted to put your tongue on it and lap up all of the sticky, stringy precum to clean it up for him. 

You could practically feel the texture of his dick in your mouth as you watched him, knowing it was becoming harder to hold yourself back.

“Stroke it at the same pace as your fingers.” You mumbled, clear enough to be heard. “I want you to bring me close, but I need you to tell me when you are close, too.” 

Leon was practically panting as he continued to finger you and pump his own dick, with every up and down stroke of his cock, his fingers went in and out, the sound of squelching becoming even louder with every movement, everything he did made you more wet by the second. 

Your forearms were burning from holding yourself up for this long, and your thighs quivered occasionally, and right as he hit the sweet spot inside of you again, you couldn’t help the squeak it produced from you, and you had to lower yourself to your elbows. Despite this, Leon was still obeying you.

You took a hard inhale before speaking, needing to collect yourself more than expected. “You’re so good at listening to me, you know that?” You half moaned out, feeling yourself get closer to the edge. You saw him nod meekly. “You’re doing so good, so good for me.” He kept groaning every time his hand hit the head of his dick, the sensation probably becoming overwhelming, the need to cum bubbling up inside of him, and of you.

Another beat went by before you spoke again. “Why don’t you pick up the pace a little bit? I’ll let you go faster.”

“On who?” He answered almost immediately, as if his brain was hardwired to only be obedient to you, and nothing else. That notion alone brought that flame closer to exploding in you.

“Yourself, bring yourself closer. I’m almost there. You feel so good.” Your breathing was matching his now as the both of you were panting loudly, and you fought the urge to close your legs as the sensations were sending a series of twitches down your thighs and calves. 

Leon wasn’t shy with his reactions any longer as he continued to moan loudly every time he pumped his dick, you could see how red it was from both the rough friction of his hand and the neglect from having been bound up in his pants. It hadn’t even been that long, but you knew he was close. You could tell.

His thumb pressed hard into your clit and you shrieked again, unintentionally closing your legs as the heat rocked through you, you clenched down on his fingers and your hands gripped the carpet as much as they could, you were much closer now, and you were drinking up the feeling of him untying all the knots within you. 

“Oh, Leon… I’m gonna cum…” You let your head fall completely back now, reveling in the feeling of him working on you, your stomach tightening every time he puts more pressure onto your clit.

With another sharp inhale, and a few strokes of his fingers, you felt yourself collapsing at the hands of him, your body shuddered and you felt the walls of your aching pussy tighten, spasm, and a flood of relief and relaxation poured over you.

Mere seconds after, you looked over to see Leon fisting his own dick, fingers still inside of you, overstimulating you, shooting ropes of cum onto his hand and shirt. He gasped with every spurt, his hand never leaving the base of his dick, his white cum dripping over his knuckles, his dick twitching gently after he was finally drained.

He slid his fingers out of you, eliciting another soft moan from you, and held eye contact while he gingerly licked your juices off of his hand. You swore that sole action made you ready all over again. 

Leon pulled his hand off of his dick, the cum making a sticky sound as he did so. You slowly sat up, legs feeling more like jelly than you were ever used to, grabbed his hand, and licked a stripe up one of his fingers, thick slime coating your tongue and the roof of your mouth.

“I’m afraid I might get addicted to this.” He whispered, coming closer to you.

“And if I wanted you to?” Staring deep into his eyes, his pupils blown out, you could see in him that he, much like yourself, wasn’t done either.

“Your audience might not like that.” His voice was low and gravelly, a sound you wanted to get used to hearing. 

You chuckled breathily. “Not if we let them in on it…” Your fingers slowly traced circles onto the back of Leon’s hand, letting the implication of your words hang in the air.

You saw a quirk of a smile in the corner of his mouth, and his eyes flitted behind you where you knew you had your camera set up. He met yours once more. “They might not be interested in round two.”

A full smile spread across your lips, and you gripped the front of his shirt to pull him in for a deep, hot kiss, which he instantly returned. Sure, maybe not tonight, would your audience see you fully fledged out for this man, one round in already, but you were sure they would be watching next time from the beginning.

[mphoenix-7]

Bitter Allies [Soap x Reader]

Chapter 1: The Mission

Book Summary: John "Soap" MacTavish has hated you since the very first day you arrived on base and joined their Task Force. You argue all the time, and one day, it pushes Captain Price to his absolute limit. He sends you both away to an isolated cabin in the woods for a week in hopes you can put aside your differences and bond. Will it work? Or will you two just end up hating each other even more?

This is a slow burn enemies to lovers fan fiction featuring Soap and you, the reader.

Word Count: 5,585

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Soap is mean, like really mean, smut later to come, rough smut, lots of swearing, violence, descriptive, blood, angst, fluff, slow burn, (more to come as I write)

A/N: Just a reposting of my story on Wattpad to help generate attention for it! Please go give it some love if you’re liking it so far. My user name is Emily7love or just look up the title.

Master List | Next ->

Bitter Allies • Part 1

"Bravo 7-1, this is Bravo 0-7, give me a sit rep on your position, over."

Soap is currently kneeling in some brush, staring at the small military camp in front of him when the radio call comes through. Despite the fact that he'd most likely need to be adjusting the volume up soon on his ear piece, he still turns it down a little for now.

"This is Bravo 7-1, I've been in position. Waiting on 7-4 to move her ass." He all but growls back to Ghost. His hand tenses on his rifle at even saying those numbers. Bravo 7-4.

You were Bravo 7-4. Also known as (y/n) "States" (l/n). The all too grumpy Sergeant by the callsign Bravo 7-1 was John "Soap" MacTavish. Also known as the biggest pain in your ass since you joined up with Captain Price's Task Force about six months ago.

Now anyone who knew Soap would be shocked to hear you say that you thought he was literally the worst and most insufferable human being to ever stain the Earth. To everyone else, Soap was a funny, charismatic, rather easy-going, and quite friendly guy. Everyone loved Soap. He was the golden boy of the Task Force, of the entire base. People were just naturally drawn to him, and his warm personality.

You can't say you blame people for being shocked when they learn just how much you can't stand him. Cause all those things about Soap were true. He was funny, and friendly, and relaxed, and just a great guy to be around. He was all those things when he wasn't around you. The second you stepped into the picture, his amused grin turned into a stiff scowl. His sparkling eyes turned hard. His relaxed posture turned rigid.

Yeah, John "Soap" MacTavish hated you. And you hated him.

Why did he hate you? You weren't entirely sure. It just seemed like it has always been that way since day one.

You transferred into the Task Force at the request of Captain Price himself. Originally, you had been stationed at a military base in the United States, where you were from. Then one day your commanding officer called you into his office and told you that you'd been given a new assignment. You would be working with a British Task Force across the pond for the next year. A group of four SAS men. If things worked out, then you'd be staying there indefinitely.

You'd been thrilled at the news. You didn't join the military only for the benefits and the opportunity to serve, but for the opportunity to travel and to potentially live somewhere else in the world. Getting to be that while also being SAS was the dream. You worked so hard to get to where you were today. Sleepless nights of studying, hard days of working out and trying to improve and hone your skills, and now it was finally happening. You were being sent off to a new base and a new team. And not just any team, an elite task force. You'd finally been selected.

You met the whole team day one of your arrival. The first person you met was Captain John Price. He was a friendly but very stern man. The no nonsense type of guy. He gave you a tour of the base, and showed you to the female barracks. Once you were semi-settled in (all your belongings piled into your room) you went to meet the other members of your new Task Force.

Price introduced you to each teammate. They'd all been in his office by the time you and Price showed up. Two had been seated, and one was standing despite there being enough chairs. That had been Soap.

"Alright you lot, here she is. This is (y/n) (l/n). Straight from across the pond." Price introduced you. "(Y/n), these are boys of the 141. This is Sergeant Kyle Garrick."

"You can also call me Gaz." Kyle fills in, giving you a nod and a handshake. "It's nice to have someone from the States joining us." He was the one responsible for your callsign being States.

"This is your Lieutenant. Simon Riley. He goes strictly by Ghost." Price continues. Ghost doesn't make a move to shake your hand. He just stayed quiet. Didn't even give you a nod of any kind. Quite intimidating coming from a guy wearing a skull over his face. "And lastly, this is-"

"Soap." The man barks out before Price can say anything. You remember hearing Price sigh before finishing his sentence. "Sergeant John MacTavish."

"You can call me Soap though. Nothing else." His voice was harsh, and carried a tone of warning. If you to call him by anything else other than his callsign, there were going to be harsh consequences.

His arms were folded across his chest, and he'd glared at you during the whole introduction. It made you so nervous, the reactions you got from both Soap and Ghost. Price assured you later though that they would come around. They just needed to warm up to you. He'd been 50% correct.

At the time, Ghost had been the most terrifying of three, and the one you worried you wouldn't be able to connect with (boy had you been foolish). At the time though, Soap had at least said something to you. Ghost never said a word or even acknowledged you. And when Ghost did talk to you, it was always in a gruff voice like you were annoying him. But over time, you came to realize that was just who Ghost was. It wasn't anything personal. He was like that with literally everyone. It was rare to catch him laughing or to hear his gruff voice become lighter.

Soap, on the other hand, also spoke to you the way Ghost did, but he only used that tone with you. He was so cheery and light when speaking with the guys. Even with strangers, his voice may have been slightly more gruff, but never as harsh as when he spoke to you.

His personality was vastly different around the others as well. Whereas he could joke, laugh, and relax around them, he was the opposite around you. You thought for a moment that maybe he was sexiest and just didn't like women, though every woman he spoke to around base, he was the kindest and most respectful guy.

Now six months later, not much had changed. Soap still spoke to you in a gruff voice. He still scowled when you entered a room. He still glared at you any time he needed to look at you. He had gotten more "comfortable" around you. But really that just meat he was far more comfortable with insulting you directly. From the way you shoot to the way you eat, he could find anything to gripe about. And eventually, you decided that if he was going to be difficult, then you'd return the favor.

The first time you insulted him back, he looked shocked, then just flat out angry. Your encounters went from quiet insults being thrown back and forth and dirty looks to all out yelling at each other. Never physical fights, but Soap had punched a hole in the wall during one particularly bad argument.

The others couldn't stand you fighting. Gaz would do everything in his power to keep you separated and distracted from each other so you wouldn't start. Ghost tried to never be involved, but he would sometimes break up the fights by using his scary lieutenant voice and sending you both to different parts of the base to cool off. Price... he got the most upset. He was normally so calm under pressure but hearing you and Soap bicker pushed him to the limit. He'd yell at you both until he turned red and then normally punish you by making you do extra cleaning, harder workouts, or something else just as labor intensive.

You lost count of how many times you'd been in his office with Soap, getting reprimanded on your behavior. One of the worst had been when Soap actively tried to get you kicked off the team while you were sitting right there.

"She is a right pain in the arse, Price! I didn't even start it this time!" He claims, doing everything he could not to look at you.

"Oh blow it out your ass, Soap. You were giving me a look."

"Then don't fucking look at me." Soap growls through his teeth.

Price slams his fist onto the table, making you both jump a little and halt your bickering for a moment. "Can you two shut the hell up? It's just constant with you. I have had a headache for five fucking days cause of you idiots. What is it going to take for you two to get along?"

Soap is quick with his answer. "All this could be solved if you just deported her little ass back to the US. Seriously Price, she's caused nothing but trouble since she got here."

"I am right here, Soap." You huff out a laugh, not too shocked he'd say something like that though.

"I wish you weren't." He throws back, making Price intervene again.

"Enough! She's not going anywhere, Soap. Whether you like it or not, she brings in a skill set we are missing in this team."

"Like hell she doesn't! We can find someone else." He argues, earning a glare from Price.

"She is staying. I signed a contract that she stays for a year. If we break that, we lose our funding, our reputation, and a whole lot more." Price says, making Soap cross his arms and sit back in his chair.

"So after however many months she has left, we can get rid of her?"

"You'll be lucky if I keep you once your contract expires!" He shouts at Soap, which shuts the Scot up. Sighing, Price continues. "I will reassess at the end of year once States' contract has expired." He says more calmly, which makes your heart sink and Soap smirk.

You were dismissed then, but Price had you stay back. Probably to keep you and Soap from walking with each other, but he also has a few words for you. He reassured you that you were doing great. That you truly did bring a lot to their team and that he was happy to have you there.

"Are you going to send me back at the end of the year?" You'd asked him before you left, looking over your shoulder by the door while he stayed seated at his desk.

"Don't worry about that now, States. But know, I like having you here, and remember, it takes both of to sign the renewal contract."

That gave you hope. Price most likely would want to keep you, but he was also going to leave it up to you to decide whether or not you wanted to stay. At the same time, if things continued the way they were, it wasn't going to be good for team morale. If Price had to pick between you and Soap, you were sure he'd pick Soap. He'd been with the team longer and knew them far better than you did. This was your dream though. Being SAS. It could take years before you got another team. You liked Price, Ghost and Gaz. Could you live with Soap?

That meeting was only three weeks ago. You'd been with the Task Force for almost six months. Halfway through.

Your current mission landed you in Naryn, Kyrgyzsta. You were hunting down a military leader, General Azamat, who was accused of doing an illegal arms deal with Russia. Photos and weeks of gathering intel suggested he was guilty and currently at this military base in Naryn.

This was purely a stealth mission first. You and Soap were tasked with infiltrating the small military base while Ghost provided overwatch. There were three security stations. One on the East, what Soap was in position for, the South, the one you were headed towards now, and the West, where you and Soap would meet to take out the last one.

The East and South stations were backup generators and needed to be taken out first before the main one to the South was. That way you kept the element of surprise and didn't need to worry about the backups going online. After that, your troops would push in and secure the base, capture the military leader, and you could all go home.

Soap had given the update on his position, saying he was where he needed to be, about two minutes ago. Two fucking minutes ago. And he was already griping that you weren't to your position yet. His words rang in your ear through your comm earpiece.

"This is Bravo 7-1, I've been in position. Waiting on 7-4 to move her ass."

"Calm down, I'm almost fucking there. Don't be so impatient." You growl back. "Seriously Ghost, how do you even deal with him?"

"Haad yer wheesht." Soap growls at you, some Scottish slang you don't understand. No doubt he was telling you to shut the fuck up or something along those lines.

"Either speaking fucking English or don't speak, MacTavish." You bark, voice getting a little too loud for a stealth mission. Even if you weren't too close to the camp yet, there could be patrols you needed to be mindful of.

"How about you fucking learn about other's cultures and then we wouldn't have this problem. And don't call me MacTavish."

"I do know about other's cultures! I just don't care to know about the one that you came from." You throw back before Ghost gets involved.

"Shut it. Now. Not another word. Fuck's sake." You could practically see Ghost shaking his head. "States, how long till you're in position?" Ghost asks, directing attention back to the mission.

"Give me two minutes."

"Bloody fucking Jesus." You hear Soap mummer through the comms.

You take a deep breath to try and focus your energy back on your current tasks. Soap was not going to get in your head and mess this up for you. For anyone else, he would have stayed quiet. In fact, it probably wouldn't have even bothered him.

"Hold up, 7-4." You hear Ghost say to you after about 30 seconds of creeping your way to your position. "You've got a small patrol further up from your position. Just over the hill. Two men, I don't see anyone else. When you're in range, get a good shot of one, and I'll dump the other for you."

"On it. Thanks Ghost." You whisper back, readying your rifle and trying to be as silent as you can while you approach the men.

"You telling me it's gonna be even longer now." Soap complains, making you roll your eyes.

"I'm sorry your side didn't have rough terrain or anyone to fight off, Soap." You tell him sarcastically. "Some of us didn't get the easy baby route to take."

"I'll have you know I took down two fucking patrols all by myself while I made my way over here. And I didn't have Ghost's help to do it either."

"Fuck you." You growl at him.

"What did I bloody fucking say?" Ghost growls, his lieutenant voice coming out. You curse yourself as you let it happen again. Just ignore the Scot and focus on what's ahead.

"In position, Ghost. I see them. Clear sight on both, your call."

Ghost does the quick calculations in his head as he prepares his shot, trying to determine which of the two men he had a better chance of taking out. "The one with the flashlight is mine. Dump is mate. In three, two..."

You both took the shot, Ghost pulling his trigger just a millisecond before you to account for the distance. He landed a clean headshot while your first bullet landed more in the shoulder of your guy. You took a quick second shot, which finished the job with another headshot.

"He's down. Clean shots. Though try for the head first next time." Ghost quips. There was no malice in his words. Just Ghost joking around to ease tension. Soap clearly needed to take lessons from Ghost on how to tell a joke without being a total ass about it.

"Noted. Thanks for the advice, 0-7." You banter back, earning a scowl and an eye roll from Soap.

"Less talking, more getting to where you're supposed to be." Soap cuts in, ending the fun you'd been having with Ghost.

"Don't get your skirt in a knot. I'm in position." You huff, pulling out your binoculars and scouting the area. Despite this base housing a military leader, and having two back up generators, they really didn't have much security. No walls, no floodlights. Just a few patrols outside. They weren't expecting trouble.

"It's a bloody kilt. Not a skirt." Soap seethes, his jaw clenched. At this rate, he wasn't going to be able to finish this mission. Everything about you was just pure annoyance to him.

"Yeah whatever you want to tell yourse-"

"Are you two going to be able to finish this mission or am I going to have to pull you both from it?" Ghost barks over the comms, clearly fed up now.

You feel your face flush hot in embarrassment. Ghost has never threatened to remove you from a mission before. You've always been good and reliable. You can't fail and have it on your record that you were pulled from a mission due to not being able to get along with others. That was a death sentence for your career with the SAS.

"No, sir. Sorry, 0-7." You apologize, not hearing anything from Soap's end. He was probably pouting and internally cursing you for getting him in trouble, even though this was all his fault. "Going to head out for the South station. Bravo 7-4 going dark." You turn your radio from the public channel between you three to a private one used only for emergencies. At least now you wouldn't be able to hear Soap for a little bit.

Soap hears your radio beep once, signaling to him you'd disconnected for a moment while you advance towards your target goal. Once you had, he huffs and takes a moment to squeeze his eyes shut and collect himself.

"I can't fucking stand her, Ghost." He complains to his friend. "Why the hell did Price ever think it was a good idea to put us together on a mission?" He looked out into the field, making out the little shadow of you making your way slowly to the base.

"She's part of the team, Soap. Price has his reasons. Just focus on the mission and make it work." Ghost replies, not offering too much help aside from stating the obvious and putting Soap's mind back in the field. "Better get going. Your path is clear right now."

Soap sighs heavily and stretches out his neck a bit by tilting his ears toward each shoulder. One side pops a little, only relieving a little tension. "Alright. Bravo 7-1 going dark." He clicks his radio to the private channel and begins to make his way to the East backup generator's building.

By the time Soap reaches his building, you are already working your way inside the South building thanks to the small head start you got. You stick to the shadows as much as you can, thoughts wandering to Soap from time to time. Wondering if he's cleared his building already or if he ran into trouble. Then again, if it was really bad, he could have contacted you or Ghost and there would have been alarms going off. And as much as you hated him, you had to admit he was really good at this kind of stuff. Sweeping through a place and clearing it out. Quick and clean. Of course he'd never ever hear you utter any praises directed at him.

Your building wasn't too heavily guarded. You assumed most of their men were either asleep in the barracks, standing guard of where the military leader was staying, or off patrolling areas they deemed more important than the backup generators. The main building to the West would have most of their patrols since it was the more important building. That was the reason you and Soap needed to work on clearing it together.

You managed to clear your building fairly quickly with only one close call. One guard had seen you shoot someone else, but you managed to take them out before they could radio for backup, and no one seemed to have heard him yell. Once cleared, you plugged in the flash drive and uploaded the virus it contained to make the generator go offline.

You bring a hand to your radio and speak into it. "This is Bravo 7-4, generator down, South building secure. I repeat, generator down. Heading to the West building to the rendezvous now." You begin to head out the way you came in as Ghost speaks to you over the comms.

"This is Bravo 0-7. Confirm. You're all clear." Ghost responds.

"You got a sit rep on our precious Bravo 7-1?" You ask, forgetting to switch over from the private channel. You duck behind some ammo boxes and sneak along them, not expecting to get an answer from Soap. You expected him to be busy still and not on the public channel that you thought you were on. Before Ghost can answer, 7-1 graces you with a response.

"States, shut your fucking mouth and switch your radio over to public. How the hell did you get selected when you can't even use a damn radio." He snarls, making you pause. Soap's words always kinda stung a bit, but some more than others.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Am I not allowed to have a sit rep on you?" You ask, ignoring your slip up of being in the wrong channel.

"No." He answers flatly, making you sigh and roll your eyes. So much for working as a team. "And switch-"

You switched over while he was mid sentence, not wanting to hear his grating voice anymore. You were getting a little worn down at this point. It wasn't like you enjoyed arguing with Soap as much as you did. It was exhausting. Being out in the field where you were already stressed was making it a lot worse.

"He's almost done." Ghost answers you, keeping you updated since Soap clearly wasn't going to. "Just head to the rendezvous, States."

You grumble softly but do as you are told. You mutter a "copy" into your radio before slowly and carefully making your way to the rendezvous. You hear a soft beep shortly after, signaling Soap had reconnected to the public channel. You try to avoid using your radio after that, even skipping check-ins since it seemed that Soap was going to make any use of your radio an unpleasant experience. Though eventually you do need to give an update that you were at the rendezvous, that way Soap wouldn't shoot you.

You move to the side of a building and crouch down. "Bravo 7-4 approaching rendezvous." You sigh to yourself before adding, "Bravo 7-1, please let me know when you are on your way."

"I'm already here. Look to your bloody right 7-4." You look almost directly to your right, which is met with an annoyed sigh. "Not that far. Back to your.. straight.. just- Fucks sake, by the crates!"

"You're not giving me good directions!" You silently yell back, still looking for him.

"By the crates! The only crates in the area! I'm practically in the open."

You see him then. His stupidly handsome face turned into a scowl and his piercing blue eyes glaring at you. He was not in the open, only his head poking up from the crates. You sent the same look right back to him and make your way over, looking around and making sure the way was clear so you wouldn't compromise your position. He was kind enough to at least raise his gun and cover you as you made your way over. Once behind the crates, back pressed to them, he relaxes his position and ducks behind them with you.

"States, look at me," Soap says, his voice deep and gravely. The only tone he ever seemed to use with you. "I want this done clean and easy. No fuck ups. You're going to follow my lead and stay out of my way. And I don't want to hear a single word from you unless it's mission related. You got that?" He lectures you.

You are so, so tempted to roll your eyes at him. He was talking to you like you were a marine fresh off selection. Not a five year veteran who was selected for an elite special forces team. He didn't even outrank you by that much. Not enough to make a real difference. The only thing he had up on you was experience and maybe two years in age.

You're silent for a long moment, glaring at him until he repeats himself a little.

"Do you understand?" He annunciates each word, and you swallow down the choice of words you had for him. This wasn't the time or place for that. You were in the middle of a mission that could go belly up and turn dangerous. You didn't need to be fighting the sergeant on this.

"You got it." You say tightly, mustering up all the strength you possessed not to say more than that to him.

Soap seemed surprised you agreed so easily, but he eyes you suspiciously for a moment before nodding. "Good." He nods before reaching for his radio. "Bravo 0-7, this is 7-1. Going in. Rest of the troops be ready in five minutes and wait for the signal."

"Copy, 7-1." Ghost confirms. "Be warned, I see multiple troops in the vicinity of the West security building. Some men have different uniforms. They look to be General Azamat's men. He could be in there."

You furrow your brows at that. You were expecting a lot of troops in that area, but the military leader you were after wasn't supposed to be in there. There was a bunker in the middle of the camp that he was supposed to be in. It wasn't going to be a significant change the mission though. It just meant your job had become a lot harder. More men to clear out without raising alarm.

"This is Bravo 7-4, 0-7 what's the best way in?" You ask, refusing to look at Soap. You saw his head turn to look at you from the corner of your eye.

"If you wanna come home looking like Swiss cheese I'd go with the front door. Around the back might be your best shot, but I can't get a clear view from my area." Ghost informs you.

"Can you reposition and-"

"No." Soap immediately cuts you off, making you glance to him. "We don't have time for a reposition. We need to move before they realize their backup generators have been breached."

"You just don't like it cause it was my idea." You accuse, watching as Soap visibly becomes agitated.

"I don't like it cause it's a bloody stupid idea!" Soap says through clenched teeth. He was getting right in your face. You were about to tell him off until Ghost's voice filled your left ear.

"Soap's right. There's no time. Head to the back and make due with that entry point. We'll go loud if we need to."

Soap wore a smug look as Ghost sided with him. You despised it. "See? Told you it was a stupid idea." He reiterates, still way too close for comfort.

Your anger flared, and you shoved him back with a forearm to his chest. He reacted instantly, grabbing your arm and flinging it away as if it had burned him. The movement was so quick, it surprised you a bit, and all you can do is stare at him with wide eyes.

"Touch me again, and you're going to regret ever signing up for the military," he growled, his finger jabbing the air between you before standing up and storming off without attracting too much attention.

You're left stunned for a moment, though you're not sure how you thought he was going to react to you pushing him. Within a matter of seconds, you gather yourself, reminding yourself that you were still in enemy territory and needed to focus. With a reluctant sigh, you followed after him.

You managed to make your way to the back of the West Building with Soap without too many complications. The most you needed to really do was duck behind some parked trucks as a military jeep rolled by. It exited the compound, likely heading out to meet a patrol for a shift change.

You and Soap didn't say a single word to each other the whole way. For a stealth mission, that was preferable. However, you could feel the tension between you and Soap. Disdain was radiating off him, and you didn't want to get too close to him in fear he was going to blow up at any second.

There's a line up of vehicles that serve as your cover for the time being as you sneak along one side of them. Suddenly, you nearly collide with Soap when he abruptly raises his hand, signaling you to stop. There's a group of four men all standing in a small circle, talking and smoking together. They're isolated from other groups but taking out a group of four could be very difficult to do.

Soap takes a few steps back, waving for you to back up as well. "We can't take that group out by ourselves, we're going to have to go around." He tells you in a hushed voice as you attempt to peak around him to get a good view of the targets blocking your path.

"It's only four. We can both take out two." You suggest, but, just like all your other ideas, Soap is fast to shut that one down too.

"Not a chance. You suck at hitting multiple headshots." He accuses.

That makes your blood begin to boil. You were not the God awful shot he made you out to be. In fact, back on your base in the US, you were considered to be one of the better shooters.

"I don't suck at making headshots." You glare, making him huff at you.

"Oh really? You missed the one earlier. Ghost managed to hit it from hundreds of meters away, and you bloody miss from a few feet. Your aim is absolute dog shite, States. I'm not going to have you mess up this entire mission cause you think you're better than you are."

His voice was harsh, as always, and his glare was biting. You felt your eyes burn as tears formed, but you refused to let Soap see you cry. He'd only roll his eyes and call you a baby. Crying would only give him more reasons to think you didn't belong here, that you weren't as good as the rest of them.

There were so many things you wanted to say to him in that moment, but you couldn't. The words got caught in your throat, and you feared that if you opened your mouth, a sob would escape. All you could do was look away and clench your jaw, masking your hurt feelings as anger instead.

Soap seems to take your silence as you submitting. "Come on. We'll go around that way."

He was motioning to a camp-like area that seemed mostly deserted, though there were probably men sleeping in the multiple tents that were set up. Along with the tents, there was some campfires and some small boxes of what looked to be filled with MREs.

As Soap quickly moved to the new area to bypass the group of men, you glanced back at them. You knew you could land those headshots. If Ghost had been with you, you would have taken them down already. You were tired of Soap thinking you were inferior and wanted to prove him wrong so badly. You knew you could land those headshots...

Raising your rifle slowly, you lined up the shot for the first target and mentally mapped out the sequence. One on the right, then left, then back right, and then back left. A simple zig-zag pattern. Easy enough.

Right as you're about to pull the trigger, you hear Soap's voice crackle through the comms. His voice was deep and full of warning and venom. 

"Don't you fucking dare, States."

But you dared. You wanted more than anything to prove him wrong. You slowly exhaled and pulled the trigger.

[piratefishmama]

Fake it 'till you make it | Part 5

Eddie was almost half certain that he was either hallucinating, or still asleep and dreaming the whole thing. But Steve Harrington was in his living room, perusing the mug collection as if it were fine art or some shit, and he wasn’t there to buy drugs. The van had gotten uncomfortable pretty quickly after Eddie’s tragic realisation, and while his Uncle was definitely there, and giving Eddie a very obvious what the fuck Ed’s ‘look’ while he made them both coffee, Steve seemed pretty at ease in the place.

He didn’t look like he belonged in any way shape or form, with his mega-bucks hairstyle, the polo that probably cost more than Eddie was making per day on those dates, and the jeans that probably—okay he needed to stop pricing up what Steve was wearing.

Needed to stop making assumptions about him.

“You take sugar, kid?”

“Uh—yes! Yeah, uh, cream two sugars, please. Thank you.” If Steve noticed the surprise on Wayne’s face at the presence of manners well… he didn’t seem offended by it. in fact he was still pretty amazed by the mug collection. “Where’d you get all these?”

“Spent a few years’a my life as a long haul trucker before Ed’s landed on my doorstep back in the day, the road ain’t no place for a kid so I packed it in, but there’s always lil knick knacks in pit stops along the way, had people say they’d probably be worth somethin someday, bit‘a history an all that, but… that ain’t why I have em. Each one has a memory attached to it, makes somethin as mundane as a mug, precious.” Memories, the walls were littered with memories.

Such a small space packed with so much. So many little bits and bobs, clutter that told stories, personalities told by clutter.

Steve loved it. He found it… comforting.

Eddie couldn’t stop the foot he so ungracefully stuck into his mouth however with the quip “must seem messy to you, huh?” That wiped the smile right from Steve’s perfect face. Replaced it with a little frown of confusion.

“Hm? No… no, not at all, what? What makes you think that?”

“Well, I’ve seen your house dude, it’s looks straight out of a showroom or somethin.” Couldn’t take the foot out of the mouth now, best just chew on it until his uncle whacked him round the back of the head with a newspaper, hissing,

“Manners don’t cost nothin boy, I raised you better than to be a little shit to guests. The hell’s your problem?”

“I honestly have no idea.” Eddie didn’t even complain about the whack, it didn’t hurt, but it did dislodge the foot from his mouth, allowing him to level Steve and his confused face an apology “sorry man, I’m just…”

“Defensive?”

“Mmhm”

“S’fine, I get it.” And wasn’t that just fucking heartbreaking. Especially since he smiled so sweetly when Wayne gave him his own little steaming mug, it had mickey mouse on it. “For the record though, I like it. The collection I mean… I think I’d like something like this in my own house someday, just… memories everywhere… neither of my parents are big on collections, I think the only ones they have are my mom’s vinyl’s and my dad’s wine.”

“Your mom has vinyl’s?” The wine collection was predictable but vinyl’s?

“Mm, up in the attic, I’ll show you sometime.” He had a player in the sun room, could probably bring a few boxes down and let Eddie rifle through them someday, maybe even convince his mom to bring some of them with them to the chalet, Eddie might get a kick out of at least a few of the records in there. “If you still wanna be seen with me after all this” an if she wouldn’t take them, best get the idea that they could still be friends after it all out in the open!

Eddie wasn’t bad, and Dustin adored him, constantly trying to get him to give Eddie a chance, sneaky little shit setting this up, probably had ulterior motives, so… why not?

Eddie didn’t get a chance to answer though, although his mouth was open ready to speak, Wayne beat him to it. “Now, it’s none’a my business but… what do you mean by all this?” Leaving Steve awkwardly sipping his coffee, looking at Eddie over the rim of his cup in question. Was it okay? Would it be okay to talk about it?

“As much as I’d love to say, ‘Steve’s invited me somewhere for a week!’ and have that be totally believable and not cause you a stress aneurysm… Wayne’s cool, Steve, you good with me talking about it?” There was obvious hesitation, more strangers who knew the riskier it could be for him, but— he nodded. He’d trust Wayne, as insane as that was, he didn’t even know Wayne, but… the man gave off a weird kind of trustworthy energy. And Eddie vouched for him so, “You know how I do that whole… date thing to freak parents out for girls? Stevie here needs my services.”

“You aint plannin on doin what I think you’re doin, are you boy? Are you out of your damn mind? Do you know how danger—”

“It’s okay!” Steve blurted cutting off the expected worry rant “it’s safe, I promise, my parents are… well… they might seem really detached from reality but—you don’t know them. I recently realised that neither do I… he’s not… gonna be freaking them out either, he’s just… playing a part to get them off my back for a while… I’m uh… I’m—” he looked at Eddie, briefly but long enough to catch the little nod of encouragement. It was okay. It was safe. So far things had been fine for him coming out, so far he’d been okay, there’d been no danger, and maybe doing it so many times had made it easier or something because it just… came out “I’m bisexual, they know, and have been throwing both women, and men at me trying to get me to finally settle down with someone and… while I agree, that’d be nice… I would love to do that, i’m not jazzed about the quality of the people they’re throwing at me.”

“…Your parents. The Harringtons, rich folk. Those folks… they’re safe?”

“Apparently, my dad’s even restructuring his company values to include people like me, trying to make it a safer place for us, and this was before I told them.” Something he’d had no idea about, something that he couldn’t believe, hence why he kept bringing it up, it was insane to him, how little he actually knew his parents, how wrong he’d been about them.

How wrong everyone had been about them.

“His parents are takin him to this chalet in Canada next week, Steve thinks they’re gonna ambush him with some random person that he’ll have to spend a whole week avoiding, so… he’s hiring me to act as his boyfriend. That cool with you, Wayne?” He didn’t have to ask. Eddie was a grown adult, he could do whatever he wanted, go wherever he wanted, but… Wayne deserved to know.

“… Can I meet em before you go?”

“Of course!”

“Not a chance.”

The worst part was, they both spoke at once. And Steve’s very positive answer, happened to be louder.

Part 7

[soundspeachytome]

our future lives - shohei ohtani soft au

trope: childhood best friends to strangers

word count: 5.9k words

author notes: (this will be a bit long so if you want to jump straight to the fic, go right ahead!)

I wrote this in retrospect to the days i spent with my high school newspaper publication team. Recently,  an old friend and org mate from the school newspaper (who i have not spoken to in years) followed me on instagram and it took me down memory lane.

This was a time when a boy who (coincidentally enough, also played for a sports team) used to read drafts of my silly stories and poems of fictional heartbreak and would compliment my writing all the time. He was my best friend until he wasn’t.

This was when everything was awkward, confusing and unsettling; when I didn’t believe love could blossom beyond friendship. And when it was already right in front of me, I chose to run away.

With Shohei Ohtani as my current muse, I write this to close the what ifs our high school memories have left us. And when love finally visits us once again, instead of running away, maybe, just maybe, we’d be able to look at it straight in the face and say, "welcome, I hope you enjoy your stay."

Songs i listened to while writing: (repeatedly, repulsively, and obsessively)

Right where you left me - taylor swift (evermore)

Shouldn’t be - luke chiang

You are in love - taylor swift (1989)

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

==============================

I didn’t feel anything at first but when realization sank, I almost doubled over. A familiar feeling punctured somewhere on the middle of my chest, like a pounding, beating of a drum. While an economics faculty was waiting for me to check out her library card, she chatted animatedly with her colleague and I couldn’t help but eavesdrop. When the words “homecoming”, and “shohei ohtani” were mentioned in one sentence, I almost dropped the books on the professor’s feet.

“I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation… Did you say Shohei Ohtani is coming back…?” I croaked.

“Yes! It’s on the news everywhere. He’s attending his former school’s foundation anniversary as a baseball alum.” She hushed excitedly. She almost looked like she was blushing. 

“Professor, didn’t you graduate from Rosewood High School, too?” 

She and her friend looked at me expectantly, like I’m some sort of Bingo announcer about to shout their magic winning number. I nodded slowly, a small smile formed my lips.

“Wow! You and Shohei Ohtani were schoolmates, then! Were you in the same year?”

“Has he always been so tall?”

“Did he have any girlfriends back then?”

The pair of them launched their questions like an automatic rifle, I swung albeit defensively, and yet I couldn’t duck myself for cover in time.

I shrugged and quietly said, “I didn’t really know him that much, he was always just playing baseball, I guess.” 

Before they could respond, I pushed my thick-rimmed glasses back to the bridge of my nose and went back to my Excel spreadsheets. They said their thank yous and skipped their way out of the library. 

Finally, quiet again. 

Like every typical librarian, one glare from me could snap chatty visitors’ mouths at an instant. I reveled in the silence of my humble workplace, with shelves taller than any average person, filled with books old and new. I could spend hours in the silence, tapping on my computer archives, or shelving books from the returned pile. This is the job of my dreams. Customary, routine, familiar, comfort zone.  

I realized that I have been tapping the letter Y key from the keyboard, lost in thought. I couldn’t believe the words I heard earlier could ever be strung in one sentence, not even in my wildest dreams. I tapped my legs restlessly. It couldn’t be true, could it?

How many popular Shohei Ohtanis could make girls this flustered?

There’s a one-hundred one percent chance that the result is, well, one. 

To preserve my peace of mind, I decided to google him, and when the results showed the rumor to be true, I almost spiraled in my seat. 

Did you know Shohei Ohtani in high school? The words from the two professors rang in my head. 

I knew damn well who Shohei Ohtani is.

Shohei and I have been friends since the day we learned how to talk. We lived on the same block, sat together in class, shared snacks during recess, we’d bicker loudly and fight like the worst of all enemies. According to our mothers, when he pulled my hair after I had claimed his Spiderman lego toy,  I screamed so loud it could be heard two houses down the block. He felt so guilty about it and rushed to peck me on the cheeks so I’d stop bawling. Not sure how accurate our mothers’ anecdotes are, if they had been exaggerated or not, but they said, after that fight, little Shohei had treated the little me sweeter after that. 

On good days, we played swings in the playground. We walked home together and would visit each other’s houses to play board games and Bomberman until it was no longer comfortable to stay in each other’s bedrooms without getting weird ideas.

Upon reaching puberty, I had grown in breast size, started getting my periods and hormonal mood swings while Shohei had grown a foot taller and his shoulders stretched widely. He lost his baby fat and developed muscle definition after playing sports. It was a time in our lives when it was officially awkward to hold hands while crossing the street, or for him to playfully grab me by the neck. If we did, we would get notes from the schoolmaster for indecency.

It wasn’t only the skinship that changed. Shohei grew to be more popular with the girls when he performed well in high school baseball. He was tall, fit, respectful and most importantly, he had a kind smile that would make your heart do a tap dance. And so my heart wore dancing shoes everyday.

While Shohei was busy playing his ball games, I joined the school paper as a news writer. The club meetings took up most of my afternoons then when i used to spend it by waiting for Shohei. By the time he finished practice, I would still be in the school library, either my face buried in a stack of books, or fingers furiously tapping an article on my laptop.

“You can go first. I don’t think I can go home yet, not unless this article writes itself.” I said one afternoon, not looking up. I was preparing an article for the school sports festival, where Shohei was the third-year representative and captain. I heard him walk up to me and braced myself. Tap tap tap.

He set his gym bag and batting equipment on the table and sat on the chair beside me.

“I’ll wait.” He said calmly. He crossed his arms over the table and closed his eyes, as if to sleep. He sat there in silence, baking in the sounds of my keyboard smashing my unnerving thoughts and emotions. 

Suffice to say, I didn’t get anything done after that. The smell of soap and cologne crept up to my nose and his broad shoulders lightly touched mine. Him sitting so innocently with his head on the table was enough of a distraction. It also didn’t help that on my periphery, I knew that he was facing my direction. In the next three minutes or so, I allowed myself to stare at his face: bags under his eyes were slowly showing, his well-defined nose, his mouth slightly agape, with evidence of picking and biting the lower lip skin.

When he startled awake, I scrambled to close the laptop monitor so loudly I thought I had cracked the screen. Embarrassed and face probably beet red, I stood up to leave. He carried all of my bags that day. When I offered to carry his gym bag, he refused.

In the last few weeks of that semester, I had become interim editor-in-chief. Shohei’s games had ended and our deadline for the year-end publication drew nearer. That meant I had made the library my second home like a bridge troll, only allowing brief, important conversations. My entire table was covered with mock newspaper clippings, sample layouts, glue, stacks and stacks of drafts that went through multiple, desperate, bloody revisions. This and the rest of my academic subjects I balanced gingerly on a thin line. Shohei would continue to visit and wait by the other corner of the library, pretending to read mystery thriller books he picked from the shelves. Most of the time, he slept. I never saw him study, even in the library. He didn’t need to as he aces all his subjects while hitting home runs on the field. I always suspected that he astral projects in his sleep and studies inside the realm of dreams. That’s probably why no matter how much he slept, he was still constantly tired. 

In other words, Shohei always seemed like he never had to try. He was good at everything. And I always had to work hard just to be able to stand on the same playing field as he is, at least once or twice. 

One particular day, when afternoon classes were canceled to give way to the club meetings, I was in my usual spot in the library with Zumi, our layout artist and a third-year from class B. We were finalizing the layout design before submitting it to the publishing house. Shohei was in baseball practice and had been MIA from the library all week.

A group of girls suddenly filled the library.

“He’s not here!” I heard one of them say. They noticed Zumi and I chatting quietly in the corner. 

“Hey, you’re Y/N right?” A girl with jet black hair siad. Her skin was white as porcelain. She had retainers on, the ones that looked unfairly pretty on lucky pretty girls.

I nodded.

“Are you Ohtani’s girlfriend?”

“Excuse me?” I blurted out, eyes almost popping out of my eye sockets.

She chuckled. “Right? I couldn’t believe it myself too. I know Ohtani only sees you as his best friend.”

I couldn’t respond right away. It was true but why did it sting so much?

“But they’re always together, I saw her give him a lunchbox during breaks.” A petite girl with a wolf haircut emerged from the sides. She had her arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. 

The rest of the group murmured in unison.

“Our mothers are close friends, so it was natural for us to grow up being friends, too.” I said irritably. Not only was this irrelevant but it was so annoying that a bunch of girls would question her decade-long friendship. 

“I don’t have to spell out the dynamics of our friendship to you.”

“If that bothers you so much, why don’t you personally tell Ohtani’s mother to stop asking me to bring his lunch boxes for him.”

It was quiet for a few seconds. I was afraid that it would escalate into a screaming match or a brawl that could result in us being kicked out–or worse, banned–from the library. The herd of girls glared at me and I glared right back. 

“Um, a-as you can see, he is not here.” Zumi breaks the silence, clearly intimidated but she soldiers on. “And you’re disrupting our meeting.” 

The first girl gives me a pointed look and spins on her heel and the rest follows. 

Zumi sighed in relief. “Oh my god, Y/N, I thought I would experience my first visit to the schoolmaster’s office before graduation.” She rubbed her sweaty palms together. 

I stifled a giggle, anger fading. Zumi’s gentle personality softened me right away. I couldn’t help but smile at her. 

“Don’t worry, Zumi, we don’t start fights but we sure as hell can end them.”

Shohei and I met less and less after that. I had purposely avoided him as much as I could because I still felt upset and he didn’t even have a vague idea about other girls spreading rumors about us. Another reason was I didn’t want to be referred to as “Shohei’s female best friend” anymore. His growing popularity in school made me only slink back down to the pits of the social hierarchy. 

I also wanted to take some time away and contemplate my feelings about our friendship. He’s only a friend I grew up with. We shared meals together and walked home together. He would hug me when I’m upset and I would console him when his anger skyrocketed. These are common best friend behaviors, right? So why else would it suddenly change? Why don’t we ever stay like this forever?

Weeks after my so-called Shohei blackout, I was left alone to clear the table I had claimed in the far corner of the library when Shohei popped in to visit.

The school year had finally come to a close, exams and ball games concluded, and the year-end paper was now distributed to everyone on campus: Shohei’s team pictured on the front page headline, declared as the year’s champions in inter-high school level.

He had a copy of the newspaper in his hand, grinning.

“Nice article, Y/N.” 

“Is it nice because it had your winning face covering the entire spread?” 

“I mean, you finally got an article on the front page!” He was waving the paper to you, pointing at the byline, as if you’ve never seen the layout more than a hundred times already. “Written by– your name! How cool is that!”

“My name is in a tiny font under your 32 font-size on the headline. I promise you, it’s not a big deal.”

“It is for me, though. I read it word for word. I loved it. You’re so good at words, Y/N” his eyes crinkled at the sides and I waved him off, blushing. 

“I’ve seen enough of this newspaper, I think I’m going to be nauseous.” you faked a retching sound.

“I’ve started seeing that damn thing in my dreams, Sho.” You grimaced. “Please hide that from me. Or I will rip it into shreds.”

Shohei giggled boisterously. You immediately swiped your hands over his mouth.

“Sshh! The librarian will hear you!” You looked around nervously, relaxing after realizing the librarian was nowhere in sight. “I don’t want to get kicked out on our last day of school.”

He held your arms away and uncovered his mouth from your hands. “Seriously, though, I’m proud of you. You worked so hard for this all semester.”

“Well, the subject was interesting to write about.” 

“Is that right?” he smiled, mischief glinted in his eyes. 

“”Rosewood’s revival after years of being dormant in high school baseball” was a pretty cool angle to write.” I said. And it truly was. The moment I saw the efforts and hardwork of Shohei and his inspiring leadership setting a momentum into the games, I knew right away that I had to call dibs on the story. 

“Uh-huh.” He was just looking at me, hands still wrapped around my arms, locking me in place. 

“It was a story worthy to tell and I just happened to tell the story. It all just–” I tried to mash my hands together, demonstrating the words synonymous to merging, fusing, blending. 

He pulls me close and rests his hand at the back of my neck. I could feel the snug of his embrace melting me into a puddle. He hesitates but leans in. It was soft, abrupt and merely testing the waters. He pulled back slightly to look at my reaction. I didn’t know what I looked like, but what I did know at that moment, my heart bounced uncontrollably like a basketball. I swear I thought it would burst my chest open. 

When I didn’t react or push him back, he leaned in for another try, this time, with more intent, meaning, and weight on my lips. When we parted, he looked away sheepishly that all I had to do in response to the kiss was to pull him in a tight hug. We stayed like that for a few more minutes because neither of us knew when to let go, or even wanted to. We just stood there relishing our newfound warmth while concealed in between the quiet and that precious corner space that held us. I don’t know how to define this feeling yet… but I could get used to this.  

Nothing further ever happened after that sweet library moment because the next day, we received news that Shohei Ohtani was granted a full scholarship overseas. Thanks to his impressive performance during the last game. Ohtani joked that it was mainly because my frontpage piece was so well-written, it moved the university scouts’ ice-cold hearts to tears.

“You’d be an idiot not to go.”  I was at the kitchen counter of our home, setting the newly baked chocolate chip cookies out of the oven to cool down. It was a Saturday morning and Shohei visited, like any other day. 

“I’d be alone, though.” he was wistfully eyeing the cookies on the wire rack. “I’m scared I might fail and be a disappointment to my dad.”

His arm slowly reached for the cookies but I immediately swatted him away.

“It’s still hot, dumbass.” I gave him the bowl where the cookie dough was originally mixed. He dutifully scooped the remains and popped a finger in his mouth, he grinned, satisfied. 

“You won’t be alone because everybody likes you. And you won’t be a disappointment because you work twice as hard than everyone else. You’re Shohei Ohtani, for god’s sake.”

He doubted but I knew what he was thinking because I was trying not to think about it, too. If this was about the kiss, we can let it go. We can forget about it. It was just a kiss, this was our future and it shined brightly in front of him. It would make me a selfish person to try and block that from him.

“There won’t be a Y/N there, though.” he said, eyes trained to the cookie dough he held. “My best friend won’t be there.”

“I’ll be right here when you come back. Besides, we can always email each other, like we always did in computer class.”

I didn’t tell him this but it also broke my heart to say those words. I will definitely miss him, sure. He’s been a constant presence in my life that once he leaves, it would definitely leave a big hole in my life. 

I wanted to tell him that whatever happened in the library that day will always be etched in my memory as long as I lived, that I wanted it as much as he did, and it hurt to say goodbye to a possibility, to something that had barely even started. If I had told him that, he would’ve turned down the offer right away.

So I didn’t, and so he left. 

Ohtani and I would email constantly during our very first year in uni. He would send me pictures of the new places he visited, food he tasted, with little descriptions every now and then. You knew he was trying to include me in his new life as much as he could. In return, I showed him how I continued my simple, quiet life, how I met new friends at uni, how I ate at new hole-in-the-wall restaurants with the promise that we’d try them out when he returned back home.

Of course that didn’t last very long as life apparently came in between us. Long training hours for Shohei, and newer opportunities showed up in my doorstep as I got a partial scholarship and part-time job as a student assistant.

It went on like that for a very long time as we kept missing each other’s emails. I would already be asleep when he sends his messages and he’d be out in the field by the time I could reply. Sometimes I don’t receive anything at all at weeks’ a time.

One day, after two weeks of radio silence, I heard a girl in the washroom gush about Ohtani’s popularity overseas and how he has gotten a girlfriend. They were pretty serious, she would go on to say. She had long black hair with a pretty slender body, something like his type. 

I stood there, hands dripping wet, listening to something I normally wouldn’t believe unless he confirmed it himself. The thing is, I haven’t heard from him in weeks, so I didn’t have a choice but to believe in the words from the grapevine.

I stopped waiting for his emails to come. If he sent me new ones, I didn’t check. I busied myself in the halls of the library studying, reading and writing, writing and writing my feelings away.

I wrote until my hands got tired, until I spilled everything I needed to forget into paper. Until I welcomed a new love into my life. He was also tall, kind, and cheerful. He respected my time and he loved going to new coffee shops with me. At that point, I was overfilled with joy and contentment that I barely thought about Shohei anymore. In the back of my mind, the chapter of Shohei Ohtani is now closed and my rosy high school life became a beloved, worn out book that I no longer revisited.

Later I learned in life that some things, despite making you undoubtedly happy, could still end horribly.

My relationships turned sour, some of my friendships fell out, but the worst part of it all was when my dad had a heart attack. 

He died six months later. 

It was pretty much autopilot after that. I could only ever handle so much, I don’t think I am as brave as Joan D’arc to handle ten, twenty more scars. Not when two of the best people I loved have left my life. Not when the person I want to run the most to is… no longer there to meet me. 

I was a student intern at the archives section when the post for head librarian was vacated. I’ve already applied to multiple companies in the private and public sectors and kept getting waitlisted but the university hired me on the spot. A week after graduation, I had started my full-time job at the library, and it felt like I was somehow glued back together.

XXX

The cans of beer clinked together as I swayed the black plastic on my way home from the convenience store. Nothing beats a cold can of beer after a full meal. Also because “Shohei Ohtani” is a name I never thought I’d hear again in this lifetime. So much so, that a homecoming sounded so ridiculous that if someone ever suggested that idea to me before today, I would have laughed at their faces. It was an appropriate time to wallow in my drunken thoughts.

Four years was a long time for anyone to change. It was long enough to switch jobs, get promoted, to save up money and travel, to save up money and get married and have kids, or none at all, to study for a new degree, to meet new people and develop romantic feelings for them, to lose such romantic feelings, to forgive and move on, to develop new habits, and it is also long enough for character development if you think your personality needed an overhaul. Four years was a long time apart, a long time to forget each other to even be considered taboo. And yet. 

And yet. 

XXX

My phone buzzed against my jeans pocket. It was a text from Zumi. She now works freelance and designs her own stationery and stickers sold at mega discount stores all over the country.

“You wouldn’t believe what I just heard.” Zumi texted. Even before she could conjure a follow-up text, I responded right away.

Y/N: “Someone’s coming back to town?...”

Zumi: “WUT.”

Zumi: “U KNEW? AND DIDN'T TELL ME #betrayal”

Y/N: “I heard about it a couple of days ago and blacked out after 3 cans of beer. Sorry, Joomi-chan.”

Y/N: “I didn’t drink only because of the news, though. I ate almost 2 KGs of wagyu, too. It was the perfect drink to end the day.”

Y/N: “I ate ice cream, too."

Y/N: “I’m rambling. I”ve been restless since I heard about it.”

Y/N: “I’ll be okay, though. I always have been.”

I was about to put my phone down after the text blasts I sent to assure her when text bubbles appeared. Typing. I waited.

Zumi: “It’s alright to admit you’re not okay about this, Y/N”

Zumi: “He was a big part of your life, who ghosted you, asshole move btw, and his head’s probably gotten too big for his own good. I wonder how he walks around with that swollen head without toppling over.

Zumi: “Also, I’m only saying all of this because my role as Y/N’s only best friend is currently being threatened. I forgive you though!”

I had to laugh. Zumi was always fond of Ohtani and I even back in high school. Whenever she had time, she would join us on our katsu curry runs and hated matcha, while Ohtani and I loved it. She always preferred strawberry. She was the perfect balance in our little trio. And now, she is my voice of reason.

I paused to reread the text. Am I really okay about this? It’s a fairly small town, the chances of running into him are slim, but never zero. And what if I do meet him by chance, what should I do?

Zumi: “Text me when you feel like drinking again. I’ll sneak out and join you in solidarity!” 

Before I could send the cutest peach butt sticker to Zumi, a message from an unregistered number popped up on my notifications.

“Hi, Y/N. It’s Shohei Ohtani. I got your number from your mom. I’m sorry for being abrupt like this but I just flew back from the States and will be spending a few days at home.

Do you want to meet up for some curry katsu for old time's sake?”

Holy hell, I stared at the messages in disbelief. Am I being punked right now? Where is the hidden camera? If the universe is listening right now, please, swallow me whole into the earth right now. 

I clenched the phone hard, against my chest. You are better now. Don’t fumble. 

Tap tap tap.

XXX

I don’t know what had gotten into my head that when I responded a few hours later, had agreed to meet up after work for curry and drinks. Future me would like to smack past me of five hours ago for making a decision like this. 

But here I am now, just a few stores away from the curry place I had suggested for dinner. 

Suddenly feeling conscious, I stopped by a convenience store that had a convex mirror on top of the corner shelves. I swiped lipstick on my lips and powdered my nose. I also bought mints just to play for time. I worked up the courage to text Zumi.

Y/N: So, please tell me I’m doing the wrong thing and I will turn back.

Zumi: What happened?

Y/N: After we texted earlier, Shohei texted me out of the blue and that he’s already in the town.

Zumi: He WHAT???

Zumi: Are you telling me he asked to meet up and you said yes?

Y/N: You should switch careers and be a fortune teller instead.

Zumi: You WHAT???

Y/N: Pls, pls, pls tell me I’m wrong for doing this.

She didn’t respond right away. Her text bubbles went up and down infrequently. I stood outside of the restaurant, in the cold of the night waiting for her response.

Zumi: How do YOU feel about it?

Zumi: If I were you, I, who have witnessed all the carnage all these years, I would do it. I know if you turn your back now, you’d spend another four, five years wondering what would’ve happened if you chose differently. 

Zumi: Don’t try to rationalize it, Y/N. You’re panicking now. But I know in your heart, you want answers. You want this. So suck it up and be a big gworl! 

She resonated exactly how I felt about this. So why was I hesitating?

I walked up to the restaurant and scanned the room. It was almost empty after dinner hours, except for a few white collar workers catching up on late night meals.

And then I saw him. He sat at the back of the room, his back facing the front of the shop. I could recognize those wide shoulders anywhere in a heartbeat. I made a beeline towards him.

He wore a blue polo buttoned up to his chest, creasing at the shoulders as he slouched forward. He looked absolutely different from the memory of the boy who used to carry my bags. His hair grew into thick waves and his cheeks and jawline was chiseled and defined to the bone, revealing more of his handsome face.

He stood up, smiling widely and threw his hands around me, a whiff of his sandalwood perfume and the feel of his hair pressed to my cheek brought everything back: spending lazy days in the library, the night strolls on the way home from school, sharing twin popsicle ice creams, the warmth of his hands intertwined with mine, that last first kiss. I pulled away and he gestured to me to sit down. As we both sat down, I thought, You are always finding ways to get my hopes up. 

We stared at each as I settled down on my seat. For a few moments, I felt the room was charged with cold air. His eyes traced my face making me more and more self-conscious, I had to break the ice. 

“The chicken curry katsu is good here, you know.” I said, as a waiter approached and served us water. “But if you prefer pork, it’s heaven too.”

I sipped the cold water nervously and fidgeted the hem of my plaid skirt. 

“It’s been a while.” I started.

“I’ve been busy.” He started to explain. I hate how he thinks this was his decision, how he didn’t even consider the fact that I’ve been busy, too. “How about you? I’ve stopped hearing about you since…”

“Things happened.” I simplified, but really, I wanted to give him a rundown of how things have more or less worked out okay for me–how I am doing well at my job, taking my Masters, thinking about traveling to Southeast Asia with Zumi, spending time with family on weekends, trying to do pilates at least thrice a month, and catching up with some old friends whenever we got to clear our schedules. How I am, despite his absence, was not entirely miserable. But I don’t want him to think that I am just doing this to prove a point, so I coated a response with the standard, “But I’ve been fine, thanks. How are you?”

“Same old, I’m here for business and something else. I finally got the courage to tell you this now.” He said, finishing up the last of his meal and downing his glass of water before speaking again.

I honestly don’t want to know, I want to order another glass of beer and fall asleep drunk. I want to crawl into my bed and waddle in self-pity at how I’ve spiraled back to square one, of how after all these years, I am still hopelessly in love with this unattainable man, who thinks we are still each other’s best friends after years of no contact. Instead I responded cautiously, “What is it?”

He inched forward and leaned his face on his right hand. “There’s this girl.”

I held my breath and braced myself for impact. 

“There’s this girl. We almost always never stood on the same foot. She hated sports and hated standing in the sun to see me play, but watched regardless because she had to write an article about it.

“When we finally started realizing we liked each other, I received my scholarship grant and moved overseas. If she got mad about me going MIA, I could've explained better to her that I had an accident during Spring training and was in a hospital bed for almost a month. Had she checked her emails, she would know. But she never replied. Ever.

“After a few months, I heard from our friends that she finally got a boyfriend and was in a happy, healthy relationship. I thought, ‘Oh. Good for her! I'm happy for her. Someone near to take care of her.’ but was I really, though? I got myself a girlfriend, too and forgot about this girl for a while.

“But I heard about her dad’s passing and I tried to reach her but I couldn’t. Her home phone number was disconnected, my mom said they moved out of the block and she still won’t respond to my emails.

“I couldn’t be there for her but I thought, “she'd be with her boyfriend. She’ll have someone to lean on. But then her friends said they had broken up long before the incident. She carried all those baggage all by herself? Who did she have to lean on? Was she eating okay? Was she sleeping well? Does she still smile when she watches puppies run around bumping into things?

“It seemed like the timing was never on our side. She was available when I wasn’t, I was free on the days that she was occupied. 

“I’ve always wondered if the universe played some practical joke on the two of us. If somehow, they'd ever allow me the chance to meet her again. I’ve been waiting for her for a long time now.

“Y/N, do you think if I ask her now, she’d finally be as ready as I am to meet her?”

I exhaled and felt my heart pounding. There is the thrum in my chest that felt all too familiar. Have we been missing each other’s chances all this time? Have I been getting on and off the wrong platform, just as much as he did, because we didn’t know what we wanted when we were barely twenty?

“I think you should ask her before it’s too late.” I said, catching myself, still staying on that third person narration. I mulled over the times we constantly missed each other like he had pointed out. He had been there for me when I was searching for myself and what I wanted to do, and I had watched him from afar when he was trying to meet his dreams, to the point of pushing him far away. 

“I’m asking you now. I was always late, wasn’t I?”

His brown eyes bored into mine, expectant, hopeful. “Yes. You were...but you’re here now..." I trailed off, thinking how much shock I was to hear Shohei's speech. I wondered if responding to my real feelings was the right thing to do. He had his accident, my dad's funeral, the miscommunication between us. The sudden falling out. I wondered, if after all this time, someone like me would still be worth restarting over with.

"...and I think, you’re just in time, Sho.” 

He smiled widely, showing the crinkles on the sides of his eyes, he exhaled as if he had been holding his breath all this time.

"Thank god. I was almost certain you'd say no and disappear on me again." he laughed.

Freckles that I've never seen before popped over his nose and cheeks. So much has changed in his appearance but it was the same smile of the boy I love since eighteen.

“I’m home,” he whispers.

“Welcome back,” I said, finally smiling at him, too.

Shohei stands up and offers his hand as we exit the restaurant; I take it and interlace our fingers. For the first time in a long time, the tap dancing of my calloused heart has returned ever so exhilarating, like a lost pulse bringing me back to life. We are catching up on lost time, and for whatever fragment of memory that may have escaped through the cracks, we’ll slowly string them together. It doesn’t matter how many possibilities we’ve missed in the last four years of being apart. The important thing is this possibility, the right here and right now.

[the0retically]

The Suckening #13: Breaking Dawn:

What a great finale, that was incredible :)

- “Would you like to know what’s in the center? It’s a baseball diamond” CHARLIE WHAT

- “I land and say ‘I love baseball’” ok Arthur

- Manbat???

- “I say ‘slay’” ok Arthur

- ARTHUR HAS A SNIPER RIFLE NOW??

- I’m crying this is so funny to me

- “I didn’t get to bat” ARTHUR PLEASE

- PLEASE MANBAT BROKE THE MASQUERADE BY ORDERING UBER EATS??

- Manbat going between animal and human is so funny

- HES TWERKING HES THROWING IT BACK OH MY GOD

- CHETS BACK

- I really hope he stays alive

- I love how defeated Charlie sounds when Condi does something smart

- Condi wanting to press a button from the ceiling but Charlie being like “I don’t understand how you could possibly press a button”

- PLEASE?? CONDI’S DOING THE BUTTON PRESSING THING AGAIN LIKE IN PD

- FUCK EDWARD KNOWS ITS EMIZEL

- oh now we’re back with Ben and Shilo :(

- A SHARK WITH SPIDER LEGS AND MACHINE GUNS?????

- HI WEYLINS!!!!!!!! I LOVE YOU BOTH!!!!

- but oh god?? Why is this here with Ben and Shilo??

- “Ben it is my fault you’re in here” “no I think I just wandered…it’s ok you said you’re going to walk me home” this is so so sad

- “This is horrible” “yeah it doesn’t end well” “I know…but maybe?” God bizly you sound so hopeful that it could but I really don’t think it will

- Arthur’s theme, it’s so good, I cannot wait for the soundtrack to come out I love it

- Oh? Arthur what are you up to?

- …………..Emizel? Huh??

- THEO!!!!!! ITS THEO HES HERE YES YES YES YES YES YES

- HE GOT IN!!!!!!! HES IN THE CONTROL ROOM LETS GOOOOOOO I LOVE HIM

- ……ok it’s so weird them chanting theo like hi that’s me??

- BUT LETS GOOOOOOO I LOVE THIS ITS WORKING!!!!! THE PLAN IS KINDA WORKING

- awww they’re rolling together I love that—Oop they rolled bad

- Another series of roll offs again??

- WHAT WHAT WHAT WHAT NO SAME BIZLY AND GRIZZLY? I—WHAT?

- THEO RESISTED DOMINANT???? OH GOD EMIZEL HAS TO DO THIS AND THEO DOESNT

- NO NO NO NO NO EMIZEL NO NO NO

- I’m literally going to start crying he does not have to kill Theo

- “I need you to attack Theo like he killed your best friend” oh god

- “I should mighty blowed, I would’ve totally blowed him mightily” OK??? WHAT????

- HE JUST TAKES THE DAMAGE WHAT????

- “You look really feral right now” PLEASE?

- “He told me to kill you and I just had to” “well don’t do that man” PLEASE?????

- He just ran into the wall and couldn’t do anything?? Theo nooooo

- “Think about how sexy it is to dash across the room and smoulder” ……ok bebo

- “He has dude with a dream” OH FUCK HE JUST CHOPPED THEO’S ARM OFF????? OH MY GOD???

- “Don’t give me sad baby girl eyes” “I don’t like what’s happening” “you’re the one DOING THIS??” Charlie Charlie please it’s Theo come on it’s Theo

- WHAT?? THEO GRABS HIS OWN HAND TO BLOCK IT????

- “I didn’t realize how attached I was to Theo until now, this shit sucks” YEAH IT DOES CHARLIE DONT KILL THEO

- Yeah Edwards awful I hate him

- This is so—:((((

- Emizel botched, please theo get out of there

- “Hey Zoolander!” YES THEO PERFECT

- NOOOOOOOOOO EDWARD DODGED

- THEO IS CRACKED I LOVE THIS

- CHARLIES YELL FOR THEO OH MY GOD

- THIS IS CRAZY THEO IS AO SO COOL

- THE DICE ARE TELLING THEIR STORY THIS IS CRAZY

- NO NO NO NO NO DONT MAKE EMIZEL FORGET ABOUT THEO BUT DONT PUT THEM IN THE GAMES NOOOOOOO

- WHAT?? EMIZEL WHAT???

- HE STANDS BACK UP WHAT THE FUCK??????? THEO LETS GOOOOOOOOOO YES!!!!!!!

- How is Theo still alive???? What the fuck??

- “I have the power of a god and he’s just a boy” YEAH BUT HES DOING GREAT!!!!

- He just has to leave Theo?????? Oh god this is not good

- “I really don’t want to look like a bat” PLEASE OH MY GOD

- Awww void is here :) I love her

- Cradle Manbat ok Arthur

- “And a new hope is another” “nope that’s Star Wars” PLEASE

- “You suck somebody’s soul out and you say POGGERS??” Oh my god perfect

- Charlie is having such a hard time with this map oh my god broooooo??

- “Definitely talking to Viv about that one” I love their friendship so much

- :((( shilo and Ben

- “Penguins are not birds” OH GOD????? YES THEY ARE??? WHAT????? WHAT IS HAPPENING WITH THIS CONVERSATION GRIZZLY WHAT?

- Shilo finds the receptionist now??? Oh god this is horrible

- Oh god, grangle is now here

- “What do you mean bait shilo” GOD CHARLIE THIS IS SO SO SAD I HATE THIS

- This is heartbreaking, Charlie please

- “Oh god what was her name, I don’t remember” “you don’t even remember” CHARLIE PLEASE BIZLY IS TRYING

- like bizly truly is having the worst time out of all of them

- GABRIEL??????? WHAT???? IS THAT HIM?????? HES BACK????? IM SO!!!! OH MY GOD??????

- HES HERE!!!!!!! HI GABE!!!!!!

- Oh god……..it’s been announced to everyone

- He just immediately kills him oh my god

- WHAT GABE JUST BIT HIM BACK??

- A SUCK OFF??? HUH??

- CHET NOOOOOO CHET NOOOOOOOOOOO

- TAYLOR YES!!!!!

- “Another nameless, I’m slipping the more I look at you, tell me: why should I stop?” Arthur :(((((( please :((((

- BOOGIE BOMBED????

- “Ok Ben we’re going to go this way” “just looks at you” “you can—“ :((((((((((((((( shilo :(((((( nooooo this is so sad

- It’s between Ben or the body :( shilo is just trying his hardest

- Charlie this is devastating why are you doing this

- Shilo is just trying so hard to save him

- Shilo got no successes, please Charlie just let Ben speak

- Charlie what the fuck, “he sees a bird :)” nooooooooooooooo nooooooooooooo

- I hate hearing how sad Bizly and Charlie are because this is horrible

- “And Ben goes home” CHARLIE PLEASE

- bizly…..bebo…..Zach, it’s full name time, that last memory is so sad oh my god

- This is—god

- Ok but Arthur and Shilo have reunited at least

- “I shouldn’t have PLAYED THEIR GAMES” :((( shilo

- “Can you just tell me what to do?” Shilo please :(

- They’re all reunited but god they’re all so defeated

- TAYLORS HERE

- THE WEYLINS!!!!! THEYRE BACK!!!! HI HI

- I love that they are just constantly cutting the cameras when Taylor’s there and doing something

- God Grizz just has banger monologue after banger monologue

- “What about fighting the beast and about holding on?” “Yes.” “Can-can you not just hold on?” Oh :((((( that’s absolutely devastating “I’ve been holding on for a long time and there is too much I have still get to find.” Arthur :(((

- Bizly is a fantastic actor holy shit, man’s popping off I adore this

- “The rules were clear from the beginning, we just never thought to look at them” damn emizel, yeah you’re so right

- “I’m beginning to understand your mother” :(

- Arthur please don’t let this be goodbye

- Found a cave but “finish the show” FUCK ME

- Now they have to fight each other, god damn it

- Arthur please go for Edward

- YAY HE GOES

- “You kinda want to kill shilo” oh my god?????? No no no???

- Taylor’s back!!!!! AND HES DYING TO FIND EDWARD WOOOO

- this is batshit oh my god

- I love how all of them are like “yeah I don’t care if Taylor is the one who kills him go for it”

- EMIZELS GOING FOR EDWARD LETS GOOOOOOO YAY!!!!!!!!

- Arthur and Edward being friends in the past is something that is so odd to me

- Oh?? Arthur?? What??? Arthur’s pulling a Harlem Shade

- Edward just runs away???

- Oh god and Shilo is back there too

- “You know what they say in my home country? Fuck it we ball” YEAH SHILO!!!!

- oh and he just botched oof

- Shilo??

- WHAT?

- EDWARDS BEAUTY IS RIPPED FROM HIM??? HOLY SHIT FUCKING HELL SHILO LETS GO????

- “They’re watching Edward, they’re disgusted by you” oh my god

- “And you can replace it after this session” ……..is this not the finale?

- “You ruined your mothers life too” WHAT THE HELL EDWARD??

- What do you mean you’re not leaving emizel??

- No scar? Huh?? Nooooo it wasn’t really him

- Oh :( he’s going to hug Arthur :((

- Only emizel could say “I’m gonna die here…see you guys tomorrow”

- They all hug :(

- Oh he’s thinking of Theo as he waits for the sun :(

- :(( Arthur thinking about how he failed the twins :( Arthur you deserve peace!!

- Shilo what goes on in your mind “vampires fucking suck” yeah fair enough

- Pile of ashes and a note

- He’s at 4 lives now

- “There’s no going back, but maybe there’s going forward” oh I love that quote

- AWWWWW LAZARUS!! “now those are my boys” HE!!!!

- FIRST SEASON??? HOLY SHIT!!!!! THE BOYS ARE STAYING!!!! YAYYAYAYAYAYYYAYAY

[yeonjunszn]

like hot summer ☼

pairing park sunghoon x f!reader

word count 8k

genres fluff﹒slight angst ﹒smut

warnings 18+ minors dni, mature language, best friends to lovers trope, sharing a bed/room trope, insufferable heeseung + slightly less insufferable jake, features enha jay, txt beomgyu, taehyun, and huening + skz jeongin, also features nct dream, i’m so sorry for doing u so dirty jisung 💔, mentions of alcohol, hoon is kinda mean for like a singular second, vaginal fingering, marking?, unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it 😒), finishing inside, Lots of Kissing, they’re kinda gross at the end like i made myself mad with how cute they were being so of course i had to ruin it… u’ll see 😇

summary you’ve been best friends for years now, so why does the idea of sharing a room with him get you so flustered?

more HAPPY 900 FOLLOWERS!! thank u guys so much for giving me this platform to write even if it is for boys who have no idea i exist 😭 writing has always been something very dear to me since a young age and i’m so grateful for being able to get this far on this site. i’ve had an issue with reach in the past and this blog has been nothing but kind to me. i’m forever indebted to all of u and my future followers 🫶 here’s a small token of my appreciation — i havent written anything nsfw since ? march ? i believe 💀 so i apologize if this is rough.. it was originally a vernon fic before i decided not to write for svt anymore and i actually started it in july 😭😭 which is why it’s another summer based fic LMFAOAOAO anyways it was supposed to be like 5k and i got carried away so here u go <3

“please do not take those with you.”

you look up from the suitcase you were stuffing clothes in, a pair of your most comfortable underwear currently in your hands. heeseung gives you a dissatisfied look, standing from his spot in your desk chair to snatch them and throw the garment behind him.

“okay? what the hell?” you furrow your eyebrows in confusion.

“we’re going on a trip where you’ll most likely be meeting new people. i don’t think you want to be dressed like a grandma when you do.” he explains with an eye roll, as if it was obvious.

“first of all, rude, they’re cute. second of all, i don’t plan on sleeping around,” you frown, glancing behind him at your poor underwear on the floor. “i should’ve just asked hoon to help me pack. you suck.”

“i’m pretty sure he’d also tell you to ditch the granny-panties.” he shrugs, sitting back on the rolling chair.

“n-no! i wouldn’t have even let him see me packing my undergarments.” you say defensively.

“you’ve been best friends this long and he’s never seen your underwear at least once? what makes me so special.” the brunette snorts.

“you’re… you.”

he gasps in feign offense, slapping his chest. “what the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“don’t take it personally! i’d probably let jake see my underwear too,” you defend your words, rifling through your clothes to make sure everything you needed was good to go. when you glance up at heeseung, he has a grimace on his face and you realize what you just said. “stop it! i meant because i see you both like brothers, so it wouldn’t be weird.”

“there are two things to be discussed here; one being the fact that you’d let bitchless, has never felt the touch of a woman in his life, jake sim, see your underwear— even if you think of him as a brother. and two being the fact that sunghoon is somehow different despite knowing him the same amount of time as us.” he raises an eyebrow as you turn to your dresser in search for a pair of replacement panties, since he so graciously tossed aside your favorites, then zip your suitcase shut.

with a grunt, you lug the thing off your bed, checking your appearance in the mirror since you were getting picked up soon. you peek over your shoulder at the brunette, narrowing your eyes. “i hope you know that you’re the absolute bane of my existence, lee heeseung.”

a couple hours later you find yourself sipping on a margarita, poolside at the airbnb you and your friends were renting. the beach was within walking distance, but you didn’t feel like going so you stayed back by yourself. you didn’t mind it at all, because it was probably the only chance you’d get to be alone in a house full of boys.

nine of you crammed into a single house was not ideal, especially considering you were the only girl in your group, but you planned this trip every year. loud, gross, and annoying antics aside, you loved them more than anything. (except maybe when they asked you to set any of them up with one of your girl friends.)

you also felt like you needed a bit of reprieve before you called it a night, since you weren’t given the privilege of your own room this time. all of you made the grave mistake of putting beomgyu in charge of booking the airbnb and his dumbass forgot until about a month ago, when he scrambled to find something within everyone’s standards and big enough to accommodate your large party. and while he was able to secure something, it did mean you’d have to have a roommate.

everyone agreed that it’d be okay if it was just you and one other person to respect your boundaries. rooming arrangements varied from year to year depending on how you decided, but this was the first time you were included. the boys got straight into it the moment you all set foot on the property, arguing in the front yard while you figured out how to work the keypad on the door. due to your ignorance to their shenanigans, you didn’t know who your temporary roommate was until the whole ordeal was a done deal.

before anything was set in stone, there was a unanimous choice to give you and whoever you ended up with the master bedroom, because none of them wanted you biting their heads off for hogging the bathroom. in the first room (the one next to the master), was heeseung, beomgyu, and jeongin, delegated by a game of rock paper scissors. by some miracle or just sheer dumb luck, the three idiots wound up together and celebrated by hugging in a circle and jumping around like elementary schoolers. the second room went to jay, jake, taehyun, and kai. this left one person— park sunghoon.

had you participated in the actual game, you would’ve started a riot to switch roommates. hell, you’d even share a room with jake, and that said everything about how you were feeling towards this situation.

it’s not that you didn’t want to room with sunghoon, per se, it was more like you were afraid to room with him. he was decently calm and an easy person to get along with for the most part. except his ability to tease you in any situation lit a fire under you. his jokes that would seem belittling to anyone else felt flirty and it drove you crazy. all of the guys in your friend group were good looking, but you always found yourself gravitating more towards sunghoon. (besides, you could never in a million years see yourself making out with someone like taehyun; who you thought was quite honestly prettier than you or beomgyu; who enjoyed personally talking your ear off every opportunity he got.)

when the boys finally come back from the beach, the sun has set and you, yourself, had just returned from picking up dinner. the nine of you ate with comfortable conversation here and there, exhausted from the long day you just had, before drawing the evening to a close.

you feel awkward trudging up the stairs to your room with sunghoon in tow, like if you say the wrong thing you’ll alter the entire course of your friendship. he tells you that you can shower first and so you do, but halfway through, you realize you forgot to grab you clothes on the way in. you curse at yourself as you rinse your body wash, switching off the water.

you wrap your towel around yourself timidly, well aware that it’s the only thing stopping sunghoon from seeing your bare body. with a gulp, you reach for the door handle, pushing it open slowly. he’s sat on the edge of the bed scrolling through his phone, uninformed of your presence. you kneel down to your suitcase to quickly grab what you need so you can rush back into the bathroom and change, but the universe hates you and doesn’t think it should be that easy.

“shit shit shit shit,”

you frantically sift through your clothes after getting your undergarments, only for your pajamas to be missing. you remember packing them and you know heeseung was there when you—

you were going to murder lee heeseung.

fuck him and his overt desire to make your life a living hell. first there was the underwear thing and now this. did he not think your care bear pajamas were cute enough to bring on this trip? either way, you couldn’t wait to strangle him, your fingers wiggling in anticipation.

“hey, is everything okay?” sunghoon’s voice calls out, pulling you away from your nefarious plotting. your eyes widen almost comically because you’re still very much naked under your towel and you don’t have clothes to sleep in.

“uh— i— i think i forgot to pack— i mean— i can’t find my pajamas.” you admit shamefully, too embarrassed to look up at him.

the bed creaks lightly, notifying you that he got up. you stand from your crouched position, careful not to accidentally flash him. he rummages through his own suitcase, spinning around to toss a t-shirt at you. you catch it with your free hand and your cheeks are still impossibly warm. you’re not sure if your mind is playing tricks on you, or if he really did rake his vision over your figure.

your heart is racing mortifyingly fast so you give him a tight lipped smile and raise your hand in thanks, bringing it back down just as fast when you think about the fact that you were holding your underwear in the same hand.

you think that’s the fastest you’ve ever run away from something, leaning back against the door while pressing the back of your palm to your forehead, your chest heaving. confidence wasn’t a weakness to you and it pissed you off to no end that it seemed to be only when sunghoon was around that you acted like a complete clown.

there was no chance of you surviving this trip.

the following day, you and the boys had gone out for an early lunch. because you were such a big group, they split you into two different tables. yours consisted of jake, heeseung, beomgyu, and jeongin. the entire time you kept your glare on the brunette sitting directly across from you, even as you shoveled rice into your mouth.

“woah, y/n. if looks could kill, hee would be dead by now.” jake laughs, pointing at you with his chopsticks.

“good,” you say flatly. “that’s what i want.”

heeseung looks thoroughly offended by your statement, clicking his tongue in response. “i don’t know why you hate me so much.”

“oh really?” you ask with a small scoff, sarcasm leaking through your words.

“what’d he do?” beomgyu snorts, flicking his eyes between you and heeseung curiously.

you don’t take your eyes off of the latter, rather you give him an even harsher stare than before. you squint slightly, crossing your legs and leaning back into your chair. “he was with me when i was packing my clothes yesterday and when i went to change after i got out of the shower last night, my pajamas were missing. and i swear i packed them. i even double checked my suitcase.”

jeongin purses his lips and raises his eyebrows. “the care bear pajamas?”

“the care bear pajamas!” you exclaim.

“wow, heeseung, it’s like you’re asking to be suffocated with a pillow in your sleep.”

“that was such an oddly specific cause of death.”

“wait a damn minute! how do you even know it was me? why are you just assuming shit like that?” he defends, picking up his hands like he’s innocent of all crimes. jake holds back a laugh at his reaction and jeongin gives him a deadpan expression.

“why are you being so defensive about it? clearly that means it was you.”

“i agree! i know this is apart of his stupid ‘get-y/n-laid’ agenda. what if i don’t wanna get laid?!” you flail your arms exasperatedly.

beomgyu holds up a finger to halt you, scrunching his eyebrows together. “everyone wants to get laid. you’re no exception.”

you narrow your gaze at him as if to say ‘not helping’ and he shuts up, squeezing his lips together. if there was anything he could’ve said in that moment, that was not it. especially not when you were trying to prove your case. you were an independent woman! you didn’t need to sleep around if you didn’t want to! (you did, with a specific person, but that's besides the point.)

“so what’d you end up wearing to sleep?” jeongin asks, resting his chin in his palm before gasping. “wow, n/n, sunghoon got to see you half naked?”

“no! he lent me a shirt!” you dispute frantically.

“boring,” jake drags out the o. “i think i have an extra you can borrow for tonight if you don’t wanna wear that one again.”

“please, you’re a lifesaver, jake,” you clasp your hands together. “unlike someone by the name of lee heeseung, who’s currently on my hit list. you better sleep with one eye open by the way.”

“could you be a little quiet with it though? i share a room with him.” beomgyu throws in.

“don’t worry, gyu. i've been googling different ways that would be silent, quick, and successful.” you fist bump him, before resuming your eating.

“i don’t get why you’re not groveling at my feet and thanking me right now. i did you a favor, you know,” heeseung huffs, his words slightly muffled by the food filling his mouth. “you get to keep his shirt and sleep in the same bed as him. isn’t that a win?”

“i don’t like him like that, seung.” you say a bit harsher than you intended. the table grows quiet at your outburst, even if they all speculate that you’re lying. the silence causes the other table to look over in concern.

whether you’re just extremely unlucky, or the gods actually think you’re a waste of a human being, you don’t know, but things keep screwing up in your favor. you make accidental eye contact with sunghoon, whose lips are slightly turned downward when he sees how distressed you appear.

it pisses you off.

it pisses you off because all you want to do is kiss those same lips until you can’t breathe. you want him to press them all over your skin, making you hot and bothered. you want him to whisper sweet sweet nothings into your ear and pepper little smooches along the shell of it with them. it pisses you off because you know he doesn’t feel the same.

and it’s so fucking annoying.

you’re probably the only girl he’d never see that way, thanks to the long history you share. you’ll always be another one of the guys to him. you’re someone he knows will be there for him to fall back on when a talking stage fails. you’re someone he knows will sit there and listen to his tales of how he got his dick wet, listen to his bragging.

it should deter your feelings, honestly. not only due to the fact that you have no chance with him, but because he was your best friend. you shouldn’t be mad at him for treating you as such. except you can’t help that you are.

after lunch, the group decided you might as well have another beach day, seeing as it was within walking distance from the airbnb. since you weren’t much of a beach fan (you hated the salty air and, even worse, the sand), the boys allowed you to pick the activity for the night.

there was a club you passed by on your way back from the restaurant that looked intriguing, so that was what you landed on.

you watched your friends mess around by the water as you stayed planted on a beach towel under an umbrella, sunglasses perched on the bridge of your nose. your body weight rested on your palms as you leaned back, soaking up the warmth on your skin. your cute white, shimmery bikini was a head turner, guys staring as they walked by you, ogling at your sunbathing.

you half hoped someone would just go up to you instead of drooling from afar, but at the same time, the thought of a stranger approaching you made you nervous. though, it would provide a decent distraction.

you try to act surprised when someone finally takes the bait.

he’s an attractive guy, you’ll admit, with dark hair that falls onto his forehead, slightly in his eyes which are also obscured by a pair of sunglasses. he ruffles it a bit before dropping himself on the sand beside you. he doesn’t talk for a few minutes, just copying your actions.

a small smile makes way onto your lips at his nonchalance and you turn to face him, pushing your shades up on top of your head. he does the same, giving you his own smile. now that you have a full view of his features, you can 100% say that he’s indeed handsome.

with an extended hand, he says, “hi, i’m park jisung.”

you return the gesture, shaking it with a firm grip. “l/n y/n.”

“wow, pretty name for a pretty girl. your parents must’ve known what they were doing.” he flirts with a laugh, almost like it’s second nature for him.

you can’t hide how bashful the compliment makes you, a tiny giggle bubbling from your chest. the bikini gave you a confidence boost when you put it on, but despite that, you were still you. so hearing little things like that always made you shy, especially because you weren’t used to it. how could you? being friends with a bunch of boys and all, guys never really cared to look in your direction.

“do you say that to every girl you meet, park jisung?” you manage to tease back, proud of yourself for recovering so quickly.

his smile morphs into a grin, his teeth peeking through his lips, and his eyes crinkle at the sides. “nope. just the really pretty ones.”

you tilt your chin into your shoulder as you feel heat spread across your cheeks. how was this guy so smooth? it’s like he knew exactly what you wanted/needed to hear and kept saying it.

when you compose yourself, you continue your conversation with jisung. it’s comfortable, even if you’d never met him before today, and it feels like you’ve known him for a while. you learn that he’s also on a trip with his friends, the six of them stationed just a few umbrellas over to your left. (he groans when you catch them spying on the two of you.) then he tells you that he noticed you earlier and his friends had finally convinced him to shoot his shot.

“you know, if you’d come up to me sooner, i would’ve been a lot less bored,” you sigh, scooting a little closer to him. “my friends have been ignoring me since we got here and i fucking hate the beach.”

he chuckles at that, subtly brushing his fingers against yours. “sorry about that. i guess you’re glad i saved the day, huh?”

“very,” you link your pinkie with his. “so, we’re going out later tonight to some club called allure? i think? it’d be really cool if you went, just saying. you can bring your friends.”

“that sounds like fun. maybe you’ll see us there,” he shrugs, nudging your foot with his. “depends on how bad you wanna see me.”

“nooo, don’t do me like that, jisung,” you whine halfheartedly, covering your face with your free hand. “i would like to see you there, but i don’t wanna beg.”

jisung laughs at how cute you are, poking your cheek with a nod. “okay okay, you convinced me. i’ll tell the guys.”

“okay, cool.” you breathe, tangling your fingers with his as you both stare at each other goofily. you almost lean in, the gap between you only disrupted by a centimeter, but then a throat clears itself and you jump apart.

it seemed that the guys all finally noticed you weren’t alone and decided to pay attention to you. you make eye contact with sunghoon and feel a shudder run down your spine, trying your hardest to conceal it.

“hey, y/n, who’s this?” he asks, albeit passively.

“oh, this is jisung. him and his friends are gonna meet us at the club tonight!” you give him a tight lipped smile, glancing over to gauge jisung’s reaction. he doesn’t look too fazed by their presence, instead standing up so he could introduce himself to each of them.

you sputter at the action, surprised that he was so willing to be buddy-buddy with the boys. you assume it’s because he isn’t too intimidated by them, considering they’d been ignorant toward your presence until now.

after he’s done, he turns to you and puffs his cheeks, blowing air between his lips. “i guess i better get going. i’ll see you later?”

“mhm,” you rub his arm. “see you tonight, ji.”

the nickname makes him grin and he ruffles your hair before bidding you all a goodbye. your eyes follow as he walks over to his friends, who are fist bumping in celebration of his success with you. your smile doesn’t go away as you look back at your own friends.

jake jumps up and down, shaking you aggressively by the shoulders. “y/n, holy shit! rizz master or what?”

beomgyu and jeongin burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter, falling into each other as you roll your eyes. jake would be the one to use such a gen z term at his age. “please never call me that again.”

“well jakey, looks like she won’t need your shirt tonight after all. chances are she’ll use jisung’s instead.” heeseung jokes, smacking your arm playfully.

you cover your face with both hands to shelter how embarrassed they’re making you feel. rule number one for being best friends with a bunch of boys— don’t. they’re nothing but menaces. and if you happen to acquire a friend group of just males— don’t let them meet your significant other.

as you wrap up your day at the beach, so you could head back to the airbnb to get ready for your night out, you realize sunghoon is keeping to himself a lot. and you don’t know what to make of that.

you feel like a million bucks if you’re being completely honest with yourself. you packed one of the nicest dresses you owned in case you needed it and you were so glad you did. it would’ve been awkward rolling up to the club in shorts and a bikini top— though you’re sure management has probably seen that before.

it was gold and sparkly, with spaghetti straps and a lace-up back, low cut enough that it was cute rather than overly revealing. you styled your hair to preference and kept the makeup simple, soft glam that didn’t distract from the outfit. this was the prettiest you felt in weeks— months even— and it was a comforting change of pace.

when you step out of the bathroom, sunghoon is laying on his back on the bed, scrolling through his phone. the sound of your heels clacking on the wooden floor forces him to sit up. “how long does it take to—?”

his words die out once he sees you, his throat going dry and his stomach tightening with an incessant knot. you look so gorgeous, it almost makes him angry that it’s not for him. never in your seven years of friendship has he ever seen you put this much effort in your appearance. (he thinks that’s why he feels himself getting worked up.)

“woah, missy, you’re not leaving the house looking like that. where’s your coat?” he raises an eyebrow, masking the icky feeling brewing inside of him.

“hoon, it’s like a hundred degrees out. we’re in the middle of a heatwave at the peak of the summer, the fuck do i need a coat for?” you counter with a scoff, shoving your phone and some lip gloss along with your credit card and ID in the little clutch you were taking with you.

“i’m just saying,” he shrugs. “you’re practically wearing a piece of cloth, you might get cold.”

“shut up, i’ll be fine.” you snort, exiting the room and leaving him scrambling for control of himself.

the rest of the guys are already waiting downstairs, whistling and hollering once you reach the bottom of the steps. jake tells you to do a little twirl, cheering you on like he was best friends with bella hadid or something. (you won't admit that it fuels your ego.)

“where’s sunghoon?” jay asks crouching to see if he was visible from where he was standing.

“i don’t know, but he’s being weird. my vote is we leave without him.” taehyun holds up a finger, pursing his lips as if he was being totally serious about his suggestion. you laugh at his expression, flicking his forehead.

“don’t be mean, tyun.”

a couple minutes later, sunghoon finally makes his way downstairs, looking conflicted about something. as much as you wanna ask, you know you shouldn’t get into it right now, so you choose not to.

jisung and his group are already at the club when you arrive and he waves you over to the high tables they secured. he introduces you to his six friends; mark, renjun, jeno, donghyuck, jaemin, and chenle. once you’ve met them, the two of you introduce your own friends to each other. it makes you happy that they seem to hit it off, breaking off into smaller cliques.

you and jisung wander off to the bar, ordering some drinks for yourselves. he helps you sit at one of the stools, his hand resting comfortably on your lower back. it doesn’t take long for the bartender to hand you your poison for the night and you take a gulp with a wince, letting the alcohol burn in its course down your throat.

“you look really good, by the way,” jisung compliments, his thumb rubbing circles into the skin that peeks through the straps in the back of your dress. “i didn’t get to tell you when you got here.”

his mouth brushes your ear as he speaks so you can hear him over the booming top forties music playing. there’s not nearly enough alcohol in your system to warrant the heat blooming under your skin so soon. you just giggle in response, spinning in your chair so you’re facing him. you hold your straw between two fingers as you sip at your beverage, looking up at him through thick lashes coated in mascara.

“you’re really something else, y/n,” he shakes his head, downing the rest of his drink before you return to your friends. “i’m gonna use the restroom, i’ll be right back.”

you nod with a smile when he pets your head, pressing a chaste kiss to your temple. it catches you off guard, but you don’t mind it one bit. at least someone was interested in you for once.

heeseung squeezes his way through the crowd to you and narrows his eyes, taking a hold of either side of your head. your cheeks squish together and your lips form a pout, so no matter how annoyed you try to come across, you just look silly. your attempts to get him off of you are futile, making you raise a brow to find out why he was being so touchy-feely.

“i still cannot believe you managed to make moves while you were alone. i literally never saw this coming.”

god, lee heeseung was such a lightweight.

“can you stop being sentimental? it’s kinda gross.” you grimace, your words mushed together much like your cheeks. it’s at this point that jake decides to join in, throwing his arms around your shoulders.

(jake sim was also a lightweight.)

“i love you guys! i’m so glad we’re here together right now!”

you spot jisung coming back from the restroom, pleading for him to save you with your eyes. he laughs and inserts himself in the conversation. “i appreciate you guys watching over y/n for me while i was gone, but do you think i can steal her back?”

“i guess,” jake sighs dramatically, dragging out the s. “but you better bring her back in one piece, park.”

jisung salutes to the brunette, even if he wasn’t at all intimidated by his overprotective parent persona, and whisks you away to get more drinks and then to hit the dance floor. the moment your foot reaches the tiled ground, a summer walker song starts, and all coherent thoughts leave your mind.

you keep one arm wrapped around jisung’s neck as you begin to sway your hips with the music, taking swigs of your drink every now and then. his is long forgotten in favor of gripping your waist like you’d run away any second. you have him wrapped around your finger, the way he’s fixated on you and your movements has your head spinning. but when you glance towards the general direction all of your friends were in, you accidentally make eye contact with none other than park sunghoon.

he’s glaring right at you, making no attempt to hide the distaste on his features while he watches you dance. you keep the eye contact when jisung leans into your neck, his nose grazing the sensitive spot just below your ear.

usually you’d fold then and there, crumbling in his hands and letting him take you home for the night. but there’s something about the darkness in sunghoon’s gaze that sends a shiver down your spine, not the person you were currently grinding into on the dance floor. it sends your mind into a frenzy.

your blissful ignorance to the amount of attraction you truly felt for him was causing more problems than solving them. here you were, a nice guy treating you like an absolute princess, but still thirsting after one of your best friends with not a single ounce of fucking shame. years of pent up frustration and insufferable pining bubble over, and you don’t stop yourself from what you’re about to do next.

you pull back from jisung, finally breaking the staring contest between you and sunghoon, and smile at him, pushing some hair out of his eyes. he gives you a look of utter confusion and you huff. “i’m sorry, but i’m feeling a little tired. i think the drinks are getting to me.”

“do you want me to drop you off at your place?” he asks, so sweetly it actually makes you feel bad about your true intentions. you shake your head ‘no’.

“it’s okay, you can stay here with your friends. i’ll just ask one of the boys,” you respond, patting his cheek. “one of the sober ones.”

“alright, if you insist. just be careful and text me later, yeah?” he gives you that award winning grin that made you weak at the knees just moments ago. this time you don’t give him a verbal response, too afraid of your voice betraying you.

you still don’t say anything as you grab your clutch from the table where your group was at, flickering your vision to sunghoon once before you walk out of the club. the air is cooler than this afternoon, serving as a nice contrast to your warm, sticky skin. your ears are still ringing from the blaring music and you’re pleasantly buzzed, but you feel great.

the sound inside the club travels outside for a second when the door opens and closes, signaling that someone had just walked out. you don’t want to risk the backwards glance in case it’s not who you’re hoping it is and you feel dumb. you opt to stare at the cars passing on the street, hugging yourself.

there’s the ghost of a touch on the small of your back and a broad chest pressed to your shoulders, causing you to jump slightly. “ditched that dude finally?”

you swallow thickly, his deep voice reverberating in your bones. “and if i did?”

sunghoon chuckles, his fingers dancing around the knot of your dress. “then i won’t have to feel like an asshole for what i’m about to do to you.”

you squeak as he starts to push you in the direction of the airbnb, your feet carrying you as fast as you can with your heels. the walk is silent except for the clicking against the concrete sidewalk, but it’s heavy with tension. half of you wants to say something, to ask what’s even happening. you don’t even realize he’s punching the numbers into the keypad and pulling you into the house until you’re pinned to the shut door, nose skimming yours.

sunghoon has a desperate grip around your wrists, breathing like he’d just ran a marathon. you stare up at him with wide eyes. you’re not entirely sure what you were hoping for when you executed this plan, but this wasn’t anywhere near the list of outcomes. in fact, you were positive that park sunghoon didn’t feel any sort of attraction to you.

“hoon,” you gasp, tongue swiping across your bottom lip.

he grins, his canines peeking through those lips of his that looked so soft. “you look so pretty tonight, n/n. can’t believe i get to have you all to myself.”

your head feels empty, like there’s nothing but cotton filling your skull where your brain should be. this was something out of a dream for you, something you’d only ever seen in your darkest fantasies. you wanted him to kiss you so badly it was beginning to ache. your head tilts to the side just a bit, your eyes alternating between his mouth and his own.

“need you,” you whisper, voice airy. “‘ve been waiting for this for so long.”

he connects your lips at that, a burning fever behind his actions as he does so. the dizziness doesn’t go away, instead amplifying. he releases your wrists in favor of grabbing at your thighs, his blunt nails digging into the plush skin. you tangle your fingers in his hair and tug at the silky strands, forcing a groan out of him. kissing sunghoon is sickening. it’s exactly how they describe it in books, the stomach churning and the goosebumps and all. this morning, you never would’ve thought you’d be here, but you’re completely satisfied with this turn of events.

“bedroom,” he breathes. “don’t want anyone seeing you like this but me.”

he doesn’t have to tell you twice, your heels discarded at the bottom of the stairs. the minute you’re in your shared room, his mouth is hot on yours again and you’re collapsing on to the bed. his hands are everywhere and there’s too many clothes between you. you slide your hands under his shirt, grazing your nails along his abdomen, smiling when it tenses under your touch. he gets the memo, removing his shirt and tossing it haphazardly behind him. you fumble with the button of his jeans and he laughs at how needy you are, solidifying just how real this moment actually is.

you notice that he’s already hard once his pants are gone and you palm his bulge as you lean back in for another kiss. he sighs into your mouth, reaching around your back to untie the knot on your dress. the straps fall instantaneously, the front of the fabric slipping down to reveal your bare chest. sunghoon’s lips move from yours to your jaw and along the column of your neck until he’s at your chest, looking up at you as he leaves open mouthed kisses all over your tits. you moan softly when the warmth of his mouth envelopes a sensitive nipple, slipping your dress off all the way so you’re left in nothing but your panties.

he steps back for a second to kick the article of clothing away, before caging your body with his. “i’ve been wanting to get you out of that dress all night. it pissed me off that you didn’t put it on for me, but he doesn’t get to see you all fucked out untouched, now does he?”

you shake your head, but that doesn’t satisfy him. his thumb finds your clit through the thin material of your underwear, rubbing tight circles into it to get a reaction from you. your lips part and your eyes squeeze shut, but it’s not enough for him. he grabs your chin a little forcefully, smushing your cheeks together like heeseung did earlier— however there was nothing wholesome about this moment.

“i asked you a fucking question.” sunghoon all but growls.

“n-no, hoon. only you,” you whimper, his mean demeanor turning you on even more. you’re embarrassed by the wet patch forming on the front of your panties and deep deep down you’re thanking lee heeseung for throwing the other pair out of your suitcase. (very very very deep down— you’d never give him the benefit of being right.)

“that’s my good girl,” he hooks his fingers into the waistband, glancing at you for confirmation. “are we really going through with this? you can back out now.”

your heart thumps disgustingly loud in your ears at how sincere he sounds and you pray to god that he can’t hear it. “sunghoon, i’m laying half naked in front of you right now— if you don’t fuck me—”

“alright alright… you got it,” he laughs that cute laugh of his, the one he reserves solely for you. the one that has crows feet forming at the corners of his eyes. it drives you crazier than anything else he’s done the entire night.

sunghoon slides your underwear down your legs with one hand, the other propping himself up to hover over you. you kick them off, biting your lip and hissing when he decides to run a finger up your slit. he curses as he watches how your arousal coats the digit. all you’ve done is kiss and you’re dripping.

“you’re soaked, baby,” he practically groans, pecking your jaw. “gonna ruin your pussy so you know who you belong to.”

you whine when he thrusts a finger in without warning, quickly adding a second and massaging your swollen clit with the pad of his thumb. your head rolls back as moans and expletives spill from your mouth. sunghoon takes the opportunity to mark you as his, sucking and biting your neck and chest like he was a leech, ensuring bruises formed in his wake. he finds the sweet spot at your pulse point, curling his fingers at the same time he nips at it.

“f-fuck, right th-there, hoonie,” you mewl, instinctively spreading your legs wider.

at this rate, you don’t think you’ll last much longer.

you know he can tell too with the way he speeds up the pace of his fingers. you clench around them and he connects your lips once again, his tongue tangling with yours messily. it’s so sloppy and so aggressive, but it’s perfect. it’s so sunghoon.

he keeps working at you, kissing everywhere he can until he pushes the right buttons to make you fall apart in his hands. when he finally finds it— a little nibble to your earlobe— your back arches further into him, your moans uncontrollable and incomprehensible as your orgasm washes over you. the skill of his mouth and hands has you reeling from the experience knowing no one else could ever make you feel like this ever again.

once you’ve come down, he slowly pulls his fingers out, sucking them so he can taste you and all that you are. he groans before pressing a quick kiss to your lips. you sigh in content.

“if you cum like that just from my fingers, i can’t wait to see how you look with my cock,” he mutters into your mouth, evoking a whine out of you. “so gorgeous.”

sunghoon steps away to remove his underwear, revealing himself to you. you have to stop yourself from drooling, reaching out to stroke his length languidly. he hisses as he goes back in for another kiss, biting on your lower lip when your thumb swipes over the slit on his sensitive tip.

he drags you to the edge of the bed, pushing away your hands so he can guide himself to your entrance. “are you ready for me, baby?”

“mhm,” you whimper, wrapping your legs around his waist to get him closer— if possible. “want you so bad, sunghoon.”

the sound of his name leaving your lips so filthily has the blood rushing from his brain to his dick even faster than before. he slips in easily, your arousal lubricating enough for him to bottom out almost completely. his balls slap against your ass when he does, his cock sheathed inside of you so far it’s like it’s poking your stomach.

his pace starts slow and consistent, his hips rocking into yours with timed thrusts that hit deep. your legs feel weak and your head is spinning, drunk off of his cock and how good it is. but it’s not satisfying you, you need more. you want more.

your heels dig into the dip of his lower back and you mewl, “faster, p-please.”

“anything for you, pretty girl.” he grunts, using one hand to grip your hip and the other to form a makeshift ponytail with your hair, tugging your head back so he can rest his forehead in the crook of your neck.

sunghoon angles his hips and pistons his cock into you quicker. each thrust is punctuated by his pelvis snapping into your own harshly and his fistful of your hair stinging your scalp. his hold on your waist is nearly bruising, but you don’t really care, too high from the pleasure he’s providing you. your moans raise in volume as you feel the band in your belly grow tighter.

your pussy clenches around him and he releases your hair in favor of rubbing tight circles into your clit. the stimulation of his cock driving in and out of you combined with his thumb on your most sensitive area has alarms blaring in your head as a warning for your second incoming orgasm. “i’m so so close, hoon, fuck— just like that,”

“c’mon baby, you can give it to me,” he coos, changing his angle again so he reaches that spongy spot in your cunt.

you swear you can see spots when it crashes onto you, your whole body spasming with the intensity of it. sunghoon prolongs your orgasm, still thrusting into you with a purpose. you know he’s closer to his edge too from how desperate he’s moving and the whines leaving his lips. you’re so sensitive it’s making you insane, but you allow him to keep abusing your pussy.

“where do you want me?” he asks breathily, his sweaty forehead sticking to your skin.

“inside,” you moan, your toes curling. “cum inside me, sunghoon,”

he just about loses it at that, fucking into you with everything he can manage and sinking his nails into the fat of your hips to hold you still. you’re overstimulated and your brain is foggy so you keep squirming around, involuntarily squeezing your walls around his length. it’s not too much later that he finally releases, painting your cunt with milky white ropes of cum.

he slumps forward once he’s given all he has to offer, his chest flat against yours while he attempts to regulate his breathing. the two of you lie there for a bit, recovering from what just happened. eventually he pulls out and disappears into the bathroom, only to return with a warm and damp washcloth seconds after. he hands it to you wordlessly and you awkwardly clean yourself up, wincing due to the acute sensitivity you were feeling. sunghoon sits beside you, naked and silent.

you think it’s funny how he was so confident not even ten minutes ago and now he’s acting like a shy teenager. you know you have to talk about the situation at hand and what it means for your relationship, but in this moment, the cloudiness of your head subsided, that fear of rejection has creeped back in. was it just a temporary lapse of judgment on his part? did he just feel attraction towards you because you dolled yourself up for once?

the insecurity rushes in like a tsunami wave and you want nothing more than to get out of here before you drown.

“i—”

“we—”

you both speak at the same time, cutting each other off before you can continue. he gestures for you to go first and you sigh, reaching for the t-shirt thrown over the bedpost from this morning. you slip it on, along with your discarded underwear, to hide your body, comparatively aware of how exposed you were. he follows suit, putting his underwear back on.

“i think i should sleep somewhere else tonight.” you say, your tone uneasy.

sunghoon’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “w-what? why?”

“it’s already awkward enough,” you avoid his eyes. “i don’t think sleeping in the same bed is gonna help.”

“i was just trying to put together the right words,” he explains, brows still furrowed. “i don’t wanna give you a half assed confession after we just had sex, y’know? you deserve something more intimate than that.”

you blink, thrown for a loop by his admission. well now you felt like an idiot.

“c-confession?” you stutter, resembling a cartoon character with your jaw on the ground.

“did you— did you think i was gonna treat this as a random hookup?” his lips form a frown, like he was offended by your assumption.

“um, yeah? i mean, you never really expressed any interest in me before tonight, sunghoon. you’ve only ever talked about other girls you’ve fucked around with. you can’t really blame me.” you play with the hem of the (his) t-shirt.

his hand finds its way under your chin, lifting it so you have to look at him. the glint in his eyes is soft and you will away the tears threatening to appear. “you really have no idea huh?”

“what are you talking about?” you sniffle.

“y/n, i’ve been in love with you for like five years. any time i’ve talked about another girl, it was to see whether or not you seemed bothered by it. did you actually think i felt nothing for you?” sunghoon snorts, wiping away a stray tear that rolls down your cheek.

“yeah,” you laugh, feeling a little silly for not knowing he liked you this entire time. “i guess i was blinded by my own emotions.”

“that’s why it made me mad that you were hitting it off so well with that jisung guy,” he holds one of your hands in his lap, caressing your knuckles with his thumb. “i kinda figured you felt the same, but i was starting to doubt it after that.”

“hoon, i was only doing that ‘cause i thought i had no chance with you,” you shake your head. “if you had told me sooner, all of this could’ve been prevented.”

“or if you told me sooner.” he adds with a shrug.

you lightly poke his chest with a playful eye roll. he smiles at you fondly and you think this is perfect. you weren’t expecting the night to go in this direction, but you definitely aren’t complaining. somehow you feel like heeseung is to thank, in an odd way. (you’d never let him know that though.)

“can i kiss you again? for real this time?” sunghoon asks, scooting a little closer to you on the bed.

you nod, leaning into him so you can connect your lips in a sweet kiss. it’s not full of hunger or desire, but it still has that same passion from earlier. it’s loving and it’s everything you’ve ever needed from a kiss with park sunghoon.

you don’t get to indulge in the moment any longer, though, a thud sounding outside your room and hushed voices filtering from under the door. you and sunghoon share a look.

“shut the fuck up, they’re gonna hear us!”

“you’re the one being loud, what are you saying?”

“jake shut your fucking mouth, don’t back talk me.”

“wait why are they quiet?”

“shhh!”

sunghoon scoffs before he opens the door, revealing your friends all gathered in front of it. jake and kai fall forward, ears first. they give you guilty smiles when they realize they’ve been caught, chuckling uncomfortably.

“beomgyu, you owe me five bucks.” heeseung says when he takes notice of the clothes strewn across the room.

nevermind. lee heeseung truly was the bane of your existence.

© yeonjunszn. do not steal, claim, or repost.

[aquilathefighter]

Fluffbruary 21: Journal

Hurt/Comfort ahoy! I totally meant this to be as light as my other ficlets but alas, the boys did not want to do that. Everything is okay in the end :)

Find all of my other @fluffbruary ficlets on AO3 here!

Fandom: The Sandman (2022)

Relationship: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

Hob pulls out the chest with a grunt, the heavy wood thumping on the concrete floor of the storage unit. He plops down on the cold floor alongside it, quickly inputting a combination with secret panels that even Dream finds difficult to comprehend.

"What is stored within this chest, Hob Gadling?"

Hob grins up at him. "Journals! I've been lucky to stash them away. There are some from the 1700s in here; lost the older ones but I've still got these! Sit down, I want you to look with me."

Gingerly, Dream kneels. He leans most of his weight against Hob, who wraps an arm around his back, pulling him closer. He is so warm in the chill of the storage unit that Dream rests his head against his shoulder, a happy hum escaping his mouth.

Hob opens the chest, the scent of well-loved leather and old paper bursting out. Dream breathes in deep, savoring the intoxicating scent of stories untold, saved for this moment. Hob rubs his back approvingly, the sensations bordering just on the good side of overwhelmed.

With his other hand, Hob begins to rifle through the stacks. The spines are each engraved with a date, no doubt done by his hand. One handed, he manages to find the particular journal he was looking for.

The journal begins in May 1789, judging by the spine. Hob flicks through it, careful not to tear the pages.

“Here we go! June 8, 1789!” Hob grins as he passes the journal to Dream. He holds it with reverence: these are Hob’s innermost thoughts that he’s decided to share with him. He’d avoided any of the books associated with Hob in his library; his friend (and now lover) deserved the utmost privacy. He looked at the page, written in a loose, looping hand.

8 June 1789:

Yesternight, I met with my Stranger. It was a queer occurrence, I swear he was to give me his name before we were so rudely interrupted by the Lady Constantine. How I wish he hadn’t denied my asking to go to another pub!

I’ve made a realization: I am in love with him. I have felt such for centuries now.

What did he say? “You need not have come to my defense.” God above, the way he looked at me! Such smolder and passion behind those eyes. Oh, Stranger, would that I knew what was going on in that head of yours. You are an otherworldly beauty; the style of this time becomes you.

 I know what I must do come our next meeting: I shall ask him to begin a courtship. Should he accept my suit, I shall prove to him the worthiness of my companionship and my eternal life!

On that note, I have begun divesting myself of this filthy business I’ve found myself in. He was correct; I have no business taking the choice of another man to live his life as he pleases away. It will take a bit more planning, but I must do what I can to rid myself of this blood money and atone for my crimes against my fellow man.

I have my work cut out for me and I pray that I am a better man before our next meeting.

Dream feels his eyes burn with tears. How had he been so cruel to him the next time they met? Hob had been trying so hard—and had plans to court him!? He closes the book before he can smear the ink with tears. He feels drops run hot down his cheeks as he turns to bury his face in the crook of Hob’s neck. Hob takes the notebook from his hands, replacing it in the chest. Then he takes Dream fully in his arms, pulling him into his lap. He presses kisses to the crown of his head as they rock back and forth, Dream’s sobs muffled by Hob’s jacket.

“Oh, my darling, I didn’t mean to upset you,” Hob says into Dream’s hair. He holds him, hands rubbing up and down his back until Dream has settled enough to speak.

Dream looks up from Hob’s shoulder, pulling back so they are eye-to-eye. Somehow, he is still beautiful, his face tear-stained and blotchy but still ethereal in Hob’s eyes. He clears his throat and sniffles.

“You have not. Upset me,” he shakes his head. “I simply… regret the way things had gone. Had I known…”

“Dream, love, please don’t beat yourself up about this. I just—I thought you would like that I wrote the story down. That I knew, even then, even when I didn’t know your name, that I loved you. That I love you. So much.”

Hob pulls him back into a hug, tucking Dream’s head under his chin.

“You had a lot going on back then. I had no clue how you would’ve taken it. And guess what? Despite everything that happened, we figured ourselves out. Only took a couple extra centuries, but we’ve got the rest of eternity together.”

Dream presses a kiss to his neck, nestling deeper into the hug.

“Thank you. For understanding.”

“Of course, duck. Let me see if I can find something more fun in here, I got up to some most excellent shenanigans in the early 1800s. Or we can take it home and snuggle for a bit?”

Hob hears an affirmative noise from where Dream’s face is buried in his chest. He chuckles.

“Care to take us away then, my dear?”

They appear on the couch, still tangled together. The wooden chest makes another thunk as it lands on the plush carpet near the bookshelf. All will be well in time.

[steviestits]

My God Longs For Me - Part 1.4

Written for an anon prompt, which can be read in its entirety on this fic’s masterpost.

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Rating: M (For Murder) Summary: When Steve was a child, he was abducted and brought to the cult, the Hellfire Club, as he was prophesied to be the wife of the dark forest god they worshiped. Steve enjoyed his time there, especially the time he spent with the cult leader's nephew, Eddie. This wasn't meant to last however as Steve was eventually returned to his parents. Thanks to the deprogrammer that his parents hired and time, Steve has mostly forgotten the cult that raised him. That is until he goes on a camping trip and his friends start to get murdered one by one with the only connection between the killings being the ritual offerings to the cult's gods and the strange dreams Steve has before each one. Now Steve must piece together his past to discover who is murdering his friends in the present. (Inspired heavily by various horror movies and is a horror story itself.) Trigger Warning: F-slur, gore, murder, blood, choking, character death but not Eddie or Steve, religious imagery Eventual Trigger Warning: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Ritual Sacrifices, Gore, Mpreg, Body Horror, Monster Fucking, Feminization, Brainwashing

(Link to previous part)

Bev Mooney was born in this motel, and she was raised here by her hardcore, Evangelist parents. They taught her about sinners like the boys who had checked-in only a few hours ago. The boy might have denied it, but she knew a faggot when she saw one, just like how her dad did back when he used to run the motel in his day. She planned to deal with them just how her dad did, by shooting them dead with a hunting rifle then burning their bodies in the incinerator to give them a taste of what was in store for them when they went straight to Hell.

In the backrooms behind the check-in counter was where she stayed. Much like the rest of the place, it was old and rundown with chipped furniture and peeling wallpaper. Bev kept her rifle in a lockbox underneath her bed which was hidden in cardboard box labeled “X-Mas Decorations.” She kneeled down to retrieve it, only to pause when she heard a creaking sound from the next room. Her parents had died long ago, and Bev had no other family, so she should’ve been alone.

“Hello?” Bev called out. “Is anyone there?”

No one answered. Bev also didn’t hear any other noises, making her assume that it was the old motel creaking since it was desperate need of repair. Putting the sound out of her mind, she pulled out the boxes then removed her rifle from inside the both of them. She weighed it in her hand, relishing in the way the metal barrel pressed into her skin, and slowly got to her feet, but when she turned around, Bev found that she wasn’t alone.

A black-robed person in a deer skull mask loomed in the doorway. They didn’t say anything, and only stared. She couldn’t see their hands since the sleeves of the robe were too long, yet that didn’t stop her imagination from picturing an assortment of demonic weapons that the beast could use against a righteous, God-fearing woman such as herself.

Bev raised the rifle and aimed it at the intruder. “You have to the count of three before I blow your brains out!”

The other person didn’t move, except their body was relaxed, as if they were in control of the situation, not Bev. She leveled her gun, placing her finger on the trigger. The cocky son of a bitch was going to learn what happened to intruders around these parts.

“One,” she counted slowly. “Two. Three!”

Bev pulled the trigger, only nothing happened. It was then that the stranger raised their arm, revealing a hand that was clutching several bronze bullets. They released the rounds, letting them fall against the floor with soft tinkling. Somehow this person had found her rifle ahead of her and emptied it of its ammo.

“What do you want!?” Bev yelled, grip on the rifle tightening. “The money is in the register! Take it! I don’t care!”

Silently, the robed figure reached into their sleeve to reveal a large hunting knife with a polished, wooden handle. Bev’s mouth went dry as she realized that the person before her wasn’t after money. Bev had heard the rumors about the Hellfire Cult that had made its home several miles down the road from where the motel was situated. She never gave them much thought, felling that God would punish the wicked, which they did years ago since the police had come to break-up the cult and arrest its leader. Now, she wished she’d paid more attention to the news, wondering if maybe one of those psychos had broken out of jail, yet she had missed the report.

“Stay back, demon!” Bev then threw the rifle at the intruder before she scrambled over the bed in an attempt to scamper towards the window. The robed figure caught her, though, and threw her across the room into a nearby dresser. She slammed into it, feeling a sharp pain in her back, but fear kept her going, allowing her to shakily get to her feet before she ran bedroom door.

Bev quickly made her way to the backdoor, which led out into the woods behind the motel, only to find that it was deadbolted shut. She undid the deadbolt then opened the door and was met with despair as she found that one of the motel’s dressers had been pushed in front of the screen door to prevent her escape. The robed figure was right behind her, leisurely making their way towards her, so she did the one thing she could do, which was push through the screen.

Wire cut into her flesh as Bev forced her way through the door and stumbled over the dresser. Bev reasoned that the dresser would slow down her attacker, too, except the robed figure was strong and easily pushed open the screen door, never picking up their pace. They chased after her as if they had all the time in the world, and for all Bev knew, they did.

Fleeing into the woods, Bev ran as fast she was able with her injuries. Low hanging branches and brambles whipped across her face, catching on her clothing, tearing it to shreds, but she didn’t slow down, not for a moment. She kept running, until she looked behind her and could no longer see the robed figure in the distance.

Bev doubled over panting, not used to doing so much running as she usually sat on her couch and watched Wheel of Fortune. She thought that she could rest for a moment, catch her breath, before doubling back to the motel to call the police, but then a gloved hand grabbed her throat and pulled her back against a solid chest. Her eyes widened, realizing that she hadn’t even heard them approach, though maybe her heavy breathing had masked their approach.

The hand moved up to her jaw, pressing against it roughly to force her mouth open. They held her like that as they produced a cross from inside their robe, one that Bev recognized from her own private collection. She struggled, but her attempts were useless, and the robed figure forced the cross down her throat, causing pain to shoot through her as she felt it cutting up the inside of her esophagus.

Blood began to choke her, but the robed figure wasn’t done. They brought the hunting knife up to her chest then cut her from shoulder to shoulder before slicing her from her throat to her abdomen. The movements reminded her of a more violent sign of the cross, and if she wasn’t slowly losing consciousness from blood loss, a part of her would’ve have realized how poetic her death had become. Instead, Bev felt her life begin to fade. Her last thoughts were that she’d been born in this motel, and now she was going to die here, too.

Part 1.3 ~ Masterpost ~ Part 1.5 (Coming Soon-ish)

Author's Note: It's been a rough few weeks, and I felt like killing someone. Hope you found it as cathartic as I did.

[quirkle2]

THAT GORE IS SOOOO GOOD!! PEAK WRITING IF YOU ASK ME TBH (i love feral zombie mobu, he has my heart) will you be publishing your zombie au oneshots on ao3 or just here on tumblr?

also one last question (or not. >:D), how was zombie mob's dynamic/relationship with tome tho? i assume in this au that they didn't know each other before mob got turned? did they form some sort of relationship in a way that he eventually start to recognize her? or did mob stayed seeing her only as a stranger :o

- 🪻 (i think i'm just gonna go by this emoji from now :3)

WAHHHH TY SM,,,

ill prolly just stuck to tumblr for the one shots! i usually like to stick to longer stuff for ao3, so tumblr it is

and yes, mob Does grow to recognize tome as a friend instead of a stranger! it's a bit of a weird dynamic at first, bc when tome meets ritsu, the boys r separated. ritsu is adamant that zombie mob isnt violent, but tome begs to differ...

when tome led mob away from ritsu so she could get him back to the settlement, she ended up tying him to a random utility pole w rope from ritsu's bag she totally rifled through. in any other circumstance she'd prolly just let the patrol guards kill him, but mob is the one that got her attention and Led her to a sick ritsu, and she finds that they're traveling together.. (their labeled water bottles in ritsu's bag is the biggest sign; saliva can infect u so ritsu has to be careful abt not drinking after mob) this zombie is Behaving Strangely and tome is too curious abt this wack ass setup they've got goin to just,, let this zombie die or wander off. the only method she has of keeping him in one place is to tie him somewhere :/

zombie mob doesnt seem to rly care at first, he's just worried abt ritsu, but then when tome doesnt come back for a bit ??? the next morning when she returns (with food and water for him !) he is vicious toward her. he cant do anything tied up like he is, but he's constantly snapping his teeth at her, hissing and spitting and snarling, and trying to wiggle free

all that mob knows if that he tried to get help from this girl, ritsu is gone now, and he's tied to a pole. that pisses him off and all his addled brain can rly process is that ritsu is In Danger somewhere he cant get to. and in tome's perspective, this strange kid she saved has been traveling with a fucking demon, but somehow isnt infected.they checked. he's miraculously not

when ritsu is well enough to hold a convo, tome tells him she has his zombie friend safe somewhere, bc even in his delirium ritsu was mumbling abt his brother (tome voice ah! they're brothers... inchresting i see the resemblance if i remove the horrid eyebags from mob's face). ritsu says mob is an extremely docile zombie by default. tome says he's literally one of the most vicious ones she's ever seen. neither of them believe each other and ritsu is convinced she has the wrong zombie and that mob is still out there somewhere, wandering the settlement grounds just Asking for a patrol to kill him

when ritsu is better, she sneaks him outta the settlement to see his brother. as soon as tome comes around the corner of mob's sad little Utility Pole home he gets riled up and starts snarling, but when another figure follows behind her, he Instantly settles. he sees ritsu's face, still a bit pale but otherwise alive, and every alarm bell in mob's head is cleared and he relaxes like a switch in him was flipped

ritsu saw that viciousness for a split second tho, and is Shocked by it. nevertheless ritsu is so relieved he's okay, so he basically rushes at mob and envelopes him in a Hug and tome watches this, kinda stunned. the way his brother instantly settles in the hold ?? maybe ritsu Was right, in his eyes... maybe being around ritsu just calms mob down, so ritsu's only seen his tame side

tome joins the gang after that (her joining might seem strange, given she hasnt much of a motive, but trust me, for tome, getting to study this enigma of a dynamic is basically her dream. also she has a backstory that motivates her more but im not getting into that now). and it's very odd how mob seems to,,, be largely ok w her now ?

she thought it'd be difficult, given his obvious hatred of her after their first meeting, but it seems that her eventually bringing back ritsu erased most of the distrust there. he's typically pretty cool w her around; the only times he gets testy is when she shoves ritsu around when they're bullying each other. after all this time of walking w a gentle ritsu alone, mob doesnt rly know the difference between fun roughhousing and actually hurting each other, so he typically growls at her lowly until she stops

later on in the journey, he shows genuine trust in tome, particularly after moments where she saves him or ritsu from getting shot. and way later on, when tome is in trouble, mob even attacks another zombie to keep them away from her

eventually he sees her as part of the gang, and tome sees him as less of a Vicious Monster and more of what he actually is; somebody's brother that is sick, and is one of the only zombies in existence that is actually being taken care of and accommodated for

[swamplatibule]

GREETINGS it is 9:25 PM on a Sunday as i write this. My hands are shaking rn but that’s probably a result of the energy drink that gave me heart palpitations earlier </3 anyway it’s time for

Lantern Eclipse!

Lantern Eclipse takes place in a world that ended a while ago! Roughly 100-odd years ago, a combination of weird mold creatures, magic nature spirits, and good old-fashioned nuclear radiation completely took over, resulting in the destruction of the vast majority of manmade areas! Most major cities have been completely overgrown with mold and megaflora, save for a few “havens” scattered few and far in between.

Don’t @ me i’ve lost track of how many apocalypse paracosms i have and that probably says something about my psyche that I’m not ready to hear

ANYWAY. Our story takes place in one of those havens, called Guardian City, which is mostly known for its massive size, wild amount of neon lights, and also the really intense military organization called the Shepherd Division that runs the place like the navy! Or like. Half of it. There’s also the violet district that takes up maybe a fifth of the city, which is mostly controlled by various mob kingpins, drug lords, etc. technicallyyyyy the Shepherd Divison is supposed to control the area, but they generally let the violet district remain as is in exchange for all their bullshit not spilling over into the “respectable” areas.

Also I feel like i should mention that Guardian City is huge. Like the size of Montana. There’s a massive wall surrounding its border to keep the plants out, but you cannot see that wall from the center of the city

ANYWAY. This is all basic background info. Now it’s meat time baybee

This is one of those stories where there are several separate plots with entirely different casts of characters going on at once, so I’m just going to go over one of them for now because it’s getting late and as previously mentioned my hands are shaking so bad rn

The first person we need to meet is Fairywren Merlo! She was a skater boy <3 Fairywren is my darling dearest who can do no wrong. She’s also a mercenary for hire and has most definitely killed before. She has a sniper rifle, roller skates, autism and a dream!!

^ that would be her in Normal WorldTM i still have yet to decide on her canon outfit

The next person you should know about is Eddie Duncan, who i described in my notesapp as “like if colonel sanders murdered people. Charming in a gross way, like a marginally more evil televangelist with a gun.” Eddie is an INCREDIBLY influential figure within the violet district - he’s rich, he has the Shepherd Division in his pocket, and he’s also incredibly dangerous, so everyone wants to stay on his good side. Do people like him? Depends who you ask. Everyone, however, is scared of him. To be more precise, they’re scared of his “hunting dog,” the silent, nameless masked man who follows his every command. we’ll get back to these two later.

now, fairywren is Good At Her Job. a bit too good at it. she gets a job to kill some random ass guyTM who she’s never heard of, so she does it! very well! EXCEPT turns out that was the son of a very important member of the shepherd guard, and the guy who hired her to kill him has now vanished, leaving her a) unpaid and b) being searched for by the shepherds. uh oh!!

the best solution she can think of is to get out of the city, but she doesn’t have any means of surviving outside the city until she meets Eddie, who brings her and a few other mercenaries along on some Top Secret Project that he’s working on which requires them all to venture outside the city wall and search for some lost artifact he needs. fairywren and the others are mostly just there to kill mold monsters and be human shields for him.

they go the first few days without seeing any trouble aside from the usual freaky wasteland monsters, and then uh oh! they get ambushed by a group looking for that same artifact! and this is where the “hunting dog” i mentioned earlier becomes Very Important!

he is what’s known in Neon Eclipse as a “terror” - an ageless, human-appearing creature that feeds only on human flesh and is nearly impossible to kill! they’re like vampires but. worse <3 I can go into SO much detail about them but i will restrain myself for now because it’s story time. but. anyway. everyone in their party watches him absolutely rip through all of their attackers!

obviously Eddie’s hired guns aren’t too pleased about traveling out in the middle of nowhere with a guy who would 100% eat them if given the chance, but Eddie assures them that he’s entirely under control. see, each terror has a “heart,” usually in the form of some small weird looking stone. If someone else gets their hands on it, then they can use it to force the Terror to do whatever they want! and Eddie keeps the heart of his nameless follower on a cord around his neck!

turns out Eddie and his older brother used to be in the business of researching terrors about 40 years ago! they stumbled upon the one that now follows him everywhere while he was asleep, and Eddie’s brother got a bit too close and. well. oopsie!

but hey he might be down a brother but at least he has Some Fuckin Guy on his side

some shit happens, and one by one, everyone else in the party dies in various terrible ways until it’s only Eddie, Fairywren, and the terror left. Then Eddie finds his artifact! yay! buuuuut he doesn’t want any witnesses so Fairywren has to die </3 alas! She manages to escape - barely - but it’s hard to outrun a terror for a few minutes, let alone forever. Eddie catches up to her within a few days, and things are looking Very Bad for our dear fairywren, who is now face to face with death.

BUT. instead of attempting to fight the terror! fairywren shoots Eddie! she fully expects the terror to kill her after, but seeing as the guy commanding him is now dead, he takes his heart from Eddie’s body and leaves! and also starts laughing, which is the first noise Fairywren has ever heard him make. spooky

Fairywren is now completely lost in the cursed wilderness with no way back! BUT she eventually catches up with our terror friend (who can talk now thanks to not having Eddie forcing him to be quiet anymore) and they get to be friends <3 yippie <3 she also gives him the name Ford (she suggested harrison ford because he’s her favorite actor but our terror friend thought harrison was a dumb name) they’re still lost but at least they don’t have to worry if they’re attacked and she is mostly confident that he probably won’t murder her

n e way! that’s one major story thread written, who even knows how many left to go 😭 yay

taglist: @burningivy @shrimpnymph @diphtheria420 @parasdreams @dremieblur @acircusfullofdemons @daydreaming-memories (lmk if you want to be taken off the taglist pretty please!!)

[cloudycleric]

Will screamed as he toppled to the ground, tripping on a tree root.

“Barb!”

Barbra turned her head, still running to see Will trying to get himself back up. She winced, swiftly turning so she could try and help Will up. “Will!”

As she ran up to him, she saw the tears running down his face, his lip now busted from the fall. She quickly grabbed Will’s arms and yanked him up, taken over by adrenaline. And then she heard it.

From the corner of her eye, she saw the tall, faceless figure, running after them from the forest. Barb started to scream as she made sure Will was able to run.

Will’s vision was hazy. All he could taste was blood. But Barb’s screams brought him back to reality, as he ran towards an empty house at the end of the street. He didn’t dare look back. He just kept running.

But he still heard those pounding footsteps.

As they reached the house, Barb had seen they had gained some distance from the Demogorgon, but not by much. The door to the house was locked as she desperately tried to get it open. “God fucking damn it!”

“Is it locked?” Will looked at her nervously, keeping an eye on the Demogorgon. A tear ran down his face.

Barb stopped trying the door knob and turned around. “Will,” she said, trying to remain calm. “You need to run. We need to split up. Otherwise it’s just going to keep finding us.”

The monster got closer.

“But Barb,” Will was trembling with fear. “I don’t—”

“Will,” she said firmly, raising her voice to a yell. “You need to go.”

She saw the faceless creature run up the driveway.

“Run!”

Will, not needing to be told again, bolted. He wiped tears as he heard Barb run in the opposite direction, the rifle clattering against his back.

The Demogorgon had chosen Barb. Will watched in terror as it approached her slowly, knowing it had backed her into a corner. Will swung the rifle around, fiddling with it just as he had before, trying to aim for the monster, but he knew it was too late. There was no getting out for her.

And like that, she was gone. A lifeless body, being torn to shreds just like she was some meat. Will did his best to hold back a scream, watching the only other person he knew to rely on die in front of him. This wasn’t hide-and-go-seek. This wasn’t some awful dream. His one ally was dead, being eaten in front of him.

“You knew Nancy?” Barb asked, laughing slightly. Though she was scared shitless, she found comfort in the fact that she had found another, living human.

“Yeah I mean, she’s Mike’s big sister. Not like we ever, y’know, talked,” Will stared off.

“Mike? Mike Wheeler?”

“Yeah,” Will looked at Barb as she smiled at him. “Did you know him?”

“I knew he was a little shit,” said Barb. “But that he was sweet. But Nancy rarely talked about that part.”

Will smiled for the first time since he had been taken. “He’s my best friend, y’know. We play DND all the time, and have sleepovers, he always has my back. We met in kindergarten.”

Barb nodded. “I didn’t get to know Nancy very well until the beginning of high school,” she sighed. “But she is my favorite person in the world. Kind of like how you describe… is Mike, uhm… your favorite person in the world, too?”

“Like a crush?” Will asked, turning red. “Nancy is your crush?”

Barb stammered. “No, I mean, well, it’s complicated…”

“My dad used to tell me that was bad,” Will looked off. “For boys to like boys and girls to like girls. But I don’t think it’s bad.”

Barb smiled at his candor. “You have the right idea, little guy. I wish everyone was like you.”

Silence fell between them.

“I don’t know if he’s my crush,” Will said, almost at a whisper, “but he’s my favorite person in the world, too.”

Barb looked lovingly at Will, almost a motherly instinct coming over her. She hugged Will from the side. “And no matter what happens—we’re gonna get out of here, okay? And we’re gonna see our favorite people in the world. I promise you. Okay?”

Will dropped the rifle, letting it swing back onto his back, and ran.

[collabpartners]

Hazbin Hotel: The Contract of Blood Ep. 8

*Hey guys, we're back with the new episode! This chapter/episode is published on March 25, 2024. If you guys like it, don't forget to heart, reblog, and comment! That would be greatly appreciated! Warning: Blood and swearing. Enjoy!* 

Episode Eight: Breaking Hearts

“Husk! Husk!!!” 

Husk snaps his eyes open, choking of the dark green waters. He tries to swim up, but he feels like he’s being overtaken by the green waters of Hell. 

Once he’s pushed underwater, he keeps seeing flashes of Angel getting choked by Val. He tries to swim towards the memory, attempting to rescue Angel until his vision turns green. 

Husk wakes up with his vision green with a gasp. He sits up straight, noticing tentacles rising all around him. He tries to calm himself down, but his racing heartbeat isn’t helping him. Before he can comprehend what’s happening, he feels the sudden chains around his neck. The tentacles disappears into the ground. 

Husk’s vision is clear, no longer green. He flicks a glance at the chain and follows it up to Alastor, who’s holding it. 

“Evening, Husk. Having little night terrors, are we?” Alastor says, letting go the chains. 

Husk sighs in relief and leans back against the headboard of the unfamiliar bed in Bee’s mansion. The chains fade from his neck, leaning back more. 

Alastor sits next to Husk as Husk finally calms down from his dream.

“I’m sorry,” Husk responds. “I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me.”

Alastor keeps his sadistic grin. “You are experiencing powerful emotions lately.” 

“I was just having a dream this time,” Husk growls mostly to himself. 

“Dreams can bring powerful emotions,” Alastor adds. “You know, you usually don’t get emotional. What ails you, my feline friend? Is it your sweet sweet Angel again? Do I have to worry about him?” 

“N-No,” Husk answers with a stutter. 

“Are you sure? He’s affected your emotionality. He has grabbed that old wretched heart of yours and made it so damn soft,” Alastor responds darkly. “He is making you act so reckless and stupid. Do I have to worry about him coming between you and me?” 

“What? No. Not at all,” Husk responds. “It’s just...I don’t know what’s going on with me lately. Ever since Angel and I opened up to each other, I don’t know. The more I got closer to him, the more I feel like I can’t think straight. It gets to the point where I’m afraid whether I’ll hurt Angel or Angel will hurt me. And that...scares me.” 

“It should,” Alastor responds sadistically. “You really have change, old boy. Truly you have. Do I have to do something to Angel to not make you so emotional--?” 

“Don’t you fucking hurt him,” Husk threatens, his eyes green for a second. 

Alastor widens his eyes in shock at the sudden threat coming from Husk. Husk realizes he’s threatening the one who owns his soul, letting the green in his eyes fade. When the green fades from Husk’s eyes, Alastor relaxes. 

With a huff of laughter, Alastor scoots off the bed. “Goodnight, Husker.” Alastor walks away from Husk before adding, “By the way.”

Husk perks his ears. 

“Be careful of where you use your powers at. If you think breaking out of your chains is going to help your sweet Angel, you couldn’t be anymore wrong. Have a good night, Husky~” 

Husk gasps, his chest rising and falling rapidly. A sudden realization that maybe...just maybe...he may have put Angel in danger. Alastor won’t hurt Angel if he’s one of Charlie’s friends. Or will Alastor care? Husk has so many questions at the unpredictability of his owner.

~.~

A loud knock echoes through the mansion, waking Blitz up from his sleep with drool over the corner of his mouth. 

“What the fuck?” Blitzo questions to himself. 

Another knock sounds in the mansion, waking up Loona, Mox, and Millie in high alert. 

Blitzo wipes the drool off of his face and gets out of his rifle. He gestures the others to stay at their spot until he throws the door open to point the gun up at whoever the intruder is.

“Whoa, Blitzy! It’s me!” Stolas shouts in shock, shielding his sleeping teen daughter from Blitz’s aim. 

“Oh shit, it is you,” Blitzo says as he lowers the rifle. “Come in. Hurry.” 

Stolas swiftly enters the mansion, holding his daughter tightly. Blitzo scans outside and notices no one outside. He closes the door behind Stolas and his daughter. 

“What happened at your place?” Blitzo questions and notices sleeping Octavia. “What’s going on with her?” 

“She’s fine,” Stolas responds. “She may have abdominal injury.” 

“We’ll take a look at her,” Millie volunteers. 

Stolas lets Millie and Mox take her off of his arms to see her stomach is bleeding. Octavia is already bandaged up, but it needs to be changed. 

“Stella has finally lost it,” Stolas answers with a groan. 

Millie puts a washcloth over Octavia’s head and Mox helps change the bandages. 

“What the hell did she do?” Blitz questions him. 

“She burned down the fucking castle. She is hoping to kill both me and Octavia so that she can get the inheritance. I heard her talking to her lawyer of a brother outside of the fire.”

“Fucking bitch,” Blitz mutters angrily. 

“Thank you!” Stolas responds irritably, but not intended towards Blitz. “Look, being mad at me for cheating is one thing. But burning down the castle in an attempt to kill not only me, but our own daughter as well.” 

“Wow, what were you thinking marrying her?” 

“It’s not like I have a choice, Blitzy. I would’ve married you if I did have a choice.”

Blitz blinks in confusion. “What?”

Stola perks his head up and blushes. “What?” 

Blitz blushes and scratches the back of his head. “Uh...that wouldn’t be a good choice on your part then.”

Stolas frowns and looks at Octavia. “The only good thing that came out marrying Stella is Octavia. She’s going to have her own choice of who she wants to love. And who knows, maybe she’ll have an heir of her own someday.” 

Blitz smiles at Stolas. “I guess.” 

Stolas looks around the mansion. “How do you know Queen Bee? She isn’t one of those people you sleep with--?” 

Blitz rolls his eyes. “I did make-out with a couple of folks at her party. She’s not one of them.” 

“Ah, that must have been fun.”

“Not when you have your own daughter to drive you home and have to throw-up afterwards.” 

Stolas chuckles. “Blitzy...the words you said last night. Do you mean it?” 

“Yeah...I still stand by them.”

“Good,” Stolas says with a smile. “But, it seems so sudden to start a relationship over after divorcing my wife.” 

“Hey, as I said before, I’m willing to wait. Besides, I got shit ton of other things to take care of as well.” 

Stolas smiles softly. “Great.” He looks to see Octavia waking up with a groan. 

“Dad?” Octavia utters. 

“Be right back,” Stolas says while going to his daughter and sit next to her. “How are you doing, my owlette?” 

“W-Where are we? Are we back home?” Octavia asks timidly, now not recognizing the mansion. 

“No, dear,” Stolas says softly. “We’re at a much safer place. Our home is burned down.” 

Octavia blinks her red eyes slowly. “Who burned down our home?” 

Stolas clenches his beak and looks to see Blitz, who shrugs. Then he shifts his gaze at his daughter. “Just a bunch of hooligans, my owlette. We should be safe now.” 

“W-Where’s Mom?” Octavia questions in fear. 

“Somewhere safe, I’m sure,” Stolas answers softly. 

Octavia frowns and notices Loona. 

“You doing okay?” Loona asks her. 

“Yeah, thanks,” Octavia replies with a groan. “I think I hit my head.”

“Looks like it,” Loona says while looking at the back of her head to find it bleeding too, but there’s a bandage that needs to be changed as well. She cocks her head for Mox to notice and change the bandage. 

Blitz approaches by Stolas and whispers. “How hard did she hit her head?” 

“She couldn’t remember her name for the first moment she woke up,” Stolas whispers to Blitz.

“Shit,” Blitz mutters to himself. 

Alastor appears beside Blitz out of nowhere. “So! Who are these new faces?” 

Blitz jumps and whirls around to find Alastor next to him. “Shit! You scared me!” 

“I scared everyone. It’s a normal reaction,” Alastor responds. 

“Yeah, get the fuck away, creep ass,” Blitz curses at Alastor. He looks at Stolas with a friendly. “Stolas, uh, meet creepy ass, Alasstor.” 

“Pleasure to meet you, good sir,” Alastor responds while shaking Stolas’ hand and notices Octavia. “And who’s your ray of sunshine?” 

“Uh, this is my daughter, Octavia,” Stolas introduces his daughter. 

Alastor shakes her hand daintly. “Pleasure to meet you, dear. You’re a mess.” 

“She’s fine,” Stolas responds, swatting Alastor’s hand away from his daughter’s in a protective manner. 

Angel yawns and enters into the entryway. “Who the fuck are these people?” 

Blitz smiles to see Angel and hurries to pull Angel over to introduce to Stolas. “Stolas, this is Angel Dust. This is the guy I’m talking about getting abused by the overlord we planned to kill.” 

Stolas notices the bruises and cuts on Angel’s body, standing up straight in concern. “My my, I heard about you from Blitzy. I’m sorry that you’re going through that. If you ever need anything, I’m right here.” 

Angel notices Stolas is taller than him. He examines him from head to toe. “Uh...thanks.” He looks at Blitz, who is way shorter than Stolas. He leans over to whisper to Blitz. “Damn, ain’t he too tall for you?” 

“Don’t let his height deceive you,” Blitz comments with a hushed tone, but Stolas hears it. 

“I heard that,” Stolas responds. 

Blitz giggles. “Sorry.” He looks at Angel and then back at Stolas. “He’s got someone shorter than him for a secret crush.”

“He ain’t that short!” Angel responds with a blush.

“Oh yeah, the shortest of the short. His little Husky poo~” 

Stolas giggles at Blitz teasing Angel. “Husky poo. Who’s that?” 

Husk walks into the room groggily. 

“That’s him,” Blitz whispers.

“Oh. Hi, Husky Poo!” Stolas greets, which earns a laugh from Blitz and a maddening blush from Angel. 

Husk glances at Stolas confused. “Huh?” 

Blitz takes Stolas aside. “That’s not his actual name.”

“I know,” Stolas says with a smirk. 

Blitz whispers to Angel, “Hey, have you asked him out yet?” 

“No,” Angel responds, blushing more. 

Blitz is silent for a moment until a smirk grows on his face. 

“Blitz--” Angel scolds lowly.

Blitz turns to Husk while waving at him. “Hey, Husky Poo~! Did you have a good night sleep~?!” 

Angel groans, covering his blushing face.

Husk blinks in confusion. “What the fuck is going on?” 

Blitz takes Angel by the hand and places him in front of Husk. “Why don’t you talk to him?” 

Angel froze and looks at both Stolas and Blitz, who are giving him the thumbs up. He glances back at Husk, blushing. 

“Uh, they’re just being idiots,” Angel responds, rubbing the back of his head. 

Husk tilts his head to see Stolas. “Who’s he?” 

“Blitz’s boyfriend,” Angel introduces. 

“A bit of a tall guy for a real short imp, huh?” 

“I know!” 

“We heard that!” 

Angel and Husk glance up to see Blitz laying his head on top of Stolas’. 

Husk blinks in surprise.  “That’s not weird.” 

Both Angel and Husk exchange laughter between them. Husk glances up at Angel, realizing his heart is racing like a beating drum. 

Husk blushes and rubs his arm. “Shit, sorry for staring.”

“You can keep staring all you want, babycakes,” Angel flirts. 

Husk chuckles until he notices Alastor standing ominously in the shadows. He swears that he can feel his heart leap out of his mouth in fear. He can’t even breathe for a second at the thought of what Alastor may be planning to do with Angel. He clenches his jaw and notices Fizz and Ozzie walking out to the group.

“Do my eyes deceive me or is that Stolas I see?” Ozzie greets. 

“What are you doing on top of his head, Blitz?” Fizz questions his friend.

“It’s called asserting dominance,” Blitz responds with a joking smile. 

“Really?” Fizz responds by stretching his robotic limbs to make himself slightly taller than Blitz and Stolas. 

“Hold still, Stolas,” Blitz responds as he stands on his boyfriend’s shoulders to reach Fizz’s height. “I have the high ground now.” 

Joining in their game, Ozzie picks up Fizz and places him on his shoulder, standing taller than both Blitz and Stolas combined. 

Bee enters the room with her boyfriend, Vortex. She smirks at the game they’re playing. “You think you’re dominate?” Bee grows in size, taller than Ozzie and Stolas while placing Vortex on her shoulder. 

Blitz widens his eyes and tries to tug Stolas’ head softly. “Ah, shit. Retreat! Retreat!” 

Ozzie claps slowly. “Clearly, you’ve won, Ms. Bee.” 

Bee shrinks herself down while putting her boyfriend down. She takes a little bow. “Happy to participate.” 

Lucifer enters the room. “Ah, I see we’re having some fun. Where’s some honey?” 

Bee smirks. “Have it right here. Since no one is here to kill us, let’s get fucked up and party!” 

Everyone starts to cheer.

Cherri, Charlie, Nifty, Vaggie, Bella, and Nora enter the room to find the others getting ready for a party.

“Is there going to be a party?” Cherri gasps happily. 

“Hell yeah!” Bee announces. 

“Fuck yeah!” Cherri responds while noticing Vortex taking out gallons of alcohol that tastes like honey. 

“Yeah, get the kind that will get us wasted,” Lucifer responds with a bright smile. He looks to see Charlie. “Mind joining us?!” 

“Uh...I’m not sure if that’s a good idea,” Vaggie responds to the offer. 

“Well, since we’re at Bee’s house, we might as well party,” Lucifer answers.

“Hell yeah!” Vortex yells in encouragement. 

Fizz smiles brightly until he notices Husk being avoidant with Angel. Angel notices this as well and reaches for Husk, who winces a bit. Fizz loses his smile and then glances at Ozzie, who sees this too. 

Bee flies up to Ozzie. “Okay, I feel a tense vibe here. I think it’s coming between him and Husk.” She points to Alastor, who’s staring at Husk creepily. 

“That motherfucker,” Ozzie says quietly while putting Fizz down from his shoulder. “Be right back.” 

Fizz watches his boyfriend walking over to take Alastor aside to talk in private. While he does that, Fizz walks over to Husk and links both Husk and Angel together. 

“Hey, why don’t we enjoy the party and relax? It’s not like we’re going to need to run somewhere,” Fizz brings up, trying to mask. 

“Uh, sure, yeah,” Angel responds shyly. 

~.~

Ozzie manages to take Alastor aside in the shadows out of earshot of everyone. “Alright, man, what’s your fucking deal?” 

“What ever do you mean?” 

“Oh, don’t fucking play me,” Ozzie responds with a snarl. “I’ve seen the looks you gave him. Even Bee can feel the tension between you two as if you’re threatening him.” 

“Do I really have to explain myself?” Alastor responds viciously. “Angel here brings emotional imbalance to Husk. I’m simply making sure he has a clear head.”

“Or making sure he knows that you have such a tight control on him,” Ozzie predicts. “Cut the bullshit as if you cared about anyone in this goddamn place. Because let’s be real. You don’t give a shit about anyone but yourself. The only thing you cared about is control.” 

Alastor chuckles maniacally, unsettling Ozzie for a moment. “You think I give a damn about control, Oz? The only reason why I want Husk to have a clear head is because of his lack of control of his newfound powers. And that often leads him into trouble.” 

Ozzie crosses his arm. “Mhm. Yeah, you totally didn’t say anything that might have threatened him last night.”

“I simply told him to be careful where he uses his powers at is all.” 

“Listen here, asshole, if you ever laid a hand on Angel just to make a threat to Husk, I’ll fucking end you,” Ozzie growls at Alastor. 

Alastor flicks his ears and giggles. “My, my, Ozzie. Such threat. Don’t worry though, Husk and I will be on our best behavior.” 

Ozzie glares into Alastor’s eyes. “I’m serious.” 

“Whatever you say, Oz-man,” Alastor responds by walking past him without shaking in fear. 

Ozzie groans and looks to see Alastor getting back to the group. 

~.~

The party has barely started as the others are enjoying themselves. 

Loona and Octavia watch Bella and Nora playing instruments together. Charlie and Vaggie hears the music and join in to listen to the teen girls playing the music for the party. 

Stolas and Blitz are hanging out, drinking and laughing about everything under the sun. 

Lucifer talks Alastor’s ear off, letting Alastor grow irritated with the King of Hell. 

Bee hangs out with Vortex, dancing together on the dance floor to the music Nora and Bella are playing. 

Cherri serves shots of honey whiskey on the tray, placing it in front of Husk, Angel, and Fizz. 

“The guy can barely see straight. Like his eyes are so bad, he can’t read a single word,” Angel talks in the conversation. 

Fizz chuckles while sitting beside Angel to let Angel sit between Husk and Fizz. “And this is the guy that owns your soul?” 

“Yeah!” Angel responds with a laugh. 

“How do you plan on getting redeemed if an overlord still has your soul?” Fizz questions. 

“Guess I’ll have to figure it out,” Angel replies with a shrug.

Cherri gasps. “Speaking of redemption, guess who I saw up in Heaven?” 

“Who?” Angel asks. 

“Sir Pentious,” Cherri answers excitedly.

“No fucking way!” Angel shouts in shock while drinking a shot of honey whiskey.

“Yes fucking way!” Cherri responds happily. 

“How is he doing up there?” Husk asks with a soft smile. 

“He misses his minions,” Cherri replies. 

“Oh shit, they didn’t go up there with him?” Angel inquires.

“Nope,” Cherri states. 

“That’s kind of sad,” Husk responds. 

“Eh, he’ll be fine though. At least I get to have some visitation with him so we can go on more dates,” Cherri replies. 

“I have no fucking clue who Sir Pentious is,” Fizz utters. 

“Oh, he’s an old drinking buddy of ours,” Angel says while referring to him and Husk. “And Cherri’s new boyfriend.”

“Oh, fuck you, bitch. It’s not like you and Husk haven’t been making out and flirting with each other throughout the trip,” Cherri deflects with a joking grin. 

“She’s got a point,” Fizz remarks.

Both Husk and Angel blush around each other. 

“We only made out so that we can get your boyfriend’s attention,” Husk replies to Fizz.

Fizz smirks at Husk jokingly. “Uh-huh, yeah, whatever you say, pal.” 

Ozzie notices Bee dancing with Vortex by themselves and looks at Fizz to corner a soft smile. He gets up and walks up to Fizz, holding a hand out. 

“Would you like to dance, Froggie?” Ozzie offers with a small bow. 

Fizz smiles brightly and looks at his drinking friends. “Excuse me, fellas. I got a gentleman to dance with.” He takes Ozzie by the hand as they start to dance around the ballroom. 

Blitz notice Fizz and Ozzie dancing the ballroom while talking with Stolas. “Fucking show-offs!” 

Fizz throws a playful glare at Blitz. “Why don’t you try to fucking dance?” 

Blitz starts busting out his moves, being admired by Stolas. 

“My, my, Blitzy, you sure know how to use those moves in bed and in public,” Stolas teases Blitz. 

“Oh, shut it,” Blitz responds with a blush while offering his hand to Stolas. “Wanna dance?” 

Stolas softly smiles. “I would love that.” Stolas takes Blitz’s hand and starts joining Ozzie, Fizz, Bee, and Vortex on the dancefloor. 

Lucifer notices this and decides to join Bella by playing the violin to provide more musical ambiance while Alastor tries to find Husk in the crowd. 

Angel notices Charlie and Vaggie getting up and joining them on the dance-floor, twirling each other around with giggles. He looks at Husk, who watches the couples dancing with a genuine smile on his face. 

Angel smirks like an idea came to him and stands up in front of Husk to hold out one of his arms. “Come dance with me.”

“W-What?” Husk stutters.

“C’mon, man. It’ll be fun,” Angel responds.

“A-Angel, I don’t know--” Husk is about to say something until Cherri nudges.

“If you don’t dance with him, I will,” Cherri replies. 

“No! He’s mine!” Husk jumps and grabs Angel’s four hands with a hiss at Cherri for making a puny threat. 

Angel widens in shock at the unexpected reaction from Husk, blushing madly. 

Husk realizes his reaction and blushes. “Uh, I mean.”

“C’mon, whiskers!” Angel exclaims, pulling them both on the dancefloor with the other couples. 

Husk stumbles onto the dancefloor while dancing clumsily with Angel. Husk warms up to the music and looks around to see eyes on them. Ozzie, Fizz, Blitz, and Stolas smirk from the side and Charlie’s eyes sparkle o see Husk and Angel together.

Husk shifts his gaze to look into Angel’s eyes. His heart flutters at the way he smiles. He doesn’t pay attention to Alastor’s threatening gaze. Though, Alastor’s threatening stare doesn’t last long when he’s met with a small glare from Ozzie. 

Husk manages to dance with Angel, who dips him. He blushes madly, staring into his eyes. 

“What’s on your mind, Husker?” Angel asks softly. 

Husk studies Angel’s face, a genuine smile spread across his face. His eyes are softer and his fur shimmering in the light. The small four eyes under his big eyelids are open half-lidded. His four arms has not tried to explore Husk’s body, just holding him so that he won’t fall. It’s almost like Heaven’s light shined behind Angel’s head.

Husk swears that he’s in Heaven when seeing Angel’s face. What makes a grumpy feline with red wings feel this way? That he doesn’t have a clue. 

“You’re beautiful,” Husk blurts out, but he’s not planning on taking those words back.

Angel widens his eyes, losing his genuine smile with a blush on his cheeks. “Thanks, I guess.” 

Husk reaches his hand up to caress Angel’s cheek, feeling the warmth with his cold hand. “You guess?” 

Angel chuckles nervously. “Guess I’m used to not being called ‘beautiful’.” 

“Then I’m glad to be the first in a while,” Husk responds, smirking. 

Angel huffs a small laugh, pulling Husk closer. They both are about to lean forward to reach each other’s lips to kiss until a knock interrupts their moment. 

“AW COME ON!!!!” Blitz shouts, scaring Angel and Husk out of their moment. 

Bee hurries to answer the door and opens it to reveal a familiar Rosie with Nora’s family consisting of Nora’s mother and father, Eleanor and Sebastian.

“Oh, don’t stop the party on my account,” Rosie responds with a small smile. 

Nora shoots straight up on her feet. “Mom?! Dad?!” 

Nora’s parents gasp to find Nora safe and well with the others. They hurry through the crowd and hug Nora. Nora tenses up, her eyes widen in shock. 

“We’re so sorry,” Nora’s father, Sebastian, sobs. 

“We didn’t think you’ll be gone that long,” Eleanor, Nora’s mother, utters. 

Nora blinks in more shock. 

Bella sees this and forms a small smile. 

“I didn’t think you’ll notice that I’m going to be gone,” Nora responds. 

“At least you got the King of Hell and his daughter taking care of you,” Eleanor replies when she notices Lucifer and Charlie near the kids. 

“Who’s your friend?” Sebastian asks.

Nora glances to find Bella standing next to her with curiosity on her face. “Uh, guys, this is Bella...Bella, my parents.” 

Eleanor shakes one of Bella’s top hands. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Bella looks at Nora to whisper. “You didn’t tell me your parents are nice.”

“They’re not usually that worried about me,” Nora whispers back in shock. 

“Rosie!” Alastor exclaims and hugs Rosie. “You are a sight for sore eyes. How are you doing, dear? How did you find us?” 

“Oh, I saw a trail of emotional imbalances and party music and followed that,” Rosie replies, her voice somehow creepier. 

“Oh, those emotional imbalances didn’t come from me,” Alastor responds, referring to Husk in Angel’s arms. 

Rosie smirks and waves her hand, trying to edge a serious but teasing tone when she says, “Then you need to get a better control of your pet, Alastor.” 

Alastor’s shoulders tense up and watch Rosie walk by to visit Charlie.

“Ah, Charlie, dear, my favorite person. So things worked out between you and your girlfriend?” Rosie asks Charlie. 

Charlie holds Vaggie’s hand and nods with a small smile. 

“Ah, that’s wonderful, dear. I was never told that your girlfriend is a hottie,” Rosie responds while shaking Vaggie’s free hand. “The name’s Rosie. But you both can call me Auntie Rosie.” 

Lucifer sees Rosie, blushing for some reason. “Uh, hello, uh, Ms. Rosie.”

“Oh, hello, is this the King of Hell? He’s so much more handsome than I have imagined,” Rosie responds with a bright friendly grin. “You can just call me Rosie. Or any other nicknames you might have in mind.” 

Lucifer’s face grows red and looks away. “Uh, hehehe, I’ll just stick with Rosie.”

Rosie smirks at him with her hands on her hips. 

“Sucker,” she mutters to herself before shifting her attention to the others on the dancefloor. 

Bee arches a brow and notices a vibe off with Rosie. She walks over and whisper it to Ozzie, who seems to have his eyes widen in shock.

Before anyone spoke a word, someone throws a grenade through the window. 

“Get down!” Cherri shouts.

Stolas picks Blitz and Octavia up, shielding them and Loona from the explosion. 

Vaggie pulls Charlie to shield her while Nora hugs Bella tight from the explosion.

Everyone covers their faces and looks to find the exterminator angels standing outside of the mansion. 

“What the fuck?” Blitz gasps in shock. 

“Why are the angels here?” Angel asks in fear. 

Ozzie gently pushes Fizz behind him in a protective manner. 

Bee stands in front of her buff boyfriend, Vortex, glaring outside. 

“Guess they’re here for round two,” Lucifer growls, his eyes turn red with horns sticking out of the sides of his head. 

Charlie’s eyes turn red like her fathers with white pupils. She steps out of the mansion to protect everyone in it. Rosie, Vaggie, and Lucifer notice this and follow her.

“What the hell are you doing here? Sera says no more exterminations,” Charlie growls, her voice turning demonic. 

The lead exterminator angel with only one arm takes off her mask, revealing Lute under it.  

“She didn’t send us,” Lute responds with a snarl, clenching her spear. 

“You’re one step to fall in to Hell, Lute,” Vaggie replies with a glare, taking out her spear and wings. “Are you sure you want to go through with this?”

Lucifer extends his wings, causing Rosie to blush next to him. 

Lute smirks at Vaggie. “I’ve never been more sure.” 

Before Lute can raise her spear in a signal to attack, a hand stops her. 

Charlie’s glare softens when she sees a familiar blonde woman with her hair flowing in the wind. The red eyes fade, and she recognizes her instantly. 

“M-Mom?” Charlie stutters. 

~.~

Lucifer softens his gaze to see Lilith standing across from them. “Lilith, is that you?” 

Rosie groans. “Ugh, that bitch.” 

Vaggie throws a confused glance at Rosie. 

Lilith smiles softly at Charlie and whispers to Lute for a moment before walking across the battlefield.

“Charlie,” Lilith calls. 

Charlie starts to tear up. “Mom--”

Before Charlie is about to run towards her mom, Rosie places a hand on Charlie’s. 

“Don’t,” Rosie warns. “She’s setting you up.” 

Charlie doesn’t listen, shrugging off Rosie’s hand off of her to run towards her mom. 

Rosie softens her gaze at Charlie before handing her umbrella to Alastor. “Hold my umbrella, Al.”

Alastor happily takes Rosie’s umbrella. Rosie storms after Charlie, holding her dress up so that she won’t trip on it chasing after Charlie. 

Meanwhile, Charlie runs towards her mother and hugs her. 

Lilith hugs her back, embracing her with one arm over her shoulders. 

“I miss you, Mom,” Charlie cries to her mom. 

“That’s a mistake on your part,” Lilith responds. 

Charlie notices an angelic dagger about to go into her stomach until a hand snatches Lilith’s wrist. 

Lilith and Charlie glances up to find Rosie beside Charlie. Rosie shoves Lilith away from Charlie, revealing the angelic dagger barely touching Charlie’s abdomen. 

“Nice try, slut,” Rosie growls, her horns grew on the sides of her head before ripping Lilith’s arm off that holds the dagger. With her other fist clench, she sends a powerful punch into Lilith’s forehead. Lilith flies back towards the angel, the disguise torn apart. 

“Wait, you’re not Lilith,” Lute utters in shock. 

Rosie smirks and grows bigger, her white hair breaking out of the bun. Her black eyes widen more and a sadistic smile is formed. She grows bigger than the angels, making them fear for their lives. She opens her mouth, the musical notes flying off in a beautiful melody. 

She deafens the angels, including Lute and the disguised Lilith. 

Rosie’s voice is like a siren calling sailors towards her. She manages to summon a tornado of fire and picking up the angels just to burn them and throw them far away from the mansion. Rosie’s hair flows in the wind blowing left and right, making Lucifer blush even more. 

Charlie gasps in fascination at Rosie’s unknown powers. 

Once the angels are thrown away from them and the fire tornado fades, Rosie transforms back to her normal self. Her horns disappear from her sides and her hair goes into a neatly bun. She shrinks back to her normal height and looks at Charlie with a friendly smile. 

Charlie breathes heavily to see her mother all disfigured, trying not to break down crying. 

Rosie sees this and walks towards her, cradling her in her arms. “It’s alright, dear. Auntie Rosie is here.” 

Charlie cries into Rosie’s shoulder before Rosie helps her back into the mansion. 

Vaggie and Lucifer are ready to fly off to go after Lilith. 

“That bitch!” Lucifer curses. 

Rosie stops Lucifer and Vaggie. “Don’t. You’ll make yourselves open targets.” 

Charlie stumbles to Vaggie, who hugs her with a soft look on her face. 

Alastor hands Rosie her umbrella back. 

“Now, that we got them out of the way--”

Rosie’s sentence is interrupted by the grenade. 

Lucifer pulls Rosie back, shielding her with his wings before it blows up. 

Rosie, Alastor, Charlie, Vaggie, and Lucifer falls back from the entrance. 

“Oh, come on! Who’s coming at us this time?!” Fizz shouts. 

The others look to see Crimson and his gang again. There are more men in Crimson’s gang than the gang in the mansion. 

“CAN’T YOU GUYS GET A LIFE?!” Blitz yells at Crimson.

“Get ‘em boys!” Crimson orders his men to start shooting at Bee’s mansion. 

Lucifer hurries to shut the door to shield them all from the shots fired. 

“We’re trapped!” Octavia shouts in fear. 

Vortex glances up to find more honey they can use as weapons against the gang members. He looks at Bee. 

“I got an idea, but I’m going to need help,” Vortex determines and looks at Fizz. “How high can you stretch?” 

“Uh, pretty high, why?” Fizz questions. 

“I’m going to need your help,” Vortex replies. 

Fizz nods in response.

“Let me help,” Loona responds. 

“Okay, come on,” Vortex responds before kissing Bee’s lip with a peck. They exchange smiles before Vortex hurries to climb up the bee-hive inside of the mansion. Fizz and Loona follow after Vortex. Fizz notices one of the gang members breaking through the windows to get to him before being swiped by Ozzie’s hand. 

Ozzie grows bigger, his head on fire. “Bring it on, fuckers!” 

Fizz smiles in relief to see Ozzie fighting off the gang members as he hurries after Loona and Vortex. 

Bee uses her fireballs she made out of nowhere and aiming at the imps breaking into the mansion. 

Mox loads up his riffle while aiming it to the next imp coming into the building, unaware that he’s aiming the gun at his father, Crimson. 

“Dad,” Mox whimpers. “This doesn’t have to end like this.” 

“How many times have I told you to not call me Dad?” Crimson growls, cocking the gun at his disowned son. 

Millie leaps at Crimson, throwing punches at him like a wild beast. Crimson fights back, trying to take her down. 

Mox’s aim on the gun trembles when he tries to find a way to not shoot both his father and his wife. When Mox aims his gun at his father to protect his wife, a gangster imp knocks the gun to the side to aim for Millie instead, letting the bullet go towards her. 

However, Nifty jumps between Millie and the bullet, deflecting it with the axe Millie gave her a while ago. Nifty hurries towards the gang member attacking Mox and starts to slashing him to death with a maniacal laugh. Mox watches this with wide eyes in fear and shock at Nifty’s maniacal side. 

Alastor uses his tentacles to throw the other imps away from Rosie. 

Rosie and Lucifer teams up and uses their demonic forms to fight the imps to protect Charlie and Vaggie. Rosie notices Bella cowering with Nora and her family and holding a violin in her hands. 

Rosie hurries up to Bella to whisper, “Play some tunes for us, sweetheart.” 

Bella gulps and starts playing the violin, tensing up the music rhythm. 

Rosie nods her head to the beat. “That’s wonderful, dear. Keep playing those notes.” 

She hurries to the others and uses musical notes from Bella’s violin as a weapon to deafen the incoming imps. She manages to make their heads melt with Bella’s musical notes. 

Rosie nods in approval and looks at Bella, smiling. “Keep playing those tunes, dear. No angel or demon imp will ever come near you or your friend. Whatever you do, don’t stop playing until I say so, got it?”

Bella nods obedientely and keeps playing the violin. 

Rosie continues to take out more imps while the imps trying to get near Bella, Nora, and Nora’s family have become deaf and their heads melts in the music when trying to reach them. 

Meanwhile, Angel takes out his tommy guns and starts shooting at the demon imps coming towards him and Husk.

Husk starts using his cards and dice to throw it at them. He notices one of the imps flying up in the mansion and looks up to find the imp going after Fizz, Loona, and Vortex when they climb higher. Husk growls and flies off after the imp. 

Cherri joins Angel in the fight, throwing holy grenades at the gangsters. 

Blitz is shooting the rifle to protect Octavia, unaware he’s firing holy bullets at the demon imps until he notices a familiar cowboy imp at the corner of his eyes. Before Blitz can turn around and shoot at the incoming attacker, a fist is thrown at his eye. 

Octavia sees this in shock and notices a cowboy imp known as Striker with the lasso and a boot on Blitz’s chest. 

“You think you’re not going to see me again anytime soon?” Striker growls, his tail rattles like a snake. 

Octavia draws her brows together and manages to push Striker off of Blitz. 

Striker stumbles back in shock. Then he smirks. “Well, well, isn’t it the heiress of the throne.”

Octavia stands between Striker and Blitz, breathing heavily in anger. 

“Your mother wants to get rid of you and your father, you know. Just to have her inheritance,” Striker says with a cold tone.

“That’s not true. Even if she’s mad at Dad, she loves me!” Octavia shouts in denial. 

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that sweetheart,” Striker says with a growl, taking out his pistol to shoot at her. 

Before he can pull the trigger, Striker is tackled away from Octavia by Stolas.

“Don’t you dare hurt her, you freak!” Stolas squawks and throws Striker away from Octavia and Blitz. 

Blitz notices Stolas defending them as he sees another imp about to attack her. He jumps between her and the gangster imp, shooting at them in the head. 

“C’mon, let’s get you somewhere safe,” Blitz replies to Octavia. 

Octavia notices Stolas fighting Striker with all of his might before tearing up. “Mom wouldn’t do this to me and Dad, would she?” 

Blitz clenches his teeth and then sighs. “C’mon, kid, we’ll talk more about this later.” 

Blitz pulls Octavia away from danger, hurrying to find somewhere in the mansion safe for both of them. 

Meanwhile, Fizz notices the imp coming towards them before Husk tackles the imp down from them. A relieved smile stretches his face as Fizz continues to climb higher and higher with Vortex and Loona. 

“Holy shit, I didn’t think we’re going to be this high,” Loona utters in fear. 

“We’re almost there,” Vortex responds before the three of them got up to the top floor. “Fizz, do you think you can reach up there to spill the honey?

“Yeah, hold on,” Fizz says as he extends his legs to tip the honey jar. Vortex and Loona hurry up to the honey pot until Loona sees the imp flying up to them, ready to fire his gun at her. Before she can dodge it, Vortex shoves Loona out of the way to take the shot. The bullet crashes through his chest, tearing his heart from the inside. 

Loona watches with her red eyes in shock, witnessing Vortex falling off the cliff. 

“VORTEX!” Loona cries and jumps after him to grab him. 

Fizz notices this and jumps off the ledge, grabbing the edge and extending his arm so that he can grab Loona’s ankle. Then Fizz extends his other arm that holds Loona just so that she can reach injured Vortex. However Fizz doesn’t realize that he stretches at his limit, therefore Loona can’t reach Vortex. 

“NO!” Loona cries, watching Vortex hit his head on one of the platforms and then broke his jaw on another platform lower. She witnesses Vortex hitting the ground, blood spurting out like his ribs are broken. 

Bee turns to notice Vortex landing hard on the ground. She hurries by her boyfriend’s side. “Vortex. Vortex, baby, can you hear me?” 

Vortex barely lifts his eyelid, with his lower jaw falling off his mouth. Bee’s tears of honey start to roll down her cheeks. 

“No, no, baby. Stay with me. Stay with me--”

Vortex draws his last breath, his one eyelid close. 

Bee breathes heavily in fear, trying to shake her boyfriend awake, but her attempts are futile. “No! No! No! Baby, please, come back!!!” 

Vortex is unresponsive. She puts her ear over his chest to hear his heartbeat. She listens as his heartbeat slows down its usual rhythm until it stops fully. 

Bee starts to sob, caressing Vortex’s face. Then she looks up to find Loona hanging with Fizz grabbing her ankle and hanging on the edge. 

“I’m sorry,” Loona whimpers. 

Bee looks at the gangster imps breaking through her honeycomb mansion, now breathing heavily in anger. “YOU FUCKERS!!!” 

She starts to grow in size out of pure rage and anger. 

Fizz notices this and starts to draw his arm that holds Loona back towards his side, pulling himself up back on the ledge. However, Bee grows faster than Fizz can pull himself up, breaking apart all the platforms that holds the honey pot up top and knocking them over the platform. The imp that shoots Vortex is pushed back by Fizz and Loona flying over the broken platform. The honey pot spills over, raining pure honey down on both of the gangsters and the others fighting. 

Everyone in the mansion notices this in fear.

Stolas notices Striker disappearing from the crowd, but doesn’t care to know where he’s off to. He hurries and uses his magic to open a portal to the living realm. 

The honey starts to flood the mansion, managing to get Mox, Millie, Nifty, and Crimson stuck in the honey.

Lucifer is run over by honey, trying to swim but he’s stuck in the honey. 

“DAD!” Charlie cries before hurrying to get Lucifer out of the honey. Vaggie sees Bella stop playing her violin and swoops in to save her, Nora, and Nora’s family. 

However before Vaggie can fly away from the honey, Striker manages to grab Bella by the ankle and yanks her out of Vaggie’s hold. 

“MAMA!!!” Bella cries for Vaggie.

Vaggie gasps before she dives towards Striker to get Bella. Striker pulls out an angelic pistol used to take down angels. Before Vaggie can reach her daughter and Striker, Stolas manages to fly over to Vaggie and tackles her away from the bullet. 

Stolas doesn’t hesitate to throw Vaggie into the portal along with Nora and Nora’s family.

“BELLA!!!” Nora cries as they fall into the portal. 

Stolas turns to see Striker tying up Bella and shoving her to the other gangster imp working with him. 

Angel is stuck in the honey as Cherri is able to find a floating table to stand on and hold their weight. 

“C’mon, mate!” Cherri urges Angel. 

Angel uses one of his hands to grab Cherri’s as she pulls him up to the floatable table holding both of their weight now. 

Suddenly, Ozzie accidentally set the pure honey on fire when the honey reaches him, setting the honeycomb mansion on fire. 

Alastor takes the opportunity to help Rosie into the portal Stolas created. 

Charlie manages to pull Lucifer out of the honey just in time before the fire reaches him. 

However, Angel and Cherri notices the blue fire surrounding them. 

“Shit!” Cherri gasps in shock. 

A lasso wraps around Angel’s body unexpectedly.

“What the--AAAAH!” Angel yelps when he’s pulled out of the fire. 

“NO!!!” Cherri cries and watches her friend be held hostage by Striker himself. “You son of a bitch!!” Before she can throw another holy grenade, she notices that she ran out of them during her fight. “Shit!” 

Stolas flies to save Cherri and throws her through portal. 

“NOOO!!!” Cherri cries out. 

Husk notices Angel being held hostage by Striker, his eyes suddenly turning green and having the tentacles sprout out of nowhere to get to Striker. However, Striker holds Angel in front of him to shield him from Husk’s attack. Husk diverges his tentacles to hit the walls beside both Striker and Angel, breaking them down and shattering the mansion. 

Husk gasps in shock, his green eyes fading. Striker takes the opportunity to aim his gun at Husk and shoots at him. 

“NO!!!” Angel cries. 

Stolas tackles Husk away from the line of fire, throwing him into the portal. 

“NO!!!” Husk shouts while being thrown through the portal. 

Meanwhile, Fizz is falling through the mansion with Loona in his arms. 

“Fuck!” Loona cries as she holds onto Fizz while falling. 

“I got you! I got you!” Fizz manages to find a platform he can hold onto and pulls them out of the way of the honey pouring onto them and the burning honey below. Ozzie notices Fizz up on the platform and moves through the honey. 

When the edge breaks off, Fizz starts to fall with Loona in his arms. Ozzie catches Fizz and Loona and throws them through the open portal. 

“OZZIE!!” Fizz calls, his hand trying to reach his boyfriend. 

Stolas sees Ozzie becomes captured with the gang, shooting him with a tranquilizer darts. A gasp escapes his beak as he looks around for his daughter. 

“Octavia! Octavia!” Stolas calls while flying around the burning mansion with the debris falling around him. He sees Blitz and Octavia climbing to the top floor, with Blitz shielding her from the incoming gang members. Stolas draws his brows together and flies towards them, swooping them out of the way of the gangsters. 

“Stolas, what the fuck?!” Blitz shouts. 

Stolas throws Blitz and Octavia through the portal. 

Blitz and Octavia crash onto the fresh dew grass in the woods and look up to find Husk gaining consciousness and Vaggie attempting to fly back, but Alastor is stopping her. 

“Let me go, Al! Charlie and Bella are in there!” Vaggie cries. 

Cherri is ready to jump through the portal to after Angel, but Alastor uses his tentacles to stop Cherri. “NO! Angel is in there! We have to get him!!” 

“Angel,” Husk groans in pain, recovering from his powers.

Blitz glances up to find the mansion falling apart and starts to notice Mox and Millie trying to swim through the honey with Nifty in Millie’s arms. 

Octavia notices her father trying to fight the gangster imps, watching in horror. 

Stolas turns to look at his daughter through the portal one last time through the portal and closes it before a sound of a gun went off. 

Octavia tears up and shakes her head up in denial. “DAD!!!” 

She starts to knock on the tree that the portal is on. “No, Dad! Dad!!! DAD!!!” 

Husk crawls over to where the portal is, scratching on the wood like a feral cat. “ANGEL! ANGEL!!!” 

“No! Charlie!! Bella!!! No!!!” Vaggie snarls, breaking free from Alastor’s hold. 

Nora starts sobbing as Eleanor and Sebastian hold their daughter to comfort her.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” Blitz cries, falling on his knees and sobbing. 

“Oz?” Fizz calls, his robotic limbs trembling and the tears streaming down his eyes. 

Loona frowns and comforts Fizz, gaining her own tears. 

Rosie frowns at the sight of everyone sobbing. 

Alastor’s stretched grin weakens. 

“I’m sorry,” Rosie replies, trying not to shed a tear when thinking about Lucifer and Charlie. 

Husk breathes heavily and pounds on the tree, sobbing. Then he hears someone else sobbing and looks to see Octavia grabbing her head and crying. 

“No! No! This is not happening! This is just a bad dream! This is a bad dream,” Octavia cries out, her shoulders shaking. 

Husk reaches his arm around her. She falls into Husk’s hold and sobs into his chest. 

“I want my Dad back,” Octavia whimpers. 

Husk frowns and looks at the claw marks he left on the tree. Then he looks at sobbing Octavia and hugs her. “I know, kid. I know.” 

Loona notices Blitz sobbing into his hands while comforting crying Fizz. 

Alastor sighs sadly. “Well, this is a sad turn of events.” 

This earns silence from the rest of the group. 

To Be Continued...

[notmaplemable]

Ruby wants Jaune to finally get himself a gun and he agreed. This resulted in few discoveries.

For Jaune has natural talent with gun. In both using them (shooting at grimm) and maintaining them (taking them apart and cleaning)

For Ruby is the fact that she actually like boys and bulky blondes with guns are her biggest weakness

Weapons of Love

Ruby: Here, take this. *Shoves something into Jaune's arms*

Jaune: What's this?

Ruby: A rifle and some ammo.

Jaune: A gun? Why are you giving it to me?

Ruby: You need a long range option Jaune.

Jaune: But I don't know anything about guns, and I'm just starting to get half decent with Crocea Mors.

Ruby: And that's why I'm going to teach you. Just like Uncle Qrow taught me.

Jaune: ...Well okay, but do I have to call you Aunt Ruby while we're training?

***A few hours later***

Ruby: Okay, now it's time to do a little maintenance. We're going to start by disassembling your weapon.

Jaune: Ready.

Ruby: Okay, first clear your rifle and pull the bolt back until in locks.

Jaune: Done.

Ruby: Okay now, pull back on the trigger guard and pull-

Jaune Done.

Ruby: ...How did you- You know what, nevermind. Let's just get to cleaning.

***One rifle cleaning later***

Ruby: Okay now that we're done you'll need to reassemble your rifle. Now don't worry if it takes a minute to do so the first-

Jaune: Done.

Ruby: What? How did you do that so fast?

Jaune: Well you told me to put it back together, so I just did.

Ruby: *Blank stare of disbelief* T-that's enough for today. You should probably go to bed now. I'll take first watch.

Jaune: Okay. *Walks off*

Ruby: ...Why do I feel... warm?

***A few days later***

Ruby: *Has a grimm in her sights, lines up her shot, about to fire*

Grimm: *Dies*

Ruby: What the-

Jaune: Woo! Got it! You see that Ruby?

Ruby: Y-yeah I did. Good job.

Jaune: ...Ruby, are you blushing?

Ruby: No! I'm just warm.

Jaune: Okay. I'll go look for some more grimm! *Walks off*

Ruby: ...There's that weird feeling again. Am I getting sick?

***Later that night***

Ruby: *Asleep*

Jaune: *Dream* Hey Ruby, you want a cookie?

Ruby: Yeah! I'd love a cookie!

Jaune: *Not wearing a shirt for some reason* Well here you go. *Holds up cookie to Ruby's mouth*

Ruby: *Takes a bite* Dewicious!

Jaune: *Chuckles* Adorable. Say Ruby, after we're done eating. Do you want to go down to the forge and make some babies?

Ruby: I'd love to!

Jaune: I knew you would, but before we go... *Leans in to kiss Ruby*

Ruby: *Jolts awake*

Ruby: *Groans* What was that? I-I need to talk to someone about this.

***The next morning***

Nora: So whatcha need help with Ruby?

Ruby: Well I've been feeling weird lately.

Ren: Are you getting sick?

Ruby: That's what I thought to at first, but I only feel weird around Jaune.

Nora: Ooooohhhh

Ren: Nora... Now Ruby, can you describe this weird feeling?

Ruby: Well it's kind of a warm feeling all over, but warmest in my stomach, and then it travels... nevermind. But I've been having weird dreams too.

Ren: About Jaune?

Ruby: Yeah! How did you know?

Ren: Just a guess, but I believe I know what the problem is.

Ruby: Really! What is it?

Nora: You're horny for Jaune!

Ruby: N-n-no I'm not!

Ren: What Nora is trying to say, is that you're infatuated with Jaune.

Ruby: Infatuwhat?

Ren: You have a crush on him.

Ruby: No that- but I- Oh no. It all makes sense now.

Nora: This is awesome! You and Jaune-Jaune are already so cute together. You're going to be just adorable as a couple.

Ruby: What do I do now?

Nora: Well don't do what Pyrrha did and just wait around until it's too late. You should do the opposite of that!

Ren: It's your decision to make, but we'll support you whatever you choose to do.

Ruby: Hmmm, don't just wait around. Do the opposite...

***A few minutes later***

Ruby: Jaune!

Jaune: Yeah, Ruby?

Ruby: Let's get married! And make lots of babies!

Jaune: ...What?

[stories-and-chaos]

Tarnished pt. 30

[Helluva Boss AU where Blitzø’s childhood theft from Stolas’ palace is discovered and major consequences ensue for everyone involved.]

[Part 30/?? Word count: 2376]

—————

That left the imp twins together. Barb laced her claws behind her head as they ambled away from the tent. “Sooooo, whadda we do?”

“I guess, check out the fair?” Blitzø hadn’t been left to his own devices at a public event ever before and was at something of a loss. The Pain Games didn’t start for a couple hours but there were presumably other things before that.

The booths set up had foods, carnival games, and the livestock and crops up for judging. Blitzø spotted a shooting gallery amid the line of games. “Fuck yes, bet I can get a better score than you Barb.”

She saw what he was heading to and scoffed. “In your dreams Blitzø. Lemme show you how it’s done.” They both grabbed a rifle and started firing at targets. At the end of the round, Blitzø had two more hits than his sister.

He was not a gracious winner. “Ooohhhh yeah! That’s how it’s done! Who’s the imp?! This guy!” After a few celebratory hip thrusts, Barb punched his shoulder .

“We’re just getting started.” She grabbed his arm and yanked him to a strength test game. “Show me whatcha got bro,” she challenged, holding out the comical large hammer.

“Just sit back and watch.” Blitzø steadied himself with the mallet and swung the giant head onto the target. The slider launched up the meter to gently ring the bell at the top. “Ha! Beat that sis.”

Barb nodded sagely as she took the mallet. “Not bad, not bad.” She settled her feet in a similar stance to Blitzø. Her swing slammed the mallet onto the target and the resulting bell ring sounded out over the fairground. “That’s how it’s done. Who’s got two thumbs, a perfect bod, and is totally the imp? This girl.” She pointed both thumbs at herself while grinning triumphantly.

The next hour was spent with the twins trying to one up each other at the different games. They stopped keeping score halfway through but ended up with arms full of prizes. After they’d tried every game they could, they relaxed by the livestock judging. Barb chomped away at a caramel apple while Blitzø spent a blissful quarter hour watching the Hellhorses being awarded ribbons.

Then it was time to head back. The Pain Games were starting soon and Blitzø had to be on duty. They slipped into Stolas’ tent, dumping the spoils of their victories inside. “My goodness you two,” the Prince said as a small wave of toys and snacks took over the floor. “You appear to have looted an entire video arcade here.” He delicately picked up a fuzzy string with two oversized eyes attached. “I don’t even know what half of these things are.”

“These are the fruits of our labors, our just rewards for victory.” Blitzø opened up a packet of cotton candy and shoved a handful in Stolas’ mouth. “And some are fucking delicious, okay?” He split the rest in half, giving some to Barb as he tore a chunk of the sugary treat off with his teeth. “I need some fuel to get me through standing around all day and half the night. You wanna stick around here Barb or find the others?”

“Or you could enter the Games. It’s open to all…it’s open to imps,” Stolas added with a sheepish look. He knew Blitzø would have been thrilled to compete if he wasn’t stuck at the Goetia’s side the whole time.

“Eh, maybe. Might just chill with Dina. You boys do your thing.” Just having fun with Blitzø had been unexpectedly nice. But being here with him and Stolas, she felt like a third wheel. She didn’t want to deal with all her thoughts on that. Best to just get out.

Looking around the crowd outside, Barb realized she didn’t have a chance of finding her brother’s imp employees. She was better off looking for the Hounds. She was scanning over the cowboy hats and horns when a ripple through the crowd knocked her off balance. She windmilled her arms for half a second before years of acrobatic practice took over. She stopped trying to right herself and turned the tumble into a handspring.

That earned her chorus of ‘ooohs’ and impromptu applause. There was just enough of a performer in Barb that she gave a dramatic bow. “Oh, there she is!” a cheerful voice with a country twang to it called out. The imp woman she met briefly popped out of the crowd waving at her.

“Hey, Barb, right?” The smaller woman trotted up to her, all smiles and welcome. “Didn’t get a chance to talk before, I’m Millie. Care to watch with us while the boss is busy?”

“Sure. You’re not competing?” She let Millie lead the way to a spot in the stands.

“I wish! Ma said I can’t anymore, too many casualties last time.” The tone of a disgruntled kid was evident in her voice. “I only caused half of ‘em too.”

“Mildred you caused well more than half over all the years you’ve been in the Games.” A stout older woman with a clear resemblance to Millie scolded her as they joined the group. “The Ring is gonna run out of anyone to be hands at this rate.” The male imp next to her nodded with an affirmative grunt.

“Fiiiine, I’ll sit out just this year. Ma, Daddy, this here’s Barb, our boss’s sister. She’s watching with us while Blitzø’s busy.” Millie’s mom responded with a “nice to meet ya” before turning back to her daughter. It was obvious she had more on her mind to say but the girl didn’t give her a chance. She hauled Barb up a few more bleachers and secured a seat next to her coworker.

Barb got a spot between Millie and an unfamiliar male imp; Dina was on the bleacher right behind her. She talked with the Hellhound for a bit, mostly griping about fellow patients. At a lull in their chat, the imp next to her introduced himself.

“So you’re from Sloth? That’d be why I didn’t recognize you; thought I knew all the tough imps in this Ring. Name’s Striker, what’s yours little lady?” The imp gave her a confident grin, admiration and avarice in his eyes.

“Barb.” She smiled back, putting as much sharpness as her namesake into it. “I’m from a little bit of all over, been staying in Sloth for a while.” She gave Striker an appraising look over. He was attractive, on the tall and lanky side of the scale. Even seated, he held himself with a rough confidence. His concentric ringed eyes seemed to bore into whatever he focused on.

Something about his expression was a hair off. Maybe it was paranoia on Barb’s part. Or maybe it a look she recognized from all those years of being around desperate, strung out demons. Either way, it made her spines prick even as he shifted to a more flirtatious tone.

“Saw a bit of you at the shooting gallery, and that bit of fancy flipping down there. Not bad, I gotta say.” Stolas emerged from his tent then, taking the microphone from the announcer. He started his welcome speech; Barb saw Blitzø and Loona behind him. Loona looked bored while Blitzø was watching the crowd. Striker looked from Barb to Blitzø and back again. “Say, any connection between you and the Goetia’s boyfriend there?”

Millie popped her head around Barb’s shoulder. “Actually, she’s-“ Barb cut her off. “We’re related.” She couldn’t deny the resemblance but didn’t want to elaborate further, especially not to a stranger that put her on edge. No matter how sexy he was.

Striker shrugged. “Fair ‘nough. I’d best get down there if I’m gonna win this thing.” He sauntered away; as he did so, Barb caught a faint glimmer of pure white light when he adjusted his jacket.

After a moment, Barb hopped up. “I think I’ll try this thing too.” Millie and Dina cheered her on while Moxxie sulked. She joined the group of participants. Even behind his ridiculous shades, Barb could see her twin’s surprise.

“Ah, glad to see you join in,” Striker said with a self satisfied look as she walked up beside him. “I’ll tell you right now, I don’t go easy on anyone. Not even a pretty face like yourself.”

“Wouldn’t expect it anyway,” Barb replied with a bite to her words. “I don’t hold back either cowboy.” The starting pistol fired and the throng of competitors was off. Through the obstacle course, mud wrestling, shark wrangling and other events, Barb and Striker were neck and neck.

It felt like a repeat of her impromptu competition with Blitzø earlier. They traded wins back and forth until: “For the first year ever, we have a tie!” Stolas called out to the cheering crowd. “The winners are Striker and Barbie Wire!” He gave a gracious bow as they climbed the stage. Blitzø, from directly behind Stolas and out of the crowd’s view, gave her a quick grin of excitement and a double thumbs up.

Feeling embarrassed, Barb gave the crowd a wave before quickly getting off the stage. Fortunately, Striker was stealing the show. “I’d like to take this opportunity to sing a quick song I wrote just now, about me winnin’.” As he strummed a chord on the guitar handed to him, a yell of “OH WHAT THE FUCK?!” came from the stands.

Glad to be out of the spotlight, Barb rejoined Dina and the others. “Congrats Barb!” Millie clapped excitedly as she approached. “You were amazing out there! Watching you just ‘bout made sitting out worth it!” The rest of Millie’s family added stoic praises. Moxxie congratulated her too before returning to a small notepad he was jotting something down on.

“Hey, can I grab a couple pages?” Bard asked, wanting to make notes of her own before she forgot. Moxxie obliged with a few sheets and a spare pen. She finished her notes quickly before food started being brought out for the attendees.

As demons milled around, grabbing food that was mostly served skewered or fried, the orange sky slowly dimmed. Striker brought Barb a hunk of roasted meat on a skewer. “Killed it fresh myself this mornin’. Best way to enjoy a Hell beast.” He shot a smug look in Moxxie’s direction. The smaller imp glared back. Not my problem, Barb thought as she accepted the food.

Striker leaned back onto the stands. “You did damn good out there, congrats.” Barb congratulated him back and he continued on. “Not often you meet imps as strong as us. Whaddya say we get together sometime? With the adoring crowd or puffed up royals around?”

Jackpot. “I was thinking the same thing.” She pulled out a page she hadn’t written on yet and wrote out her cell number. “Give me a call, cowboy.” She bit into the skewered meat suggestively before walking away.

The rest of the festivities continued without issue. Stolas revealed the Harvest Moon to the awe of the gathered imps. After the display, alcohol started being brought out. That was Barb’s cue to leave; she was staying off all substances right now. No point in ruining her progress. Fortunately, Stolas’ duty was finished so he and Blitzø could make their exit.

Blitzø saw her back to Sloth and her dorm. The prince had offered her a ride but she turned him down. She wasn’t comfortable being in close proximity to the royal, at least not yet. So she and her twin headed back on foot. Blitzø applied his illusion as soon as he could; both twins relaxed a little once he was sporting the black marking.

After an elevator ride and a brisk walk with her brother chattering about how amazing she’d been at the Pain Games, Barb felt all her exhaustion hit. “Might’ve gone too hard there,” she muttered to no one as she flopped onto her bed. But before she could pass out, there were the notes she’d written.

The pages had rough sketches and a few key words scribbled. Looking them over and refining the drawing, she had an image of a knife hilt. She’d caught little glimpses of it under Striker’s jacket. She hadn’t seen the blade itself but had gotten glimmers of pure white light from inside the sheath.

“Why would a ranch hand have an angelic weapon?” A mystery. And maybe linked to the look in Striker’s eyes; banked anger and avarice. Now she just needed to wait for Striker to call.

————

“Well?”

“Like I thought ma’am, the prince’s pet was glued to his master’s side the whole time. Not even getting on the same stage got me a chance to meet him. Plenty of chances to kill the pricks though.”

“Ugh, I’m not paying you to have fun at festivals. I need results.”

“Oh I still got results. I got the phone number of a particular imp tonight. She told me to call her.”

“I’m not interested in your romantic conquests! If you aren’t taking this seriously, you can say goodbye to any payment from me.”

“Don’t get your feathers in a twist ma’am. This imp happens to be related to your husband’s toy. His twin sister if I’m right. And he seems eager to be on her good side.”

“Well, you surprise me darling. This may work better than my original plan. Keep me updated, your payment is being sent over. Ta darling!”

Striker hung up with a snort. The royal’s tendency to abruptly end their conversations was a given by now. He twirled his angelic steel knife in a practiced manner. He’d killed a royal with it before and was looking forward to the next one. Being able to kill that traitorous ass kisser would be a bonus.

He’d wait a couple days, then message Barb. Best to keep a girl waiting, just long enough to make her a little anxious to see him.

—————

<<First <Prev Next>

Tip me through Ko-Fi!