#I will absolutely condone this one (1) murder

[gigabyte-flare]

The Devil is Real (Part 1)

Summary: Your troubled older brother disappeared two years ago, vanishing without a trace; that is until one day you receive a letter from him. He’s living in Spain after having joined a religious group called Los Iluminados, his life seemingly changed for the better. He would love it if you came to visit him. Who are you to refuse an invitation from your beloved big brother, right?

Word Count: 4.2k

Pairing: plagas!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader (afab)

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life. You are responsible for your own content consumption. If any of the following warnings trigger you, please read at your own risk. Minors do not interact, this story is 18+ only.

Warnings: drug abuse mention, abusive household mention, religious cult, religious trauma, body horror, noncon, dubcon, unprotected p in v, creampie, oral (m and f receiving), kidnapping, yandere tendencies, somno, extreme violence and gore, human sacrifice, murder, blood play/kink, breeding kink, pregnancy, pet names, stockholm syndrome, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT [More warnings may be added in future parts]

A/N: I want to give a shoutout to @d10nyx, who's bot heavily inspired this new series. I had been wanting to write plagas!Leon again for so long, but I wanted to do something I hadn't seen done before and my interaction with her bot planted the seed (breeding kink go brrrrrrrrrrrr). This will likely be my darkest series yet so if that's not your jam, I kindly ask that you keep scrolling. It should be noted that any of the Spanish seen in this series is either from my extremely vague recollection of the language from my youth or from Google translate, so I apologize if there's any weird grammar in any of the Spanish, it is not my intention to butcher the language.

I hope you guys like thrill rides :3

The title is inspired by Bad Things performed by I Prevail

April 22, 2008

Sis,

I apologize for this being the first time I’ve contacted you in two years, but I promise you, it was for good reason. I finally got help. I moved out to Spain to this lovely rural area called Valdelobos to live with this wonderful community called Los Iluminados. I’ve been sober for just over two years because of them. I would really love it if you came to visit, you would absolutely love it here, sis! I would love more than anything to share with you the community that has made such a huge difference in my life. I don’t have access to a computer, so you’ll have to send me a letter to reply. You can find the return address on the envelope. I eagerly await your letter!

With all my love,

Vince

You sit on your old saggy couch, gently holding the handwritten letter in your hands like it’s going to disintegrate. Your mind is in turmoil; your older brother Vincent, or Vince as most people call him, had disappeared about two years ago. He struggled with drug addiction when he reached adulthood, always chasing his next high. When you had reported him missing, police searched everywhere for him for weeks until you finally had to come to terms with the fact that he was most likely dead.

This letter, however, says otherwise.

“Who’s it from?” your boyfriend asks before sitting beside you, seeing the strained look on your face and growing concerned. 

You don’t answer him at first, your eyes locked on the weathered piece of paper. Realizing your boyfriend, Mark, had asked you a question, you blink a few times and shake your head, snapping yourself out of the shocked daze.

“It’s from Vince,” you reply, looking over at Mark.

Mark looks at the paper you’re holding, then back to you, “are you sure it’s from Vince?”

“Of course I’m sure! That is definitely his handwriting. He’s alive!” 

You hand the letter to Mark, who takes a moment to read the letter himself, adjusting his glasses as he does so, “he wants you to go visit. What are you going to do?”

“I have no idea…” you say softly, burying your face in your hands as you continue to struggle with your emotions.

Growing up, all you had was your brother, having lost your parents at a young age. Growing up, the both of you lived with your grandparents, but they were very abusive. As soon as Vince had turned 18, he fought to become your legal guardian and the two of you moved out. Unfortunately, Vince had turned to drugs to deal with his trauma, but could you blame him? Your grandfather was especially hard on Vince; there were many nights you could remember falling asleep to the sounds of the two of them shouting and throwing things at each other. 

There’s a ten year gap between you and your brother, so naturally Vince had become something of a father figure to you, especially considering you were only two when your parents had died. A car accident you had been told; hit by a drunk driver on the way home from a New Year’s party. You felt like life always dealt you a shitty hand. First your parents, then your brother. But now, your brother seems to be back and he’s ok; he’s sober. You should be happy, so why are you so conflicted?

“I’m going to do some research on this ‘Los Iluminados’ group,” you finally say before standing up from the couch to walk into your bedroom, “make sure it isn’t some Jim Jones bullshit…”

“I’ll get dinner started then,” Mark says, also standing up, making his way over to the kitchen, “I’ll holler when dinner’s ready.”

You nod at Mark before walking into the bedroom, sitting down at your desk in the corner of the room, opening your laptop and powering it on. You open up Internet Explorer and open a new Google search window, typing in Los Iluminados which unsurprisingly yielded zero results; with them not having computer access, it makes sense that there’s no trace of this group on the internet by searching their name. You then search cults in Spain and skim through the results. Again, there’s no mention of Los Iluminados anywhere. Drumming your fingers on your desk, you begin to question the letter’s legitimacy. Whoever sent it knew where you lived and that your brother had been missing for two years. No one would go through that much trouble just to prank someone. 

“Babe, dinner’s ready!” you hear Mark call from the kitchen. 

Letting out a sigh, you reluctantly stand up from your desk, walking out of the bedroom to join your boyfriend in the living room, who just finished putting both your plates down onto the coffee table. Laying in the middle of the living room, your 8 year old brindle English Mastiff, André, lifts his head lazily, sniffing the air upon smelling food. You can’t help but let out a chuckle as you sit down on the couch, grabbing your plate to start eating.

“Even in his old age, André has a one track mind,” Mark says, watching as the large dog gets up from the floor. Mark gently pats him on the head, “don’t you buddy?”

“He sure does,” you reply, reaching over to pat the gentle giant before returning to your meal.

“Were you able to find anything on that group in the letter?” Mark asks, looking over at you before taking a bite of food. 

“Not a damn thing. Which I guess makes sense but still…” you say, your voice trailing off as you let out a heavy sigh, “something about it just doesn’t sit well with me.”

“Then we go to Spain, find out if this group is real or not and bounce if it’s just a wild goose chase,” Mark says, weaving his left hand through the air as he speaks.

“And who’s going to watch André?” 

André’s big brown eyes look between the two of you, letting out a soft whimper. Mark mouths the word ‘fuck’ before taking another bite of dinner.

“Right,” Mark says quietly, giving André another pat on the head.

The two of you finish eating dinner in silence, afterwards helping each other clean up the dishes. You let Mark know that you’re going to write a response to Vince’s letter, heading back up to the bedroom to sit back at the desk, pulling out a notebook and a pencil.

May 15, 2008

Vince,

First, I just want to say I am relieved to see that you’re ok and that you’re doing better. You had dropped off the face of the earth and I couldn’t find you anywhere; I thought you were dead! I’m so incredibly glad I was wrong. And, of course, congratulations are in order for your two years of sobriety. I know that’s something you really struggled with and I’m glad this community was able to help you. Is it a religious group? I think Los Iluminados roughly translates to “The Enlightened Ones” if my vague recollection of Spanish serves me right. Regardless, I would love to come visit you and see where you’ve been living these past two years, just let me know where I need to go.

Sis

May 31, 2008

Sis,

I was so excited to see you had written back that I practically ripped the envelope open. Los Iluminados is a small religious community and, I know what you’re thinking, it’s not a cult, so you have nothing to worry about there. They’re really big on living a traditional, almost pagan-like lifestyle and for me, being able to unplug while I got better was exactly what I needed. I’m hoping after experiencing Los Iluminados yourself that you’ll feel the same. As far as getting you here goes, you’ll want to fly into Valencia Airport, we’ll come pick you up from there. Call the enclosed number once you have your flight booked and tell Maria what day you’re coming. I’m looking forward to seeing you!

Vince

You tuck the letter back in your carry on bag, leaning back in your seat on the airplane and closing your eyes. You land in Valencia Airport in less than an hour and you are doing everything in your power to keep your nerves in check and not get your hopes up. You did as Vince had asked, you called this woman named Maria and with really broken Spanish, you had told her you were flying in on June 17th. At some point you must have dozed off because you’re jolted awake when the plane lands on the tarmac.

The plane pulls into the dock and you along with the other passengers file out. You head down to baggage claim to grab your luggage; you had packed about a week’s worth of clothes since you didn’t know how long you were staying. You low key were hoping to talk your brother into coming back to the States with you, but that’s a bridge you’ll cross when you get there. That thought is far from your mind, however, when you get through airport security and immediately spot your brother holding a large sign with your name on it. Your mouth hangs agape as you stop in your tracks. The last time you had seen him, he was a 33 year old who looked almost 50 due to his years of drug abuse. Now? He has color in his face, he’s gained weight and actually looks healthy. His clothes are a little disheveled and covered in dirt, but he’s smiling, probably the first time you’ve seen him smile since you were children.

Dropping your luggage, you run over to your brother, throwing your arms around him and hugging him tight, tears freely flowing from your eyes as you cry out, “it’s you, you’re real! You’re alive!”

Vince tightly hugs you back, rocking you both back and forth before stepping back, smiling down at you as his hands remain on your shoulders, “look at you! All grown up; 25 has treated you nicely!”

You playfully scoff before walking back to grab your luggage, “hardly.”

You return to Vince, who then takes your luggage from you as the two of you begin to walk out of the airport, “how’s Mark? You two are still together, I take it?”

“We are! He’s doing good, he’s at home watching André.”

“André is still around? That’s nice to hear!” Vince says as the two of you walk up to a very beat up looking sedan, “here’s our luxury limousine!”

You playfully smack him with the back of your hand, “very funny, Vince.”

You watch as Vince opens the trunk of the sedan, putting your luggage inside, he looks up at you as he closes the trunk, “go ahead and get in the back seat, Sis.”

You nod in acknowledgement, climbing into the back seat, your brother joining you shortly after. An older couple sits in the driver’s and passenger’s sides of the sedan, promptly driving away from the airport once you and your brother put your seatbelts on. 

“We have about a three hour drive ahead of us, you must be exhausted from your flight,” Vince says, looking over at you and giving you a warm smile.

You nod, feeling your eyes grow heavy from jet lag, however you force your eyes to stay open; you desperately don’t want to miss a single moment with your brother.

“Hey,” Vince lays a hand on your shoulder, “it’s ok, get some rest, I’ll wake you up when we get close to the village.”

“If you say so…” you reply softly. 

You hesitantly let your eyes close, drifting off into a dreamless sleep. It feels like only a moment has passed when Vince shakes you awake.

“Hey Sis, we’re here!”

After getting out of the car, there was still a considerable hike until you got to the village proper. Once getting there, however, you find yourself pleasantly surprised. You weren't sure what you were expecting of a small village at the center of a religious community but what you’re seeing wasn’t it. It is a bonafide village, with actual houses, a town center, a watchtower and a large brick structure towards the back. In the distance, you can see a windmill slowly spinning. You chalk it up to the large number of documentaries you had watched on cults leading up to this trip that painted a picture in your mind of what this village would look like; the small, white cottages of People’s Temple immediately coming to mind. A part of you is glad you were wrong.

“So, what do you think?” Vince asks me, gesturing one of his hands towards the village, “this is where I’ve been these last two years.”

“It’s nothing like what I expected, it’s… honestly really peaceful,” you reply, looking around the village in awe.

You watch as several of the other villagers stop what they’re doing to look at you and your brother, an older woman over by a well giving both of you a warm smile before pulling a bucket of water up from the well.

“My house is over here,” Vince continues, pointing to one of the houses on the left before leading you towards it. 

Vince’s house sits next to the watchtower, he opens the door and walks inside. Before you enter, you happen to turn around and look towards the large brick building in the back of the village. Standing at the door is someone wearing a black cloak with gold trim, underneath his clothes you can tell he’s wearing cargo pants and a tight fitting athletic shirt of some kind. But that’s not what grabs your attention; it’s his azure eyes locked on you, causing your blood to run cold.

“Vince,” you say, your voice trembling as you reach to grab his wrist, stopping him, “who is that over there?”

Vince turns to look where you’re looking, letting out a soft chuckle once he sees who you’re looking at, “him? That’s just Leon. He’s the right hand of our Lord Saddler. He’s probably here to check on things, don’t worry about him. Come inside.”

Vince practically pulls you, shutting and barring the door shut once you’re inside.

“Why are you blocking the door?” you ask, raising an eyebrow as your brother turns to face you.

“We tend to have an open door policy in the village. Where you and I haven’t seen each other for awhile, I figured it’d be best to have some privacy, wouldn’t you agree?”

You nod as you take in your surroundings. There’s a staircase leading upstairs and around the corner, a dining table and a kitchen area. Several candles are burning; they definitely don’t have electricity and running water in this village. Behind your brother is a worn couch.

“Is that where I’m sleeping?” you ask, pointing at the couch.

“Nope, you get the bed upstairs. I can live with the couch for a while. Nothing but the best for my little sis.”

“Thanks Vince,” you reply, grabbing your luggage, “I’ll bring this upstairs, then maybe we can talk. You know… catch up.”

You grab your luggage, dragging it up the stairs. You spot the bed at the end of the bannister next to a window overlooking the village center. As you’re staring out the window, you spot the cloaked man, Leon, again. He’s standing in the center of town, looking right at you. It sends a chill down your spine. You turn around and scream a little when your brother taps you on the shoulder.

“You ok? You weren’t answering me,” Vince says, his face full of concern.

“Sorry… it’s that guy. He’s right down there staring at the window,” you reply, turning to point out the window, however, Leon is gone, “oh, nevermind. It must have been my imagination.”

“He’s like… a guard dog of sorts. He’s probably just making sure you’re chill,” Vince explains, gently grabbing you by your upper arm and leading you back downstairs, “he’s like that with anyone he doesn’t know.”

“Right, of course…” you’re still uneasy, but decide to trust your brother.

“I’ll get started on dinner, have a seat at the table,” says Vince before walking over to the large wood stove, which is already aflame.

“Can I help with anything?” you ask, still standing by the table.

“No, I got it. Been doing this for two years. I can handle it. You’re the guest of honor, you just sit back, relax and let your brother take care of you.”

While your brother prepares dinner for the two of you, you make small talk, getting him caught up on the two years worth of stuff he missed. You told him about Mark and André, told him that your horrendous grandfather finally passed away a year ago; you had caught a smirk on Vince’s face before he turned his attention back to making dinner. Once dinner is finished, he sets both plates down at the table and the two of you dig in.

“Earlier you had said Lord Saddler,” you begin, taking a bite of food before continuing, “Vince… are you sure this isn’t a cult?”

Your brother bursts out laughing, reaching over to put his hand on yours to comfort you, “Lord Osmund Saddler is the patriarch of Los Iluminados and the speaker for the Holy Body. I’m not held here against my will. I promise you with every fiber of my being, this isn’t a cult, Sis.”

“I’m sorry I just… I may have watched a bunch of documentaries before coming here on cults and I just want what’s best for you, that’s all.”

Vince smiles, “Don’t worry, no one is going to drink any Kool Aid here.”

“Vince, that’s terrible!” you playfully smack him, “also it wasn’t even Kool Aid!”

You can’t help but laugh, slowly letting your mind be at ease. It’s clear your brother is happy and healthy here in this village. Before you can continue your conversation with Vince, you hear the chime of a church bell in the distance and you watch as your brother immediately stands up.

“What’s that all about?” you ask, slowly standing up. 

“That is the sound of evening service. Come! I’d love for you to see one of Father Méndez’s services.”

Taking your hand, Vince unblocks the door and takes you outside. You see all the villages are filling into the large brick building you had seen Leon standing in front of earlier.

“That’s the meeting house, we have to pass through it to get to the church,” he explains to you as he leads you to follow the other villagers inside the building. 

Upon walking in there is a large room, shelves of food and supplies lining the walls. In the back of the room was a large painting of a robed man; not Leon, but someone else, Vince notices you staring at the painting.

“That is our Lord Saddler. Hopefully you’ll get to meet him during your visit; he’s a wonderful patriarch, I think you’ll like him.”

There is something about the painting that unsettles you, but you can’t put your finger on it; nor do you have time to because before you know it, Vince is leading you into the adjacent room. This room has a large table lined with chairs on both sides. You both proceed around the table exiting out of the door on the other side with the other villagers. The door takes you out to a winding path which opens up to a cemetery with the church sitting just at the top of the hill.

You and your brother make your way up the hill, following the rest of the villagers into the church where you and your brother sit in one of the pews in the middle. There is an extremely tall man standing at the altar, wearing a black leather trench coat and a large brim hat. His dark beard has subtle white hairs, indicating to you that he’s much older than you and your brother. In fact, now that you think about it, you realize you and your brother are probably the youngest ones in the church.

Behind the imposing man is a large stained glass window decorated with red, blue, green and white. The white glass makes a pattern. You’re not sure what to make of it; it’s almost like a crude insect-like cross with four appendage-like parts extended out with a tail pointing downwards. Once everyone is seated in the pews, the man at the altar addresses the villagers.

“My brothers and sisters,” the man begins, his Hispanic accent thick, “before we begin tonight’s sermon, I wanted to welcome the visitor that Vincent has brought to visit our village.” The man gestures one of his hands towards us, “if you would do the honors, Vincent.”

Your brother stands up, “Gracias, Father Méndez. This is my younger sister,” he says before telling everyone your name, “she’ll be staying with me for a while, we haven’t seen each other since I first came here. I hope you all can join me in showing her what makes Los Iluminados a special community.”

The other villagers clap softly as Vince sits back down. After that, Father Méndez begins the service, which is in Spanish, so you strained your brain to try to pick up bits and pieces of what he’s saying. This doesn’t last long, however as your eye catches movement in the darkness in the back of the church. You feel your heart skip; it’s Leon again, his azure gaze once again locked on you. His expression is cold and emotionless, but there is no doubt in your mind that he is staring at you. 

As if sensing your unease, your brother nudges you with his elbow and whispers, “what’s wrong?”

“It’s Leon again…” you reply, nodding your head in Leon’s direction.

Vince’s gaze follows yours, spotting Leon staring at you from the back of the church. Vince lets out a soft sigh.

“I’ll talk to Father Méndez after the service.”

For the rest of the service, you steal glances towards the back of the church, where Leon remains, still staring at you. At the end of the service, however, when you look back, Leon is finally gone, much to your relief. 

Father Méndez’s booming voice draws your attention back to him, “¡Gloria a Las Plagas!”

“¡Gloria a Las Plagas!” the villagers, including Vince, repeat back.

Gloria a Las… Plagas? you think to yourself, glory to the… plague? Plagues? Pests? What? That makes no sense…

Before you can think it over further, your brother stands up abruptly, pulling you up with him.

“Pablo,” Vince says as he approaches another villager, “¿Puedes llevar a mi hermana de regreso a mi casa? Tengo que hablar con el padre Méndez.”

The man nods, “sí, claro.”

Vince turns his attention back to you, “Pablo here is going to take you back to my house while I talk to Father Méndez about Leon, ok? I won’t be long.”

“Alright, thanks Vince,” you reply as Pablo gently takes you by your upper arm, leading you out of the church.

You turn back, watching your brother approach Father Méndez before the church doors close behind you.

“Vincent,” Méndez begins as Vince approaches him, “what can I do for you, my brother?”

“It’s about Leon,” Vince says, crossing his arms, “I want him to leave my sister alone.”

“What do you mean? You do remember what you agreed to, no?” Méndez presses straightening his posture.

“I do remember, but he is scaring her. All he’s done since she got here is stare at her.”

“And? Are you saying you’re defying the will of Lord Saddler?”

“No, of course not!” Vince exclaims before lowering his voice, “but if we want any chance of her staying in Los Iluminados, he needs to chill out with the staring, ok? Is that too much to ask, Father?”

Méndez brings a hand to his beard, stroking it as he contemplates Vince’s request. After a few moments, he gently nods, “fine. I will speak with Lord Saddler on this.”

“Thank you, Father.”

She is perfect.

Leon stands at the end of the bed that you’re sleeping in, completely oblivious to his presence. Bringing his hands up, he lowers the hood of his cloak. The exposed skin on his neck and face are completely covered in inky black veins and seem to pulse under his skin. He gently crawls onto the bed, being careful not to wake you as he cages you with his body.

Leaning down so that his nose is nearly pressed against the side of your neck, he breathes in your scent deeply, opening his mouth slightly to lick his sharpened incisors with his tongue. He moves away from your neck, staring down at you as he watches your chest rise and fall gently as you slumber. Unable to help himself, he leans back down, his lips hovering above yours when he hears the unmistakable sound of the front door opening downstairs.

His head snaps towards the stairs, crawling off your bed with the grace and stealth of a panther. He brings his hood back up over his head, walking silently over to the open window at the head of the stairs where he had let himself in, climbing out and shutting the window carefully behind him, not leaving a single trace that he was even there.

Part 2

[tevanbegins]

Well, I wanted to ramble a bit about how I totally love everything about the way Buck's bisexuality arc has been handled so far on 9-1-1. 💗💜💙 The sheer positivity and euphoria on display about it within the show makes me so profoundly happy! There has been no shame spiral, no element of exclusively targeted biphobia, only pure queer joy and acceptance thus far. 🌈 Buck accepted his newfound identity with ease, and his friends and loved ones also accepted him easily (his parents' hilariously weird reaction is a different story, but let's not get into decoding that right now.)

But it is Tommy's acceptance of Buck's bisexuality I really love the most. I especially adore how Tommy respects the fact that though Buck has only recently discovered he liked kissing men, it won't change that Buck has been attracted to women and will continue to be (Their exchange during the first date in 7x05 — I'm not lying about who I am / I didn't say you were, I was talking about me.) Tommy is a gay man but he is not at all insecure about Buck's attraction to multiple genders, and is not the least bit doubtful of Buck's same-sex attraction towards himself. And I think that is absolutely wonderful to see!

Moreover, this is kind of a contrast to the Hen and Eva backstory wherein Eva is shown to get pregnant from Denny's bio-dad (I don't exactly recall if Eva cheated on Hen with the man, but I think she did, correct me if I am wrong though, may have to rewatch.) Eva was a dark character regardless of her sexual identity but whatever this storyline was, it still emphasised the harmful "bisexuals get around" narrative, which shouldn't be condoned.

That's why I love this easy acceptance of Buck's bisexuality, specifically from Tommy's end so much, because bisexuals are often not only discriminated against by queer-phobes in general, but also face discrimination from within the LGBTQ+ community too. I hope Tim Minear and the writers stick to this positive approach towards Buck's bi-acceptance (self as well as from fellow queers and non-queers), because this is a rarity to see on screen. I'm sure there are more examples but I think the only other time I've seen this kind of all-round positive bisexual acceptance is for Alex Claremont-Diaz in Red, White & Royal Blue. And similarly, David Rose's pansexuality on Schitt's Creek. Whereas on shows like Grey's Anatomy, Station 19, How to Get Away With Murder, etc. I've also seen a bit of biphobia on display in the same space they attempt to showcase bisexual pride and queer representation.

So considering everything, I really want to see Buck and Tommy's relationship grow moving forward and see them be happy and madly in love, but I also want to watch them navigate different challenges couples encounter in their romantic journey and stay committed to each other through the highs and lows of it all. But while the writers are at it, I really hope they never reinforce any unfair bisexual prejudices through the narrative. Because the way it's been positively dealt with in season 7 by Tim & Co. is truly precious, and I wouldn't want anything about it to change! ✨🏳‍🌈

[average-book-enjoyer]

WHY was I born a woman??

A List of Musical Theater Roles That Me and My Girl Best Friend Would be Perfect For. it also would be cool if they were just genderbent as lesbians but whatever

A comprehensive list under the cut 👍

#1

Erik and Christine!

Phantom is one of my favorite shows of all time. I don’t condone the kidnapping and such, but the aesthetic is unparalleled. My friend is a soprano 1 who eats every single time she sings Christine’s parts. The Phantom sings pretty solidly in my range. Also my bestie’s kind of into Erik’s weird toxic thing with Christine. Idk what that has to do with this but it feels relevant.

#2

Seymour and Audrey!

Little Shop is SUCH a good show. Suddenly Seymour is her go-to audition song, and one of our favorites to sing together. I feel like I could serve little pathetic loserman enough to pull this off.

#3

Gatsby and Daisy!

Ok I’m so sorry about this but like. Pining after an unavailable woman for five years? I WAS MADE FOR THIS. I’d need to learn the harmonies but that’s ok. My friend’s belt is so solid that she would body every single song in this show. Also I just love tragedy or whatever…

#4

Mendel and Trina!

The token normal healthy couple. I know almost every single line of every harmony in Falsettos (<-i say, normally) and being onstage acting insanely down bad for a friend? I’ve found I’m very good at! She says she’d have fun with Trina’s issues and such. We would eat this up.

#5

JD and Veronica!

No listen please hear me out. I learned the harmonies to Seventeen specifically so we could sing it together. Our friends will tell us to stfu because we just want to sing it whenever. Although my friend is a soprano, her range is kinda crazy and she has a lot of fun singing in the alto/mezzo range. I personally would have fun playing a murderous freak.

#6

Jack and Katherine!

I can do a New York accent already! I learned Jack’s harmonies for Something To Believe In and half of the score on trumpet. My Newsies phase was FOUL. My friend would absolutely eat Katharine’s disdain for Jack at the beginning and also she can tap dance!! Anyway my point is PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE CAN WE BE THESE TWO PLEASE

#7

Jim and Jenna!

Ok I can’t really defend myself on this one… I know the harmonies already if that helps? I just love Sara Bareilles and I love Waitress (i am on my knees begging) Can I be that gynecologist pleeeeeease pretty please? My friend would SERVE Jenna pwease pretty please (i crumble into dust)

#8

Emmett and Elle!

My friend is blonde. My friend could do this show so well. Emmett and I? Both supreme woman respecters. I think the dynamic of Emmett being insanely in love with Elle and her just not noticing we would do INCREDIBLY well. Once again. I know the man’s harmonies. I just want to be him so bad 😭

Thank you for reading if you got this far. Be on your way xoxo

[mr-urple]

you should definitely rant to me about your iteration if you can.. I would absolutely love to learn abt it to possibly draw our iteration turts interacting.. /nf

I LITERALLY SURPRESS A SCREECH OKAY OKAY OKAY OAKY HHHHH SO

TMNT: Found Family is a teetle iteration based off of my friends!! I only have the turtles drawn out (and April planned in my head) but!!! I do have some of the basics:

Donnie (He/Her): He's based off of Tomi!! She's 14, the youngest of the four bros. Typically quiet around people (unless she freaks the fuck out) but he yaps A LOT when she's either alone or with her siblings. A lot of people mistake him as a very meek and mild individual, but in reality he's a violent BEAST filled with rage. The #1 hater ever. But overall she's very silly and critter-like...

Leo (He/him): The second youngest, based off of me! I would've made myself Donnie but. Then I'd just be drawing my sona SO... yeah... I decided to go with Leo because the person I relate to the most (after MM Don, ofc) is Rise Leo. For. Various reasons. But yeah. He's a 16 year old shithead who looooves playing pranks and being a smartass. He's academically smart but SUPER dense (a lot of shit goes over his head..), but also somehow extremely cunning and witty. Despite being a ball of unhinged chaos, he still ends up caring for his siblings like a dad because he's also an Anxious Idiot. Oh also he has a severe case of RBF syndrome

Mikey (He/him): I based him off of Val, he's 17 years old and the second oldest. Gay as fuck, I haven't shown his design yet but he's. Literally a walking rainbow (and I mean LITERALLY... wait until you see his scale patterning). Like Leo, he's a little shithead who teams up with the blue boy to prank everyone within a five mile radius. He's also somehow even more insufferable than Leo. It's probably because he's gay (DON HOMOPHOBIC REAL!??11/??!?!??!? /j). Despite being a seemingly fiery ball of energy, he gets pretty quiet with strangers. Actually, ALL of them get quiet with strangers. Autism sibs unite or something idk

Raph (She/They): The oldest of them all, being 18 years old!! She's based off of my beloved nee-chan Phantom. The (appointed) leader of the group, she has a major case of the Eldest Daughter syndrome. She's a very caring figure of them all, but despite seeming mature and calm, she's just as chaotic as the rest of them. She won't hesitate to condone murder (for the right reasons, of course) and doesn't really reprimand any of her brothers for their shenanigans. If anything, she laughs and cheers them on. I mean, as long as no one's getting hurt, it's all good, right??

April (She/Her): April is also 14, standing next to Donnie age-wise. She's based off of Cin.. I haven't developed her as much since I don't have her design down yet, but as far as I've thought, she's a very mischievous creature.. think of Anya's smug little "heh" face. That's basically her entire personality /hj. Despite being a little bitch (/lhaff) she's very sweet and won't hesitate to comfort her friends and family. Best little sister ever <- not biased at all

As for the storyline.... uh... haha um I. Haven't really thought that far?? Ik for a fact Splinter (who I haven't developed in the slightest) finds all four of the turtles individually as time goes on, with Raph being the first, then Donnie, then Mikey, and then finally Leo. That's why my iteration is titled "found family", because they all literally found each other (unintentionally, but still).

[lozerboylucas]

At our very core, what drives us is that blissful feeling of control.

(doodle + headcanons)

Ren doodle I made within a train. Wondering how many people walked past me, noticed and thought I was just some furry.

https://youtu.be/Z8oinwSEtqs?si=BkekMPfrMQBR1L2A

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Whilst drawing this I started thinking of stuff which then turned into headcanons. Just felt like sharing ^^

-During the time period MC was unconscious after the murder of Lawrence, Ren was still struggling to set his mind into the role of "the new Strade". It took him a good while to feel even a little less discomfort and doubt with himself in Strade's old clothes.

-Strade had the "rank symbol" tattooed on him. He never had it as a part of his clothing. Instead, Ren, who was alone during his two year time period of trying to recover from the sudden turn of events, decided to add the patch himself in order to feel more "connected" to Strade.

-In the early days of being alone, Ren was too anxious to go get groceries on his own. Instead he would sneak out and steal something from the neighboring houses or resort to things like hunting birds or small animals.

-Ren has crashed Strade's old car atleast twice by accident (it took him a while to learn to drive it properly)

-Gato has stated that Ren doesn't like showers, and much prefers baths. In my opinion this is 1. Because the water droplets feel weird to him. I feel like Strade had one of those weirdly rough kind of showers. The way the water sprinkles on him feels unnatural 2. He grew up homeless and would often have to tolerate rain, so showers and rain bring back some bad memories (as if he had any good ones to begin with), and 3. Because of his past experiences with Strade and the shower of the house (referring to that one old drawing Gato made. Not going into further detail.) This applies to pretty much any form of spraying water, wether that be one of those weird yard machines that I just KNOW Strade or atleast some of his neighbors do, or even just a simple spray bottle.

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Also I feel I need to mention this:

⚠️ I absolutely DO NOT condone any of the actions displayed within these types of games, nor should anyone.

Glorifying or romanticizing abusive behavior is shitty. The amount of people I've seen say shit like "I wish I was in Ren's place" or blatantly ship Strade with Ren is fucking crazy. I find this genuinely concerning, as it's made pretty clear that there is nothing, NOTHING romantic about their relationship. It was a blatantly abusive bond no matter how you put it, and such behavior should never be approved of. With this in mind, if you DO romanticize these kinds of relationships, even if, and ESPECIALLY if it's a way of coping, please seek help and discuss your trauma. This is seriously harmful to both you and others. Please acknowledge the fact nothing about this behavior is okay, fictional or not. You deserve to get better. Keep yourself and others safe. Thank you ❤️

[count-horror-xx]

I think people hate on Jet WAY to fucking much. Like yall act like he didn't witness his parents get brutally burned alive as well as his whole village go up in fucking flames. He makes like two mistakes and yall go "yeah THATS public enemy #1"

Don't get me wrong obviously I don't condone him flooding an earth kingdom village cus it was invaded by the fire nation that I can agree with was too much 😭 but omg don't you think if your whole life was burned down you'd be a little fucked up in the head??? And be basically blinded by your own hatred for those who murdered your family??? Like I said what he did was absolutely wrong but to call him like evil reincarnated is a little far, bro was just a misguided kid who hated his oppressors more then loving the ones he swore to protect, but in the end he did realize he needed to focus to protect the ones he loved more but he ended up dying for it. And that's why no one really cares about his character growth and it honestly irks me 😭😭

Edit: not to mention when he found out zuko & iroh were firebenders, he didn't know thier intentions. Obviously we did and knew they weren't planning anything but he didn't. In his mind he probably thought they were fire nation spies trying to invade ba sing se and that's why he attacked them.

[dearweirdme]

Hi all, it's your friendly neighborhood #1 Tae Stan. I know you've missed me. I have too.

Anyway, for any newbies here, I'm just going to leave a disclaimer that I am NOT a jikoooker. I am actually a legitimate Taehyung fan but I'm not like one of those super devoted, my idol can't do no wrong fans. No, I'm a cool fan.

That's why it BREAKS. MY. HEART 💔 to have to draw your alls attention to something absolutely shocking that I witnessed while finally catching up with the travel diary/honeycation that manifested between JK and his 'friend' JM (😜)

I know I'm late to the show but as you'll all vividly recall from about 8 months to a year ago, I mentioned that I was studying Criminology, specially with regards to Criminology of KPOP stars and that's not me bragging, that's just letting you all understand that I am FULLY (in about 2 more years) qualified to share the following fact with you.

You all, I'm getting VERY concerned about Taehyung (who I am the #1 fan of btw) I can't remember what episode it was but I know I AM NOT the ONLY one who witnessed the attempted DROWNING of JK by Tae in what can only be described as a giant fish tank.

I saw....one man's feet....on another man's...back...under a general source of water and I just literally can't with this. Like I said, I am the biggest Taehyung fan in my neighborhood but how can anyone be expected to condone this? Is this not attempted murder? And since the answer that question is yes, absolutely...is that not a crime?

And even more disturbing than the act itself is...and brace yourselves because you're not going to like this part...is the enablement from fans---because I see no discourse on this. Not from taekookers or even from jikoookers (and I have researched their twitter pages and cute jjk skinship videos EXTENSIVELY purely for research purposes) and not a little bo peep from them either.

I know Tae is your idol. He is mine too but we NEED some accountability. People, even famous KPOP idols can't go around trying to kill their [🫡BROS🫡] in fish tanks. I mean come on!

My wish for 2025 is that we all do better and that's why since 2017, I have been watching Taehyung's escapades and antics with a critical eye so I can call OUT this shocking behavior as soon as I see the slightest glimpse of it.

I am not a joker or a member of a joker cult but please join me in being the best Taehyung fans that we can be by noticing stuff like this even if it's sometimes not really that noticeable. Let us be the first lime of defense. Let us hone our skills together so that we can even predict this shocking stuff before it even happens so we can criticise in advance to keep our FAVE, our #1 on track 🙏

Signing off until next time. I know you'll thank me for being here so in advance, I'll say you're welcome 😊

😂😂😂.. anon!

[thenamessparkplug]

The Bad, The Worse, and The Downright Idiotic

A Wiatt Nicholson Analysis

YOU GUYS HAVE NO IDEA HOW LONG I HAVE WAITED TO VERBALLY KILL THIS DUDE. I HAVE BEEN STRANGLING HIM WITH MY MIND SINCE THE COLLAPSE OF THE BUILDING. AND THIS IS WHY.

DISCLAIMERS!! : One, I have absolutely nothing against any of the writers on this show! You all are doing a fantastic job for how small this series is and I do genuinely adore the work you guys do < 3. Second, I want to make it clear that I do not condone anything Sara has done on her own terms. And she has done bad things on her own terms. She has done horrible things and I do not think that should be brushed under the rug. I do, however, believe her to be redeemable. 

(side note I did get a lil sidetracked when talking about sara, whom I also have strong feelings towards and'll prolly get her own rant in the future)

What has Wiatt done?

Now Wiatt seems to have his heart in the right place, however good intentions hardly amount to much when your actions directly cause death, suffering, and irreversible damage.  

He can’t tell that so much of what’s going on is because Litho knows he’s going to lead people directly into his own plans. This especially became evident in the last episode. Did he not remember the risks of anything relating to Litho?? Why on earth would he think it was safe for Pen, Lisa, or even Hayden whom narrowly survived? 

I know by this point to take everything character’s say with a grain of salt (and I know this isn’t directly Wiatt’s fault either), but I really wanna get into what Hayden said while yelling at Wiatt. He states that since he arrived at dreamworld, someone has gone missing every week. Wiatt has worked here for at least a year. Even considering taking a month off for the collapse fiasco, that is 47 weeks. 47 people. THAT IS INSANE. Even cutting that number in half for hyperbole’s sake that’s still 23 missing people since Wiatt started. Jesus christ man. 

What else has he done? He broke Starlight after recklessly jumping into a hole, got wtdw!rainbott seemingly mindwiped, recorded entirely private and frankly unrelated moments and UPLOADED them, been responsible for the deaths of his coworkers (to name a few anyways), and what does he have to show for it? A police station that thinks he’s insane. He couldn’t possibly have been more tactless trying to convince them to begin an investigation. 

It seems he thinks that because the people he’s against are bad, that automatically makes him good - in the right - but he is so blinded by his sense of a binary wrong and right he fails to see the horrible things he himself has caused. 

Against the Antagonist

I wanna talk about Sara for a second. From what we’ve learned thus far, and I know we haven’t gotten all that many Sara scenes, almost all of what Sara does seems to be attempting to clean up a mess she made many years ago, in comparison to Wiatt who does absolutely nothing but stir the pot.

Sara is stuck here; she is bound to Litho and cannot escape no matter how hard she wants to. She had friends. She’s doing what Litho wants because she has to. We saw what happened when she tried to defy him. Wiatt is only here because of one connection, but could literally leave whenever he wants no harm no foul.

Now the Norman thing I am curious about, because so far, I can’t figure out why 1. she killed him in the first place and certainly 2. why she kept the footage of it. She never seemed to hate Norman, if anything she would be against him for clearly being infatuated with Andrew, and I can’t really blame her for that? I mean nothing is enough to justify murder, but it wouldn’t be in cold blood. I’m also assuming this is before Dreamworld Entertainment due to the fact that Norman seemingly had no involvement. Another odd thing not only was he rebuilt to look exactly like he did when he was alive, but he retained all of his memories as well, and was given a higher power among the staff of Watchful Eye Toys, with memory control himself.

Whatever happened during his death must have been important.

But back to Wiatt. All of Sara actions, albeit terrible, were calculated and she did what she believed was necessary. Wiatt has no concept that his actions have consequences, so all he does is messy things up, making everything far worse than it needed to be.

Why should I care? (Comparison to Eric)

At the very beginning when Eric is first introduced, we are given no reason to care at all about him. I mean, we know he was friends with Lewis but that’s not enough to really grow any attachment to him. We start learning little facts about him, but when it really clicks is during the secret tapes.

Seeing Eric outside of the main plot, his real personality, his hopes, his dreams, his struggles starting from a young age up until how he is today. We’re given the chance to build connections with him and see him as a real person, a character with depth. Knowing his motivations and what built him makes it so easy to grow extremely attached, making any horrific things hit much harder.

Now moving back to Wiatt, we really don’t get to see the real him. We see him once interacting with Lewis, but even that was simply for plot relevance. We really know nothing about him. Even his transition, which would be so easy to capitalize on seeing as the viewership of Dreamworld is highly LGBTQ+, and many people would relate. But we get more about Mike’s transition than Wiatt, and he’s only ever had one real scene as himself.

That’s not even dipping into who Wiatt is as a person. What are his passions? Who are his loved ones outside of just Lewis? What was school like for him? What got him into the mechanic business? Who took care of him after his parents died? I understand this can be hard to smoothly integrate into a story but look how well it worked with Eric’s tapes.

Now this is getting much more into the writing side of the show, but I think something that's kind of lacking is character building filler. As much as having a concise plot is nice, without scenes or even full episodes dedicated to fleshing out our cast, it makes it really difficult to connect.

There’s so so much of his character to explore that we just never get into, and it kinda makes it hard to root for him when there’s nothing backing his character. Just like, a few more tapes of Wiatt would be plenty, something outside of Lewis. I would love to see his relationships with other characters (you cannot build a sense of character off one single relationship), how he views himself, just anything.

Its incredibly difficult to analyze a character when they seemingly have no depth.

In Conclusion

I am not a fan of Wiatt as it currently is (understatement of the year), but good god am I persuadable. I just want Dreamworld to give me a reason to root for him. Something to sympathize with, relate to. Have him improve. Allow him to realize his mistakes, and become a better person for that.

I don’t think he’s a lost cause.

But give me a reason to believe that.

[lazulifoster]

We Need To Talk About Micah Bell

I want to get this off my chest: Theres a lot of talk about  “Micah Bell Bad” “Liking Micah is a red flag” “I HATE HIM” “I can’t respect people who like him” “I don’t see the appeal”

FULL STOP

You know what’s a red flag to me?  When people get sanctimonious about a FICTIONAL villain.

I like Micah. Do I love the actions of Micah Bell? (Genocide, femicide, grand larceny, sadism, misogyny, racism, arson, vandalism, etc) Clearly not--as a woman and an indigenous Chicana, I would never allow someone like Micah Bell in my presence, let alone speak to me. But lest we forget,  MICAH IS A FICTIONAL CHARACTER IN THE RED DEAD UNIVERSE I am allowed to appreciate a phenomenally written and complex villain like Micah,

I am allowed to think his long, blond, messy hair and voice are attractive! I am allowed to thank the stars for Peter Blomquist’s masterful acting which brought to life one of the most divisive characters of all time. I just hate seeing people enjoy things--hell, even write things for Micah--and get absolutely bombarded with “Well I’M a good person because I don’t like that character and you’re BAD if you disagree” I won’t stand for it when people will bend over backwards about how Dutch or even Arthur are inherently better characters to appreciate. UMMMMMMM????? DUTCH? Arthur is different, CORRECT, because he redeems himself at the end but lets not pretend he wasn’t a jerk for the beginning of the game (Downes, anyone?)

BUT DUTCH? The man who left Arthur to DIE ON THE GROUND? Who picked Micah above reason and his own chosen family that he knew for years? Dutch, the true villain of both Red Dead 1 and 2? No shade for liking him but lets call it like we see it--If Micah is so bad, lets keep it real and acknowledge everyone (EXCEPT TILLY, LENNY, AND BB KIERAN) were not perfect angels. Look--Y’all don’t have to agree, not even expecting you to--but I’m honestly so bored of people stanning other characters who are just as bad or worse than Micah Bell but don’t receive backlash for it? If people were condoning these actions in real life, yeah--I’d have a big f*cking issue with it, but fiction is meant to be a safe space, isn’t it?  If you don’t like something, I certainly won’t force you, but my goodness, leave the sanctimonious, holier-than-thou b*llshit at the door please. Its a videogame about thieves and murderous cowboys for goodness sake.

[thekiltongrammarwriter]

Girl I’ve Always Been | Childhood (1)

Pairing: Andie Bell x fem reader (Becca Bell x reader) childhood best friends

Summary: Her deep silver eyes shot up to you, wide and almost menacing. Her eyes were the same color as your father you noticed. Her lips were calm and poised as they eyed you, running down your figure to stop at your soiled trainers. Her bike was still on the ground, you could just make out the sticker that lined the bars. ‘Property of: Andie Bell’ written neatly on with a marker pen. Andie bell.

Series Warnings: Childhood innocence, toxic parents, Jason Bell being his own warning, hurt/comfort, found family, firecracker baby Becca Bell, featuring the very famous Roadie and Toadie, My take on the Bell family. Pre AGGGTM.

Authors note: I first Read A good girl guide to murder when it first released in 2019, and I absolutely adored it. It kept me on my feet and I fell head over heels for so many characters. I happen to be one of those people that sympathize a great deal with characters. One of those characters happened to be Andie bell. She was so complex, so versatile it was impossible to know her next move. I throughly enjoyed the dynamic between the Bell family, and in turn it made me love Andie more as a character. Not condoning her actions, but there is a saying, hurt people hurt people. I wrote this piece simply to explore Andie’s childhood, and explore it in my own special way. This is again solely for entertainment purposes. I do hope you enjoy it. (The cover photos will be altered when we get picts of India as Andie)

Words: well beyond 7k (Not Proofread. Expect grammar errors)

Your eyes peered out of the frosty window of the car your parents had been driving for what seemed like hours now. You watched as the bustling streets of London remained a firm solid memory in your mind, your eyes now peering over at the soft country road of a small town. Your mother eyed you with soft eyes from the front seat, leaning down so her firm hand made contact with your cheek, softly moving some strands of hair from your eyes. “I know the move was not what you expected sweetheart, but your father and I know you will grow to love Little Kilton. I hear there are even some lakes? Isn’t that so Charles?”

Your father’s soft smile filled his features as he peered at you with his soft silvery eyes, “Oh yes! Plenty of lakes! I hear they’re known for their tea rooms!”

What town wasn’t known for their tea rooms?

You couldn’t help but let out a laugh, watching as your fathers smile lifted at the sound of your voice, at the age of eight you had now moved more than four times. That was just part of the job given that your parents were the top familial therapist’s in the England. They had worked with so many families all over, from the great city of Cardiff in Wales to the great burrowing dales of Scotland. You had been too small to remember the early years, living in wales and Scotland, though you think now you’ll remember this move the most.

The white pale sign greets your eyes, ‘Little Kilton’ leaping of it as your father zooms past, he notices your wide gleaming eyes watching the small city center, the churchyard, the tea rooms. It’s all so new. It’s only when your father turns into a small neighborhood that you really feel anxious, your leg shaking against the car floor.

The houses all look similar to each other, terraced houses, orange brick lined with white window tills, black rimmed picked fences. Your father curses as he flips the map onto the left side, “Jenny do you have that paper I gave to you when we left tesco’s yesterday? The one with our address on the back?”

There is some shuffling as your mother peers through her rucksack, before producing a small piece of paper, you’re observant enough that you catch the street name, Hogg Hill. You laugh to yourself, imagining a street laden with Hoggs, all sorts of colors.

“There we are” your father sputters, twisting the wheel until the car is turning on a specific road. “Hog Hill, number 29”. The house isn’t what you expected, its a detached house, standing alone from all the others, the brick is devoid of color, probably withered away with age. The gate that lines the house is made of brick, metal bars upholding the bricks. The mail slot is pure gold, cleaner than any other mail slot you had seen in your short years of life.

The windows remain clean, and you’re about to ask your mother if the previous tenant had done a clean up when she answered for you, getting out of the car, eyes taking in the house.

“Would you look at that Charles-“ your mother begins, her words a void in your head as she begins to decorate the front door, talking a mile a minute about planting a small garden, to which you take the time to look round. The street is small, but you find yourself smiling as you watch an elderly couple walking their small dog, lead on and tail wagging. It makes your heart swell, but also in a way that has you begging for home. Your grandparents had been sad to see you go, and you along with them. You must have cried buckets upon leaving.

It’s your father who mentions it. You don’t remember noticing it yourself before he had brought it up, “My goodness will you get a look at that tree Jenny?? It’s bigger than five lots combined!” Your father comes near, rustling your ponytail and tickling you as he passes, “it’s a sycamore tree! Your favorite!”

Your eyes follow your fathers and right across from your house stands a tree. Not just any tree, a sycamore tree. Your grandmother’s favorite. It’s big and tall, overlooking the semi detached houses, and all you want to do is rush over and begin climbing. That small curiosity that beats in your chest aching to get out. You bet you could see all of Little Kilton from that high above the ground, you wager you could even see all of London, maybe even London Eye. It’s only then that your mother breaks your concentration, piling up your arms with boxes, as much as your eight year old hands can carry. And the tree is forgotten.

After nearly two days of decorating and helping your mum move the furniture you’re itching to get outside. It’s when your mother is out talking on the phone that you manage to sneak out from under her.

The weather is Cloudy, the breeze feeling nice on your skin, the tiny patch of sun that peeks out through the dreary clouds is warm. You tug your climbing shoes on, before racing across the street.

The sycamore is as big as your grandmothers, and you easily climb on it, making it halfway. You clutch the tree trunk in your hands as you peer down at the land bellow. Although your previous theory of being able to see London had been false, you never realized how small Little Kilton truly was. It stretched miles and miles, but seemed cut off from the rest of the world. A tiny town filled with tiny people.

A vast difference from the bustling Streets of London. Where the people were anything but tiny, crowds of people going to and from. The feel of the underground station rocking your feet, rattling the edges of your skin.

It was quiet here. Almost too quiet. The Unsettling sort of quiet that caused your mind to race with endless ideas. Here there was no underground station, no busy bodies going to and from, just the tiny town, where kids would play in the park and everyone knew your name.

It would only be a matter of time before your mum found you missing and would call for you to come back, help her finish off the garden out back. You sighed, moving to climb off the tree, making sure you were careful on the way, you didn’t want to get any scratches or broken limbs. Not like last time.

You hadn’t seen her at first, the tree had most likely been too high to peer down at, you had mostly kept your eyes on the rest of the town, not bothering to look bellow. A girl was on her bicycle, pedaling angrily down the hill. You watched from your front steps as her front tire hit a crack in the pavement. The first thing you noticed was, she didn’t cry. Or wince. She simply rose up from the road, ashy blonde hair now ruined as she pulled up her ponytail. Her scraped palms and unblemished face were a stark contrast to the fierce determination in her eyes. You could tell she was angry, from her raised brows and lips muttering incomprehensible words.

her knee was bleeding, racetracks of blood spilling over the wound that had no doubt gotten cut from the fall. You weren’t sure what possessed you at that moment to walk over to her. You were normally too scared, too sensitive to go talk to other children on your own. But something in you made your feet walk towards her.

Maybe it was because your parents were therapist or because you were observant and you always knew when people needed to talk, but you stood in front of her, your feet licking against the ground as you walked, alerting the blonde girl of your presence.

Her deep silver eyes shot up to you, wide and almost menacing. Her eyes were the same color as your father you noticed. Her lips were calm and poised as they eyed you, running down your figure to stop at your soiled converse. Her bike was still on the ground, you could just make out the sticker that lined the bars. ‘Property of: Andie Bell’ written neatly on with a marker pen.

Andie bell.

She eyed you for what felt like eternity, until you managed to speak. “I saw you fall”. If the girl thought your words were candid she didn’t show it, only rose those threatening eyebrows, her silvery eyes wild as she eyed you, like she was on the defense. You knew that because your parents had seen to many cases like that.

Andie couldn’t help but feel like your words were contradictory, like you cared but didn’t at the same time.

Her chest puffed outward, like a threatened puffer fish desperately trying to defend itself, and then the stubborn response fell from her lips, “Didn’t fall.” The words were harsh, menacing, with a sudden chill added to them. “just….lost balance is all”

You scoffed, eyebrows raised, clearly she had. The evidence was all around for others to see, You just stared at her for a second, wondering if she was being serious. Surly the way her knees were scrapped and her bike was dented had been evident of the fall, of some accident.

“But you did” you let out, head tilting, eyes soft.

Andie gulped, her nose flaring and eyes squinting in anger. “No I didn’t” she growled out. But you saw it—the tremor in her voice, the vulnerability she tried to hide. She got closer to your face, hands balling into fists. She didn’t like how weak you made her feel, and even more so that she couldn’t read you enough to decipher your emotions. It was beyond frustrating. but it was obvious you didn’t perceive . All you saw was an angry little girl with the same characteristics your parents would talk about.

You shrieked back as she stepped over to you, eyes still mapping out your emotions, trying to catch a glimpse of anything.

It took a second, but you could clearly see her anger, the way it was raw irritation. You planted your feet, stood your ground. She was in obvious need of help, you could tell from the way she held her body that pain was something she was not immune to.

“I have plasters. No shame in falling.” Andie’s gaze bore into yours, as if assessing whether your words held true. She was wary, like a wild animal caught in a snare and at that you watched as her eyes softened, and with a simple nod moved past you, bumping your shoulder lighty as she passed.

She followed you back to the house silently, scratched up bike trailing beside her.

She didn’t talk, didn’t even veer her eyes away from in front of her, pulling her dented bike by its handles. Once you made it to your new house, boxes and boxes still laying out in your fathers boot, evidence of you being freshly new to the town.

Your father smiled as you neared, his eyes kind and sweet, and you watched as his eyes took in the girl next to you, taking in her bleeding knee and soiled clothes. “Oh dear! Have a fall did we sweetheart?” He spoke, dropping the box he was carrying to come and eye Andie.

You watched the blonde girl, who seemed a bit nervous and confused as your father moved closer to her, she stepped back a bit, not too much for it to be noticeable, but you noticed. You could tell by her firm jaw and observant eyes that she was calculating her thoughts about your father.

“This is Andie Bell papa” you spoke out, moving to step in front of the small girl,a small smile perched on your lips. “She had a bit of a fall and I offered to help clean her up”.

You watched as Andie’s silver eyes moved to you, and you didn’t understand why you suddenly felt nervous, the beginnings of butterflies in your stomach.

Your father nodded at your words, moving to grab your head affectionately and drag you into him, laying a big almost embarrassingly kiss onto your cheek. You shrieked, pulling away, wiping at where your father left his lips.

“Always the mediator aren’t you” he had whispered into your skin

You were a big girl now, and you certainly didn’t need to be branded as the girl whose parents still treated her like a toddler with their endless affection. If your father noticed your less than enthusiastic behavior torward his affection he didn’t make it known. Only smiled that wide smile, “well Andie it’s a pleasure to meet you!! I’m sure you’ve made quite the impression on my daughter, you’re the first friend she’s ever brought home”.

You could feel your cheeks heating up at your father’s admission, you were worried Andie would be less than enthused to be around a middle aged man talking fondly about his daughter. You were sure she would take the plaster from your hands and walk straight out of the door, no thank you or words mentioned. She most likely thought you a nerd, a dweed, a good girl who did everything your parents asked, and with a smile. That you were, and you weren’t ashamed, you usually never were. So why was it when it came to Andie Bell did you feel the need to suddenly be cool?

To your great and utter astonishment the blonde only smiled at your father, the lines of her lips lifting into a beautiful grin, and you were amazed at how beautiful her smile was. It was a big difference from the scowl you had seen on her face the whole walk over.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too sir.” It was short and simple, and your father seemed to like that, moving aside and gesturing for you to take Andie inside the cluttered house, where you were sure your mother would be flying around like a headless chicken.

“Don’t let me stop you. Off you girls go, and make sure to clean out those cuts, don’t want them to get infected” he chimed, going back to the boxes laying on the pavement of the drive.

“Sorry about my father” you spoke, “he means well but sometimes I think he fancies making me feel embarrassed” you whispered.

You watched as Andie’s eyes remained on yours, something flickering in them, you didn’t notice it then, the small flickers. Emotions that were too big for an eight year old to feel, that would flicker and make themselves known.

“Your father loves you” she spoke, her voice calm and controlled, a major difference to her angry self that you had met a while back on the pavement floor. “I think it’s wonderful”.

Wonderful? Any other child your age would have agreed with you, would have laughed and said a very different thing, “parents! How embarrassing can they be!!”. But Andie Bell hadn’t, in fact she had saved you from making a small error in your judgement. You peered back to your father, watched as he eyed the boxes, standing that same way he always did when he thought too hard.

A smile formed on your lips. Your chest ached in that way that only ever happened when you thought of your dad. A warm feeling. “You’re right” you chimed. It was only then that your eyes caught the lines of discomfort in the young girls face, the way her lips let out a hiss as she walked.

You immediately without thought reached for her hand, concern etched into your soft eyes, “come along Andie, let’s fix that cut of yours”.

Your mum’s eyes rose from the lamp she had carefully taken out of the box, eyes seeming to take on a surprised expression as you strolled in, hand in hand with Andie. Your mother looked amused, like she’d waited for this moment for years.

“Made a friend already have we dear?” Her smile is genuine and soft, her eyes then turn down to the cuts on the girl and immediately mum mode is activated. She immediately comes near to Andie, “had quite the adventure it seems, come dear let’s clean that cut of yours. What’s your name sweetheart?”

Your surprised when Andie replies, fast and steady, you watch the way she interacts with your mother, her uneasiness of others seeming to fade away as she tells your mother where she lives, “Number 33 four houses down, I have a little sister named Becca, but she’s a bit of a bore, all she does is toddle about and play with her dolls”.

You think it’s the most words you’ve ever heard the girl say in your presence. Your mother seems to love the conversation, nodding along and laughing at the way Andie describes Becca, like any older sister would, with the least affection.

You watch from your place across the table as your mother asks permission to lift Andie onto the granite, and when she nods your mother lifts her on the counter, very tenderly taking the girls shins into her hands before cleaning out her wound. Andie doesn’t wince, nor cry, the only indication that she’s felt any type of pain evident from the way her fingers grip the sides of the granite, fingers turning deathly pale. “I am quite use to cleaning cuts” your mother spoke, moving to get the plaster from the box and placing them neatly on the wound, tapping Andie’s cheeks playfully as she did so. Andie had smiled, not a forceful smile or a big smile. But a soft one. Genuine in nature

“This girl over here is constantly giving me a fright with her tree climbing. I’m just happy that she was there to help you”.

Andie’s eyes meet yours, and to your surprise she nods her head, a mere shake directed at you, but you know well enough what it truly means. Thank you. Thank you for helping me. You can’t fight the smile that fits across your features, or the amused expression on Andie’s face. Once of the counter and onto the floor you watch as Andie’s eyes widen, your ears hearing a distant voice in the distance, “Andie your father is almost home!! Come put the kettle on!” It’s a woman’s voice. But your perspective enough to watch the way Andie’s eyes change when the word father is entered into the equation. Your mother must tell too, because she’s immediately speaking, “it’s about tea time. Why don’t you go along home now honey? I’m sure your mother is looking for you”. Andie is nodding, before making her way out the door and down to her bike, not even looking back at you. A pit opens in your stomach, but it’s only when she’s about halfway down the drive that she turns. “I didn’t catch your name. You’ll have to tell me next time!” She shouts, and then she’s gone, biking down the street down to her house.

Your mother only smiles, moving to kiss your forehead, “well look who made a friend today.” Only your not listening, your made to focused on following Andie as she peddles down to her house. Her mum is outside the house, looking like a carbon copy of her daughter, and she sighs when she sees Andie, speaking words you can’t hear, but you watch as Andie points in the direction of your house. Her mother peers over and you find yourself ducking behind the door, hoping she hadn’t caught you. But you don’t see the way Andie laughs, her eight year old teeth making appearance as she giggles.

You don’t see Andie much during the weekend, your parents keep you busy as you trail alongside them in the center of Little Kilton, holding fast to your fathers hand as you go into the antique shops, your eyes far to busy taking in all the old valuables, old oil paintings and clocks devoid of colour and paint. Although you can’t help but want to run into Andie, you can’t explain why, but you felt this feeling in your chest when you looked at her, you didn’t know what it was, or why it was there. At first you had thought it odd, but now..you enjoyed it. The way it would flit through your whole body, make your tiny heart beat fast in your chest.

As you sit in the ices cream parlor, a cone in your hands you watch as your mother sits in front of you, eating her ice cream with a spoon, much too posh then your father and you. Unlike you barbarians she didn’t feel the need to lick till her tongue was frozen. You were usually a rather observant child, people would comment that you were much to mature for your age, you weren’t sure if that was true. Did a mature eight year old still wear bunny nighties to bed?

But you were observant as ever. Had been ever since you were an infant, your eyes were always so clever, finding things, always searching. Learning, mapping. You could see it now, the way your parents were eyeing each other, you knew those eyes. The back to school discussion. It was practically protocol now.

“I can see you both eying each other, is it about school?” You let out, your tiny eyes flitted between your parents. Your father smiled, that large grin that lifted of his features, his sliver eyes glinted and he merely nodded. “As a matter of fact yes. Your mother and I know you’ll be starting up year eight soon.” Your father moved to pinch your cheeks, “growing a bit old ain’t you?” He joked. You giggled, but the sentiment was just as felt. You were getting older.

You were usually star pupil, always getting the highest marks in exams and projects. You were use to being the new kid, that never changed but it didn’t help when you started school back up again, it usually left you with anxiety, trying to fit in a new environment. You delt with many different children in the past, angry children, cruel, kind, clever, plain mad. That wasn’t what you were worried about. You were more worried about the logistics of the day. Which classroom would you go too, would you need your kit for physical education? What if you lost it or misplaced it? Would the teachers be angry?

“I’m sure you’ll do just fine come Monday.” Your mother spoke, “Kilton grammar School is a perfect educational school, I was just having a chat with that Dawn Bell from four houses down, and she tells me your little friend Andie is starting up year eight as well”. At that you can feel your mothers sly finger meet your stomach, you thrash as she tickles you. But all you can think about is that Andie will be at school. With you. It shouldn’t make you as happy as you feel, but you welcome the excitement.

The rest of the weekend flashes by so fast you’d think it never happened. Your mum finishes the final touches of the house, decorating it with as many colorful portraits and antique clocks. Your father helps you pick out your school uniform. Just as my school you’ve been to Kilton Grammar school is no different. Your father holds up your polo uniform, Kilton grammar emblem embedded in the fabric. He holds it up in his hands, it looks tiny compared to your father. Like he’s some giant. It makes a grin overtake your features.

“I quite like this shade of blue. Nicer than your old pair of uniforms you had to wear.” He puts it down on your bed, “now for your jumper”. You watch as he puts it next to your polo, “I say we go with these smart trousers, it will be a bit nifty when we drop of. Wouldn’t want you catching cold now would we? Or perhaps we could go with some smart skirts and wear some long socks, it’s a while since I was in primary school. Is that still allowed jelly bean?”.

You laugh, “i think I’ll go with the smart trousers papa”. He nods, “grand idea.”

It’s no surprise when on Monday morning your eyes open even before your alarm wakes. It’s the early hours of the morning, you can tell from the way the sun is not quite up, not yet ready to greet the sun. You yawn, pad to the lavatory, brush your teeth and smarten your hair. You settle for a dull ponytail, bunching up your brown bristles of hair. You wish you had gotten your mothers honey curls, but you hadn’t. Dull old brown suited you. It was then that your eyes caught sight of the sycamore tree. And you wondered how the view looked from way up high, it had been otherworldly to be up that high last time. But the colour from the morning sky must have been otherworldly. You had half and to sneak out, have a quick climb, perhaps ease your anxious anxiety, but your parents had woken up a bit long after.

Your mother busied herself with breakfast, putting a plate of fried eggs, one very juicy tomato and some mushrooms in front of your face. You had barley eaten two bites, your stomach filled to the brims with nerves when your mother had dragged you to the car, “we’ll be late if we wait any longer!” She chimed. You buckled in and watched as your father’s car rolled out of the driveway. You couldn’t help but flit your eyes to the Bell house. It looked quiet from the outside, and you wondered if Andie was half as nervous as you were. You laughed at that, Andie didn’t seem like the kind to be nervous about these type of things. You were sure right about now she was as calm and chipper as you were. Perhaps she would busy right at this very moment berating her little sister as they sat in the car, “Becca would you please stop that chattering!! It’s hurting my head!” You could practice hear.

As soon as the school gates appeared you could feel your chest halt, the way it always did when you were nervous. That familiar drop in the pit of your stomach. ‘I can do this. I can do this. Just be calm’ you recited in your head like a mantra. Your mother took your trembling hand in hers, and walked you across the cold nifty England air into the building. You took in the school corridors, watching all the children pass you in the halls. Your nerves seemed to run rampant as you took in the sight of all the halls, endless amount of classrooms and was that a stairwell?? How were you ever going to memorize this information? Where were the lavatories? The Headmasters office? The nurse?

“I can see your feeling a bit overwhelmed at all this new information” your mother’s voice spoke, and she very calmly took your hands in hers, her green eyes soft as she eyed you. “Remember what we practiced last time? Breathe in….” You did, “and out”.

She smiled once you did, moving to kiss your forehead. “Now you are going to have a wonderful day! I’ll let you in on a secret-dad and I are nervous as well. It’s always scary to try new things. But I’ll tell you what, when I come to pick you we’ll pick up a few sausage rolls”. How could you ever say no to that?

After your mum walked you to your class, you breathed in a sigh of relief when Mrs Edmunds came up to you, she was a soft young women, couldn’t have been older than your aunt, fresh out of Uni you assumed. “Well hello Miss Y/n. I’m Mrs Edmund! Welcome to year eight. Why don’t you go ahead and have a seat where you like, you can leave your kit on the table”.

Your brows furrowed as you eyes the corridors, flitting around for your father. He never would leave without saying any sort of parting. Especially on first days. Your chest began to heave slightly faster, what if he didn’t come?

“Looking for me jelly bean?” You immediately let out a sigh, falling into his arms and holding fast. Your father always had a way to calm your racing heart. It was like he just knew what to say. Some kind of magic only he had. After a long embrace and a kiss on the cheek he smiled, that wide glinting smile, sliver eyes looking grey in the light of the hallway. “"After while, crocodile."

"Too-da-loo, kangaroo." You reached down, squeezing his hand.

"Gotta go, buffalo." You squeezed back.

"Give me a hug, ladybug." He moved forward and pulled you into another hug and kissed the top of your head again.

"Take care, polar bear." You squeezed him tighter. He laughed, before pushing you into the classroom, your parents waving once last time before they disappeared down the hall and out the doors of Kilton Grammar. You were officially alone.

You scanned the classroom, eyes flitting to new faces you had never seen before, your hands were shaking in front of you, and you could feel your heart hammering in your chest. You hated the first day of school. Hated it.

“Oi” a soft voice flitted behind your ear, you turned taking in a young boy, his stature was just few inches taller than you, and you noticed the way his hair was dark and neatly pushed back. His dark brown eyes seemed to fill with kindness, it nearly radiated of him in waves. His eyes were soft as they laid on you, like he knew how hard your day had already been. “I’m Sal, Would you like to sit with me? I’m not much of a good talker but my mum says I can listen very well”.

At first you felt the overwhelming feeling of shame fill your chest, you were eight years old not some toddler, but Sal didn’t seem to mind. In fact his smile was wide and calm as he kept his eyes on you. Like a secure hug, and you knew at that exact moment that Sal Singh would be a friend you would never forget. He was still as he waited for you, his cheeks a red shade as you gave him a shy smile. His cheeks reddened, You shook his extended hand, offering your name. He smiled, his eyes alight. “I like your name, sounds like some fairytale character. Much better than what my mum picked. Sal” he retorted, his mouth lifting in disgust. “Not much of a name is it?” He joked.

You took your seat next to his, smiling when he held out an extra pencil. You quickly learned that Sal was smart, clever in the way he spoke. He was more mature than the other kids that sat behind you. He spoke about his mother and father, his baby brother who he adored to bits, Ravi his name was. you couldn’t help but feel like Sal had somehow in his own way, came to your rescue. Like some Angel sent to make your day better. Brighter, jovial.

“Would you mind if we sat together in the canteen?” He had nervously asked, his fingers bending his pencil, like he was waiting for you to run off and never speak to him again. “I wouldn’t sit with anyone else even if I could. I haven’t had a proper introduction to anyone else” you secretly whispered, and Sal’s eyes lit up, his dark eyes reminding you of the bark on the sycamore tree back home. “Wicked” he spoke. “I can introduce you to some friends if you’d like” he spoke, and before you could object he was calling names you’d never heard before.

“Emma! Chloe!” He called, and soon two new girls your age trotted over. Emma eyed you as Sal introduced you, she was shy. You could tell by the way she stood, her feet not quite touching. Lopsided.

“I’m Emma Hutton!” She greeted out, bellowing her name like she was some star in a film. You laughed, shaking her hand. Narcissism tendencies much? “Do you like hamsters?” The girl beside Emma questioned, her voice so high pitched it ricocheted of the walls. Before you could answer Emma was answering for you, “of course she does Chloe!! I was so jealous when Andie got one last summer holiday! And for what?”.

Your heart rattled against your rib cage at the girls name. Come to think of it you hadn’t seen Andie on the way to school, “Andie gets everything she wants because she’s a daddy’s girl”. Chloe sniped back, “As long as she’s the perfect obedient little girl her papa will cave for anything” Emma spoke, huddling up next to you and whispering like it was a big secret no one else should tell.

Curiosity killed the cat, you had seen Andie’s reaction to the mention of her father, had seen her tense and run off. That didn’t seem like the typical “Daddy’s girl” the girls had been referring to but before you could ask it was Sal who beat you too it. “We shouldn’t talk about Andie behind her back. It’s gossiping. Andie wouldn’t like it, and neither do I.”

“Oh come on Sal!” Chloe began, “even you have to admit that Andie gets everything she wants! She never has to work for it”. You could already detect some odd system of hierarchy. All you knew was you didn’t like it, it made something pull in your stomach. Your conscience telling you it wasn’t right. Yet you couldn’t pull away. It was Andie they were talking about.

You watched as Sal’s eyebrows rose, eying both girls. It seemed he was the mediator of the group, the moral compass. “So what of Andie is given everything? Money and gifts aren’t everything girls. And I wouldn’t joke about Andie’s father, it’s not easy being a bell” he stated, his shoulders deflating like he knew something. A glint in his dark eyes. You willed yourself to follow him back to the desks. Waiting beside the boy as he breathed. Simple sigh, he chucked softly, “sorry about the girls. They think they know everyone’s business.” You were about to say something when he spoke, “Andie was right about you. You have a kind heart” he spoke, moving to lay his hand on yours. You could feel your heart race, your cheeks red. No one had ever said that before. “Takes one to know one Sal” you spoke. The smile on his face was victory enough.

As if summoned Andie had appeared through the threshold, school uniform on and tired blue watercolored eyes taking in the classroom, you tried to school your features when you caught sight of her, giving her a small smile, and you felt your heart aching when she only eyed you before walking to Chloe and Emma. You could feel your heart pummel in your chest. But as soon as you felt your eyes get teary the chair squeaked against the floorboards. Andie bell had sat next to you. You of all people. You could see Emma and Chloe let out a huff, obviously wanting Andie to sit next to them.

“Hiya y/n” she let out, her smile wide as it had been when she left your house. You had smiled back, just as wide, but Andie caught your eyes drifting back to Chloe and Emma, eyes staring daggers at you, as if you had stolen their best mate. “I wouldn’t worry about them” Andie whispered, “I sat with them all last year and it didn’t do me any good. Thought I’d sit with you for a change”.

“I’d like that very much” you uttered.

“Good. Because I like you y/n” she said so matter of factly. The words made your cheeks heat up. Andie bell liked you. What a privilege your eight year old mind thought.

Andie had a glint in her eye, the kind that made your stomach twist and your innocent mind twist with fascination, she was a character that was for sure. You had seen the way Chloe and Emma has stood up the minute that Andie had walked in. Like some toppled toy soldiers standing up at attention at the first sign of the commanding officer. Andie had only eyed them as she passed, stopping to say something to Chloe, you had been to far to hear, but it obviously left Chloe with a sour expression on her face. You knew from your first introduction that Andie came from a toxic house, you had met a lot of them moving around so much. But none of them had taking a liking to you, no matter how hard you had tried, expect Andie.

Andie eyed you with her wide childish eyes, “you know mum told me that I should start hanging out with nicer girls. Chloe and Emma are all good and well but-“ Andie halted, her jaw set in a square. Tiny brain trying to make out a sentence. “Your kind. We could use a bit of that. How would you like to join our group y/n?”.

Now looking back you almost wish you could drag your eight year old self back and tell her that this group was not what you had thought it was. That this group would one day leave you high and dry. Dump you like wasted trash in the bin. That it would hurt just as much coming from the eight year old blonde who had looked at you that day like you were an Angel from heaven. Perhaps she had, but those days were gone now.

Andie’s invitation was simple. her eyes wide and pleading. You nodded, and just like that, you stepped into her orbit. In class, she claimed the seat next to you, her pencil case spilling over. “Oops,” she’d say, brushing her knuckles against yours. “Clumsy me.” You found you didn’t mind how many times it would fall into your desk, in fact you wished it had happened more. It was a confusing thought. You remember asking your parents about it on the car ride home. Your dad had nearly stepped on the gas pedal too hard, and your mum had eyed him like they knew something you hadn’t recognized yet.

Andie’s brashness was legendary. She wielded sarcasm like a sword, her words cutting through the air. But you saw beyond the armor—the tremor in her hands when someone mentioned her father, the way her laughter sometimes cracked at the edges. You were surprised when she would eye you with soft eyes, her words far more kinder and softer which was different from the standoffish Girl who had fallen of her bike.

Chloe and Emma eyed you with suspicion, their accents dripping with skepticism. “What’s so special about you?” Chloe would ask, her freckled nose wrinkling. “Andie’s never been this clingy.”

Andie’s soft spot for you was evident. She’d slide into the seat next to you during classes, her elbows brushing against yours. Emma scowled from across the room, but Andie ignored her, whispering secrets to you instead. “Did you know,” she’d say, “that the periodic table is like a giant puzzle? I’ve cracked it, you know. Hydrogen and helium are the corner pieces.” That alone had almost surprised you, Andie didn’t seem like the type of student to study hard. But she had. Sometimes all night. Anything to get away from her parents fighting in the other room and perhaps she had done so because she had seen you looking at the periodic chart a little too long during library hours. You were clever as well. Andie didn’t understand the feeling, she’s never felt it before. This feeling in her gut that made her want to please you.

Chloe rolled her eyes. “Andie, stop geeking out.”

But you loved it—the way Andie’s eyes sparkled when she talked about her hamster Roadie, the way she shared her lunchtime sandwich without hesitation often sneaking an extra Jaffa cake just for you. She wasn’t mean to you like she was to Chloe and Emma. Instead, she’d pass notes during maths, doodling random thoughts and questions. She’d ask you questions about what you thought of her outfit, would gleam when you would say she looked wonderful.

Outside of School you and Andie would meet each other by the sycamore tree. “You really weren’t lying when you said it was big” Andie had spoken, her blonde brows raised as she eyed the tree. “You mean you haven’t seen it?” You asked, chuckling. How had Andie not seen it after all these years of living on Hogg hill?

Andie could see your confused amused eyes and she only chuckled sardonically her usual hint of cruel ness left out as she eyed you, shrugging her shoulders. “I guess I never was a much of an observer” her reply was.

“You want to climb it with me?” You asked, grabbing Andie by her shoulders. Excitement bursted out of your veins and the thought of being so high up in the air with Andie Bell. Andie was never afraid of anything, you had known her for a while now. She was the queen bee of the group, confident, alarmingly confident. You had seen her dig sharp mean replies to Emma and Chloe like it was the most easiest thing in the world. So it confused you when she eyed the tree with less than enthusiastic eyes.

“I think we would be much safer on the ground. Less likey to break a bone…or a nail” she commented.

Behind that comment had been fear. You knew that. With soft eyes you came closer to the girl, your shoulders brushing.

“It’s alright to be scared” you spoke. “Being scared means your human. My mum always says that being scared is like a superpower” you laughed. You had never thought that true, till now.

Andie had eyed you with wide unbelieving eyes. Her signature smile on her features.

“Everything in that sentence was wrong. How is being scared like a superpower? If anything being scared is a weakness”.

You knew she believed her words. Was it her father who had told her that? You hadn’t met her father yet. He seemed far to scary, too quiet for your liking. Like he was watching, observing. Your father had met him. “Jason Bell offered to take me golfing next week. He seems like a kind bloke.” But you had seen how his daughter reacted to just his name alone and right then in your eight year old mind you had tagged him as dangerous.

In the end Andie Bell had climbed the tree with you. It didn’t take much hackle, and you were surprised when she had climbed even faster than you. The tree was high up and you could tell from the way Andie’s fingers clung to the bark, her nails digging into the tree trunk with a true fervor.

You watched her gray eyes take in the scene. The wind was soft this time of day. The birds flying past. Little Kilton was no longer a mystery. Andie could see everything. Could feel everything. The sky which was a darker cloudy color. The surrounding woods nearby, the old farmhouse that was deserted that in a few years would become infamous to her.

“Are you still scared?” You has asked.

Andie had scoffed, “why would I be scared? I’m only a few hundred feet of the ground! My father would kill me if he saw me up here this high” Andie spoke, her eyes taking in the view from bellow.

You settled in next to her. Your shoulders brushing hers. Andie’s fingers had made their way down to lay next to yours. Inches apart.

The silence had been what you remembered the most. Pure silence. Nothing but the wind and the soft sounds of Little Kilton bellow. Andie was different up here. With you. The silence seemed to awake something in her.

“My dad never hits me”. The words hit you like a freight train.

“What does he do then?” You asked, watching as Andie’s eyes began to tear.

“He-I know he loves me. Mum says he does. But sometimes I’m not so sure. Sometimes I think he’d rather be somewhere else.”

“Sometimes I think I’m not good enough. Doesn’t matter what marks I get on an exam, he’s always angry. Always quick to yell. He says such mean things. Cruel things. He thinks it doesn’t hurt me…but it does. I try to brush it off, to remember he loves me. But…sometimes I can’t”.

You don’t pry. You hadn’t noticed Andie’s fingers had inched closer and closer to yours till they were touching. Your stomach lurched and you immediately could feel your cheeks flush. It took a second but Andie wiped her tears.

“What was it you were saying? About scared being a superpower?” Andie changed the subject.

You let your eyes look bellow, watching as both your feet dangled of the branch, feet upon feet of air bellow.

Andie looked down too, her eyes widened, her fingers gripping yours a little tighter.

You licked your lips, “does it scare you?” You spoke, eying bellow. Gravity and the tree were all that stopped you two from tumbling down.

Andie nodded.

“Good. My mum told me that’s good. Because your heart is beating so hard..you can almost feel it in your palms. Blood and oxygen is pumping though your brain, think of it like rocket fuel” you laughed. “Right now you can run faster and fight harder. You can jump higher than you’ve ever jumped! It’s almost like you can slow down time. I’d wager that the scariest girl up here is you”.

Andie had laughed. “Chloe and Emma would agree with you”.

You must have sat up on that three for hours. Just you and Andie. You spoke of your time in London. How the streets were always crowded and the kids in your school weren’t any better. You spoke of your grandparents, how your gran always made the best Yorkshire pudding. Andie had smiled at that, saying she was pretty sure her gran made the best Yorkshire pudding.

It was only when a small voice from bellow caught your attention. Andie’s eyes had trailed down and suddenly she sighed, “it’s almost supper time. We’ve been up here for hours. We better get down and wash up”.

You nodded, not quite ready to go down back to real life. Back home. You could tell Andie thought the same. Could see it in the way she took one last look at little Kilton. “Thanks for this” she spoke.

“I’ve never had a friend like you before”.

You smiled, your little heart beating in your chest.

“I’ve never had one quite like you either Andie Bell”.

You let Andie go down first, following behind. It was only when your trainers hit the ground that you noticed the small blonde who had been calling Andie from bellow. You almost laughed. Andie had described her little sister well enough to you. You knew she loved her, no matter how oddly she showed it.

Becca Bell stood staring at the tree in wonder, blonde waves looking like she had just awoken from a nap. Her arms eagerly holding a small hamster in her soft fingers. The hamster looked calm, didn’t put up a fight. Perhaps he had known it wasn’t going to help.

“Andie! Mum wants you home for supper! That tree looks high! Did you almost fall off? Can I climb it?” Becca chatted of like a broken record. You couldn’t help but laugh at her cute little face.

Andie dusted her pants trousers, eyes on alert as she spotted what was lodged between her little sisters hands. “Becca Elizabeth Bell what have I told you about taking Roadie outside his cage!” Andie began, taking the hamster from her younger sisters hands, you watched as the little creature huddled into Andie’s warm hands.

Becca didn’t at all seem bothered by her sisters antics, you assumed she was use to her outbursts and spurts of emotions. She only shrugged her shoulders, “I know what you told me Andie but you should have seen the poor little things! He was thrashing against his bars like mad!! Mum let me take him out because his chattering was making her ill”.

“Is this your special friend Andie!! The one you told mum about? Are you the girl who helped Andie after she fell off her bike? I’m Becca!! I like candy floss and I have a hamster named Toadie!” She squealed of, making you smile. You adored her already.

“Pleasure to meet you miss Bell!” You shook her hand, and she smiled, blushing. “I like you. All of Andie’s friends are quite rude to me. Except Sal. I like him. Do you know Sal?”.

“I do. He’s a very lovely person. Very kind”.

“Can you teach me how to climb that tree?? Ooh! Can you play a game of what time is it Mr wolf?? Andie never plays with me” at this the small blonde loved forward, her eyes mischievous, “She’s a bit of a sore loser! Hates losing”.

You hid in your laughter. Andie had caught on and immediately took you by the hand, putting enough distance from her little sister, “y/n has no time to play childish games with you Becca. She’s my friend! Not yours!”.

You would have loved to hear those words if were not for the fact that Becca looked hurt. Her blue eyes had dropped and her bottom lip trembled. You slowly unhooked your hands from Andie’s. Giving her a pointed look.

“No need for a cry Becca” you began, instinctively you reached out for her, pulling her to your chest. Becca immediately wrapped her arms around you, “so you’ll play with me then?” She looked beyond happy.

You smiled.

“Of course! And Andie will play too, won’t you Andie?”

She just grumbled.

[x-authorship-x]

"Did he smile at them" lmao Raido clearly acting like this isn't the first time something similar happened

Honestly I have so much fun with SQ2 because they all do outrageous shit but in specific flavours and it's so fun picking who would freak out over what!!!

Like Kakashi, in his ANBU era before he gets even more publically erratic, is extremely unfazed by anyone's outrageous behavior because 1) he does not care or know where the social line in the sand is and 2) he's not intervening even when it's specifically his circus, his monkeys... And when it comes to doing outrageous shit, Kakashi's rule is that if he can, then he fucking will, and the gods themselves cannot fucking stop him 😂 for example, this man will flaunt porn in public on purpose and theft is only theft if he is the victim

With Shisui, he is painfully aware of social convention (the Elders are BREATHING down his neck, he can already feel Mikoto's eyes burning his skull) BUT it's all about context. Can he get away with it? Yes? FULL STEAM AHEAD. Are there witnesses? Yes? Will Genjutsu fix it? No? FUCK, RUN FOR YOUR LIVES (bursts into flames from the mortifying ordeal of being known and unable to lie). For example, Shisui gaslighting everyone in earshot? A normal Monday. Genma makes a dirty joke at his expense? JAIL, JAIL, WE ARE ALL GOING TO HELL AND SHISUI IS GONNA TAKE THEM THERE 🔥🤡🔥

Tenzo is arguably the funniest because my boy straight up is not in the know 😂 Tenzo will say the most bland shit and it will hit the feels.... Tenzo will also say the most fucked up thing in your entire life and it will be an attempt at humor and you've got to just keep living your life. No, being in the Squad isn't helping. Kakashi is just as bad, if intentional, and Genma is enabling him, Raidou doesn't have the energy to fight a losing battle and Shisui isn't being paid enough to therapy dog the whole group. This is just an incredible wildcard.

Genma....! When he's yelling at the others, it's not because he wants them to stop. It's because HE is supposed to be the hysterical influence and he gets jealous when they upstage him. Shisui batting his eyelashes and getting the spa treatment as a hostage is just too much to bear, Genma tried to give a target a lapdance once and all he got was ten bucks and the desire to shower ASAP 😂😭🤡 he is so so proud of the chaos (he knows EXACTLY what he's doing) but he is also absolutely plotting how to one up the others on the outrageous scale

Raidou.... Oh I saved him for last, Anon, because not only is he the one you were actually commenting on but Raidou's reaction is always my fav. You THINK, looking at the group, that Raidou is the resident normal one. You might have thought that with drinking (nope, Raidou's drunken antics are firmly about 'Me Time' and he's valid, he is NOT designated driving). Or maybe paperwork (Tenzo and Shisui do the paperwork, actually, because Raidou's tends to get ruined by Genma/Kakashi or his own pyrotechnics/ink). Or maybe just being socially conscious individuals.... No. Raidou might be the most normal one because he has a stable home life, civilian parents who are both alive and who love and support him, and he sees the 'other side' of living in Konoha... But he also was the only one to be look at the options in life and PICK being a Shinobi. Like HELLO that's a bit INTERESTING. Raidou is So Done (I'm sorry but *looks at the rest of the SQ* YOUR HOME LIFE WAS WHAT) but simultaneously So On Board (you wanna tattoo your eyelids with fuinjutsu? Say less, bestie) for the bullshit like yes this is deffo the normal Shinobi way to behave, Genma of COURSE Shisui flirted with his captors now please help me steal the bedframe it's solid wood and the slats keep popping out of my bunk at home 👏👏👏 Raidou won't condone being an asshole to service staff but he's more than willing to calmly go back to his book when someone is plotting a murder at the next table.... It's just not his business 💅

This got out of hand, sorry Anon BUT yeah Raidou would classify Shisui's puppy eyes as both a cringe-fail tactic BUT an effective means of manipulation... So long as he doesn't have to watch the car wreck 😂

[gigabyte-flare]

He Comes Alive (Part 7)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Summary: You awake in a top secret facility where you learn of Leon's true nature

Word Count: 5.9k

Pairing: vampire/plagas!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader (afab)

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life. You are responsible for your own content consumption. If any of the following warnings trigger you, please read at your own risk. Minors do not interact, this story is 18+ only.

Warnings: Biting, blood, gore, murder, unprotected p in v, masterbation, oral (m and f receiving), stalking, pet names, kidnapping, breeding kink, blood play/kink, age gap, dubcon, pregnancy, monster f*cking, body horror, lactation kink, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT [More warnings may be added in future entries]

A quick reminder that I no longer do tag lists

“Where’s Leon?”

“In this building.”

“Where am I?”

“At the BSAA North America headquarters in Washington D.C..”

“BSAA?”

“The Bioterrorism Security Assessment Alliance.”

“Did Leon do something wrong?”

The man called Clive lets out a chuckle, leaning back in his chair, “that’s a loaded question.”

You feel a lump form in the back of your throat. You swallow it back, remaining silent in hopes that Clive will continue.

“Nine years ago, the president’s daughter was kidnapped by a cult in Spain called Los Illuminados. D.S.O. Agent Leon S. Kennedy was sent to rescue her. Both of them had become infected with a bioweapon-- a parasite the cult called Las Plagas. Leon had successfully removed the parasite from the president’s daughter, however…”

Clive pauses and you can feel your heart start to race at the implication, but still you press, “however, what?”

Clive clears his throat, “by the time the U.S. government realized Leon was still infected, he was long gone, leaving a trail of bodies in his wake. He’s been on the run for nine years.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The hikers? That man at the festival? Your father? They’re all his victims,” Clive states.

“You’re lying!” you shout, standing up from the chair and slamming your hands onto the table.

“The plaga feeds on blood in order to survive; it seems to have an affinity to human blood, too.”

“You do realize this sounds absolutely insane, you’re making it sound like Leon’s a vampire or something.”

Clive chuckles again, “that honestly wouldn’t be that far from the truth,” you watch his eyes glance to your swollen belly, “I take it that’s Leon’s baby you're pregnant with?”

“Yes,” you reply curtly before sitting back in the chair, crossing your arms, “it is.”

“Shit…”

“What?”

Clive takes a deep breath before continuing, “I hate to tell you this, but your baby isn’t entirely human.”

Your eyes widen, “excuse me?! Now you’re fucking with me, this is insane!”

“Don’t you find it odd that Leon hasn’t taken you to a single prenatal appointment? Odd that your pregnancy seems to be progressing awfully fast?”

You stand back up again, angrily shaking your finger at Clive, “you are full of shit!”

“Deny it all you want, it’s the truth. Unfortunately you’re too far along in your pregnancy to safely abort, we’ll have to wait until you give birth so we can euthanize it; we’ll make sure it’s done humanely.”

“No one is coming near my baby! You’re just trying to scare me!”

You watch Clive reach into his jacket, pulling out a photo and placing it on the table in front of you. What you see immediately makes you pause and stare. It’s a poorly lit room, a person is tied to the support beam, covered in blood and what you assume is bite marks on their neck.

“This was taken in Leon’s basement after we apprehended him. This is why he kept the basement locked.”

You can’t take your eyes off the photo, especially after you realize you recognize the clothes; it’s a woman that had gone missing after coming out of a work Christmas party in Plymouth; you had seen a photo of her at the party on the news. You feel chills go up your spine.

"Unfortunately she died from blood loss when we were transporting her to our clinic," Clive states.

You swallow hard before making eye contact with Clive, “what the hell is going on…?” 

“I think it will be easier to show you, come with me,” Clive replies, standing up from his chair and motioning for you to follow him. 

You hesitate for a moment before you decide to follow, going back out into the hallway. The two of you eventually make your way to a single elevator, watching Clive swipe a card and then call the elevator. It beeps before the doors slide open and the two of you step inside. 

“How long have you been watching us?” you ask, figuring out that based on what Clive had said to you about Leon not taking you for prenatal check-ups, that someone was watching you and Leon’s every move.

“Shortly after Halloween, a police officer in Oakvale had reached out to the FBI to ask about Leon; in turn the FBI reached out to us. We had to ensure that it was definitely him before making our move.”

You nod, shifting uncomfortably on your feet and unconsciously rubbing your belly. After a couple minutes, the elevator door opens and Clive steps out, you follow him closely. Several men in lab coats turn and greet Clive.

“Director O’Brien! For what do we owe the pleasure?” one of the scientists asks before looking at you, “is this…?”

“Yes she is,” Clive replies, “has he been fed yet?”

The scientist looks back at Clive, shaking his head, “not yet, we were just about to get ready to.”

“Excellent, bring us to the observation room.”

“Of course, director.”

The scientist leads the way bringing you down another hallway that’s barricaded with several large steel doors. At the end, he turns to a door on the left, swiping a keycard and inputting a passcode, causing the door to slide open. You can’t help but feel like you somehow woke up in a science fiction movie. You pinch yourself again to make sure you’re definitely not dreaming.

Once in the room, the scientist pulls up the blinds on a large window and you see Leon, still in just his sweatpants, sitting on a basic metal bed hunched over, staring at the floor. Your heart seemingly skips as you rush up to the window, putting your hands on the glass.

“Leon…” you say softly.

From what you can see, there is nothing out of the ordinary about Leon and you start to reckon that they have the wrong man. Leon wouldn’t hurt anyone. Looking around the room, you notice there is a purple hue. You look up at the room’s ceiling and see that between each fluorescent light is a purple one; the same lights that you saw when you and Leon had gotten ambushed at home.

“What are the purple lights?” you ask, turning to Clive as you remove your hands from the glass.

“High powered ultraviolet lights. The plaga can’t stand sunlight. That’s why he only hunts at night.”

Suddenly, a walkie talkie that is sticking out of Clive’s outer jacket pockets goes off, “We’re ready to commence feeding if you are, director.”

Clive grabs the walkie talkie out of his jacket and replies, “proceed.”

On the left side of the room, a door slides open and a blindfolded man is pushed in and the door closes. The man practically falls onto his face. The man sits up on his knees and you see that his hands are bound behind his back.

“He’s a death row inmate,” Clive says, answering a question you hadn’t even asked, “we have a partnership with the penitentiary and they supply us with inmates that are going to be executed.”

Your attention is drawn back into Leon’s room when the UV lights are switched off and the fluorescent lights dim. Your eyes are drawn to Leon when he suddenly lifts his head, his eyes locked on the man that’s in the midst of a panic attack in the middle of the room. Before your eyes, you watch dark, inky veins start to spread over Leon’s exposed skin. Leon suddenly stands up, walking towards the man like a predator stalking its prey. Movement coming from behind Leon makes your breath hitch; a long, jet black tail comes out  of Leon’s back; the closest thing you can compare it to is a scorpion’s tail.

That isn’t all, four more appendages come out of his back, these looking like claws. You want to close your eyes, you want to run, but you can’t; your eyes remain locked on Leon. In a split second, Leon pounces onto the man, the man’s cries for help going unanswered as you watch Leon’s mouth latch itself onto his neck. The four claws latch onto the man as his tail whips itself back and forth as Leon feasts upon him. You suddenly feel your baby shift in your belly.

Leon suddenly stops, unlatching himself from his meal and looking directly at you. 

“Can he see us?” you ask, your voice shaking.

“No, it’s a two way mirror,” Clive replies, rubbing his chin with his fingers.

Leon stands up walking right up to the window, his eyes locked onto you. To your horror, you see his eyes are red, seemingly glowing in the dim light. His blood stained mouth hangs agape and you can see that all four of his incisors are elongated and sharp. Leon puts his hands onto the glass, his gaze still locked onto you.

“Angel?” he says, his eyes widening, “is that you?”

His tail moves back and forth as he stares at you and that’s when your baby inside you starts moving erratically, causing you to wince in pain as you grab your belly. 

“I’m sorry you have to see me like this,” Leon continues, his hands running down the glass, leaving trails of blood behind, “this is not how I wanted to show you my gift.”

“Gift?” you whisper, taking a couple of steps back from the window.

“He’s referring to the plaga.” Clive replies.

“Our little girl has the gift, too,” Leon continues, his right hand pets the glass as you watch his gaze shift to your belly, made even more unsettling knowing that he can’t see you, “isn’t that right, sweetie?”

Your baby shifts again, feeling your baby’s foot go up your rib cage, causing you to yelp as you once again grab your swollen belly. 

There’s no way your baby is reacting to him right? Right?

You watch as Leon’s crimson eyes narrow, one of his fists balling up and punching the glass, causing it to crack. You scream, stumbling backwards and falling to the floor as Leon throws another punch at the glass, cracking it further. Clive rushes over, picking you up off the floor as he grabs his walkie talkie.

“Turn those damn UV lights back on! NOW!” he shouts into the walkie talkie as he pulls you out of the observation room.

You turn and look back as the UV lights are powered back on, Leon letting out the most inhuman scream you’ve ever heard in your life and in an instant, you watch his grotesque appendages retreat back into his body as he stumbles away from the glass, clutching his head with his hands.

As you and Clive retreat back to the elevator, Leon’s cries of your name fill the halls.

You have no idea how much time has passed since the incident with Leon. Clive had you relocated to a more comfortable room at the facility; it has furniture, a small refrigerator and a window to look outside. You’re sitting in a rocking chair next to the window, rubbing your pregnant belly unconsciously as you watch a gentle snowfall outside. Over and over, your brain plays out the last few months since you returned home from dropping out of college.

Every little thing you had noticed that was odd suddenly made sense: eating the rarest meat imaginable, that one time you thought he had sharp teeth when he bit into his burger, him suddenly going into the basement, him getting up in the middle of the night to ‘check traps,’ the day they found what was left of your father, that smile he had on his face was burned into the back of your mind. Your eyes unconsciously widen at another revelation; the red eyes you saw in your window that night, they were Leon’s.

“It was him… he was the B.O.W. the whole time…” you whisper to yourself, a single tear rolling down your cheek. 

The sound of the door opening startles you and you watch Clive walk in, giving you a gentle smile and wave as he steps into the room.

“I just spoke with your mother,” Clive says, taking a seat on your bed across from where you sit, “I let her know you were experiencing complications in your pregnancy and that you had to be taken to a specialist in D.C., so she at least knows where you are. I didn’t mention Leon to her.”

“Thank you,” you reply softly, letting out a sigh as you return your attention back out the window.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, the concern evident in his voice.

“Empty? Lost? I’m not sure what to feel… I feel like the last few months have been a cruel lie,” you reply honestly, wiping more tears that run down your face away with the back of your hand.

“I know and I’m sorry. I can’t even imagine how hard this has been for you.”

“Is it true that you can’t cure him?” you ask, looking back over at Clive.

Clive nods, “unfortunately. The parasite has completely taken over his body, if we try to remove it, he will die.”

“How… how is he?” you ask, not really sure you actually want the answer.

“He’s refusing to feed. We’ll have to execute him sooner than we intended,” Clive replies, leaning forward, resting his forearms onto his legs.

“Execute?!”

Clive nods, “yes, he’s too dangerous to keep alive. Our hope was to study the plaga inside of him before putting him out of his misery, but he’s making that difficult.”

“Is there any chance I could say goodbye to him before he’s executed?”

Clive stares at you puzzled for a moment before replying, “I believe I can have that arranged.”

“Good,” you say with a soft sigh of relief.

Despite everything, you still love him. You still love the baby growing inside of you. The thought that both of these things that you love so dearly are going to get taken from you absolutely kills you.

“I’ll make sure to come get you when that time comes,” Clive says, standing up from the bed and walking over to the door, “don’t hesitate to give us a holler if you need anything.”

You believe another few days passes, you awake one morning to the sound of wind howling; a blizzard seems to have come in. Just after you get yourself dressed and cleaned up, Clive once again comes into your room.

“It’s happening tonight,” Clive says, his look solemn.

You acknowledge him with a nod before following him out of your room and back to the elevator that brings you to the underground research facility. This time, instead of bringing you to the observation room, Clive brings you to the door leading to Leon’s containment chamber.

“Remember,” Clive begins, causing you to draw your attention to him, “we’ll be watching. We won’t let him hurt you.”

You nod as the door to his containment chamber slides open. You step inside the small chamber inside the door, it sprays some kind of mist on you which you suspect is some kind of sanitizer. After that, the final door opens and you see Leon, laying on his back staring at the ceiling. You step inside, listening as the door slides shut and locks, making your heart jump in nervousness. At first, Leon doesn’t acknowledge you, instead he continues to stare at the ceiling.

“Leon?” you finally speak up, your voice soft.

Leon lifts his head, staring at you for a moment before he sits up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, practically running to you. He places his hands on your shoulders, looking at you in disbelief.

“Angel! You’re ok, I’ve been so worried!” he exclaims before planting a kiss onto your forehead.

Now you’re able to get a good look at him. His skin is extremely pale and you can see the faint, inky black veins all over his exposed skin. It reminds you of the time you had gone to the festival, before he had killed that man behind the fairground. Now you know why Leon had looked so terrible that day.

“I’ve been worried about you, too,” you say hesitantly, avoiding eye contact with him.

“What’s wrong Angel? It’s just me,” Leon coos, his hand gently grasping your chin, forcing you to look at him. 

His gaze shifts down to your belly, a smile slowly overtaking his lips as he stares down in awe; once again feeling your baby move inside you.

“My God… you’ve gotten so big! Our little girl is growing like a weed!” he says, the excitement evident in his voice as he places a hand on your belly, rubbing it slowly.

A hint of sadness hits you, knowing that as soon as your baby is born, it’s going to be humanely euthanized, but you don’t want to do anything that could cause Leon to lash out, so you keep that knowledge to yourself. 

“How do you know it’s a girl?” you ask, genuinely curious.

“She told me,” Leon explains, his gaze shifting back to you, “because of our gift, we are constantly connected.”

You feel your pulse pick up, feeling your baby continue to writhe inside you as Leon continues to rub your belly.

“I’m going to give you the gift, as well. We’ll be together in both body and mind. Isn’t that wonderful?”

Before you can even process what he just said to you, you notice there’s a sudden change in the lighting; your eyes dart around to see what changed when you notice the subtle purple hue is gone. The UV lights have been turned off. You want to panic, but you take deep breaths to try to keep yourself calm. You reckon it must be a mistake, they’ll turn the UV lights back on in any second. However, more agonizing seconds go by and you realize that they are not coming back on.

Leon slowly looks up, a smirk spreading across his lips when he realizes the UV lights are off, “well… that's convenient.”

He closes his eyes, rolling his neck and shoulders as you watch in horror as the dark veins on his skin get even darker. When he opens his eyes again, you are once again met with the crimson eyes that have haunted your subconscious since the day you saw Leon from the observation room. But now that he’s right in front of you, everything inside you is telling you to get away. You take a couple steps back away from him, his smirk immediately turning into a frown.

“No, no, no! It’s ok, I won’t hurt you, Angel,” he pleads, reaching out to you and grasping your upper arms to stop you from moving away, “I just want to take care of you.”

You watch as his tail snakes out from behind him, moving between the two of you. The end of it goes under your shirt and you watch as the blade-like end of his tail moves upwards, slicing through your shirt. Once your shirt is completely sliced open, his fingers gingerly push the remains of the shirt off you, exposing your swollen breasts to him. He brings one hand up, brushing one of your sensitive nipples under his thumb, causing a small white bead of liquid to come out before running down your breast, pooling onto your pregnant belly.

“Aw look, you’re making milk. Our little girl will need blood, not milk. No matter, I’ll make sure it won’t go to waste,” Leon says before leaning down, wrapping his mouth around the leaking nipple and sucking hard.

“L-Leon!” you cry out, trying to push him away.

You look over at the mirror, knowing that there are people watching. Does Leon know there are people watching? You want to cry out for help, to get someone to come get you out, but you can’t; you don’t want to risk invoking Leon’s fury. After what seems like an eternity, Leon unlatches himself from your breast, his crimson eyes staring down at you lustfully. A grin slowly forms on his face, showing off his long, sharp canine teeth.

He grasps you gently, coaxing you over to his bed where he spins you around, forcing you to bend over onto the bed with your knees on the floor. You rack your brain over what on Earth he’s doing when you feel a very sudden sharp pain in your shoulder, causing you to scream. You then hear a low moan; Leon’s mouth is latched onto your shoulder, his fangs sinking deep into your flesh as blood starts to pour out from the wound. 

He releases his mouth from you briefly, his breaths heavy as he grips onto your waist, his hands then reaching around to undo your belt and pants, “you taste just as divine as I remember, Angel,” he purrs into your ear.

You start to question mentally what he’s talking about until you recall back to the first night you stayed at Leon’s house when the two of you had sex for the first time. He wasn’t just eating you out that night. He was feeding off you. This newest revelation causes a sudden wave of nausea to come over you, causing you to gag. You quickly cover your mouth with one hand while the other grips the sheets on his bed, tears burning the corners of your eyes, threatening to pour out. 

He bites back down into your shoulder as his hands make quick work pulling down your pants and underwear, his fingers rubbing your slit slowly, gathering up the slick of your body’s arousal on his fingertips. While still feeding off you, he pulls down his sweatpants and you feel the head of his cock prod at your entrance. Your eyes widen when you watch two of the claw-like appendages stab down onto the bed in front of you while the other two wrap around your waist, trapping you against him; you feel one of his hands rest on your hip while the other grips your hair, pulling your head back. It takes everything in you not to scream.

With a quick thrust of his hips, he buries his cock inside you, unlatching his mouth from your shoulder with a loud moan as his grip on your hair tightens. You cry out at the feeling of him practically splitting you in half; he feels so much larger than you remember. There’s also another sensation inside you, one you don’t recognize at all. It’s almost hard for your mind to even describe; like a thousand fingers are stroking your inner walls and your cervix and with each quick thrust of Leon’s hips, it feels amazing. You can’t help but let out a loud moan as Leon pistons himself into you, hurtling you towards your release. 

“That’s it Angel, you’re doing so well for me. My perfect mate,” he purrs as he picks up the pace of his thrusts, the hand on your hip gripping so tight that it’ll surely leave bruises, his other hand running down your neck before resting onto your other shoulder, “now, be a good girl and take my gift.”

Against your better judgment, you turn your head to look at him. Leon is opening his mouth and you watch as four mandibles come out from the depths of his mouth and you can hear something squealing from inside his throat. No longer able to put on a brave face, you start to scream, thrashing your body in a desperate attempt to get away from him. The strange sensation you noted inside you suddenly starts to sting as you try to get yourself off him and you feel the claws wrapped around your waist start to cut into your skin as they grip you tighter. 

The door to Leon’s room suddenly opens and Clive along with two men with tactical gear and guns swarm in. Clive holds up a large UV flashlight, shining it directly at Leon’s head. Leon roars, the mandibles going back inside his mouth as he falls backwards, freeing you from his grasp. You quickly pull your underwear and pants back up before running over to Clive, using your arms to cover your exposed breasts. Clive positions you behind him as the two men move to either side of Leon, their guns drawn and pointed at him. One of the scientists then rushes inside the room, Clive turns his head to address him.

“What the fuck were you thinking?!” Clive shouts at the scientist right before the UV lights turn back on.

You wince when you hear the inhuman cry come from Leon as he scrambles to crouch himself into the corner of the room, gripping his head and trembling.

“We just wanted to see what he would do, that’s all!” the scientist says, pleading with Clive.

“She nearly got infected! Was that part of your plan?!” Clive shouts, walking up to the scientist, getting in his face.

“Well, no…”

“The lead researcher will be hearing about this, now get out of our way, I need to take her back to her room,” Clive continues, practically shoving the scientist out of the way as he gently grasps your upper arm to lead you out of Leon’s containment chamber.

As you walk out, you turn and look at Leon, who’s still crouched in the corner; his eyes are locked onto you, a smirk spread across his lips.

Leon stays seated in the corner of his containment chamber for the majority of the day, only moving to relieve himself in the toilet inside his containment chamber. Scientists have been in and out of his containment chamber as well, almost as if they’re preparing for something, though he didn’t have the slightest clue of what that could be until the lead researcher comes in with his young assistant, who looks vaguely familiar to Leon. 

The lead researcher takes Leon’s vitals and a blood sample, staying completely still through it all, watching the assistant take a seat on Leon’s bed, taking notes with a clipboard and pen.

“Dr. Jacobs, a question if I may?” the assistant suddenly asks.

“Go ahead, Chambers.”

Chambers. Rebecca Chambers. That’s why I recognize her…

Rebecca was a former member of S.T.A.R.S. Bravo Team prior to the Raccoon City outbreak incident on September 30, 1971; Leon’s first day as a police officer. A part of him wishes he had died that day.

“How did he manage to infect the fetus? I thought you said it was transmitted via the bloodstream, hence why he bit her.” she asks, setting the clipboard and pen down onto the bed next to her.

Dr. Jacobs swallows hard as he turns to address her, “we believe there are plaga larvae in his semen, which fused with the embryo upon fertilization even though we found no larvae in the semen samples we were able to get. Somehow… the plaga inside him can control when a larva is released… absolutely extraordinary, a real shame we’re executing him tonight.”

Leon subtly raises an eyebrow.

“What about the baby?” Rebecca presses.

“The baby will be humanely euthanized upon birth, the BSAA wants to put the plagas parasite to bed for good even though the child could provide valuable data. I tried to fight it but O’Brien wouldn’t budge.”

What?

Leon remains calm on the outside, but on the inside, he is panicking. He has to protect his offspring at all cost, but how? That answer comes on a silver platter when he watches Rebecca stand up from the bed, grabbing the clipboard but leaving the pen behind on his bed. He waits a couple minutes to see if they realize she had left the pen in here. When he’s confident they’re not coming back in, he stands up, walking over to the bed and collapsing onto it, clutching the pen in his hand as he lays down. He turns, his back facing the camera that’s on the opposite wall pointed towards the bed. 

During his stint in the military after surviving the Raccoon City outbreak, Leon picked up a few tricks, one being how to make lockpicks out of just about anything. He meticulously takes the mechanical pen apart, using the metal parts to make a crude lock pick, small enough to fit into the palm of his hand.

Later that evening, the door to his containment chamber opens and Dr. Jacobs comes in along with another man in tactical gear with an AK-47 slung over his shoulder and a pistol strapped to his leg. Dr. Jacobs is carrying a metal folding chair, which he hands to the guard for him to set down onto the floor after opening.

“Sit,” the guard orders Leon, pointing at the chair.

“Yeah, yeah…” Leon replies, standing up from his bed and sitting in the chair.

“Hands behind your back. Now,” the guard barks.

Leon does as he’s ordered, putting his hands behind his back around the back of the chair. The guard walks behind him, handcuffing his wrists together. Unbeknownst to the guard, Leon has his makeshift lock pick wedged between two of his fingers, completely concealing it. The guard walks back around, standing in front of Leon as Dr. Jacobs prepares a syringe of bright green liquid. Slipping the lock pick out, he begins to pick the lock on his cuffs.

“It pains me to do this Leon, it really does,” says Dr. Jacobs as he approaches, the guard moving to the side of Leon to let him through, “you were a brilliant agent. I admit this will not be pleasant, but you won’t suffer for long, I promise.”

Leon manages to free himself just as Dr. Jacobs kneels down to inject him with the deadly serum in the syringe. In the blink of an eye, Leon snatches the syringe from Dr. Jacobs, stabbing it into his neck and pushing the syringe. Dr. Jacobs’ expression contorts as he collapses onto the floor, his body going into a seizure in what Leon imagines is the painful thralls of death.

The guard curses as Leon stands up from his chair, pointing his AK-47 at him to shoot. However, Leon’s too quick, he side steps and grabs the AK-47, using the strap slung around the guard’s body to strangle the man, all the while, the gun is still firing, shooting out all the lights in the ceiling, including the UV lights. Inky black veins quickly envelope Leon’s body and his eyes shift into the deep crimson as Leon bites into the guard’s exposed neck, drinking as much blood as he can in a short period of time.

He then kneels down to Dr. Jacobs’ lifeless body, searching his pockets to find a fob. With this fob in hand, the door to the containment chamber opens, allowing Leon to make his escape. He can sense his offspring is several floors above where he is, so he quickly finds the elevator, the fob allowing him access to it. 

When the elevator doors open, several guards are waiting for him, guns drawn. In an instant, Leon’s tail and back appendages emerge and he practically leaps out of the elevator pinning one of the guards down and ripping out his throat while his tail whips around, decapitating and fatally stabbing the other guards. Just when Leon thinks he’s in the clear, he hears more footsteps coming towards him. He looks up, blood dripping from his mouth and chin and finds Director O’Brien with about 10 more guards behind him.

“I should have known you wouldn’t go quietly, Leon,” Director O’Brien says, crossing his arms.

“Where is my mate?” Leon growls, standing up to face them, using his back claws and tail to make himself look bigger.

“In a place you won’t get to, Leon. You’re not leaving this hallway alive,” Director O’Brien replies.

“We’ll see about that.”

Leon begins to step forward, his legs and arms mutating, turning black like his claws and tail. His fingers become more claw like and his legs contort to become more insect-like; his feet also transform into three toed claws. His jaw splits open to reveal rows of sharp elongated teeth, his four incisors still longer than the rest. His four mandibles also come out of his mouth and he lets out an inhuman roar as he charges towards Director O’Brien and the guards. This is the furthest Leon’s ever let himself transform and he’s honestly eager to see what he can do.

The guards shoot at him, but the bullets do little to no damage to Leon as he rips through them like paper with his razor sharp claws, blood and guts spilling everywhere. In the chaos, Director O’Brien slips away, running down the hall. Leon sees this and quickly gives chase, what’s left of the guards strewn all over the white marble floor in his wake. Director O’Brien comes around the corner with his angel, his mate in tow, both of them stopping in their tracks upon seeing Leon.

Leon opens his mouth wide, letting out a loud hiss as he glares at Director O’Brien. Unfortunately in his current state, he’s unable to speak. His crimson stare shifts over to his angel, who to his dismay, is visibly frightened.

Angel, don’t be afraid, I won’t hurt you. I could never hurt you…

He curses internally about not being able to give her his gift; if he had been successful, he would be able to communicate with her easily. His gaze then shifts to her swollen belly, sensing his offspring is strong and healthy inside her. He watches as she grips her belly, flinching.

“Back off, Leon!” Director O’Brien shouts, pulling out a small flashlight from inside his dark green coat and turning it on, pointing its purple beam directly into Leon’s face. 

Leon, turns his face away, growling as he feels the light sting his mutated parts. His tail whips forward, slicing off the hand holding the UV flashlight before he turns back to Director O’Brien, stalking towards him and using one of his clawed hands to pick him up and pin him against the wall. Letting out a guttural growl, his mouth and mandibles open wide only stopping when he feels his mate’s hands on his arm.

“Leon, don’t kill him, please!” she cries, “don’t kill him and I’ll… I’ll go with you…”

His mutated mouth closes, turning to her to see her bloodshot eyes staring up at him, pleading with him. He lets out a soft purring sound, turning back to Director O’Brien and abruptly dropping him. He falls to the floor with a gasp, Leon’s attention back onto his mate as he grabs her by her wrist. She looks up at him, the fear evident in her eyes as she starts to panic, pulling against his grasp as she hyperventilates. 

Angel, don’t do this… it’ll be ok, I promise…!

She then faints; Leon’s quick reflexes catch her before she collapses onto the floor. He picks her up into his arms bridal style, stalking into one of the rooms that has a window. Using his tail, he smashes the window open, the blizzard raging outside now blowing snow into the room. Leon leaps out of the window, carrying his mate into the stormy winter night.

Part 8

[lostheretics]

PLOT TWIST (3)

▸ chapter 3; a walk through the door

pt 1 || pt 2 || pt 3

✵ cast : jung wooyoung x fem!reader, ateez, tbz juyeon, mentioned oc and many kpop artists name or group

✵ genre : romance, marriage life, eventual angst, smut, mafia!au, non idol!au

✵ summary : you have proven yourself many times, and finally, hongjoong accepted you as a part of ateez. but is that all? is it all that the underground world has to offer? you just stood in front of its door. and so it all started. of power, hierarchy, of blood, and of history; what's waiting behind the door, on the other side for you?

✵ notes : 9k.... idk what i was on the whole week. ENJOY.

also english isn't my first language and i might add more numbers to my myopia if i had to proofread the whole thing... ain't doing that yet.

☒ warnings: smut... like a wholeass breeding kink i laid it all there, swear words, mentions of murder.

☒ i do not condone mafia acts nor any acts that goes against the law at all. everything mentioned are just purely fiction, made to entertain myself and fellow readers in this particular platforms.

☒ do not repost this on any other platform without my permission!

✓ reblogging, liking, and commenting this post in tumblr are much more appreciated.

"promise me y/n... promise me."

that night, you shot up from your bed when you woke up breathless. you tried to fix your eyes to the darkness of your bedroom, while also catching up with your breath. you recalled your memories as best as possible, and you're sure you had a dreamless sleep. no pictures, no memories.

then where did the voice came from?

that wretched voice.

"fuck..." you sighed, feeling that unwanted slight pang in your chest.

but rather than drowning in the past, you've decided you're better than that and lay your back once again on your bed. believing yourself of no longer a prisoner to your past, you tried your best to go back to a dreamless and pain-free sleep. glancing to your right, you watched as your husband snores lightly, clearly content with his dream world. you took wooyoung's hand in you and kissed it, holding it tight next to your head. you closed your eyes once more, trying to get some sleep.

after all, what good is past when present and future is already standing right before your eyes?

"morning."

you stirred underneath your blanket, and only then you realized how you were caged in wooyoung's arms. the said man landed a kiss on your forehead, which cracked a smile on your face. your eyes blinked a couple times, adjusting to the sunlight before fully opening them.

"morning woo." you replied, landing a kiss on his chest. you snaked your arms around his torso, hugging him close and closing your eyes once more. "you're so warm in this cold, morning atmosphere."

wooyoung chuckled, "could've said i was hot."

you laughed. "don't need me to say that for you, no?"

"yeah but it's reassuring. boosts my ego."

these were the mornings you both loved. the slurred morning conversations fresh from dreamland, the hugs, the morning kiss and all. your morning conversations can be absolutely meaningful, and sometimes can be really absurd. like that one time when wooyoung told you that he'd go back to sleep to chase back the aliens who stole his candies in his dream. you love it all still, nonetheless.

(p.s he did went back to sleep and told you he succeeded in getting his candies back when he woke up. hilarious. you went on a candy date after that)

(p.s.s wooyoung was absolutely smashed the night before and slurred even in his dream. absolutely grateful for you for listening to his rants so early in the morning and for going on that candy date)

needless to say, you're both grateful for each other.

sometimes you both speak of that gratefulness out loud, too.

"congrats love."

"for what?"

"for your work on the babel case. hongjoong hyung seems satisfied and proud. you saved his ass again," he laughed breathily, before looking down at you. "i love me a housewife, but a girlboss wife? i'm blessed."

with hongjoong's name being mentioned, you can't help but remember that night on the rooftop.

you opened your eyes and look up, staring back at wooyoung. you moved, shifting your body on your elbow while your other hand caressed his face. you landed a kiss on his cheek and smiled.

"it was for the family." you spoke with such sincerity. truly thinking of the family, of wooyoung.

he seemed stunned for a little while as his eyes wondered to the ceilings above. "family. huh... it gave some thoughts..."

"like what?"

"like fucking a baby into you so early in the mor— ow! what was that for?" he complained, holding over his stomach that got pinched. "i was just thinking about making a family of our own!"

"not with that tone, no you didn't. that was just you being horny, and we were having a quite serious talk before."

"hey! planning-a-family talks are serious too. you're disrespecting the possible soul of our future baby. they might hear you, you know?"

"now you're talking nonsense." you rolled your eyes.

"so can i fuck you right now or not?" he deadpanned.

the question left you stunned so much, flabbergasted by his audacity. however a few knocks on your bedroom door arrived faster than your answer to his question. you smiled slyly at him, gave him an answer before quickly getting out of your bed and heading for the door.

"guess not."

he groaned, clearly displeased. you only chuckled before you open the door.

san stood outside of your room, giving you a smile which you give one back to him. "morning y/n," he said to you, before dipping his head inside your bedroom, finding your husband still on the bed, "sorry for disrupting your morning woohoo, woo!" he shouted in jest, laughing when wooyoung replied with a 'fuck off!'.

"sorry to bother you so early in the morning, but hongjoong requests an early meeting today. he said he got some important things to say. better get moving now." san informed. he was about to walk away when he stopped abruptly, "also, congrats and thanks for saving our asses again y/n."

with that, san walked away. you threw a, "thanks, san." at him, before closing the door.

"c'mon. wash your face. get ready. hongjoong wants an early meeting." you pulled at the blanket, urging wooyoung to wake up.

he sighed, "two months of being away from you, and not a single sexy time for the two of us?" he asked, to which he answer by himself,

"cruelty at its finest."

"good morning everyone,"

hongjoong greeted, rather enthusiastically. he even let out a smile, showing his pearly teeth. the remaining eight people around the table exchanged glances, questioning their captain's unusual behavior.

"you look happy." yunho commented, in which hongjoong replied with a chuckle.

"that's because i am happy. and not for nothing," he then proceeded to take a seat, leaning back to his chair. "yeosang, how are things with babel?"

yeosang cleared his throat, "at first we were going for a merge... but unfortunately jang hanseo was killed, and at the same time jang hanseok was caught by the police for money embezzlement and murder. he couldn't propose a force majeure on this case and deemed unfit to lead babel chemicals, so he had no choice but to do a sell off." he stopped, before taking out a brown envelope and waving it around.

"i'm delighted to announce that we've reached the last phase of the sell off. this afternoon, my lawyer and i will retrieve the last signature from jang hanseok and by tonight, babel chemicals is ours."

hollers, whistles, along with the sound hands clapping filled the room. all praises that came out of their mouths were headed straight for yeosang for his work. hongjoong himself walked towards yeosang, patting him on his back acknowledging his hard work and the outcome of that work.

hongjoong raised his hand, quieting the whole room. "we thank yeosang for his work. but keep the praises still because this is not the only one..." he turned towards his right hand man, seonghwa, "tell us more about japan, seonghwa. after two months being there, you must brought something back... am i right?"

seonghwa smiled faintly, "we found the yakuzas working with jang hanseok. after a little bit of push and pull from both parties, we realized jang hanseok haven't paid them as he was supposed to, which brings us down to negotiation."

seonghwa straighten his back before continuing, "if i may say, the negotiation went smoothly. they've decided to forsake jang hanseok for good. our 50 million which was in their possession was divided by half. ateez has received back 25 million, and the other 25 million was taken as a token of first partnership between us and the yakuzas, and uhm," he cleared his throat. "there was a talk about a wedding proposal. of me and the yakuza's only daughter."

"we're getting another sister in law?!"

"another bachelor of ateez snatched!!!"

seonghwa sighed, "guys, it's just a possible proposal. we're gonna have to discuss even further to get down there."

"might as well go forward with it, hwa." hongjoong laughed, rendering seonghwa's face red as beetroot.

"okay! one more thing guys. one more thing to celebrate." he said.

he took a deep breath before continuing, "while pursuing babel, we realized someone important could be getting into trouble along with the damned company, so we willingly offered our hand and pulled them out. freely. no money, no nothing. and thankfully, the family of said person was as noble as i hoped they are. they wanted to thank us in person for the little help we gave, hence,"

"i want all of you to ready yourselves and be at your best behavior when we visit the lee family mansion this saturday, for a private dinner party. this—" he took out an envelope from his inner pocket, putting it on the table. "—is a direct invitation from lee juyeon." hongjoong stated with a proud smile.

hearing the name, everyone once again threw unsure glances at each other. jongho voiced his mind out first, "lee juyeon as in the lee family? the royal mafia family, lee family? that lee family?"

hongjoong shrugged, "there's only one family ruling the south. only one southern kingpin, lee juyeon."

hollers and shoutings quickly filled the room, some even hit the table in front of them, celebrating the best outcome of that mission. a mission that took two painstakingly slow months to finish. best outcome that made hongjoong gave out his biggest smile, going around high five-ing the whole group. why was it the best outcome, one might ask.

the answer is because the lee family is a royalty, and being invited by them is almost like being a commoner in one night, and becoming a noblemen the next.

ateez could get so much just by one word coming out from the southern kingpin's mouth, but a whole dinner?

they're set to be a winner.

yet between the hollers and celebrations filled with pride and joy, no one seemed to notice one person sitting with them, with their lips tightly shut and both hands clenched so hard their nails dug into their own palm. just over the name lee juyeon, the lee family of the south.

to ateez, it's a walk to heaven.

to this particular person, it's a walk straight to hell.

when the meeting was done perfectly, hongjoong had told everyone to leave and rest. there were three people left in that room, hongjoong, seonghwa, and wooyoung. hongjoong had told wooyoung to stay for a while, and he did exactly as he was told.

it seemed important, wooyoung didn't know the point of him being there. he just stood there and listened when hongjoong and seonghwa were talking about japan.

"i'm not sure about the marriage, joong." seonghwa blurted out, "they're a great family with great history. that's already a burden to ateez. and to me, a husband? what if i failed?what if it wasn't a worthy alliance?"

seonghwa voiced out all of his problems. there's sincerity in his voice, in his concerns. that maybe he's not gonna be a good husband, or if she's not gonna be good for him. or if the whole marriage gonna be a disaster. he wasn't wrong for that.

marriage, as easy as it sounds, is not a game. should never be a game in any way. to be tied down to one person for live is one of a heavy decision to make, and will be one of a hell if anyone chose the wrong person. marriage is a company that you built together, and it needs many things, many aspect to build a good one.

divorce might be the answer to a failing marriage. however it doesn't erase the memories, the time spent and wasted for the wrong one. the heartbreak, the pain, not to mention the dent in both of parties' name.

to choose the right person, to be the right person for them.

to be safe than sorry, though it'll still have its own challenges.

hongjoong only smiled, "let's ask someone from that point of view," he said before turning his attention fully to wooyoung. "what do you have to say about this, woo? seonghwa's possible marriage, your own, maybe?"

wooyoung straightened his back when he realized all the attention was put on him. he stuttered, mind blank while being the center of attention. looking around, he caught the look of doubt and curiosity in seonghwa's eyes, clear and visible while he waited for wooyoung's answer.

wooyoung quickly regained himself and answered them, "marriage is a huge thing, i guess. especially yours, hyung, if it'll ever happen. my marriage is a nonprofit one. me and y/n aren't worth much in this business, unlike you and the... yakuza lady. our marriages is incomparable, so it's kinda wrong to ask me this."

"but if we're not talking money, if we're talking about the real thing, then i'd say my marriage is a blessing. i love y/n, and she loves me. we're happy as fuck. i knew i wanted her forever at some point in our relationship. i don't know how, but," he continued, "i guess you'll know. if you want the marriage or not, or if you could handle it. it's all in you."

"and mine is for life."

to the younger's answer, the two elder were left dumbfounded. seonghwa and hongjoong glanced at each other, their minds quickly share the same thoughts, the same question, who the fuck is this guy because clearly this isn't the jung wooyoung they knew.

"damn woo, didn't take you as a romantic type." hongjoong said, still stunned after wooyoung's words. "i thought you're more of a fuck-and-forget type."

"i know right? but fuck, i'm in trouble." wooyoung sighed with a drunken smile on his face, rendering seonghwa and hongjoong agape, as if struck by thunder even more with his last word,

"i think i'm in love, hyung."

groaning and gag sounds soon came out from both seonghwa and hongjoong.

"that sounds cringey coming out of your mouth."

"anyways," hongjoong said, "what i mean is i want you to take your time with the marriage. maybe it'll work out. don't do it if it's not going well."

"i also wanna say thanks and congratulate you, woo, for finding a wife like y/n," hongjoong came before wooyoung and hold him by his shoulders, giving it a squeeze, "you scored the best person."

wooyoung grinned, "i know."

"joong i think he's on drugs."

"babe, you know what?"

"no i don't."

wooyoung came up to you, his chesire grin showing. "hongjoong hyung gave us like 2 days before we prepare for the lee thing to go to jeju beach house." he giggled, before continuing.

"we're definitely making babies there."

his cheesy words surely made you laugh, jung wooyoung and his choice of words has never failed to amaze you every time. "like a little vacation gift for us?"

"exactly." he answered. "i'm not taking a no from you whatever the excuse is."

"we've been away from each other for too long. i miss jeju too, don't you?" he tempted, hands coming up to rub your waist.

wooyoung wiggled his eyebrows, "the beach? the coffee shop? birds chirping in the morning while we stay in our bed?"

you raised your eyebrows. "okay your eyes have changed to bedroom mode."

"as in your favorite mode?"

"...we should start packing."

you both decided that jeju beach house is officially a monument to your love story.

jeju beach house is a two bedroom cottage, with a small garden in front of the house, located by the beach. said house was ateez property which they got as a payment for someone's debt. the first time you both went there, it was when ateez lent it to wooyoung and you to celebrate your 200 days of being together. hongjoong was a bit unwilling, but yeosang and seonghwa, with a little bit (re: heavy) push from san and yunho, were successful in persuading their captain.

that's also the place where wooyoung proposed to you.

you both love the house and the memories made within the walls.

once in a while, hongjoong would lent the house for the both of you to enjoy. there was one night when wooyoung promised he'll do his best to get the whole estate under his name or yours; anyways, just for you to have entirely instead of borrowing it from hongjoong.

you couldn't careless, jeju beach house would be nothing without jung wooyoung anyways.

the sight of grasses and flowers dancing in the wind welcomed you the moment you stepped into the garden. you inhaled the fresh air filled with the smell of the sea. the sound of waves hitting the beach could calm anyone within an earshot.

the sea truly heals.

"woo?"

"yes?"

"can i borrow the car for a sec?"

wooyoung's pace halted before you while he carried your suitcases. he furrowed his brows, "what for?"

"wanna buy some groceries for us. maybe buy us something for dinner too." you replied.

"i wanna go shopping with you too." he argued. you shook your head.

"you stay back, must be tired with all the job and traveling. just stay and ready our bed for us, hm? i'll do the rest." you smiled, convincing him. the peck you landed on his lips was enough to do the job.

after all, it's true that the job had tire him enough. "okay. drive safe." he smiled, before kissing you and making his way inside the house.

when he stepped into the house, he couldn't help the smile that grew even more bigger on his face. he missed going on vacation with you. he quickly put your suitcases in your room, before moving around cleaning the house and changing the bedsheet. he even lit a scented candle that he brought, in hopes of lifting the mood. he freshened up, then waited for you in the couch.

the sunset light shone through the glass windows, luminating the whole room in a dim orange light. wooyoung looked up to the whole room, then gazed around the whole house. he's content on having this vacation with you.

you, on the other hand.

jeju held your's and wooyoung's love for you in that house, and just like him you're excited to have this quick getaway with him.

but jeju holds another story of yours. another life.

that life stood before you as of now.

it was sort of comical, how that life is marked with death in a form of a marble headstone. a name was carved within the stone. you kneeled before the grave, and put down the bucket of lilies before it. gazing at the stone had brought back past memories, along with tears in yours eyes that you had to held back.

"i don't think i can keep my promises anymore." you whispered. "you gave me everything. you gave me a reason to live, to love, a-a whole life. and for that i'm forever grateful and forever indebted to you."

you choked on your tears before continuing, "but i think i deserve more, and now i-i have another life waiting for me. i can only hope you'll understand."

"i'm sorry."

you wiped your tears with your sleeves. standing up, you gave one more good look at the grave, at the name, at every corners and every marbling pattern.

because maybe it'll be the last time you'll ever be there.

and so you left, turning your back on the past life and past memories.

turning the car engine on, you quickly drove away from the gravesite. the gravesite looked further and further away in your rearview mirror. you looked forward to the road in front of you, and thought of wooyoung, signifying your view ahead of the future. of another, new, fresh life with wooyoung.

but a thought of past visited you still. the thoughts that, even after they left, after their death,

you think of how you couldn't say that word to them, still.

wooyoung greeted you with a hug as soon as you entered the house.

"what took you so long baby? everything okay?" he voiced out his concerns, eyes raking up and down your body in search of any injury.

you shook your head, "i was just taking my time. and i don't feel like driving fast, the road's kinda slippery." you shrugged.

it did rained a bit before.

but that was a lie; you did race on the road against time, in hopes the timing was right with going grocery shopping, buying dinner, and going home, with no trace of going somewhere else whatsoever. thankfully you bought the groceries and dinner first.

and thankfully, wooyoung seemed to buy that excuse.

"oh... that's right. you should drive safe." wooyoung replied.

you walked to the table to put down your groceries. then you took of your jacket. "i hope you're okay with chicken and a little bit of seafood. i couldn't think of anything else." you stated.

you took a deep breath, inhaling the air. a scent of lavender invaded your sense of smell and you sighed in contentment, feeling instantly relaxed. you saw a candle on the table beside the couch, lighting the room in a warm, dim light.

then you caught wooyoung's eyes staring at you. his gaze was deep, dark, and you believe lust was hidden behind them.

the air turned hot, the mood lifted, and the both of you could hear your own breaths started racing.

wooyoung stepped forward, invading your boundaries and depraving you of any privacy to yourself when his hands started making its way to your waist, holding you close to his body. that same hands caressed your torso, up and down, creating a friction that raised your hair, making you shiver.

"i've missed you, baby," he sighed, nose poking into your hair, making its way down to your neck. there, his lips rose to action, giving a feathery kisses to the column of your neck.

"want you so bad,"

there was desperation in his voice, a want, a need so bad it consumed him whole. you could feel the heat radiating out of his body. and you couldn't lie even to yourself, how you were so affected by him.

yet it's your most loved thing to do, to tease the shit out of the frustrated man.

"not even gonna let me freshen up?" you chuckled, voice going slightly higher. "you'd take me like this, all sweaty and dirty?" you whined, staring back into his eyes with a faked pleading look in your own eyes.

he sweared he almost gonna went all animalistic on you, taking you on any surface right there and right then, or even with no surface at all. punishing you for all the teasing you gave him.

however, he wanted this night to be a romantic one.

(he thought he'll go all feral on you on some other days)

"we'll sweat it all out then, hm? get us even dirtier. then i'll draw us a bath?" he persuaded. he proceeded to roll his hips into you, and you could feel his hardness brushing against your stomach that had you stunned.

you almost moaned.

"can't you feel me?" he sighed desperately, rutting his hips softly.

"woo— oh."

one of his hand moved quickly down south going underneath your skirt, expertly sliding his fingers through your clothed core that had you whining. you could feel your wetness dampening your underwear.

"you don't need to lie to me baby, i can tell you need me too right now. so let me," he whispered, "let me fuck you good."

it turned out to be your last straw.

you no longer restrained yourself from his teasing, quickly circling your arms round his neck and pulling him down to your height. you caught his lips with yours and he reciprocated right at that moment. the kiss was filled with even more fire when you thread your fingers through his hair and gave it a tug.

wooyoung sighed into the kiss and he squatted, tapping your thighs. it didn't take long for you to take a hint. you quickly jumped, circling your legs around his waist and he easily caught you in his arms. the way he put your core right on his hardness had you squealed, moaning into the kiss.

he carried you to your room, laying you on the bed and not once did he break the kiss. he only did when he kneeled before you to take his shirt off. you couldn't take your eyes off his body that you worship so much, the way he did with yours. the lines adoring his stomach were clearer than it was before his work in japan, and you just knew you're in for a good and powerful ride of the night.

he smirked, "like what you see?"

"fuck, yeah." you answered boldly, already loving his muscle gain. you moved your body, positioning yourself to kneel. "but you'll like what you see more." you exclaimed.

"fuck."

wooyoung had lost any sense of sanity when you took your shirt off, unbuttoning it one by one sensually putting a show for him, revealing a black lacy bra beneath it. his favorite color. all that and not breaking eye contact with wooyoung.

"fuck, baby," he jumped on you, caging you underneath him, "i'm gonna ravish you." he growled.

he wasted no time in crashing your lips with his, kissing you with much fervor, all teeth and tongue fighting for dominance and serving pleasure. his lips went down to your neck and to your chest, mouth sucking and tongue licking, leaving pretty red marks on you that he adored every time. his hands cupped your breast kneading it almost harshly, then he pulled down your bra releasing it from its confinement, flicking your nipples with his fingers that had you whining. he gave both of your breasts a single lick each, before moving even further down. his hand worked quickly in taking your skirt of, and, in the end, ripping your underwear off because he already ran out of patient.

"woo!" you complained, but complains soon turned into begging when he dived tongue first to your core.

"wanna worship all parts of your body, baby, but i can't —fuck, i need to taste and wet you and fuck you now," he said before going back to his job; which was wonderful in licking stripes, kissing, and sucking your nubs. you moaned loosely, not hesitating in voicing out the pleasure he gave to you.

your back arched when two of his fingers went inside you, curling your insides. he scissored his fingers inside you, while mercilessly moving it in and out of you in a pace that had you crying, "fuck, yes- ah! fuck baby don't fucking stop- mmhmm," you rambled, letting out gibberish word filled with moans as your brain failed to think straight.

"fuucck," he purred in between your thighs. your moans and whines made his head spin, made all blood went down to his ever hardening dick. wooyoung put one of his hand down to stroke himself, "so fucking sexy for me, my fucking wife,"

"all mine,"

it didn't take long for that coil to snap in you with his skills and movement. the hot waves in your lower belly was unmistakably growing stronger and stronger.

"'m cum-cumming woo, ahh-fuck!" you sobbed.

"give it all to me baby, cum for me," he urged. your last scream was accompanied by a pool of cum leaking out of your pussy, which wooyoung slurped more than willingly.

"taste so sweet, so addictive." he said while licking the last of your essence.

but you had other idea. with whatever strength you had left in you, you sit yourself up. you pulled wooyoung up, then pushed him back down. you straddled him, trapping him underneath you this time. lowering your body, you went down and kissed him, tasting yourself on his lips. the dazed look on wooyoung's eyes and his smirk when you pulled back had your mind went hazy.

"let me do the hard work for you, baby." you whispered as you adjusted yourself on his hips. your hand went down to his dick, stroking it a couple of times before lining it up with your entrance.

the moan you both had when you went down in him was porn-worthy, it drove you both crazy.

"fuck, baby. fit me so well, so fucking tight, oh fuck," he breathed out. the moans became louder when you started to move on him. he watched with with adoration, love, and lust in his eyes, mesmerized by how you look on his dick; boobs bouncing, eyes closed shut, brows furrowed in ecstasy, mouth agape letting out the prettiest moan for him.

you both fucked many times, and every time he still found you so beautiful, so addictive.

you smiled hazily, "yeah? a good girl for you. just for my baby." you moaned out, that had wooyoung's hand move up to your waist, gripping it tight. he moved his leg putting his soles flat on the bed, giving his hips a support as he rammed his dick up to you.

you screamed on top of your lungs, feeling him so deep in you, his tip hitting your cervic in fast pace.

"yes, my good girl. so fucking good for me, ah," he cooed before he shot up the bed, holding you in his arm as he flipped you over. he had your fingers tightly held in his, as he pressed you to the sheets. your thighs circled his hips on instinct, pulling him close as humanely as possible, putting him deep in you.

"my fucking good girl, all mine to have," he bit on your neck. his hips moved harshly hitting yours you're sure you'll have bruises in the morning. but damn, with the way his cock buried deep in you and his pelvic rubbing against your clit on each hit, it had you seeing not only the stars, but the whole galaxy.

"say it baby. say you're mine." he commanded. he said it again when you didn't answer, and you tried your best to answer him with your clouded mind.

"hngg —yes, yours baby- ah! all yours!"

"feels good yeah? i'm fucking you so good, so dumb,"

"yes! s-so fucking go—" a certain angle had his dick hitting the sweetest spot in you, making you scream. "—right there! ah! y-yes, ah, don't fucking s-stop!"

wooyoung was sure he had fucked you brainless at that point. he smirked cockily, but that was quickly wiped off of his face when you clenched around him and he moaned. his hips stuttered a bit, but he could feel his own high coming. he moved to chase it.

"won't stop. won't fucking stop till you're spent and filled to the brim, baby," he groaned, "i'm gonna fill you up— fuck! gonna b-breed you,"

"'m cumming!"

"cum for me baby, cum with me, c'mon baby,"

the whole milky way bursted behind your eyes as you came to your sweetest release, getting you high. wooyoung soon chased after you, coming to his own high, releasing ropes of white, milky cum into your spent hole. he fucked you past your high, while pushing his cum deeper in you and overstimulating you at the same time.

the dazed and drunk look on your face was his cue to stop. he put a loving kiss on your forehead as he pulled his dick out of you. you whined over your loss.

wooyoung had to hold back his moan and stop himself from getting hard again when he saw his cum leaking out of you.

he kissed you once again, "i'll draw us a bath and change the sheets okay? then we'll have dinner. sounds good?" he murmured.

you chuckled breathlessly in your dazed state, "thought you're gonna fuck me all night, that you won't stop."

"don't tempt me. i might. the question is, can you take it?" he taunted, successfully shutting you up. you imagined the amount of pleasure you'll both get. but your mind was still able to think rationally enough to decline the offer so you won't lose your ability to walk tomorrow. as if he read your mind, wooyoung flashed you a small smile.

"but we haven't had dinner and i'm sure our jobs have kept us busy and tired for the past months. we deserve a rest." he reasoned. his sweet act and words warmed your heart, but the smirk on his face and his next words confirmed you that wooyoung is still wooyoung, the cocky and horny bastard of your husband which you love dearly despite how annoying he can be,

and that instead of your heart, he's certainly ready to warm your pussy any time soon.

"besides, we still have tomorrow, haven't we?"

you fucking love wooyoung.

you love fucking wooyoung.

you definitely love being fucked by wooyoung.

that was all you could think of when you were spending your time in jeju with him, it's all you could think about after you came home from jeju. he treated you like a royalty both in bed and out of it, with his aftercares, cookings, with the intercourses even with the roughness, sometimes slow and soft, all of it basically.

as much as you want more, unfortunately, your jobs awaited you both and you had to answer to your responsibilities.

it was saturday, and the dinner party awaits.

you feel absolutely stunning in your nude colored evening dress that fell against your mid thighs, hugging your body and accentuate your curves nicely. yet it still gave a formal look with its bishop sleeves. the nude stilettos on your feet were the icing on top.

the boys were also clad in their suits, looking fresh and clean for the agenda. all of you were waiting in a room before being called to the main hall where the party was going to be held in. you were just enjoying the paintings on the wall when san nudged you.

"are you pregnant?" he suddenly blurted out.

you raised your eyebrows upon the question. making sure, you asked him, words coming out with a stutter.

"am i what?"

"pregnant. y'know, after jeju?" san said. he stepped back, staring down at you before giggling. "but even if you're not, guess it won't be long at this rate with how he's fucking you."

you hit his arms, "san, we're in the middle of work." you gritted with your teeth with a forced smile on your face. his giggles only grew more.

"your soreness is showing, bet y'all fucked goo-"

"choi san!"

"just kidding, just kidding." he said, finally stopping himself with the tease. there were still some giggles coming out of him, which had you glaring at him until it soon died down. you flashed him a small smile, finding the conversation funny in the end.

"but also not kidding. wooyoung kinda promised to give us a nephew or niece. maybe both." he remarked. he moved his sight to the painting before you, and you finally realize it.

it was a painting of lee juyeon, the current southern kingpin and head of the lee family, and his late father, lee minhyuk. lee minhyuk had a prideful smile, standing behind his then young son with both his hand on juyeon's shoulders.

a family picture.

"he was kinda serious about it. i think he's finally in that phase where people want kids in a marriage." he continued.

the sudden question and discussion puzzled you. "really? we haven't really talked about it." was all you could say in the end.

san sensed the nervousness in your voice, and he decided to break the ice. "don't take it seriously, as for now." he said. then he looked back at you, "but him aside, what do you think about it? kids and all."

you gave it a thought. you shrugged your shoulders, "i don't know. the thoughts alone made me nervous." you hesitated. but you gave a reassuring smile,

"but i guess i'm open to it. i think i'll feel better with more preparations, y'know? and more talks of the future with wooyoung. kids are serious matters, don't you think?" you smiled.

he smiled back and nodded his head, agreeing to your statement.

"maybe soon."

not long after your conversation with san, one of the lee family steward stepped into the room, announcing that your table is ready, and inquiring all of you to come into the dining hall.

the lees lived in a huge mansion, so it shouldn't be so surprising if they got a big hall within its walls. but the sight of the grand hall left you all speechless and mesmerized, still. the tall white columns circled the room. the high ceilings gave a strain to your neck when you tried to look up to it. a huge and grand crystal chandelier hanged in the middle of it as if the rest isn't enough to show their wealth.

ateez were seated on a table near the main dinner table, where lee juyeon and his family is seated. and they took pride in it.

around the halls were tables, filled with many royal mafia families like the lees themselves. some gangs that ateez have worked with were seen too, like stray kids, txt, and members of some older and more powerful gangs, like kwon jiyong, shim changmin, kim namjoon, byun baekhyun, and many others.

entrées were served and enjoyed, the hall was filled with chatters and laughs. main course were being delivered to every table when a clinking sound of a glass against a cutlery was heard. the noise stopped, and all heads were turned to the direction of the sound.

lee juyeon stood with with a wine glass on his right hand, and he smiled, "respected folks, i bid you welcome on behalf of my family. thank you for coming here."

a round of applause came and he bowed to it. he raised his hand and continued his speech.

"tonight's dinner, like many before is an opening to our yearly gala, where we all gather and enjoy our night together and hopefully, to make friendships between us. work related or not is up to you all." he spoke.

"but tonight is more special then last years, because tonight is a commemoration for my late father, lee minhyuk. on this date, seven years ago, he succeeded the southern throne and the same time, saved the family, giving many opportunities for us to grow for more. for my father," he raised his glass.

all of the guests raised their glass, in remembrance of lee minhyuk.

juyeon continued, "and last but not least, i want to personally thank a new friend of our family. we all know of the latest downfall of a certain family. my uncle, lee mujin, almost got tangled in it. fortunately, they were considerate enough to save my uncle from further problem, and i heard they got themselves a deal after it. everyone, raise your glasses up once again,"

"to ateez and their help. to their future glory!" he announced your group.

ateez stood up from their seat and raised their glasses along with everyone, taking a bow when everyone in the room clapped for them. hongjoong faced juyeon's table and bowed to him and his family. juyeon gave him a light nod, and lee mujin, his uncle that ateez saved, bowed slightly with a smile on his face.

the prideful grin in hongjoong's face was unmistakable.

juyeon then invited the guests to enjoy their main course, and everyone enjoyed their five star meal served before them. chatters once again filled the hall. wine were poured, desserts served. glass clinking here and there. it was a nice dinner.

the guests were moved to another hall to enjoy snacks, and to enjoy the view of that night's sky from the big glass windows. a count down was done, and colorful fireworks shoots to the night sky, indicating the start of the annual gala week. after the main agenda for the party, the guests found themselves engaging in conversations between each other. hongjoong talked with some gang leaders, yeosang going around engaging in business talks, even wooyoung, san and jongho conversed with some caporegimes from other gang.

you were unknown to the underground world, still, so you opted to stand by the pictures on the wall, observing them.

the walls were filled with pictures of the southern kingpins and queenpin, heads of the lee family. you saw lee juyeon's picture there. he was attired in a full black suit, standing with a cane on his right, and even in pictures, the fierce look in his eyes were haunting enough. it was the third year of his reign over the south, after his father's five year reign over it.

undoubtedly a handsome man.

"y/n!" you heard a voice calling you, and you turned to the source of the sound. hongjoong walked towards you, but he wasn't alone.

lee juyeon walked along right by his side.

"y/n, here you are." he sighed. he moved to your side, holding you by your shoulders and smiled to juyeon.

"mr. lee, i would like you to meet the brain behind our babel project. she was the one who suggested to save your uncle. we wouldn't be here today without her. i'm proud to have her as a part of ateez." hongjoong introduced you to juyeon.

juyeon smiled and raised his hand to you, offering a handshake. "thank you so much for your work and help for my family. it's a pleasure to meet you, miss..."

he halted his word, still not knowing your name. you were stunned for a second, seeing the lee juyeon in front of you, but a squeeze on your shoulder from hongjoong woke you up from your flustered state. you quickly took his hand in yours, shaking his hand firmly.

"jung. jung y/n." you stated your name.

juyeon raised his eyebrows and chuckled in amusement, "you got three jungs in your group?"

"jung wooyoung is my husband. i decided to take his last name since i don't have one myself." you explained. his confused face made you explain some more.

"i was an orphan."

he nodded lightly to your explanations, choosing not to push the topic any further.

"jung wooyoung is a great caporegime from what i've heard." he commented. he then turned to the picture you were observing before, "you seemed fixated on these. anything particularly interesting with our pictures?" he inquired, opening a conversation between you.

you looked back to the pictures, and offered him a small smile. "yes," you answered, "you're a particularly handsome man."

juyeon's laugh filled the room, drawing almost everyone's attention. his eyes crinkled with how big he was smiling, "are you flirting with me, mrs. jung? aren't you a married woman?"

you laughed along with him. "just pointing out things. but there is another thing that interests me."

you glanced at a picture hanged beside juyeon's, where a man, as handsome as juyeon stood in the picture. if juyeon's look were fierce, this man's was haunting enough.

you said his name.

"the iron fisted, lee minhyuk." you spoke, then continued in such an alluring way to juyeon, "an interesting man, don't you think?"

"my father?" he stepped closer to you, while staring at his father's picture with you. "what made you think like that?" he challenged.

"he's an interesting man. an absolute family man. he did many things, all rights and wrongs. that he'd do anything to protect his family." you commented.

"anything, even if it means he should dethrone his other family."

"y/n!" hongjoong hissed.

your last words quickly created this thick air around you, juyeon, and hongjoong. the tense escalated so fast. you could visibly feel hongjoong's nervousness, while he shoot daggers at your back.

but the challenged look on lee juyeon's eyes were more fiery, filled with unexplained mixed feelings. you've stepped over the boundaries.

it wasn't a secret, how lee juyeon got his throne now.

some admired the iron fisted lee minhyuk.

but more than just a few called him the usurper. that for a reason.

your eyes went to another picture beside minhyuk, where a woman stood in the picture. the well-known, fierce and powerful southern queenpin, lee jiyoung. it has been told she was one of the finest mafia queen to ever live.

see, the lee family had this thing where they passed down the throne to their first borns, generation to generation. one case was known where a first born didn't produce an heir, hence the throne passed down to their younger sibling. but that younger sibling died before they even ascended to the throne, so it was given to the younger sibling's first born.

lee jiyoung's case of being the first woman born as a first born into the lee family, was a new case. yet the family chose to honor the first born tradition still.

lee minhyuk wasn't a first born. he was the younger brother to lee jiyoung. the second choice.

lee jiyoung didn't have an heir to ascend to the throne, but even before that, minhyuk led a rebellion against his sister, deeming her unfit to rule over the south because the south became imbalanced under her reign, and she couldn't produce an heir for herself. that she'd be the doom of the lees. a war broke between the two siblings that divided the lees into two side.

the first born woman versus the son of the lees.

it was told that lee jiyoung died because one of her men betrayed her over lee minhyuk. since she had no heirs, minhyuk easily rose to power, and after five years of reigning, death greeted him and now the throne passed down to his first born, lee juyeon.

there was a rumor going around that said jiyoung did marry, and had an heir. some rumor said minhyuk killed the heir, some said the heir ran away and minhyuk tried to hunt them down, some said those rumors were bullshit because there was no proof of jiyoung getting married to anyone nor giving birth to any heir.

some said there was a prophecy that a non first born will bring doom over the family.

yet here they stand, stronger than ever. by the power of lee minhyuk, and his son, lee juyeon.

you gave no shit to any of the rumor.

you're just in for the history lesson.

juyeon, with his hidden rage, came even closer to you. "interesting thoughts, from an interesting woman." he almost snarled.

he offered you his arm, "hongjoong, may i talk with mrs. jung privately? just for a few moment," he asked for his permission, not even looking at hongjoong. it was more of a demand, with how his eyes were fixated on you.

hongjoong nodded with unsure and fear, and he stepped away, leaving you and juyeon alone.

you took his arm, linking your own with his. you could feel his muscle tensing.

you both started walking slowly around the room.

"what made you say that?" he inquired softly, but deep down, you know his blood must be boiling inside. he was challenging you to say what you said before.

you wouldn't dare to wake the lion up from his sleep. aside from his birth, he's a kingpin for another reason.

he was notoriously known for being merciless.

"don't get me wrong, mr. lee. it might sound not right... but that wasn't the direction i was aiming for." you explained softly. he stared at you still, awaiting your words and explanation.

"he was much of a family man, as he was a businessman. he sacrificed his sister, but he saved the whole empire. south was losing their strength to the end of lee jiyoung's reign, but your father's iron fists fixed that, despite the rumored prophecy."

"that prophecy is a bullshit." he snarled.

you nodded. "i believe so, too. and your father proved it further. only five years, and he made the most out of himself. for the empire, and for you, his son." you continued.

"such a passionate, and inspiring man. for me, at least. i strive to be that kind of person."

you sighed before continuing, "and the reason behind that was because of the conversation i had with san, one of our member. apparently my husband told him about wanting to have kids and a whole family, and i just... gave it a thought."

you watched from afar, to the other side of the room where wooyoung was laughing around with seo changbin. "i think of how far i'd go to protect my loved ones, my children if i'll ever have them, my own husband —and right now, ateez."

"and i think i have it in me as well, to do anything to protect them mr. lee. whatever it takes." you declared. juyeon seemed confused with the way the conversation go. the direction was unreadable to him.

"how far did you go then, to protect them." he asked.

"jang hanseo was a good person. he had nothing to do with his brother's dirty work, but he had to take the bullet for us."

the walk was halted.

when lee juyeon turned his body to you, he found you smiling, small and soft. no trace of panic, uncomfortable or whatsoever. like you did not just killed anyone, though murder wasn't a new thing in the underground world. yet the fact was you didn't just killed anyone, you killed this particular someone which caused a domino effect; you singlehandedly took down a whole family. you looked so calm, way too calm to his likings, after dropping such information to him.

"you killed jang hanseo?" he stammered, unsure. "i thought it was jang hanseok?"

"it was jang hanseok." you assured. "i knew he was going to kill hanseo in the end. but i needed it to be dramatic, i needed to trigger it to happen at the right time. so i just did a little something for hanseok to take all the blame. don't tell hongjoong though." you glinted playfully at him.

"what i mean from our conversation, is that i want you to vouch for ateez. to let us work with you, starting with a small job. help us rise to our glory. we're going up and stronger, that i can assure you. our drug business is strong enough and still we strive for more. this is just the beginning. i'm aiming for a bigger and better cause, and i believe hongjoong does too." you declared to him.

"after all, the more power, the more likely it is to win, no? just like your father."

silence filled for some time between the two of you, even though the room was filled with people and their voices. like it was some unimportant background noise.

you left lee juyeon speechless and agape.

this was the first time you ever showed your face to the underground world, first time ever to be introduced into it properly. yet the way you carried yourself, the way you talked to him., like you've been there for a long period of time.

he was almost mesmerized.

juyeon took a good look on your face, studying your calm demeanor. he furrowed his eyebrows before blurting out.

"have we met somewhere before?" he questioned.

you froze for a bit upon the question. your eyes widened. a nervous laughter escaped through your lips with the way he examined you so thoroughly.

"maybe, if you were ever indebted to a loan shark," you chuckled nervously, "but judging from your wealth, then no. this is the first time i've ever been introduced properly to a fellow businessmen, even after being married for a year to my husband."

"you sure? because you sound like you were born for this." he quipped, "either that, or you're bold and talented enough for this." he said with a jested smile. you returned his smile with your own.

"you flatter me. but i suggest you keep your praises, because i have more in my sleeves that'll wow you, mr. lee." you threw a witty remark which had him laughing, once again drawing the attention to the both of you.

"you're coming to the gala right?" he asked. you nod your head, confirming your presence in the said gala in the future.

he pulled a satisfied smile. "good. i'd love to get to know you more, mrs. jung. you've interests me."

juyeon took his arm off of you before moving to stand in front of you. his eyes never left yours when he took your palm in his hand and bowed, landing a gentlemanly kiss the back of your hand.

"i'll see you around." and with that, he left.

when he's no longer in your radar, all the anxiety that you hold back bursts out, sending you in a manic episode.

being so close with lee juyeon like that the first time brought fear to you so much you wanted to puke. the burden was too much for you to handle.

your feet moved quickly than your thoughts, bringing you out of the hall in a fast pace that you almost sprinted out. you ran and ran away from the crowd, your feet opting to brought you out to the garden in the back of the mansion.

before you could stop, your legs gave out first sending you to crash against the grasses. you'd fall face down if it wasn't for your hands withstanding your upper body. you tried to catch up with your breath, but it was hard with all the running you did and with the anxiety that consumed you.

you could feel your breath hitched, hear the high-pitched wheezing every time you tried to breathe, desperately gasping for air.

your vision goes darker and darker as you start to lose consciousness.

"—hey? hey! miss!"

you could hear yourself losing your breath, but you also heard that voice, probably calling for you. by some forced your body was flipped, eyes facing the sky.

it was a dark and dull sky, you thought. but maybe it was just your eyes shutting themselves close.

"miss! can you hear me? hey— wake up. wake up!" the voice had said. you tried your best to follow its command. your eyelids were heavy and fluttering but you tried to open them.

"breathe in, breathe out. do it with me, c'mon." the voice urged. "breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out."

following the instruction was hard, yet you trued anyways. at first it felt like your lungs has been teared apart, but you follow still, breathing in and out. soon the pain subsided, and you found yourself breathing again.

slowly, you gained your consciousness back. realization hit you when you felt a hand on your back and on your cheek, holding you up against their body. you blinked a couple of times, and your eyes started to outline a person in front of you.

you blinked a couple more to clear up your vision.

you were faced, eye to eye with the man holding you. his brown eyes were a pair of the softest eyes you've ever seen, and it was showing how worried he was. his eyebrows almost touched each other in a line. his eyes kept staring at your face, making sure you were okay. by now, you could clearly his soft and honey glazed voice, when he asked you.

"are you okay?"

a... poster... of my own. rounds of clap for myself.

also spoiler alert; it was kim younghoon. i forgot to blur his face and when i tried to, it was weird af so. kim younghoon. is the last guy.

i got nothing to say other than see u on the next chapter lmao. love yall.

[for-the-writing-artist]

My pastor was discussing the sin of lying the other Sunday ─ an absolute truth is that God hates lies, I am not denying this (see Prov 12:22, I Tm 1:10, Ex 20:16)─ with relative examples of day to day situations. I tell you, it was a real hand-on-your-head kind of day.

And unfortunately for us, ambiguous temporal creatures that we are, not all actions are everything or nothing. But I think to better explain my position, I have to identify the premises of my argument.

The first being:

Every sin holds equal value.

God will condemn you to hell for being an impulsive liar, be that the only sin you have ever committed in your life, just as He will condemn you to hell for murder (see Ja 2:10-11). But notice that, though in the spiritual plane and eternal time, it does not matter what sin you are charged with, in our temporal world, and mortal plane, some sins are more destructive than others. This is my first belief.

And the second being:

Our sins do not affect us equally.

Which is obvious. Take the sin of murder (Ex 20:13), for instance; where time and time again the OT shows whoever takes a life will repay ─ in this life ─ with their own. (Gn 9:5-6, Ex 21: 16, Lv 24:17, and in the NT, a reprimand from Jesus himself, Mt 26:52.)

Versus divorce (Ex 20:14), which was acceptable in the OT (Dt 24:1-4), but forbids either party from ever marrying again, lest they be charged with adultery (NT ─ Mt 19:9,6 1 Co 7:10, Mk 10:1-12).

Thus, I can conclude that, if God so wishes, the sin you commit will impact your life proportionally. As an addendum, the above in no way condones the Prosperity Gospel ─ as there is yet to be found in the Bible where faith and financial donations somehow annul the consequences of sin in your life.

Of Lying, and Moral Ambiguity.

In many cases, the intention of our actions leaves no room for moral ambiguity with the sins we commit ─ I cannot be so certain this to always be the truth in the case of a lie. A murderer's intention is premeditated. A divorce is only allowed under the clause of sexual immorality.

Why do we lie, then? To deceive our neighbor with perjury or slander. Strong's Hebrew seems to imply this commandment strongly in the topic of courts, and injury to one's image.

Something my pastor talked of was honesty in the face of our worldly governments ─ in my opinion, this shouldn't always be the case.

I am not talking about small things like tax evasion (← the example he used), simply because the consequences of evading taxes are too big to justify the risk. It is unwise. But I do argue against using the example above as an endorsement for us to always be honest with our governments.

If I were hiding Jews in Nazi occupied Europe in the 40s, would the Christian thing to do be, if the government came looking, to lie or not lie? Simply because lying is a sin, I should therefore reveal that yes, am I hiding Jews?

In this example, I ask that you go back to my second premise, and examine the impact the lie and the truth have in the supposed scenario.

This is a situation where one or multiple lives are my responsibility, along with my own. And what does this ill-placed honesty impact in their lives? Certain death, and mine also, if we take what the Nazis did in Poland to heart.

The lie does not seem unreasonable, as is my responsibility in this situation to keep theirs, and possibly my own safety, intact.

A lie (the sin) is spread due to malice, falsehood, or slander, directed at one or more people ─ a false testimony without cause, intended to cause perjury to another. In such cases, the sin is absolute and easily identifiable.

In conclusion; though I hold that honesty is always the ideal thing to do, I cannot agree that it is absolutely so when it comes to local governments or authorities.

[tckoshie-archived]

#TCKOSHIE

GUIDELINES

1. My portrayal of the muses on this blog will be from the KNY verse and they will be headcanon based and lore based and canon divergent. Do not interact with this blog is that’s not your cup of tea .

2. Do NOT interact if you’re a minor or a personal blog, please. The posts on this blog are meant for roleplay purposes and roleplay only. My personal blog is open for any one of age to interact with that blog. If you kindly ask, I do not mind sharing my personal blog. Please respect my wishes, thank you very much. I do not feel comfortable interacting with anyone who isn’t of age because I am older than 25. Please do not lie about your age. Lying about your age will result in a hard block. This blog will be interacting with mutuals only. Meaning I follow your blog, you follow mine. Please don’t take it personally as there are some fandoms I’m not familiar enough with to interact your blog if I don’t follow you back. Original characters are welcome and encouraged as long as have a bio up to work something out. But for now, the interactions will be limited to the demon slayer and/or the legend of Zelda verse.

3. This blog will touch on dark topics such as death, murder, suicide and sexual themes. If any of these themes make you uncomfortable, this may not be the blog for you. Regardless, I’m still going to include warnings just in case. If there’s any other things any of my writing partner would like me to tag, let me know. It’s important that you’re also comfortable.

4. Shipping. Due to some of these muses being canonically cruel to their partners, I’m still unsure whether if they’ll be open for shipping. It’ll definitely need A LOT of development if anyone would want to ship with demons. Do not be afraid to ask though like I said above, it’ll take a while for the ship to develop. Should we end up shipping eventually, any nsft content will be exclusively written only with the muses my characters are shipping with. No exceptions.

*this blog will be multi ship but only with one version of a muse.

5. This is a zero drama tolerance blog so leave me out of the whole he said, she said stuff. Unless someone did something that's actually wrong, I don't want to hear it. Along with that, I won't be allowing any kind of hateful and/or problematic content. Absolutely NO RACISM, homophobia, pedophilia, or incest will be tolerated on this blog. If you condone such acts, you'll be blocked and reported. As a Hispanic person myself, this is a safe space for people of any background and identity.

6. My muses actions do not reflect my own. I cannot stress this enough that some of these muses are cruel and will stay that way. After all, they are demons. But if you’re uncomfortable at any point and you’d like to drop the thread, let me know. There won’t be any hard feelings.

7. Do not take my edits, headcanons, writings please. I’m not the best editor on here, but if you’d like something edited, just ask. Chances are that I might say yes.