#jack boot jump

[age-of-moonknight]

Werewolf by Night: Red Band (Vol. 1/2024), #2.

Writer: Jason Loo; Penciler: Sergio Dàvila; Inkers: Jay Leisten and Aure Jimenez; Colorist: Alex Sinclair; Letterer: Cory Petit

[pulpimpossible]

What the f...?

[luveline]

Hiiiiii!!!!!!! I recently got back into criminal minds and devoured all ur hotch fics like a MANIAC (you write. So unbelievably well. Im also in love w ur tasm peter stuff, you are just such a good writer thru and thru) and that one request where Jack calls reader mom for the first time really stuck w me so I was wondering if maybe I could request smth of the opposite? Like not-so-single mom!reader and hotch have been dating for a while and her lil girl calls him dad for the first time :3 🖤🖤

thank you for requesting! 💌 —your daughter calls Hotch dad for the first time. fem, 2k

“Come in, come in!” Hotch says, the door held ajar by his arm, forcing you to squeeze in and save the heat. “Quickly, honey, please, get out of the rain.” 

Sarah bursts in through the door and away from the rain, her vinyl coat covered in raindrops, her boots wet with mud. “Aaron!” she says, pulling it into something softened and excited at once, though her ‘r’s are weak, closer to ‘w’s. “I missed you.” She jumps from one foot to the other. 

He makes sure you’re safely inside before he abandons you. It’s not very kind to you, but he can’t help himself. “Sarah,” he says, without your daughter’s sweetness but heavily fond, “I missed you more, honey. How many days has it been?” 

“Four!” she says, holding up four fingers as Hotch grabs her by the waist. 

He doesn’t mind her wet coat, working an arm around and beneath her to shuck off her muddy shoes. They topple to the ground to unveil damp socks. 

“Oh, no, your socks are wet. I did all the laundry while we were waiting, I have some warm ones for you in the dryer. Should we get you out of this coat?” 

“Where’s Jack?” you ask. 

“Eating. He was starving, couldn’t wait.” 

You kick your shoes off and gather them with Sarah’s to line up by the door. Hotch takes off Sarah’s coat with some one-armed manoeuvring, aware of her smiley gaze following his every move. 

“I,” you say, pressing a swift kiss to his cheek, cold lips to his rough skin, “am gonna go to the toilet really quickly. Hi, handsome.” 

He savours your kiss and watches you go. He owes you a better greeting, he missed you just as much as he missed your girl. For now, he wipes the cold from Sarah’s cheeks and stations her comfortably on his navel. 

He loves her like his own. He’s privileged to get the opportunity, and it’s hard not to feel that low level of awe whenever she’s around, because she loves him the same way. Sarah waits for him to smile before she wraps her arms around his neck, long enough to twine her fingers in the short hair she finds there. 

It’s funny to love someone you had no hand in bringing into the world, but no less real. He’d do anything for Sarah. I miss you doesn’t cover it, but it’s a start. “I missed you,” he murmurs, not well-versed in baby talk but always willing to try for his kids. “It’s so nice to see you. Jack missed you too, should we go see him? I can change your socks.” 

He ushers her back enough to see her. She has such loving eyes, not shy at all as she nods her head. “Can you make crackers?” 

He beams. “Oooh, yes. Crackers and cheese and apple slices, I know what you want, honey. It’s ready for you in the kitchen.” 

Things weren’t easy at first for either you nor Hotch. He works too much, and you both have priorities that can’t be shifted, but the connection between you was easy. Love, undoubtedly, pretty much the moment you met, even if it scared him. He never thought he’d get a second chance and he’s not sure you thought you’d find yours either, and yet loving you has been as helpless as loving your daughter. He doesn’t have a choice and he doesn’t want one. 

In this time, you’ve found routine. He’s introduced the idea of moving in together and you’re excited for it, though concrete plans haven’t been laid. There’s a lot of questions and no need to rush into answering them yet. He has no intentions of letting you go now —Hotch will do anything it takes to keep his small family. 

Today, right now, that’s crackers. 

“Sarah!” Jack says when he sees them, jumping off of his chair to climb on top of it. He holds his hands out and Hotch leans down with a loving laugh to let his son hug her. “You’re back!” 

“I’m back,” she agrees. 

“Do you want some of my sandwiches? Daddy made me two.” 

“Yes!” she says, wiggling to be put down and given what he’s promising. 

Hotch fights to take her to the sink and wash her little hands, to her horror and whining. He says, “Okay, okay, I’m sorry, sweetheart, but you gotta wash your hands before you eat.” 

He puts her in her own chair, and it is Sarah’s chair, outfitted with a big pillow so she can see the table and marked by a pink star sticker, putting a placemat in front of her. Jack quickly pushes one of his sandwiches towards her. “There you go.” 

“Thank you, Jackers,” she says. 

Hotch smiles. Despite their different interests and ages, they’re quick to get along. 

He shouldn’t pry while you’re in the bathroom, but he worries about you. “Honey?” he calls up the stairs. 

“I’m just changing!” 

“Yeah? Can you bring some socks for Sarah, please?” 

You shout back something incomprehensible. He returns to the kitchen, where Sarah looks over the chair with pleading eyes and asks, “Crackers?” a piece of lettuce stuck to her chin. 

“Ah,” he says showfully, turning to the fridge to grab the plate of crackers, sliced cheese, and apples he’d Saran wrapped an hour ago. He peels off the wrapping and places it in front of her. “Here, sweetheart. Do you want anything else? Maybe some chips?” 

She laughs and grabs a piece of apple without answering him. 

“What about you, sweetheart? Drink?” he asks Jack. 

“Yes please, daddy.” 

Hotch makes Jack a cup of orange juice and Sarah a sippy cup, hers diluted some with water. He places them down in front of the kids, crouching between their chairs, intending to stay and chat. “How’s that?” he asks, tilting his head to the side to listen for your light footsteps on the stairs.  

“Thanks, daddy,” Jack says. 

“Thank you, daddy,” Sarah echoes, reaching for him. Hotch offers his hand, startled, not quick enough to hide it. She doesn’t pay any mind to his expression, pleased to have her hand held and her big plastic plate of crackers to munch on. 

“Why’d you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” you ask, passing him Sarah’s socks, and rounding the table to stand by Jack's other side. “Hi,” you add, ruffling Jack’s hair, “look at you, gorgeous, you got your hair cut.” 

Hotch rubs Sarah’s knuckles, trying to phrase it, not sure how to tell you with the kids still there. Will Sarah feel embarrassed if he brings it up so swiftly? Will she feel like she’s done something wrong? Will you? 

“What’s wrong?” you ask. 

He decides to present you with the situation. He’s not manipulative, but clever. “Mommy got your socks, too. Can we take these cold ones off, is that okay?” 

“Yes, please,” Sarah says.

You watch in confusion. Hotch gives you a quick look. Trust me for a second. 

He eases the socks off of her feet, laughs when she laughs at his tickling, even if he’s not quite sure how to feel. Happy, he gives her toes a squeeze and bunches a sock up to pull it over her heel and up to her ankle. “One,” he says, repeating the process with the same tenderness. “Two. There we go, all warm again, Sarah.” 

“Thanks, daddy.” 

You breathe in. 

Sarah puts some cheese on a cracker and offers it to Hotch, who eats it while you summon him away with silent parent talk. He kisses her forehead and wipes it clean as he goes. 

“Did she do that when I was upstairs?” you ask quietly. 

Hotch knows you. Loves you, but knows you intrinsically. He knows just by looking at you that you’re happy, but you’re worried about something, and it’s not hard to guess what it is: he might not want Sarah to call him daddy, and telling her not to might break her heart, and yours too. 

“She did.” 

“She’s never… expressed that interest to me.” 

“Sometimes they think about things more than we know.” Jack still surprises him as he did when he was a toddler.

“She just loves you,” you say. 

“I love her. She can call me whatever she wants to.” 

You hold his wrist, taking a step closer to him. “Are you sure?” 

“Of course I’m sure.” He murmurs now you’re close, ducking his head to yours, two halves of the same heart looking at one another’s hands. “I love her more than anything in the world. I want to make her crackers for the rest of my life.” Hotch puts his index finger to the soft skin under your chin. “Maybe by tomorrow she’ll forget she called me daddy and she’ll never say it again, but… I want her to. Is that okay?” he asks. 

You lean up to kiss him and you nod into his lips, which makes it hard but not impossible to kiss back. “She loves you so much,” you say quietly. You’d only wanted a quick peck. 

He might’ve said he loves her more than anything, but there’s a level on which he holds her and Jack where you sit too. He loves you. You made Sarah who she is all by yourself, and you’re so lovable standing in his reach. You’re perfect. 

Maybe he’s feeling sweet because Sarah called him daddy. 

“I think Jack confused her,” he says. 

“Maybe. You are, you know, her dad. You do everything a dad would.” 

Hotch slots his leg between yours and leans back to force you into his favourite kind of hug. You laugh slowly, hug the same, your arms sliding up over his shoulders to wrap behind his head, your hand cupping his hair. 

He closes his eyes and feels your waist. 

“You don’t have to worry,” he says. 

“I don’t worry about you and Sarah, I know you love her. I guess I just worry about us. Not that you don’t love me, Aaron.” 

“Big changes,” he guesses in a whisper. 

“Big changes.” 

He encourages you away to hold your face. He hopes that waiting with you in quiet for a while can explain it better than words. 

Your shoulders finally relax. 

[specsthesecond]

°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°

You wake up in the comfort of your home, snuggled in thick, fluffy sheets. Despite the cold, birds still chirp outside, advising you to start your day already. You stay in bed a little longer today, staring out the window, trying to get a hold of your thoughts.

It's been a good few days since you left that Orc's house, a few days to think about the experience and mull over what to do now.

You jolt out of your thoughts when you see, out the window, quick anxious scampering behind the snow covered bushes. Jumping out of bed, you hastily get dressed, fumbling with your boots, grabbing your trusty bow hanging by the door and a few arrows. You peek outside, sneaking as quietly as possible on the old wooden floor of the stoop, arrow already notched against the bowstring. You can only see the critters ears, twitching, listening for any trouble. It's either a rabbit or a hare, you hope for the latter.

You wait there for a good fifteen minutes, bow strung, waiting for the thing to move just a little to the left of the bush for a better shot. Your fingers burn on the string, didn't have time to grab your gloves. The second it hops slightly out of the bush, you let go of the arrow and send it flying right into the cotton-tailed critter.

When you step back inside your warm cottage, you make a beeline for the kitchen with the hare in your hand. It's quite a lucky catch, a large jack. You use this as an excuse, you actually come up with plenty excuses while you prepare a hearty stew. "There's so much meat here, it would be wrong not to share." "If I don't repay him, it'll weigh on me for far too long." "I need to bring him his flask back." "I need a good hike anyway."

Stupid rationales for the absurd idea you have conjured up. Nevertheless, you get out your fanciest ceramic pot and cook your best hare stew. You fret, far more than you'd admit, over how little ingredients you have due to the winter.

Come afternoon, you're trekking the woods, past the Human territory and into unwelcomed lands. You clutch the handle of the basket holding your steaming pot of stew and his flask tightly inside, which you filled with your favourite Red bush tea. This is just so you're even, and then you never have to think about this Orc ever again.

Somewhere in your mind you know that's not true, You'll never be able to forget what happened. You were content in your woods, pretending you weren't lonely, why has this Orc changed that? It was easy pushing the cravings down before, why is the hunger suddenly so present, so consuming.

You eventually step into the clearing where his home lies, Your thoughts continue to meander as your feet take you straight to the steps into his home. Now, you can't just leave it out for him but you can't just knock on the door and run away either...

You knock on the door three times, taking a deep breath and then cursing yourself for needing to do that. What if he doesn't want to see you again? Sure, he saved you from dying but that doesn't mean he'd want you in his home ag-

The door opens slowly, it takes you a minute to look up from the stone floor of the small veranda but when you do, it's those same dark brown eyes looking back at you. He looks shocked to see you, you expected as much. After a few awkward moments of staring, you hold the basket up with both hands, opening the top to reveal the red ceramic pot and his flask. He looks down at the parcel with a rather blank expression and it makes your skin crawl with anxiety.

You gesture for him to take the basket and he quickly, with frustratingly gentle hands, takes it from you. He takes a peek inside the pot, letting the built-up steam poor out and his eyes grow even wider, you can't tell if he likes it or not and it's killing you.

Of course he didn't want to see you. The last time you were together he woke up to you, a stranger, on top of him watching him sleep! Your face is hot with shame, you turn to leave but then hear him say something in Orcish, you turn around to face him. You're a little taken back to see the hopeful look in his eyes as he holds the door open for you, waiting for you to accept his invitation.

Timidly, you step inside. Being here again sends a shiver down your spine. The Orc gently rests the basket on his little (in comparison to him) living room table, then heads to the kitchen. He comes back with a tray of two bowls, two mugs and cutlery. It shocks you how easily you take his silent invitation to stay for dinner as you both set the table as if it's a normal thing for basically strangers to do. While he dishes up hearty portions of steamy stew in rather large bowls, you pour the red tinted tea into the two mugs he brought.

You sit down on opposite sides of the wooden table and dig in. The spoon, like the bowl, is rather big and made out of what appears to be a hard dark wood. As you taste your stew, doubts trickle into your mind. Is it not thick enough? Is the meat too tough? Do Orcs prefer tougher meat? Is it too bland for him?

The scrape of his chair on the floor interrupts your thoughts and you look up at him. He's scooping up more stew with the serving spoon and plopping it into his empty bowl. You stare at him bewildered when you realise he's already going for seconds. How did he even swallow all that so fast?

He notices you staring and looks embarrassed, like he's done something wrong. You shake your head lightly and gesture for him to continue. He smiles rather bashfully for an orc and plops another spoonful onto his heaped bowl. You hide the smile that creeps onto your face behind a hot mug of tea.

After the pot has been thoroughly emptied and your stomachs are full, he starts clearing up his side of the table. You go to follow, but he swiftly takes your bowl from you, sets it on the tray with everything else and walks off to the kitchen. For a second you sit rather dumbly at the empty table, the sound of splashing water comes from the kitchen as you look around the orc's abode.

Your eyes are drawn to a packed bookshelf in the corner, you try not to be that impressed that an orc would willingly read so many books. You imagine you would be pretty insulted if someone said that about you, and you know full well that reading is a lovely way to pass the time in such a quiet life as yours and his.

He steps back into the room holding two mugs of what was left of the tea, you suppose that means he likes it. He places them on the small table in front of the couch and takes a seat. He doesn't show any indication that he expects you to sit with him but you find yourself sinking down next to him anyway.

He picks up a little book on the low table and pages through it, it's green with bold Orcish on the front. You try to seem uninterested with what he's doing, staring down at your tea until he shuffles closer to you, pointing to a specific page in the book. You scrunch your eyebrows and lean closer, reading the text he's pointing to.

"Thank you."

Your breath catches and you read further down the page, seeing bold Orcish words followed by Human Common words.

It's a translation book.

You laugh (more like wheeze) in surprise and disbelief. The Orc looks nervous, looking back at the book to make sure he pointed to the right word. You gently take the book from him and page through it, searching.

After quite a while, you finally find it, in what you assume is the "Helpful phrases" section, and you point it out for him.

"You're welcome."

He lets out a hearty laugh and you grin at the sound. You made him laugh. His eyes crinkle, deepening the crows feet just above his cheeks, which seem a darker green than before.

After that, you sit together in quiet comfort, drinking the rest of your tea and peeking at the words in his book as he pages through the translations. The book is new, the spine isn't creased from use and the pages are still firm and fresh. Did he get this book because of you?

The thought stirs something strange in your belly and you can't tell if you should invite it in or reject it. Your eyes shift to the window near the door and you jump when you see the sun is setting. How has it been that long?

You rise from the couch and grab your basket, shoving your now clean ceramic pot into it. The Orc looks at you confused, looks towards the window, and then shoots up himself, quickly heading to the kitchen. You shrug your fur coat on at the door and wait patiently for him to return, basket in hand.

He returns with the same flask he gave you the last time you left in a hurry. He may be even more bashful this time he hands it to you and you don't need to open it to know what's inside. You nod your head again in thanks and he smiles wider than you'd think an Orc capable, if you hadn't met him, that is.

You walk out of his house, flask tucked in your basket. When you reach the end of the clearing, you turn around and there he is, standing on the veranda watching you leave. You hesitate for a moment and then give him a little wave goodbye. He returns it with his own.

As you walk through thick trees, you wonder if the nearby human village has a book vendor. Not for any particular reason.

°❆⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔:･°

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[sadhours]

dirty laundry

billy hargrove x fem!reader

masterlist • requests open

cw: 18+ minors dni, established relationship, smut, public sex, swallowing c*m hehehe I missed billy

🧡🧡🧡🧡

it’s kind of fitting. after a weekend of partying, you had to do some laundry. so monday morning, 9 AM, you’re sitting in the laundromat beside your boyfriend. you’re hungover. billy smokes a Marlboro and the smell is making you nauseous. you’re nursing a sprite he’d bought you from the vending machine. he has a coke. you’re somewhat regretting not indulging in the breakfast beer billy offered you but the thought of the booze had made your stomach twist something wicked. the shitty speakers spill a tinny “dirty laundry” by don henley.

“this songs actually pretty badass,” billy mumbles around the butt of his smoke, tapping his scuffed motorcycle boots.

you frown, “i like don henley.”

your boyfriend laughs, it’s a loud bellow and you really wish you had that beer to dull the headache splitting your head. but you love his laugh.

“like him like you’d suck his dick or…?” he teases and you roll your eyes despite the way it pains you.

“no, not my type,” you grumble. “i like his music.”

there’s a liquor store two stores up. you keep rubbernecking out the window at it and your boyfriend picks up on it. he reaches over and squeezes your knee, “regretting not having a beer with me this morning?”

“a little,” you gripe, “the lights are too bright, your cigarette stinks and i’m so tired.”

billy leans close to you with a pout, eyebrows furrowed. he looks adorable, even though he’s condescending you. “want me to go get baby a shot and a beer?”

“would you?” you ask, all wide eyed in a silent beg you know gets him.

he smirks, leans forward and bites your nose. it pulls a giggle from you which is exactly what you need. “i’ll be back,” he grabs your face and squeezes it before pulling away and heading out the door, it chimes with his steps. you lean back and watch his ass saunter down the sidewalk in his too-tight Levi’s.

once he disappears into the liquor store, you bring your attention back to the washing machine. watching as your clothes spin in circles, which doesn’t do anything positive for the spinning happening in your gut so you look away quickly. billy’s hard to keep up with but you’ve never had so much fun in your life. and he’s so sweet, really, when he wants to be. you’d kind of saved him when you brought up him moving him after only a month of hooking up. you were shocked when he jumped at the opportunity but that was before you met neil. it makes sense now. your boyfriend is free to be himself, and you love every bit of him.

he’s quick in the liquor store, returning and hopping up on the row of unused washing machines opposite the chair you’re sitting in. he opens up the black plastic back and displays a little bottle of Jack Daniels.

“come get your hair of the dog, baby,” he says in a seductive voice, all low as he wiggles his eyebrows. you extend your hand and then his brows furrow, “I got you trained better than that. C’mere, girl.”

you exhale with a frustrated sigh but obey your sexy beyond belief boyfriend. standing up and taking the few short steps to situate yourself between his thighs.

“atta girl,” he purrs, opening the shooter and pressing it to your lips, “head back, foxy.”

you lean your head back, downing the shot in a quick three gulps. he hums, all satisfied as he watches. the whiskey isn’t sitting in your tummy the best but the way billy chases forward and licks a drip off your chin quells any sickness. he follows it with a filthy kiss, tongue dragging against yours as his right hand grabs the back of your head, knitting his fingers into the roots of your hair and tugs lightly. a helpless little whine escapes from your throat but billy swallows it, smiling into the dirty kiss. once he pulls away, he smirks, eyes darker than before.

“better?”

you nod, biting your lip as you look to him. billy retrieves the shooter he bought for himself and downs it easily, like it doesn’t make his stomach curl. then he hands you a tall can of beer, opens it for you before he does. you take an eager sip to get the bitterness of the whiskey off your tongue. billy chuckles, it’s deep and rattles his chest. he nudges his nose against yours, “i know that look.”

“s’your fault,” you mumble, cheeks hot as you admit, “‘cause you kissed me like that.”

billy hums, hooks his knuckle under your chin and tilts your head up a bit. “like this?” he whispers back before pressing his lips to yours hungrily. licks into your mouth like you’re not in public and has your spine tingling, thighs warm and cunt aching. you respond by kissing him back just as desperately, putting your beer down beside him before both your hands move to grip his white t-shirt. his mouth tastes like whiskey, cigarettes and Billy. You get lost in it, moaning pathetically as you make out like a couple of high school kids.

Then the dryer buzzes, loud and jarring. You pull away, groaning softly before strutting over to the machine. You open it, grabbing a cart and wheeling it over. You tug all the clothes into basket, reaching in deep and wiggling your ass because you can feel your boyfriends eyes on it. You don’t even realize he’s jumped off the washers and made his way behind you until he’s kicking the cart away and grabbing onto your hips.

“you missed something,” he tells you, all nonchalant.

“huh?” you peer inside the massive dryer but you don’t see anything. billy’s hips meet the fat of your ass, pushing your upper half deeper into the machine.

“it’s really in there,” he says, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your leggings. his other hand presses on the middle of your back, bending you over completely into the dryer. “almost there, you’re so close.”

you giggle, knowing exactly what you’re asshole of a boyfriend is doing. he pulls your leggings down to your thighs, moving his hand to rub your pussy through your underwear. you moan softly, still playing his game as you pretend to reach for the clothing he says in deep in there. billy’s impatient though, tugs your underwear down with your leggings. feels the slick collecting at your hole and hums, rubbing his fingers in circles at your entrance. his fingers are so thick, you can feel him stretching your hole just from the teasing. hangover suddenly forgotten, you’re spreading your legs and silently begging for him to slide inside you.

billy teases, “aw… keep reaching, baby… you’re almost there.”

his middle and ring finger slip inside your dripping cunt, the stretch delicious and intoxicating in their own right. he drags the pads of his fingers against your walls, pushing in and pulling out. your brains already fuzzy, eyes rolling back before your lids flutter shut. he laughs, soft and sultry as he fucks you with his fingers. out in the open. anyone can walk in here or hell, walk by and see your boyfriend bending you into the industrial dryer and fingering you senseless. the rush of it only make your cunt slicker.

he scissors his fingers, stretching your hole open wider as he smoothes his other hand over the expanse of your back.

“god, you’re so fucking wet,” billy exhales, his voice echoing slightly into the drum of the dryer. hits your ears something fierce. has you pushing your ass back at him. you moan out, nails dragging against the metal of the dryer as he finger fucks you open.

you don’t even hear the sound of his zipper or the shuffle of him pushing his jeans back. suddenly he’s pulling his fingers out and you feel the round, thick tip of his cock pushing at your pussy.

“fuck, billy,” you gasp, arching your back just slightly.

“atta girl,” he purrs, “so wet and desperate for my cock, yeah?”

“yeah— ah!” your response is hijacked by a moan, result of billy snapping his hips forward and completely sheathing his girthy cock in your fluttering hole.

he groans, a vibrating and sexy sound. let’s you know you feel so so so good for him. he doesn’t go slow, a hand on the small of your back and the other on your hip as he bullies his cock deep in your walls. billy always makes you feel like such a desperate slut. knows he can use and abuse your hole whenever and however. and how the fuck could you say no? the stretch is fucking unworldly. his cock is a goddamn masterpiece. crafted by the gods themselves to help please. if there ain’t nothing else to live for, billy’s cock is all you need.

once he’s inside you, you’re fucking gone. cockdrunk in a second. his hands move to knead at your ass as he pummels into you. rough and reckless. so billy. reality slips, you’re not even thinking about how the two of you are in a public place. fucking so filthy, so rough where there’s nowhere to hide. if you get caught, you get caught and you don’t fucking care. both so zoned in on getting off.

your hips slightly ache from where they bounce against the edge of the dryer but the sensation of Billy deep in your cunt dulls any pain. his cock pulsing as it drags in and out of your fluttering walls. you squeeze him, want him buried so deep and dirty.

“that’s it, slut,” he groans, voice deep as it bounces around the drum of the deeper, “taking my cock like a good girl.”

you whine back, not able to do much else. there’s no way you could form sensible thoughts. you ache to tell him how fucking good it feels but it’s useless, would fumble out of your mouth like word soup because billy fucks you stupid.

it’s a fucking joke when he moves his hand around your hip to rub at your clit. his goal is to get you to cum as quick as he can, because once those skilled fingers start strumming against your clit, your legs are shaking and your voice is uncontrollable in the moans bellowing from you.

“you gonna cum for me?” he chuckles, circles firm and quick against your clit, “so easy. such an easy slut for me, ain’t ya?”

“billy…” you cry in a plea, a whiny and pathetic sound. you’re on the edge, you can see it. each little stroke of his fingers and each drag of his cock against your tight walls threatens to toss you over it.

“ya wanna cum?” he spits, fingers working faster, “cream all over my cock, be a good slut for daddy.”

that sends you. a deep breath and sinking over the edge you go, crying out in absolute ecstasy as his cock works you overtime. drags your orgasm out with his fingers not letting up. you’re dead weight after, billy’s hands moving to your hips to hold you up as he barrels his cock faster and faster into your sensitive cunt. he pulls back rather quickly, grabbing your hair and pulling you out of the dryer.

“on your knees,” he instructs and you obey, hands on his thighs to steady you as you stick your tongue out flat. eyes wide and needy as you gaze up at your boyfriend. a curl has fallen into the center of his forehead, blue eyes dark with lust as he fingers move to grip his cock, jerking it in quick and firm strokes. “that’s it, good girl, yeah…”

he busts, spilling cum into your eager tongue. you love the taste of billy’s cum. abnormally sweet for a guy whose diet consists of booze and red meat. and when billy cums, he doesn’t close his eyes. he stares down at you, his lips part and you can see the swell of his tongue against his lower lip as he moans. you swallow, licking your lips so you don’t miss any.

he reaches for the back of your hand, scratching at the back of your scalp as he smiles warmly down at you. after a beat of lovingly looking at each other, you both get dressed. you plant a sloppy kiss on his lips before moving to transfer the load from the washer into the dryer. billy sits on the chairs and lights up another cigarette.

“you’re something else, foxy,” he grins, cheeks flushed all pretty.

[byllsbytch]

Halloween Party 🎃 (18+)

Nicholas Alexander Chavez

Genre : Smut

Summary: Dressed up as pirates you and Nicolas head out to a party, it turns out to be a great time and toward the end of the night things start to get heated.

A/N: Due to popular demand - the Halloween party plot was most voted upon so here ya go!

Warnings: p in v (tbh i dont know whats a warning)

I sat on the floor in front of the mirror. Makeup all around me. It was chaos, organised chaos though. I reached over to a fresh pack of eyelashes and placed them on to finish the look. Fuck I was smoking and I wasn’t even done. I leant over behind me to my curling iron and turned it on waiting for it to heat up. While waiting I scrolled through my phone and a message from Nick popped up on my screen.

“You’re gonna love my costume, I’ll be over soon.”

I smiled at his message before putting my phone down and reaching for the curling iron. We planned to go to the party together as pirates. I wrapped my hair around the rod and held it for a few seconds repeating the steps until I’d curled all of my hair.

Once I was finished I grabbed a bandana and wrapped it around my head. Finally I got changed into fishnets, boots, a skirt, white button up shirt and vest. I walked to the living room and loaded up my cooler bag with drinks and a pack of lollies I bought to get into the spirit.

“You’re looking good.” Mum called from the couch.

I smiled knowing damn straight I did.

“Thank you Mum.”

“Nicholas is still tagging along yeah?”

“Yeah he is, why wouldn’t he be?”

“Well, he’s cutting it a bit fine isn’t he?”

I looked at the clock.

“Yeah, but we’re in no rush.”

She shrugged her shoulders.

“OK then.”

Almost on cue a knock appeared at the door and I answered to be met with Captain Jack Sparrow.

“You look so good!” I shrieked. “Stop it!”

He looked at the ground a large grin on his face.

After the praise he looked back up and his eyes were stuck on me, his face going redder.

“Woah! You look gorgeous, who knew a pirate could be so HAWT!”

He took a step inside and followed me to my room.

“Can I please put eyeliner on you?”

In character he bowed, “Of course m’lady”

I pushed him onto the bed, straddling him with my eyeliner in hand.

“Ok baby, so you have to keep your eyes open and look up.”

He hummed in agreement.

I brought the pencil to his waterline while he brought his hands to my hips slowly rubbing his thumbs in a circular motion.

His eye twitched like crazy. “Eh! Uh, Uh!” He groaned.

“Shh Nick! Stop being a baby, relax your eye.”

“Oh my god! It’s not relaxing! I don’t know if you can tell… Jesus how do you do this?”

He gripped tighter onto my hips as I started on his other eye, digging his nails into me. I folded backwards yowling in pain.

“Fuck! Ouch!”

Nicholas quickly jumped up from underneath me with instant regret.

“Oh my god babe I’m so sorry.”

“What is going on here!” Mum screamed.

Me and Nick both flung our heads into her direction.

“Oh,” She said quietly. “Nice eyeliner Nicholas.” Before turning back around and heading out the door.

We both look at eachother in silence then began to lose it, laughing hysterically.

“We better go.” I tried to say in between laughs.

I got up and reached my hand out to him, he grabbed my hand and wiped his tears with the other hand.

I grabbed the bag full of drinks and headed out the door, it wasn’t long until our friends swung by and picked us up.

-

Arriving at the party the music was already loud and bumping, the house was decorated nicely. Lights and projections illuminated the exterior of the home.

Me and Nick walked in hand in hand and began to mingle with all the other party goers. The house was packed with people and we were all cramped like sardines.

Once the liquid confidence kicked in, I joined Nick to the dance floor. Nick was being funny and bopped his head, pouting his lips. I giggled at his silly-ness and swayed my hips to the music, keeping my eyes on his. The music was upbeat and Nicholas grabbed my hand spinning me. We danced together and sang all the songs at the top of our lungs. It was so much fun.

We became sweaty messes and Nicholas took my hand as not to loose me dragging me outside to the cooler air.

“Oh this is much better.” I groaned fanning my face with a paper plate I picked up from the buffet table. Nick stood behind me and lifted my hair off my neck.

“Thanks babe, how’d you know?” I laughed.

“You’re gonna have to do the same to me in a minute, this wig is so fucking hot.”

I turned around, him letting go of my hair, placing a hand on his chest.

“That wig IS so fucking hot.”

He rolled his eyes with a chuckle and I lifted the heap of hair off his neck, fanning him now with the plate.

“Fuck this sweat and all this makeup, I cannot wait for a shower.”

Nick grinned looking me up and down. “Me too.”

“I’m gonna get us a drink. Objections?”

I shook my head. “None whatsoever.”

He took off back into the crowd and loud music.

I scanned around me and seen people jumping in the pool, other drinking and then a girl laying in the bush, spew all around her. Yikes.

I walked over to the food table and grabbed some munchies placing them on a plate for me and Nick to share. I then walked back to where I was before so Nick would loose me.

After a while he came back with drinks.

“They’re doing beer pong in there if you want to play.”

I gestured the plate toward him and he grabbed a mozzarella stick.

“Sure, can we finish our drinks out here and then go in?”

“Yeah of course darling.” He wrapped his free arm around me rubbing my shoulder.

Nicholas spun his head toward the girl in the bush and made a disgusted face. “Eh. Nobody see this?”

“I don’t think anyone cares to be honest.”

“She’s sleeping good alright.”

I sipped my drink and once I got to the last mouthful I downed it.

Me and Nicholas walked back into the muggy house and felt the heat instantly his us. The smell of sweat and booze lingered. I noticed that the house was all foggy whether that was a result of a smoke machine or the many vapers in the house I couldn’t tell at first. Judging by the fruity smell it was the vapes.

I stood behind Nicholas as he played his turn at beer pong, cheering him on. He managed to get 3 cups before missing on his fourth attempt. The chick opposing him absolutely crushed his team, dunking 7 cups in a row.

Later on in the night I had a girl spill her drink on me and I was so fucking ready to fight her. I grabbed all of my hair and started to tie it up, to which Nicholas grabbed me and pulled me away.

“It’s not worth it!” He yelled over the music.

I looked at him and instantly calmed down.

“Just wait here I’ll get you some paper towel.”

“I’ll meet you in the bathroom.” I yelled back so he could hear me.

I’d seen the line to the bathroom and threw my head back in annoyance. I leant on the wall with my arms folded waiting for the queue to die down.

Nicholas found me and looked around before shaking his head.

“Come.” He said holding onto my hand and taking me upstairs.

“Nicholas, we shouldn’t be up here.”

“Pft, it’s fine, no one will know.”

He lead me into one of the bedrooms which had a bathroom connected to it.

I hoisted myself up onto the bench which Nicholas soaked the paper towel handing me one, I scrubbed at my t shirt while he wiped the drink off my chest. He stopped what he was doing and looked me in the eyes with a hunger.

I lifted my head up noticing his sudden halt. He’d placed his hand on the spot of my chest he was cleaning previously and then moved his hand up toward my neck, his hand pushed back until my head touched the mirror behind.

I spread my legs making room for Nick to get in between them. He came closer and tucked the hair out of my face all the while I wrapped my legs around his waist.

He kept his hand behind my ear, continuing to look at me with desire. We stayed in this passionate encounter for a couple second before Nicholas had brought his soft lips to mine. He tasted of spirits, making me drunker by the second. I’d had fully given into him.

I wrapped my fingers into his hair, slipping my tongue into his mouth as he sucked on it. Our tongues went to war for dominance, with Nick’s ultimately winning.

“Best get this dirty top off, I don’t think that stain is coming out my love.” He managed to hush out in between our kiss. Immediately I obliged taking off my vest while Nicholas undid the buttons of the white shirt. He stood back to watch himself slip the shirt of my shoulders, admiring me.

“You’re just too perfect my beautiful.” He closed the gap between us, holding my face in his hands. I felt him poking me. “Ouh!” I moaned excitedly moving my hands down to his pants and rubbing his bulge. I yanked at the top of his pants and he groaned lowly as a way to give permission. I began to have a go at his belt. Trying to rush and get his buckle undone quick only made it harder for me so I had to break the kiss and focus on getting the belt undone. Nicholas was panting and looking down at what my hands were doing.

“Mhmm, that’s it baby, you got it, good job” He encouraged me, making me instantly look at him for his validation. He nodded, causing a big smile to approach my face. He wasted no time sliding his pants down. He forced his way between my legs and I brought my feet up to the edge of the counter giving him full access.

His fat cock sprung free and I began to stoke him, teasing him. He threw his head back thrusting into my hand. He lifted my skirt over my thighs and pulled my panties to the side, exposing my wet pussy. He spat on his hand for extra lubrication and slipped his fingers between my wet folds, inserting two fingers. I stopped all movement, especially stroking Nick and gasped, reaching my hand out to grasp anything. He slowly pumped his fingers in and out of me before he teased my entrance with his tip. I flung my knuckle to my mouth and bit it, a weak attempt to silence my pleasurable screams, not that anyone would have heard it through the load music that echoed through the walls.

Nicholas kept his eye on me to watch my reactions, he was pretty good to take notice on what to do, if I didn’t like something or if he should keep going. Judging by the look on my face his had the green light to go faster.

I leant my head back and let the pleasure take over me, Nicks dick repeatedly hit all the right spots. I wrapped my hands around his neck for support and Nick leant in to continue the passionate make out. He slid his tongue to the back of my throat and licked my teeth.

He took it upon himself to lift me. With the back of my knees being supported by his forearms his repeatedly lifted me and dropped me back down onto his member. I buried my head into his neck and dug my nails deep into his back, making scratches that left welts.

“Uh-huh right there.” My words started to become gibberish, as I felt myself coming close to orgasm.

“Nick, uh, right there, right there, right there.” My pitch became higher and my words faster. He continued thrusting into me.

“I’m gonna cum!” I screamed twitching in his arms, my eyes rolled back into ecstasy and I continued to ride out my high. Nicholas placed me back onto the counter before giving his final few pumps, trying to chase his high. At this point I was overstimulated and really sensitive.

“Nicky Baby! It hurts!”

“I’m right ther-“ Before he could finish his sentence he released his load and folded in half, collapsing on top of me.

We both panted loudly and Nick looked back up at my face smiling with a light chuckle.

I placed my hand on his abs and shook my head with a smile.

“Are you ok?” He asked inbetween pants.

Unable to say anything I just nodded with my eyes half closed in satisfied relaxation.

“You were so fucking good baby.” He said planting a kiss on my forehead.

Nick handed me his shirt, “Just put this on, I’ll hold onto your dirty shirt.”

“And you’re just going to walk around half naked?”

He stared at his pecs in the mirror, “Well yeah, I don’t plan on staying for long, I think we have a date with the shower.”

I laughed and shook my head standing up, my legs were wobbly and I couldn’t walk properly for the life of me.

“Yeah I think we should go now, lets not worry about hanging around.”

Nicholas raised his eyebrow at me standing awkwardly

“Shit, I’m sorry babe.”

“It’s fine, as long as you make it up by round 2 in the shower and cuddles and candy in bed.”

He nodded, “Agreed.”

Nicholas was distracted by his reflection again.

“Sorry I gotta say fuck captain jack sparrow looks good shirtless” He winked and clicked his tongue then walked to the door.

“You bet your ass!” I said, following him out the door and slapping him on the ass.

[lordprettyflackotara]

hitchhiker || end of beginning

this is entirely fan service. enjoy <3

Your hair flew behind you, the salty wind blowing past you in a blur. You grinned at the smell of the ocean, watching your daughter, Nova, collect seashells along the shoreline. “Doesnt this one look cool?” She exclaimed, holding up a larger shell. You smiled and nodded, her curious chocolate eyes staring at you for an answer. “It looks lovely honey, it’ll look great for our collection,” You said encouragingly. After Nova grew a bit older you moved away from the woods, your past lovers haunting you. Nova was eleven now, her features starting to mature. You could never place whose she was. Her nose was shaped like Toby’s, her jawline sharp like Brian’s, and her eyes full and warm like Tim’s. Each day she reminded you more and more of them, her habits like theirs unknowingly. Toby’s energy, Brian’s love for tomato soup, Tim’s leadership. She had become quite the little adult at her new middle school, joining the debate club almost immediately as it was founded.

Yet she still had that childlike sense about her. Her cheeks were still a little chubby, her innocence still intact. Beside her was Jack, still wearing boots and his hoodie, even on the sandy beach. The beach was secluded, fenced in behind your new home. Jack still came to visit regularly, Nova having long adjusted to his appearance. She knew he was different and his existence was to be kept a secret, but she didn’t seem to mind at all. It was hard for her to when he came bearing gifts each visit. Truly he spoiled her, the demon shrugging and pretending he didn’t know what you were talking about when you called him out on it. “What do you think Uncle Jack?” Nova asked, holding it up to him. The demon pretended to be puzzled, before ruffling her thick y/h/c hair. “I think it would look better washed off, here,” He said, reaching down and cupping a handful of water. You watched as he surprised her, splashing water on her sundress. She gasped before giggling playfully, quickly splashing him back. You grinned at the sight, Nova’s laughter music to your ears.

“Scared to get wet princess?”

For a moment you thought you were hallucinating, jumping in surprise at the sight of Tim. A lazy unlit cigarette hung from his lips, Brian and Toby right behind him. “Holy shit,” You whispered. You ran towards them, desperately clawing at them to all hug you at once. You cupped each of their faces, your heart exploding with happiness. “How did you… you’re here. You’re real,” You whispered. You noticed Toby no longer had a bandage covering the side of his face, his gash revealed proudly. Tim’s hair had grown longer, framing his face. Brian’s stubble was growing out, poking at your palm as you cupped his face. “R-real as it c-can get,” Toby said proudly, giving you a goofy smile. You turned around, Jack holding Nova’s small hand as he walked her over to you and the boys. You were unsure how to explain this, your daughter’s concept of parents being only two individuals. Not four. “Who are they mama?” She asked, hesitantly staring up at them. You were speechless, her big bright eyes looking up at Jack for guidance. He crouched down to her level, the demon much taller than any of you. “You know how most kids are stuck with only two parents?” He asked. Nova nodded. You glanced at the proxies, each of them staring at her. They each saw a bit of themselves in her. You crouched down as well, the two of you trying to ease Nova into the situation.

“Well you’re so special you get four,” You say, poking her rounded nose. She gasped, looking at Tim, Brian, and Toby. “You have an Uncle Jack which is much cooler in my opinion but yes, you have four,” Jack added, grinning. His sharp teeth unfazed the girl, who instead widened her eyes. “Does this mean I get four times as many Christmas presents?” She asked, unable to conceal a giggle. “Yeah she’s definitely y/n’s kid,” Tim muttered, causing Brian to elbow him. Toby was the first to return Nova’s grin, matching her perky energy. “As many as you want kiddo,” He said, mentally happy he didn’t stutter. Nova studied his gash for a moment, before speaking, “You’re just like Uncle Jack.”

Toby nodded, his left arm twitching. “I’d debate i’m a lot cooler but yeah pretty much,” Jack snickered, rising to his feet. Brian cleared his throat, a bit anxious to speak to the precious girl who he knew to be their daughter. “Five bucks says I can collect more sea shells than you,” He said, causing Nova to form a mischievous grin. Toby shrugged off his hoodie, tossing his goggles aside. “O-oh you’re s-so on. Cmon N-Nova,” Toby cheered, carelessly running down the small beach. Nova chased behind him, her blue beach bucket swaying as she ran. For the first time since you had met Brian he looked content, calmly following them down the beach. “You knew?” You asked Tim, who had now lit his cigarette since Nova wasn’t around. “Jack may have kept her a secret for a long time, but buying monster high dolls kinda gave it away,” He explained. You hugged Tim’s jacket tighter around you, the previous tarnished material all sewed back together. “Toby followed him. He saw you getting Nova off of the bus. He knew immediately that she was one of ours,” He continued. He inhaled deeply, before passing the cigarette to you. You had ditched the habit a long time ago, but Tim’s scent of cigarettes and cologne was enough to make you want a hit. “Took a lot of planning, as well as some favor asking, but The Operator is dead,” Tim finished.

You stared wide eyed, looking at Jack for clarification. “Dont look at me. I wasn’t going to spoil the surprise,” He said plainly. Nova ran up to the three of you, grabbing the demons large hand. “Cmon Uncle Jack, you gotta help us win!” She cheered. Jack waved goodbye, following the small girl. You turned to Tim, inhaling the tobacco stick. “How did you do it? Kill The Operator I mean?” You asked. You felt the smoke swirl around your lungs, before you exhaled. The ocean breeze blew it away quickly, your hair brushing behind your shoulders. “I think that’s a story for another day, don’t you think?” Tim asked. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders, guiding you to look at the mini family you had created. Toby was splashing Jack in the shallow water, trying to distract him as Nova searched the shore for shells. Brian was attempting to take off his boots and socks quickly, his work boots not made for the beach. You leaned your head on his shoulder, a content smile creeping across your lips. You wondered who Nova actually belonged her, a lot of her personality traits and looks so similar to each proxy. You knew it didn’t matter though, each of them going to endlessly love her as their own.

Tim’s warmth was relaxing, the orange sunset setting beyond the horizon. “Son of a bitch!” She gasped, after falling into the ocean. Yeah, she was most definitely Tim’s.

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Part 3 - Oakmoss

Autumn Embers Masterlist

CW: Omegaverse scent-heavy flirting, food related flirting, Brandon (derogatory)

It’s three weeks later that Sergeant Garrick catches you walking out of your building at the end of the day. You’re more distracted than usual - trying to decipher a text from Jack about his upcoming heat - so you’re almost on top of him before you realize. His smile is genuine when you jump back from nearly stepping on his boot.

“Sorry!”

“No harm done,” he assures you. His hand comes forward. “Sergent Kyle Garrick.”

“We’ve met,” you point out, allowing a short, comfortable handshake.

His grin goes a little bit sheepish when he takes his hand back. “Well, I had to introduce myself better than Soap, at least. That’s MacTavish.”

“Ah,” you say. “Well… good to meet you.”

“The team wanted to thank you, for the information,” he continues. “It was very helpful. That Lawrence guy would have had us runnin’ in circles. We also, uh,” he shuffles his feet a bit, and looks away. “We didn’t want to overstep. By offering a gift before clearing it with you.”

Oh, he thinks he’s clever. You arch an eyebrow, “You want me to give your pack permission to give me gifts, Sergent Garrick?”

“I told them you’d catch on too fast,” he laughs.

At least he has the decency not to deny it. Here you had been tying yourself into knots about being too emotional in a meeting, and now a pretty man is asking permission for his pack to court you. Part of you is relieved. The last thing you need is more alphas pissed off at you, prowling around the base looking for a pissing contest.

Another part of you is annoyed.

You carefully regulate your breathing. “Yeah, I’m pretty good at catching these kinds of things by now. But you don’t have to thank me for doing my job.” You sidestep him and start walking toward the car park.

Sergent Garrick falls into step beside you. “I’ve offended you.”

You sigh. Of course he’d be sensitive to the way your scent changes. You practically scent burned him in a closed room. You step to the side of the walkway and turn to face him. “I’m sure you and your pack are wonderful, sergeant, but I’ve had a long day.”

His smile is charming. “Anything we can do to help?”

“Not approaching me with a courting offer at my workplace would be a good start,” you say, blandly. You watch his face muscles twitch through confusion, shock, and a tinge of horror before continuing. “While I’m flattered that you would tell your pack about me, I prefer to keep things professional on base. And I’m sure your team would prefer that as well. Have a nice night.”

“Wait,” He reaches out, but has the good sense not to touch you. “Would it be better, then, to maybe approach you off-base?”

Why do alphas think I’ll find you elsewhere is ever a good thing to imply? “Like how Sergeant MacTavish approached me at the bar?” He doesn’t seem to have anything to say to that. You take a step back, his confusion tickling your nose. “I’m not really interested in being the subject of whatever competitive thing you have going. Have a good night, Sergeant.”

By the time you get back to your car, you’re not mad anymore. Just tired. You climb into the drivers seat and tip your head back with a sigh. Garrick and MacTavish aren’t the first alphas to want to try taming the Wildfire, and they won’t be the last. But it still stings. For once, it’d be nice if someone saw you and thought you were pretty and interesting instead of just a challenge to conquer.

You let yourself have a few more seconds of self-pity before you strap in and start the car. You’ll give Jack a call, make plans for his heat, and leave the sergeants to do their thing.

The next day, when you get to your office, there’s a travel cup of hot coffee from your favorite coffee shop on the edge of your desk, along with a gift card and a note. You don’t really think much of it - coffee from Sherry as a reward for a job well done isn’t unheard of - but the the gift card for 25 pounds is a bit excessive. The unfamiliar handwriting on the note catches your eye.

Please accept this apology for yesterday.

It’s signed by Captain John Price. That’s… interesting. Speaks well to the cohesion of the 141 that Sergeant Garrick would let him know that he made you uncomfortable. Hopefully this means that neither of the sergeants will be dogging your steps. On the other hand, an almost perfect coffee made it to your office somehow. You’re still dealing with a bit of overbearing alpha bullshit. But apology bullshit is better than the alternative, so you settle in for your day.

By lunch, you’ve pushed the note to the back of your mind. When Sherry walks in, you expect a conversation about taking on Jerry’s workload with his upcoming parental leave. You don’t expect her to place a paper bag from the very fancy sandwich shop across town onto your desk. You can smell warm bread and something else in there.

“Special delivery,” she says. Before you can pull the bag close to poke around, she holds out a folded piece of paper. “Ah, ah! I was told to give you this first.”

“What? Sherry, let me… eat.”

Please accept this offer as a formal request to discuss an intention of courtship. Captain Johnathan Price Lieutenant Simon Riley Sergeant Kyle Garrick Sergeant Johnathan MacTavish

Each of the signatures is different. You look from the note to Sherry’s curious face and back down. You’re glad you have so much practice locking down your scent, because your emotions are all over the place. You flash her a quick smile as you refold the note and stick it under the edge of your keyboard.

“Thanks, I’ll take care of it.”

She nods, with a nervous smile of her own. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” you lie, hoping she doesn’t pick up on the spike of your scent as your heart races. “The 141 had a successful mission after that awful meeting with Brandon and that CIA agent.”

“Oh! Well that’s good,” she says with a sharp nod. She knocks twice on the edge of your desk before she turns to leave. “You always do good work. Least those boys could do is buy you lunch.”

Once she’s gone, you wait a few seconds, then get up to quietly close your door. And then you eye the fancy paper bag on your desk like it’s a bomb. You circle back to pick up the note, read it, fold it, open it to read again.

You snap a picture and send it to the group chat. Then snap a picture of the gifts and note from this morning. You re-re-re-read the second note again.

When you phone rings, you pick up without looking. “What do I do?”

Jack wails into your ear. “Bitch, what do you MEAN what do you do?”

“Do I open it?”

“Open what?”

You snap a picture of the stamped bag sitting on the edge of your desk and send it to the chat. “They sent this with-”

Chrissy’s icy voice startles you. “If you don’t show me what’s in that bag right now I will scream.”

“What if opening it is accepting it?” When the phone chirps in your ear, you hiss, “I can’t do a video call, I’m in my office.”

“Quit stalling,” Chrissy snaps. “Open the bag.”

You pull it closer, then pause. “Should we wait for Mel?”

“NOW,” Jack bellows.

“I’m also at work,” Mel’s says, steady and unbothered. “So please stop yelling.”

The bag crinkles a bit when you pull it closer, silencing everyone. You’re not sure why you’re holding your breath, but it comes out in a little huff of disappointment when you look inside and the first thing you see is napkins.

“Okay,” you whisper, as you start pulling things out. The first food item you find is a roll. “We have… bread, still warm. A half of a sandwich - ooh! The goat cheese and pear one. A half salad,” you squint through the translucent lid. “It looks like it has berries. Oh, it looks like there’s a soup in here, too, nice. And the utensils. And…”

When you don’t say anything else, Jack prompts you. “And?”

“There’s a, uh,” you cover your eyes as your face flushes. “It’s a cake.”

The silence is deafening. You make yourself peek into the unassuming box, and the four-inch, round cake positively dripping with what smells like orange syrup, spices, and the faintest hint of alcohol. Your face gets even hotter when you connect the dots and realize the cardamom you’re smelling reminds you of Sergeant Garrick.

It’s Mel who breaks the silence, clearing their throat before asking, “Did they get you a custom cake from the Trinity Rose?”

You can’t make yourself say anything, so you take a picture of it for the group chat. Then a couple more at different angles, because the curl of orange and peel on top looks like something out of a movie. You hear when the photos load, each of your friends sucking in a quiet breath. Chrissy must mute her mic, because the background noise drops significantly.

“Someone please say something,” you whisper.

Jack says, “Holy shit.”

“What does it smell like?” Mel asks, cutting to the chase. “Is it good?”

“It smells so good,” you admit. “Like… ridiculously good.”

Chrissy comes back on the line, sounding a little breathless. “They apologized with coffee this morning?”

“Yeah-”

“So this wasn’t part of the apology,” she continues. “Guys, this is. This is a legit courtship thing.”

“The website says they offer courtship packages,” Mel confirms. “It’s pretty cute, a subscription service for lunch. But it doesn’t actually include a cake.”

“There’s gotta be at least a two week wait on something like this.” You say it as soon as you realize it. Embarrassment flashes hot and cold down your entire body and you have to cover your face. “Oh gods, this had to be planned in advance.”

Chrissy hisses, “The bakery at the Trinity Rose is award winning. Of course this was planned in advance.”

“Wait, are they all in a pack?” Jack yelps. “All four of them? And they’re all alphas? There has to be more to the pack than that, right?”

Mel makes a disagreeing sound. “If there were more, they’d have signed. This is a very formal pre-courtship gift. Well. Mostly formal.”

You have to resist chewing on your lip. “Should I eat it?”

“No reason to waste a perfectly nice lunch,” they point out. Jack and Chrissy make agreeing noises. “But I’d probably wait to eat the cake until you get home.”

“So I can think about it?”

“What? No. You’ve already decided to hear them out,” Mel dismisses. “I just wouldn’t eat a sex cake at work.”

That startles a squawking laugh out of you. “It’s not a sex cake!”

“Oh, so they got a custom syrup cake that matches your scent as a platonic gesture?” Chrissy challenges.

“…There’s a little bit of cardamom,” you admit. “That’s Sergeant Garrick’s scent.”

“It’s a sex cake,” Mel confirms over the train whistle noise Chrissy makes before she can mute herself again. “When Garrick shows up to escort you to your car this evening, maybe don’t chew his head off.”

“Oh no,” you groan. Your head thumps against your arm as you throw yourself down onto the desk. “He was trying to ask for permission to court me and I was a complete bitch to him.”

You deserve the laughter of your best friends for that. But eventually, you rally. If you’re actually going to enjoy your lunch, you have to start eating now or you’ll have to eat and work later. You start with the sandwich and mute your mic as you take a huge bite. By unspoken agreement, the conversation shifts to the weekend and Jack’s heat, then Chrissy’s client who insists on in person meetings three days before her heat. Mel lets you all ramble for a good twenty minutes before ushering everyone off the phone since Jack is the only one who doesn’t have deadlines and scheduled clients.

Which leaves you staring at the cake.

Your eyes dart to the still closed door of your office, then back. You’re too full of good food to eat a whole cake, but… a bite couldn’t hurt. And while the gift is definitely a little… suggestive… it’s not actually a sex cake. Just a bit... decadent. Sherry’s husband sends her flowers that match their pack’s scents. That’s basically the same thing.

Right?

Before you can second guess yourself, you scoop a bite into your mouth.

The taste that bursts over your tongue makes you moan out loud. You definitely should have waited until you got home. The cake is so rich, cut by the orange and whiskey in a way that almost demands a second bite. There’s something indescribable teasing the back of your palate, hidden by cardamom and the hint of something - raspberry? - but so distinctly there. When you try to focus on it, you keep coming back to a smokiness that can’t be anything but the alcohol.

Before you know it, you’ve eaten a quarter of the little cake. Your stomach feels warm, and you admit to yourself that it’s probably not a good idea to keep consuming alcohol at work. So you close the little box and lick the fork while you log back into your computer one handed. Your lips are sticky. Even after you use your thumb to help clean them off you’re so aware of them.

You catch yourself pursing and rolling your lips through the rest of your day. You can’t resist taking another bite every now and then. Every time, you remember Mel calling it a sex cake and wonder if Captain Price thought about this when placed the order. You remember the way Lieutenant Riley’s eyes had slid down your body. Had he known he wanted to send you this cake then? Did Sergeant MacTavish imagine you licking your fork when he signed the note? Was Sergeant Garrick thinking about this moment when he saw you yesterday?

When the day ends, you send a picture of the cake with more than a third missing to the group chat as you log out. I fucked up, it’s a sex cake.

Beta Daddy: Told you.

Best Bitch: WHAT DOES IT TASTE LIKE

Barbie: drinks at mel and jax tonite

You: :thumbsup:

You: genuinely no idea how to describe, i’ll try tonight

You’re nervous, closing up shop for the evening. Would Sergeant Garrick be waiting for you again? Or will your hyper-independence come back to bite you? You hope someone will be there to walk you, and the possibility of that not being the case cools you. And then you look back at the box of cake in your hands and flush hot. Maybe it’s better that you don’t run into anyone after an entire afternoon of rubbing your lips and thinking of the 141.

You’re shocked out of your musings just before you can exit the building by Brandon of all people calling your name. With a groan, you’re dropped back to reality. You at least let yourself step outside for some fresh air before he can reach you.

“Sherry said the 141 had a question for you. What was it?” Not even a hello. Typical. Thanks a lot, Sherry.

Luckily, you have a lie prepared. “Just another question about Cloudstone.”

“What question?” He steps closer, trying to use his height to intimidate. “I’m the point of contact, they should be speaking to me directly.”

“Hm. Maybe should’ve reached out to you,” Lieutenant Riley’s voice says from behind your right shoulder. “Got a lo’ of info on alpha enhancements, then?”

Brandon’s shocked, offended scent almost drowns out the Lieutenant’s. Almost. You tilt your head before you realize you’re doing it, and catch that hint of something that you’ve been chasing all afternoon, earthy and intriguing. Your mouth waters. You barely stop yourself from biting your lip and tune back into the conversation.

“I wasn’t able to give them an answer today,” you butt in, before Brandon can get too worked up. “I’ll CC you on the email when I have everything.”

“Fine,” Brandon says, glaring daggers at the Lieutenant.

And then the three of you just… stand there.

Behind you, Lieutenant Riley smells amused. “Dismissed.”

Brandon gapes at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“You’re dismissed. Unless you have more to add on the subject.”

Being caught between clashing alphas is not how you thought today would end. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see people look at Lieutenant Riley, then at Brandon, and then visibly decide to wait to exit the building. When you start to inch away, the lieutenant touches just beneath your left shoulder blade with the tips of his fingers. You freeze with a sharp inhale. Brandon looks between the two of you. Then his face settles into a sneer.

“Think hard about what you say next,” Lieutenant Riley ways with almost no inflection. Brandon’s face freezes and goes a little pale. You remember, suddenly, that the man at your back is also called the Ghost. “Because challenging me won’t go well for you. Walk away under your own power.”

The resonance of his voice combines with the way his scent teases your olfactory nerves and sends a shiver through you. You’re suddenly aware of the warmth that’s been building behind your bellybutton all afternoon. You don’t hear the next thing Brandon says. He’s too focused on his own offense to notice your distraction, thank the gods, but -

One of the fingers at your back taps you gently, once, twice. And then you feel the gentlest scrape of a fingernail against your shirt.

“I have to go,” you squeak, taking a step toward the parking lot. To Brandon, you say “I will make sure I email you first thing in the morning.”

You can see Brandon’s jaw working, but no matter how irritated he is, he’s outmatched and he knows it. After a moment, he answers. “See that you do.”

“’Ll walk you,” Lieutenant Riley intones. “Wanna make sure I understand the answer to the Captain’s question.” He turns his back to Brandon and gestures for you to continue walking.

A part of you wants to see what will happen if Brandon answers the obvious insult. It’s not hard to imagine the crunch of his body hitting the pavement, the way the Ghost might growl down and force him to yield. Another, loud part of you needs to not get this wet standing right outside of your office. So you hustle away and try to cool yourself down.

Of course, the Lieutenant is right beside you. You chance a glance up - he’s so tall! - at his face, covered today by a black surgical mask. His brown eyes catch yours and crinkle at the edges as he smiles, but he doesn’t say anything. Just keeps walking with you until you’re standing next to your car.

“Sorry,” he says, looking across the car park. “Weren’t my intention to cause trouble.”

“No,” you say, fidgeting with the edge of your jacket and looking at your keys in your hand. “It’s not your fault, I, um, I told my coworker that lunch was work-related. I guess she told Brandon.”

He nods. “Tha’s fair. Should I tell the Cap’n that lunch was work-related?”

When you look back up, he’s already gazing back at you. There’s just enough light to see his eyes darken as he tips his head up just a bit. He’s scenting you, his effect on you. You feel your face get hot as you look away from him again.

He gives an amused-sounding huff. “Need time to think about it?”

Do you? “No, I… I would be open to discussing an intention of courtship.”

Lieutenant Riley purrs. It’s deep and gravely, but unmistakable for anything else. The sound startles you into meeting his eyes. This time, he holds your gaze and takes a step forward, then another when you back up until you bump into your car. He doesn’t come any closer, but his eyes say that he wants to.

“Skipper wants to meet somewhere open,” he says. “The Spice Garden has a nice outdoor space, if you’re free Saturday.”

You almost say yes, but catch yourself. “I… have to help my friend through his heat this weekend.”

He nods his head, never breaking eye contact. “Next week, then.”

You do a quick calculation in your head. “I can be free tomorrow evening by… seven, as long as things aren’t too… formal.”

“Won’t be formal,” he assures you. “Cap insisted on a gift and formal invitation, but we don’t stand too much on ceremony. Bit unconventional, far as packs go.”

You nod, too fast. “Okay. I… does tomorrow work?”

“If you wanted us tonight, you could have us,” he answers, eyes crinkling again. He takes a step back, looking at the box in your hand, then back into your eyes. “Tomorrow then. Enjoy the cake.”

[leth-writes]

trying to fight yandere Daemon, Aegon, and Aemond

AEMOND

Aemond is the most playful out of the list. He enjoys seeing you trying, so focused and determined on him, despite knowing he’s an excellent fighter. he prefers working with his sword and is more than capable of instantly disarming you, but he won’t. He enjoys watching the hope slowly drain from your face, replaced with desperation. Definitely spends the whole fight chuckling and smirking, asking you if that’s all you can bring.

He loves taunting you, watching you get so mad you just charge him. He’ll spin you around and force you to drop your sword, then kiss down your neck. You’re struggling and spitting, he’s enjoying the closeness and drinking you in. He loves how much of a spitfire you are.

Sometimes he goes as far as to have Vhagar looming in the background. He doesn’t exactly want you to be scared of Vhagar, but he does enjoy seeing the determination bleed from your face as fear lights in your eyes, so focused on Vhagar’s figure that you don’t protest him bringing you in and kissing you.

AEGON

Aegon isn’t really a fighter. He’s only ever half-assed his training, so he’s the only one you might have even a chance at beating.

However, he’s actually quite strong, despite how weak he looks. His lithe form hides some pretty good muscle.

He may not be able to defeat you with a sword, but he’s more than capable of simply… pinning you down.

As well, if you were to ever try to actually, seriously, hurt him, the kingsguard are stepping in and grabbing your arms. Aegon’s stepping up to where you’re struggling and snapping a collar back around your throat; looks like he was too lenient.

Really enjoys seeing someone who could actually hurt him so thoroughly cowed, chained to the bedpost and unable to reach him.

Just like his dragon, he enjoys the sense of having someone so powerful under his control. It fills him with this heady sense of power, really goes to his head.

You won’t be able to harm even a hair on his head before the kingsguard are holding a sword to your throat, so don’t try unless you can take down multiple trained swordsmen, and then take down someone stronger than you. You’re screwed either way, so it’s best not to try. If you need to burn off some extra energy, and you tried to attack him, he’ll also make you do jumping jacks until you collapse. He likes having you weak and boneless, in a sweaty pile, as he stands above you, perfectly manicured and exuding confidence.

DAEMON

He’s quite ruthless about it. Daemon’s the only one in the list that’s seen actual combat, and his fighting style was forged out of the fires of necessity. As a result, he’s not the best at playfighting. He’s quite quick. so fast you won’t see him coming before you’re pinned down and disarmed, his boot pressing into the sensitive bones of your wrist.

Or, he’s twisting your wrist just so as you stand with a sword to his throat, forcing you to drop it and fall to one knee. If you won’t show him respect, he’ll make you kneel.

He’s fast and brutal, with no room for you to even move. he prefers to have you up against him, back pressed to his chest, sword at your throat. He loves feeling your heart hammering and your breath coming in short, quick bursts. If you won’t show him affection, this is close enough.

[igottanickel]

Newsies as stupid stuff I did during my run of the show

Romeo: Accidentally sang over Jack during the beginning of The World will Know on opening night(mic was off thank god)

Mush: Ripped my pants jumping off a table during King of New York

Anyone tbh: Actually fell asleep during Santa Fe Prologue while pretending to be asleep, woken up by Jack yelling

Elmer: Held up my newsies banner sideways on two separate occasions during Once and For All

Crutchie: Wasn’t holding my hat tight enough and threw it all the way across the stage when I held it up in Carrying the Banner, couldn’t get it till halfway through the song

Finch: Forgot my satchel multiple times

Albert: Ate a week old dry cookie given out by the nuns, no water, had to sing in 20 seconds

Race: Danced so much my jazz boots had massive holes in them half way into the run

Also Race: Voguing backstage

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

[in1-nutshell]

Human Buddy from TFP Universe meeting MTMTE Ultra Magnus/Minimus Ambus

SFW, Platonic, slight angst, comfort, mention of Cliffjumper, Human reader

TFP/MTMTE

Buddy in the TFP universe was Ultra Magnus’s charge.

Buddy had known the Autobots a bit longer than the kids, having accidentally stumbled on Cliffjumper stretching in the middle of an empty ravine at 11:40 pm. It was a year before Cliffjumper’s death.

“…”--Buddy

“…”--Cliffjumper

“Hi?”--Buddy

“…Ratchet is not going to like this…”--Cliffjumper

Cliffjumper had originally been Buddy’s guardian.

The pair had truly made a wonderful team showcasing the beautiful nature between Bot and Human.

Buddy had been waiting for him back at the base on that day. He promised Buddy to take them out for some takeout then get back for a movie night in his habsuite.

Cliff even managed to rope in most of the team to watch it with them. They had been waiting patiently for everyone to come back.

Buddy spots Arcee coming back and runs up to the railing with a big smile on their face.

“Arcee! Arcee!”--Buddy

“Buddy?”--Arcee

“Hey what took you guys so long? I already have the movie set up and… where’s Cliff?”--Buddy

“Buddy… Cliff… Cliff’s not coming back.”—Arcee

Buddy’s smile drops.

“What do you mean ‘not coming back’?”—Buddy

The team looks sadly at Buddy.

“No… no… no… please. Please tell me he is just running late! He is just running the scenic route! No, he got caught with the boot again!”--Buddy

“Buddy he’s gone… I’m sorry… I need to go.”—Arcee

Arcee transforms and wheels out of the base.

“Wait! Arcee! Acree!”--Buddy

Beep. Beeeep. (I’ll keep an optic on her Buddy.)—Bumblebee

Bumblebee follows the blue motorcycle.

“I’ll make sure those two make it back.”--Bulkhead

“Wait--” –Buddy

Buddy’s eyes follow Bulkhead’s form leaving the base.

Optimus carefully approaches Buddy shaking form.

“Buddy—”--Optimus

Buddy jumps the railing straight into the Prime’s chassis.

Optimus quickly holds Buddy form as they rake up a sob.

Optimus and Ratchet are helpless in trying to soothe Buddy’s crying.

After meeting Jack, Miko, and Raf, Buddy never really had a permeant guardian.

They honestly were a bit grateful for that. The wound was still too fresh. Instead, they opted to do rotations in guardians.

Somedays they would be with Arcee.

Somedays they would hang out with Bumblebee.

Somedays they would hang out with Bulkhead.

Rare days they would have Optimus, Ratchet or Wheeljack.

“Arcee? What are you doing here?”--Bulkhead

“I could be asking the same to you too Bulkhead. It’s your turn to pick up Buddy.”--Arcee

“No, it’s your day.”--Bulkhead

“Beeep. Bep. (I thought it was Wheeljack’s turn)”—Bumblebee

“Nope. Its Sunshine’s turn today.”--Wheeljack

“Very funny Wheeljack. Don’t call me that. Anyways today its Optimus’s turn.”--Ratchet

“…I thought it was Bumblebee’s turn today…”--Optimus

“…”—All the Autobots

“Did anyone pick up Buddy today!?”--Ratchet

Meanwhile…

Buddy at the library looking down the empty street.

“I think they forgot again…”--Buddy

Even after time mostly healed the wounds, Buddy didn’t have a guardian assigned to them. When Smokescreen arrived, they volunteered to be his charge. That didn’t last too long though.

“Smokescreen! Slow down!”--Buddy

“Why? You scared of a bit of speed?”--Smokescreen

“No I’m afraid of the ravine up ahead!”--Buddy

“What rev—AHHHHHHH!”--Smokescreen

“AAAAAHHHHHH!”—Buddy

Smokescreen was ecstatic to have a human charge, but it was soon found out that he wouldn’t be much fit as a guardian.

Buddy was back to the rotation with Smokescreen added in the mix. It looked like that was how things were going to stay in the meantime.

Then Ultra Magnus came in.

Buddy had offered their help to get the Second in Command up to speed. It took some getting used to for both parties.

“Those humans are breaking the law.”—Ultra Magnus

“What? Oh no, those kids are just crossing the street.”--Buddy

“Without a crosswalk.”—Ultra Magnus

“Magnus no.”--Buddy

“That’s Ultra Magnus sir.”—Ultra Magnus

Buddy had to get used to Magnus being so by the book and strict behavior.

Magnus had to get used to the whole new culture around him and the responsibility of taking care of another member of the team.

But the two slowly began bonding over considering themselves as outsiders within the team.

“Buddy is starting to become a mini-Magnus.”--Wheeljack

“What makes you say that?”--Bulkhead

“Watch. Hey Magnus!”--Wheeljack

“It’s Ultra Magnus sir.”—Buddy and Ultra Magnus

“Oh Primus…”--Bulkhead

“It’s getting worse.”--Wheeljack

“Hey!”—Buddy and Ultra Magnus

“Run before it spreads!”--Miko

After a couple more patrols, Ultra Magnus officially asked Buddy and Optimus to be Buddy’s full-time guardian.

Buddy said yes and the rest was history.

Now Buddy is Magnus’s problem.

“Has anyone seen Buddy? I thought they were in the other room, but they are not there.”—Ultra Magnus

“Nope can’t say I have.”--Wheeljack

“Hey now that I think about it, I haven’t heard Miko in a couple of minutes.”--Bulkhead

“…”—All the Wreckers

Wreckers sprinting out the door.

Buddy is fiercely protective of their kind but strict guardian. Buddy hid along with Miko inside Wheeljack on their way to deal with the Predacons.

 Magnus nearly had a spark attack seeing Buddy sheepishly come out of the compartment.

“Hi Magnus…”--Buddy

“… I expected this from Miko! Not you!”—Ultra Magnus

“Wrecker charges solidarity Magnus.”--Miko

Buddy did not leave Magnus’s side in the medbay after he had gotten his servo crushed by Predaking.

Absolutely refused to leave.

They made sure to help Magnus out in any way they could as he healed from his injuries.

Buddy does open up to Magnus about the loss of their first guardian and does not want him to going anywhere.

What is he crying?

No, no he is not.

The others are glad that Buddy finally has a guardian and happy that Magnus has loosened up a bit. Maybe things were finally looking up for the pair.

Now in the present...

The team had recently discovered a new relic from patrol.

Ratchet and Wheeljack are inspecting the new relic, trying to see what it could do.

Optimus was trying to decode its scripture meanwhile Ultra Magnus watched from Ratchet’s side.

Arcee, Bulkhead, Bumblebee, and Smokescreen are watching with some distance between them and the kids. They were all playing a game of catch near the groundbrigdes entrance.

Wheeljack touches one of the wires and Ratchet grazes over the machine.

The machine begins to light up and float.

“Woah!”--Ratchet

“You can say that again Doc-bot.”—Wheeljack

“Don’t call me—WOAH!”

Ratchet ducks as the relic flies over his helm.

The relic zoomed over past the team and kids towards the bridge stopping shortly after the arc entrance and turned off and dropped on the floor.

Buddy ran over to it despite the Autobots protest to get the machine for them.

“Don’t worry I got it!”--Buddy

“Buddy, I don’t—”—Ultra Magnus

“Wait, I want to see how far they try and carry it.”--Wheeljack

“Wheeljack—”—Ultra Magnus

“I bet a couple of feet.”--Bulkhead

“10 inches max.”--Smokescreen

“Smokescreen!”--Ultra Magnus

Magnus sighed a bit as he walked over to Buddy with the relic. Buddy managed to prop the machine up when it started glowing.

They just looked at the beautiful colors, completely oblivious to what was going to happen.

The next thing they remember was the swirling colors of the groundbrigde turning on and seeing Magnus’s servo brush their legs before blacking out.

The machine as it turned out had somehow activated the groundbridge remotely. The team was running towards the bridge, Magnus being the closest tried to reach out to grab Buddy.

He failed and fell flat on the concrete beneath him with no Buddy or machine to be seen.

Meanwhile on the Lost Light…

Rodimus, Magnus, and Megatron in a meeting discussing the latest reports.

A whirling portal suddenly shows up.

“What is that thing?!”--Rodimus

“How am I supposed to know?!”--Megatron

“If Brainstorm is doing another unauthorized experiment—”—Ultra Magnus

In a flash of green light, a small human and broken-looking machine fell rather ungracefully onto the table. Rodimus and Magnus immediately look at the human while Megatron comm in Ratchet to bring the med kit just in case.

“Which one is hurt this time?”--Ratchet

“Well… it’s not one of us exactly…”--Megatron

“Then who—”--Ratchet

“It’s a human.”--Megatron

“… what?”--Ratchet

“Ratchet—”--Megatron

Heavy footsteps get louder.

Buddy groans feeling a slight poke on their side and opens their eyes slowly.

They come face to face with a red, blue, and grey set of robots.

The grey one looked familiar, but Buddy couldn’t put their finger where they had seen him before.

The red one gave off Smokescreen and Bumblebee vibes for some reason.

But the Blue one...

Buddy only knew one Autobot with shoulder pads that tall.

“Magnus?”--Buddy

“Umm… yes? How do you know my designation?”—Ultra Magnus

“… Oh, Magnus is going to kill me.”--Buddy

“Wait why would I do that?!”—Ultra Magnus

“No, not you, My Magnus. I think I’m in some other dimension or I finally snapped and I’m hallucinating everything now...”—Buddy

“I assure you everything here is real.”—Ultra Magnus

“Hey better question. Who are you?”

“I’m Buddy. Apparently, I’m from another dimension. And you guys are…”--Buddy

“I’m Rodimus! You somehow know Magnus here and that’s Megatron.”--Rodimus

“…No offense but why hasn’t he—Is he wearing an Autobot badge?!”--Buddy

“Yes, it was given to me by Bumblebee.”—Megatron

“…I need to sit down…”—Buddy

When Ratchet opens the door, he nearly walks out.

Rodimus was trying to talk to a small human on the desk, Magnus was looking for any injuries while glancing at the strange machine while Megatron was inching his way further and further from the human.

Then the Human looked at him with wide eyes before fainting on the spot.

“Ratchet I think you killed them.”--Rodimus

“They’re not dead.”--Ratchet

“Maybe it was the stress of them being in another dimension.”—Ultra Magnus

“They’re from a what now?”--Ratchet

Ratchet sighs a bit and begins his inspection on them. They do wake up within a minute.

“Ratchet?”--Buddy

“Let me guess I’m from your dimension.”--Ratchet

“Yeah… it’s a good thing some things don’t change.”--Buddy

“What?”--Ratchet

“Nothing!”—Buddy

Buddy was scared. Not only had they managed to travel to an entirely different dimension, any bot they knew before didn’t even know who they were.

They had to befriend practically everyone they knew all over again. What was up with Buddy meeting new Cybertronians in weird ways?

The news about a human on board catches on to everyone like wildfire. Especially Brainstorm, Nautica and Perceptor.

After a bit of analyzing the remains of the relic, Brainstorm finally concludes that it would take some time to get something like the relic to work.

Buddy is fine with the arrangements if they do get back. They are worried for their family back home, especially for their Ultra Magnus.

Buddy stays by a hand full of bots after stopping to get their basic needs. They tend to be closer to Ratchet and Ultra Magnus, especially with Magnus.

“So, tell me who else is on your team?”--Rodimus

“Well we have Optimus.”--Buddy

“Naturally.”--Whirl

“Hush. Continue Buddy.”--Magnus

“We have Ratchet, Bulkhead, Wheeljack, Arcee, Ultra Magnus, Bumblebee, and Smokescreen.”--Buddy

“…And?”--Swerve

“And what? That’s the entire team.”--Buddy

“There’s no way—”—Skids

“Do you know if anyone else—”--Megatron

“I don’t know anyone else!”--Buddy

Which led to a funny moment when they found out about Minimus Ambus.

Buddy was taking a nap in his office after he said it was okay.

He had completely forgotten that Buddy was still in the room when he came out of the armor. That’s when he heard a shriek from Buddy.

“AAAHHHHHHH!”--Buddy

“What! What is it!?”—Minimus

“Who are you! What have you done to Ultra Magnus?!”--Buddy

“What are—Woah! Buddy put down the sword—wait where did you get--”—Minimus

Buddy missed another swing with their new sword, complimentary of Brainstorm, and held it high.

“All right shorty Pringle man, I’m only going to ask you one more time. What. Did. You. Do. To. Ultra Magnus?”—Buddy

It takes a bit for Minimus to explain his whole situation.

They do calm down after a while and want to get to know him better.

Minimus isn’t crying. What’s crying anyways?

Buddy does eventually befriend with more bots on board but is never too far from Minimus or Magnus.

Buddy becomes a temporary mascot at Swerve’s.

“Swerve, have you seen Buddy?”--Magnus

Swerve pointing across the room.

Buddy is on top of Ten with a speaker next to Whirl’s holoform.

“You know what to do Buddy!”--Whirl

Buddy nods and plays the speaker.

“WE DON’T NEED NO EDUCATION!—”—Buddy and Whirl

THUD!

“OH PRIMUS! SOMEONE GET RATCHET! MAGNUS DOWN! MAGNUS DOWN!”--Buddy

“HAHAHAHAHAHA!”--Whirl

Eventually the day comes for Buddy to return.

Buddy has a tearful set of goodbyes to all their friends.

They give the biggest hug to Minimus as they race to the portal.

Minimus now has a subspace filled with photos of him and Buddy with their mini adventures on the Lost Light.

Meanwhile in TFP universe…

Everyone is on edge.

The team had even gone and infiltrated the Nemesis multiple times trying to see if Buddy was on board.

The kids are just worried about their friend.

Ratchet and Optimus keep searching through radar and trying to decode some encrypted information via Decepticon radio.

Arcee would come to the roof more to talk with Cliffjumper grave about Buddy trying to cope.

Bumblebee and Smokescreen try extending their patrols to search for Buddy.

Bulkhead and Wheeljack taking the Jackhammer out to widen the search a bit.

Magnus tried to keep himself busy as much as he could and tried to figure out where Buddy could have gone to.

He knows the grim possibility of Buddy’s survival after a few days of the search, but is in denial, he knows Buddy is out there and wants to bring them home.

Later that day…

Buddy gets flung into the hard floor of the base, nearly sticking the landing if they didn’t trip on their own foot.

They slowly got up and looked around realizing they were finally back on the base.

They were so happy that they began to run to the main room.

Miko is the first to see Buddy and scrambles out of her seat alerting Jack and Raf.

Miko throws herself at Buddy knocking the two of them to the floor.

The boys join in hugging Buddy.

Hearing the kids’ sudden movements and squeals Ratchet turns from his screen and nearly passes out gripping the railings.

Buddy was here.

Buddy was alive.

He is quick to get to Buddy picking them up and rushing to the medbay.

He is just focused on checking for any injuries.

Once he is satisfied, Ratchet will give Buddy a light scolding and hug.

Bumblebee then commed in for Ratchet to open the groundbridge.

He opens it leading Bumblebee, Smokescreen and Arcee into the base.

Bumblebee whirls in excitement seeing Buddy.

Smokescreen pauses with Arcee seeing Buddy but snaps out of it quick and races to Buddy with Bumblebee and Arcee hot on his tailpipe.

At the same time Bulkhead and Wheeljack had entered the base from their latest expedition on the Jackhammer.

They look over to see Buddy being nuzzled by Bumblebee and also go over to see how they are.

Wheeljack makes sure to at least ask Buddy a question only Buddy would know.

It wouldn’t have been the first time a member of team Prime was subjugated to mimics.

“Tell me something only the real Buddy would know.”--Wheeljack

“I know that Miko was the one who stole Jack’s last soda he was saving for finals.”--Buddy

“Wait that was you!?”—Jack

“I think we are not seeing the fact that this is the real Buddy!”--Bulkhead

“Yeah that’s great, awesome, but Miko—”--Jack

“Bloodshed later, Buddy hugs now.”--Miko

Finally, Optimus and Magnus enter the room.

They both freeze seeing Buddy.

Optimus is the first to welcome Buddy back.

Magnus was still in the same place.

Buddy walking to Magnus.

“Mags? You, okay?”--Buddy

Magnus drops to his knees in front of Buddy and scoops them in a hug close to his chassis.

Buddy does their best to hug back.

“I’m fine Mags. I’m here.”--Buddy

“…You’re here… you’re here…”--Magnus

[trashmouth-richie]

ᴴᴱᴬᵀᴱᴰ

MODERN! EDDIE x FEM! READER

MODERN! KING! STEVE x FEM READER

CHAPTER 2: DOUBLE DOSED

summary: taking the back roads to Indianapolis was Eddie’s idea. the day trip there was Steve’s. But when Wayne’s borrowed truck grinds to a halt on the hottest day in September, the tension and the boys’ tempers aren’t the only thing to rise.

warnings: 18+ smut, alcohol use, drug use, drug mention, kinda sadboy! Eddie, king Steve being king Steve, modern times so things such as google and Snapchat are mentioned. no use of y/n, reader has a nickname, pet name usage.

The blazing swell of the late September sun had been pelting down on you all day. Stuffed right between your best friend Eddie and his best friend Steve, the humid Midwest air trickled through the open windows in a hazy wave of oven door heat. 

  Between Steve’s hair-brained idea of driving to Indianapolis for tickets to the annual Irvington Halloween Festival and Eddie’s even more ridiculous idea of taking Wayne’s single cab truck, without A/C to make the 4 hour round trip drive— it was no surprise when the clunking metal of the brown ‘86 Chevy spluttered to a grinding stop alongside the highway. 

  100 miles from Hawkins, and nothing but pent up anger boiling at the surface to keep you all company.

  “Oh this is just great Munson,” Steve groaned, swinging open his door and slamming it shut with a metallic bang. A ring of sweat set deep in the Hawkins athletic shirt he was wearing, a heavy hand pushing his hair from his face, “dude, let’s take the truck!” he mocks the long haired metal head, “fuckin’ told you this would happen!” 

  The boys weren’t exactly getting along for the entirety of this trip. Eddie and you had made plans to decorate your apartment tonight for Halloween, a month too early just like you did every year, a night full of themed snacks and cheesy 80s horror movies, the perfect opportunity to finally make his move. 

  But when Steve showed up at the light blue trailer looking for his wingman to help him score at Hargrove’s party— he was less than impressed to find you peeking around Eddie’s outstretched arm holding open the door, a shit-eating grin on your face. Even more pissed when Eddie told him that you would be tagging along. A roll of his eyes and a scoff on his lips as he pounded down the concrete steps. 

  Steve wasn’t your favorite and you definitely weren’t his. He didn’t get the appeal.. Always too loud, too annoying, acting like one of the boys when clearly you were just too insecure to have any friends that were girls. 

  As he stomped through the dead grass he told himself it had nothing to do with the fact that you turned him down freshman year, never mind that it was six years ago and Steve had plenty of girls added to his belt, his snap score and drawer full of stolen panties proved it. Never mind that his bruised ego from that night at a bonfire in the woods pushed him into his King Steve era. He flicked a cigarette into the dirt, muttering under his breath. 

  “Fuck off, Harrington.” Eddie gripes as he shoves the gear shift into neutral, he lowers down to his left and pulls the hood jack towards him. “It’ll be an easy fix.” He says to you, his breath fanning your sweaty cheek as he shoves open the door and jumps out, boots crunching along the gravel as he pushes the hood open. 

  To be fair, Wayne’s truck had about a 50/50 chance of making the trek to Indianapolis, but Eddie had wanted to take it for a few reasons, and not one of them was for a trip down memory lane like he had told Steve. 

  The first reason he wanted to drive the truck opposed to Steve’s BMW, was lol was because it was a stick shift. An opportunity to let him float the gears and have his veins pop out that he knew was a panty wetter for most girls, he had only hoped you fit into that category. 

  The second reason was simple: there was no air conditioning, meaning the small tank top you were wearing would undoubtedly become very hot, and maybe… just maybe you would think of taking it off to cool down. 

  And finally the third reason mimicked the first… you would be sitting bitch in the middle, and with each shift between gears, his arm would be sliding around the soft plains of your luscious thighs. The same thighs that were bare besides a high waisted pair of cut off shorts that had his mind flipping the perv meter to dangerous levels when you hopped off your bike this morning.

  Greeting him with the same smile that cooked his brain to mush for years. 

  Only today— you were starting to flirt back with him, pushing your ass out and bending at the waist just to untie your shoes. Even though in the history of forever, you had never once taken off your worn converse in the Munson trailer. You also were wearing a tank top, accentuating your curves, and Eddie was ready to chew a hole in the makeshift drywall of his trailer when you bounced up the steps to greet him. 

  Usually you hid your body with a baggy shirt and a pair of jeans, your fuck-off attitude is what earned you the right to have Eddie as a friend in the first place. 

  Tonight he was going to push the limits, share a joint with you when the yellow harvest sun dipped low into the indigo trees, kiss your ear with chapped lips while he held you when the movie had a jump scare… he had a plan. And Steve ‘cockblock’ Harrington was being the worst wingman of all time. 

  Sliding out of Eddie’s door, the Navajo rug blanket snags against the cracked leather of the worn seat. The back of your knees were sticky and shiny with sweat, same as your cleavage, not a single stitch of wind to be found along the gravel road— unless you counted Steve’s annoyed huffs.

—

  Steve bitched and moaned the entire time Eddie was bent over the truck. Investigating what had gone wrong, “aren’t you supposed to be some sorta mechanic?” He grumbled, pushing his hair from his forehead, slotting his hands back into place around the Levi’s on his athletic hips, “swear to God if you make me miss this party, and what Lily has been teasing me with on snap,” his eyes roll into the back of his head at the thought of it, almost letting out a desperate whine.. “I’ll shoot you dead Munson.” 

  “Take it easy Stevie,” Eddie grunted, his jaw tensed and an irritated tone on his lips. His brows turned inward in concentration as he twisted a wrench with strong grease covered hands from behind the hood, “just need’t..  fuck.” Dark smoke started billowing out around him.

  His foul mouth spewed a string of words that barely made any sense, ending his fit with a slam of the hood and his wrench thrown into the ditch. 

  You walk pointed nails across his sweat covered bare back easing his bruised ego with a sickly sweet voice, “it’s okay,” you preen, pushing your chest into his side  when he wiggles from your tickling fingers, his dark eyes swirling into calm and the huff from his breath lost in his throat, “I’ll just call AAA.” 

  AAA did not service in your area, and according to google— the nearest gas station was twenty miles away, a podunk hole in the wall that sold newspapers for a quarter and had 1 star reviews. 

  “Fuck,” Eddie shouted, kicking the tires and hiding the burn of ache traveling up his leg, “the hell are we gonna do now?” 

  “Guess we’re fucking stranded! Great idea Munson, gonna die by the inbred hands of the family from The Hills Have Eyes, but god we just had to take this piece of shit!.” Steve spit as he flopped back into the bed of the truck. 

  Eddie pointed a greased finger into Steve’s chest, “you,” he said prodding with emphasize, “were the one who didn’t want to buy them online, oh God Eddie let’s just get out of Hawkins for the day, make Lily sweat a little bit, make her think I have a bitch in Indy..” 

  “Fuck off,” Steve said shoving Eddie’s hand away, sitting up, casting a stank eye in your direction, voice laced in venom, “at least my dick is getting w—”

  A pack of cards hits Steve right in the chest, hard and knocking the insult from his lungs. 

  It was your idea.

  The slick pack of cards in the glove box with paisley red design on the front was sure to lend some relief and make time pass between now and when Robin would be on the way, driving Steve’s BMW with white knuckles and the radio off no doubt. You had texted her when the boys were arguing, explaining the situation and promising her a small white baggy from Eddie’s stash when you got back. 

  “great idea,” Steve accuses, “s’ gonna take at least 2 hours to get here,” his hands fly in the air in defeat as he yells, “she’s failed her drivers test four fuckin’ times because she drives like my grandma, and that old bag has been dead for years!” 

  “Cool it, you didn’t have any other ideas besides whining Steve,” Eddie defends, fingers wrapped around the neck of a foggy glass bottle filled with amber liquor, he hands it to you in a slick move of his wrist bending and presenting both a blunt and the bottle like a flower blooming in his open palm, “might as well relax a little s Sswhile we wait, make it worth our while.” 

  The liquor went down with a burn, hotter than the pinked shoulders of Eddie’s sunburnt skin. And the small band of splotchy salmon across Steve’s nose. 

  Eddie wrestled a dusty moth bitten blanket from behind the seat, and spread it on the bed of the truck. Before you could push your ass up onto the tailgate, he had wrapped his hands tight along your hips and hoisted you up. A grip so tight he didn’t want to let go, your body feeling just right in his palms, and you were feeling it too. 

  As the liquor bottle got lighter and lighter, the tension eased, Steve was actually laughing at Eddie’s jokes and wasn’t rolling his eyes as much when he had to give you a card or when Eddie praised you for winning again. 

  When Steve threw his cards on the blanket and twisted his arms in a pout at losing another round of Go Fish, it was his idea to play another game. 

  “It’s real easy,” he explained around a puff of smoke as he shuffled the cards back into the pack with his large tanned hands, a single bead of sweat sloping down from his temple and curling around his chin. “You hold up five fingers, and if you’ve never done what one of us says, you keep a finger up, but if you have… you put a finger down and take a sh—- hey dickhead!” 

  Eddie’s lips turn sinister around the glass bottle as rogue drops of Crown dribble from his chin. “Ooops,” he says coyly, eyes bigger than Betty Boop’s and already feeling the combined high and drunken stupor take over his body, “were you needing this?” 

  Dragging a hand down his face, Steve sighs, “yeah it’s kinda the whole point of the game, fucker,” 

  “Hey…” Eddie whines, “be nice Stephanie.” 

  With another ten minutes of arguing about Eddie being a jackass and Steve being crabby in hot weather, you all agree to play the game, the loser has to finish the bottle and strip off an item of clothing. 

  “Okay so let’s start this easy,” Steve explained, “never have I ever been arrested.”

  Eddie puts a finger down and scowls, “good one Harrington,” he adjusts his legs and leans back against the frame of the truck, “just because you got away doesn’t mean your ass wasn’t just as guilty as mine.” 

  “Shoulda ran faster,” 

  The boys make annoyed faces at each other and it’s Eddie’s turn, “never have I ever… nope I’ve done that… never have I.. shit.. okay pass! I gotta think.” 

  “Your turn,” he says, passing you the bottle of almost empty liquor.

  “Okay, Uhh..” you hold the bottle with both hands and gently peel back the label with your fingernail, rubbing the sticky residue between your fingers, you rack your brain for something that would get them both, “never have I ever… peed standing up.” 

  The boys roll their eyes, and each put a finger down, “cheap shot,” Steve whines, and glowers when you stick your tongue out at him. 

  “Oh I got one!” Eddie says rubbing his hands together, splaying a wicked grin on his face, “never have I ever, socked Billy Hargrove in the face.”

  You push Eddie’s shoulder and slap his chest playfully, as he laughs like a hyena, “he deserved it!” 

  Steve chokes on his inhale of the passed blunt, “that was you?!” 

  “Fuck yeah it was!” Eddie says proudly, “that’s why she’s banned from the pool.” 

  Laughing at the now funny memory of Billy slapping your ass as you walked by him in your swimsuit. 

  The way Eddie’s fist felt in your hands as you shoved it down, the rage in his eyes as he was ready to beat the bricks off of Billy. 

  The sick twist of his mustache when it formed a grin knowing that Eddie was on his last strike with Hopper and couldn’t defend you. 

  And the satisfying crack of his molars splintering in his gum line when you knocked your fist into his jaw.

  The pain and swollen fingers were worth it. 

  “And I’d do it again,” you say lowering a finger and taking a swig from the bottle, the burn of the liquor barely there now. 

  Steve laughs, a new sense of almost admiration, as he looks at you with his hair in his face, grabbing the joint from Eddie’s fingers and holding it firm between his teeth, “my turn,” he says clearing his throat, “uh..never have I ever… kissed Eddie.” 

  You and Eddie look at eachother and giggle awkwardly around the cloud of dense smoke, but your fingers never budge. 

  “Seriously?” Steve says incredulously, looking from you to Eddie and back to Eddie and then you again, “can’t lie in this game, dude.” 

  Eddie had come close to kissing you on a few occasions. Once in high school at Steve’s party after winning the beer pong tournament, he looked at you the way someone would a lover, wetting his lips and looking at your mouth, but in the end he gave you a bone crushing hug and twirled you around the room. 

  Another time during the 4th of July fireworks last year when you had both smoked two bowls from the pretty pipe he gifted you earlier that year on your birthday.

  The air was warm, just like today, and you leaned your back into his front as you laid lazily on the roof of his van. He was singing a song you were too high to comprehend and when you turned your head into his shoulder and looked up at him. 

  His fingers wrapped around a lock of your hair and you hummed in approval. Snuggling further into him. And the next thing you knew it was nearly dawn and you had fallen asleep. 

  It just never seemed like the right time. 

  “So who’s turn is it?” Eddie said clearing his throat. 

  “Oh n-n-n-n-n-n-no!” Steve said leaning further into the circle, clearly interested to know what’s going on, “we aren’t just gonna skate past this.”

  “Drop it, Steve,” Eddie said all too fast, his boots stretching out to kick at his thigh. 

  The bottle in your hands is suddenly heavy and you set it down with a clunk on the bed of the truck. And you pick hastily at your nails, avoiding two sets of brown eyes. 

  “Fuck it,” Steve says, tongue dancing around his mouth trying to stop a smirk, “I dare you to kiss her.” 

  You're certain your heart stops beating. 

  “Jesus Christ,” Eddie sighs. Running his hand on the back of his neck, his open cut off flannel shirt showing off his tattooed chest. 

  “Y-you don’t have to Eddie, it’s okay…” you say trying to brush the tension off, not noticing the way his hands are fiddling with the ends of his shirt and how his eyes haven’t left you, “but I dare you to.” 

  It could have been the combined high. It could have been the fact that you hadn’t taken your eyes off of Eddie since you parked your bike against his trailer this morning. 

  He was always good looking, in that goofy best friend kind of way. And although your friendship was never normal, Eddie’s hands always searing through your skin like grill marks on a hotdog, it never crossed the boundary into something more. And you’d be lying if you weren’t curious about how his lips would taste. 

  That was all the convincing Eddie needed before he pushed himself up in a fluid motion, balancing on his knees, and leaning back with a second guess, but it’s you who leans up on your knees too, meeting him halfway.  

  His dark curls swing around your face as he gets impossibly closer. “You sure?” he asks, working a finger under the tip of your chin. 

  And your surprised when your nod is followed by soft lips, slipping against yours. 

  He tasted like the liquor you’ve been drinking and matches. Musky, and woodsy. Your tongue swipes against his bottom lip and catches into the corner of his mouth, the brine of sweat on your tongue has you whining into his mouth and he swallows your noises with glee. 

  He shudders when you pull him closer, fingers hooked into the fabric of his shirt. His eager hands holding your face, lips smacking against yours, and for the first time today, it’s not the heat that has your panties wet. 

  Kissing Eddie is like finding money in your jeans after they go through the dryer. It’s easy, and slow, and so fucking good. 

  Seconds, minutes, days? go by before Steve clears his throat and mutters an ahem! 

  Eddie finished the kiss by nudging is nose down the apple of your cheeks and kissing behind your ear. 

  “Fuck…” is all Steve can muster and you bite your lip and sit back down, lips still buzzing with Eddie’s spit still on them. 

  Eddie is smiling and looking at you, eyes drunk on lust. 

  “I— uh, yeah, it’s my turn I guess, ” straightening your back and crossing your legs in a pretzel, you know damn well you’d get at least one finger down from Steve. “Never have I ever… kissed Nancy Wheeler.”

  Steve rolls his eyes and puts a finger down, and when a long finger covered in grease despite the many wipes against denim jeans  also disappears into a fist… a sloppy grin lines Eddie’s mouth as Steve looks like he might throw up. 

  “Are you fuckin’ serious man?” 

  Eddie explains to a butthurt Steve, “let me explain, fuck— it was like a hundred years ago, after junior year, she kissed me!” 

  It was true. 

  Nancy went to Eddie to buy some “forget-‘ems” (Eddie’s coined word for ecstasy) after Jonathan left her for the pretty long haired new boy from California. She was scared and didn’t want to be alone while she took the white pill. Drug use being foreign to her entirely. 

  Eddie? She had asked kindly, unsure about herself for the first time. Take it with me? 

  His long curls bounced as he nodded his head, taking one of the pills from her dainty hands and placing it between his teeth. Tipping his head back with a quick jerk and a rough swallow, hoping it looked cool, he looked into her blue eyes and gave her a grin. 

  It was strange, having the preppy Nancy Wheeler in his trailer with her proper fitting cardigan and light wash skinny jeans. 

  He could tell she was uncomfortable, the normal glow of her skin was lost behind shallow cheeks and dark rimmed eyes, pressed tight with setting powder to try and hide it. 

  maybe she should have had a smaller dose, being that her small frame had never dealt with drugs before. And right when Eddie’s high took over, Nancy Wheeler had started to feel it too.

  She ran around the trailer giggling and feeling the rough edges of the peeling wallpaper. She did flips on Eddie’s bed and spilled cereal all over the kitchen, laughing with dark wide pupil filled eyes. Completely rolling. 

  The high lasted longer than Eddie had thought it would, and she started to cry when thinking about her mom, crying harder when she asked Eddie about his. Forgetting she was gone. 

  She took it a step further by kissing Eddie square on the mouth, wet cheeks and harsh lips pressed to his before he could pull away. And immediately after, Nancy threw up all over his lap. 

  Ending the high and the four hour sudden friendship they had gained. 

  Eddie had told you the story one night when he got too drunk, making you swear to secrecy the next morning that you’d never tell a soul, and you hadn’t. Keeping the pinky promise with your friend all the way to your grave— if he hadn’t just spilled it all to Steve. 

  “See,” you say to try to smooth things over, voice calm and cool through your own high, “no harm no foul, Stevieee,” you chirped, hiding a small giggle behind bit lips. 

  “Really?” Steve spit, flustered and a bit bold trying to mask his hurt with venom. Tongue pressing deep into his cheek and his dark eyes locked on your own, hands tapping onto his bent knees, “then maybe we should even the score, huh?”

  Eddie blows a ring of smoke into the air, following its lazy descent into the dense humid sky. “You wanna kiss Chrissy?” He looks at you with a quizzical expression, laughing at your stunned face, not understanding what Steve is getting at, “be my fucking guest, dude.” 

  “No,” Steve says firmly, not breaking eye contact with you, dark knives of fury peel back each layer of skin, “her.” 

  Eddie says your name in disbelief, and you’re stunned to your core, realizing the air was suddenly much stickier and hotter than before. 

  He sits up straight and leans over the discarded card game, pointing at Steve, eyes narrowed in on him, “you don’t even like her.” 

  “Sure I do,” Steve lies, sniffing loudly, his wicked eyes glance towards Eddie and he licks his lips when he turns his head back to you, eyeing you up and down, as he leans back on his palms, “don’t I, Taffy?” 

  Eddie’s nickname he had given you when you were kids for love of the cavity inducing candy, felt wrong falling from Steve’s mouth, especially in the grim sentiment it was said in. 

  Of course he was referring to the way he had approached you at that party at the lake all those years ago. 

  You could still smell his Acqua Di Gio cologne, the way the sun highlighted his hair that summer, the freckles on the bridge of his nose, the warm beer on his breath. 

  You make a face in disgust towards him, “I’m not kissing you, Harrington.” Crossing your arms in finality as if your words held enough power to command an entire kingdom. 

  Eddie shoves Steve’s shoulder, “what the fuck man,” mixed pleasure of pain and concern painting his face, “don’t be weird.”

  Steve knew how much Eddie liked you, having spent many nights on the roof of his practically abandoned home listening to Eddie through FaceTime over analyzing how to make his move. 

  “‘m not,” he says with a shrug, long fingers tapping against the metal of the truck bed behind him, legs stretched out so the tops of his air forces skim your bent knees, eyeing what he wanted, you. 

  “just trying to get even,” Steve said nonchalantly. 

  “She’s not gonna kiss you,” Eddie said, shaking his head and throwing his hands around, hurt lacing his voice, “give it up.” 

  Steve wiggled the toe of his sneaker against your knee, shooting you a wink, “not until she does.”

  It’s not as if the question hadn’t crossed your mind. It had more times than you’d like to admit. What would it be like to kiss Steve Harrington? 

  “Dude! She doesn’t wanna do it. Fucking leave her alone.” Eddie’s voice was loud and on the cusp of breaking as he pleaded with his friend.

  What would have happened if you fell for his charm instead of turning him down? He was definitely sweet back then, taking your hand in his and guiding you along the rough terrain of the woods. 

  “Let her speak for herself!” 

  Eddie’s eyes fall to yours in desperation, his heart aching for you to tell Steve off, “c’mon, tell him, Taffy.” 

  Pressing your eyes shut tight you can feel Eddie’s hand on your knee, rubbing soft circles in an attempt to remind you that he’s there. 

  “One.”

  “What?”

“What!”

  “Just one kiss, then you need to shut up, got it?” 

  “Taff, you don’t have to do this, we can— we can just get home and I’ll pay him or something.” He’s desperate, willing to do whatever it took to not have this happen. 

  “It’s okay, Eddie, what’s one stupid kiss gonna hurt?” 

  You don’t hear the way he groans and throws himself back against the side of the truck, pinching the corner of his eyes between his fingers trying to ignore Steve’s low chuckle and smirk planted on his face. 

  “C’mon then,” Steve presses, man spreading his legs and patting his lap, “get over here.” 

  You roll your eyes and push yourself up again, “cocky aren’t ya?” 

  “all confidence babe,” he says back, licking his lips, and you roll your eyes again before kneeling in front of him. 

  Eddie groans and kicks at Steve’s leg again. 

  “Sorry dude, just bro code,” he said to Eddie, “and you,” he says addressing you with a nod, “ready?” 

  “Yeah, whatever.” 

  He doesn’t move like Eddie, he’s grabby and rough, taking what he wants and not waiting for cues. He bullies his way into your mouth with his tongue, colliding yours with his and massaging it wildly. It wasn’t bad, just completely different than how you were just kissed by Eddie. When his teeth bite the flesh of your lip you yelp in surprise.

  You turn your head and Steve’s lips trail down your neck, hungry hands grab at your waist and pull you into his lap. Your eyes are closed but his are open, looking at his friend and moving his hand in a wave to beckon him over. 

  A second set of hands is on your shoulders and you feel Eddie’s lips against your neck. 

  “This okay baby?” 

  His breath is hot and stuttering as you reach up and fist your fingers in his hair, your answer muffled by Steve’s mouth. 

  You moan their names, and it drives Eddie wild. 

  Eddie’s hands lower the strap of your tank top scraping your skin with the blunt of his nails. He groans when he sees the absence of a bra strap, diving into your warm skin with a lapping tongue, thrashing slow against your skin, working a strawberry shaped bruise into your skin.

  Steve’s hands are already working to pop the button on your jeans, and you whine when you feel his hard cock beneath your leg. 

  “So fuckin’ pretty,” Eddie breathes as you crane your neck to meet his lips, desperate for your lips to connect with his sgain. 

  His hands fumble on your tank top straps and he groans when his fingers skim over the swell of your tits, you twist his hair in your fingers when his rough hands pinch at your nipples.

  Steve takes his shirt off and tosses it carelessly, his skin is warm on your bare chest as he licks at your exposed neck and earns another moan from you, causing you to whine into Eddie’s mouth and move your hips against his cock. 

  You’re all a tangle of bare chests and sweat coated skin. The boys are barely giving you any time to breathe between open mouth kisses and lazy tongues before the other one commands your attention. 

  “oh, fuck,” Steve whimpers when he works your shorts down, his large fingers find their way into the wet folds of your pussy, “no panties?” 

  Eddie pulls his mouth from yours to let out a desperate groan as your hands unzip his jeans, “shit, all day and no bra or panties,” his hands caress your cheeks and his thumb slips into your mouth open, which you close around him and moan, “you’re a bad girl, huh?” 

  “With the tightest little pussy, fuck,” Steve groans as he pushes a finger into your slick walls. 

  “Mm’mm” you answer them both at once, grabbing needy at Eddie’s cock through his boxer briefs as it flips into your hand, heavy and leaking a pearl of cum from the slit. 

  Noises of all kinds flood the bed of the truck. 

  Wet sloshing from you gushing over Steve’s fingers, him coaxing an orgasm from you as quick as he could, determined to hear your pretty mouth hum. 

Eddie almost in tears as your mouth devours his length  and the head of his cock slides into your throat. 

  The velvet skin of Eddie’s heavy cock slides in and out of your mouth at a slow speed, a small patch of hair rubs on your nose as you take him deeper.

  He’s muttering incoherently and Steve is egging you on. His lips wrapped around your nipples and teeth nipping harshly. 

  “Jesus Jesus sweetheart, Taff— I’m gonna, don’t want to shit shit shit,” you open your mouth and he slides out on accident as you cum all over Steve’s fingers. Sloppy and wet as he rubs at your clit like a DJ. 

  “Thas’it,” he encourages, “so fucking wet, pretty little pussy, yeah, you like this? The two of us giving you what you want huh?” 

  “Yes, Jesus Christ yes!” you’re a blabbing mess, as your high peaks and Eddie spins you away from Steve.

  Steve’s jeans are soaked from you and he’s pitching a tent big enough to host a family reunion. 

  “My turn baby,” Eddie says kissing you sloppy on your lips, “been wantin’ to taste this sweet pussy for years.”

  He helps you lay down on the blanket, making a makeshift pillow with the discarded clothes from the three of you. 

  You’re covered in sweat and more than likely sunburnt in places no one ever should be, but you could care less. Being worshiped by Steve and Eddie had you feeling like the sexiest woman alive, and nothing could compare to the separate high that alone was giving you. 

  Eddie nudges his nose in the crook where your thighs meet, tongue lapping up the pleasure leftover from Steve. “What’d’ya think Stevie boy? Wanna bet I can make her cry?” 

  Steve’s busying himself with unthreading his legs from his jeans, his cock in his hand as he strokes it up and down at the sight of you spread out and naked for them. 

  “You’re on, Munson.”

  Eddie’s tongue was tantalizing. Demon-like against your puffy clit and going further into your pussy than any tongue has before, including Robin’s. 

  His nose pushes up against your clit as he goes deeper, swirling his wicked tongue and slurping your folds into his mouth. 

  You’re buzzing all over. Vibrating from the intense pleasure. Moaning and yanking Eddie’s hair between your fingers as he moves and licks and darts his tongue. 

  Pretty whimpers elicit your body and are swallowed by Steve’s lips, as he hungrily works his tongue into your mouth. The swirling and twirling is all too much.  Their tongues work like hands on a clock and your second orgasm arrives quick fast and in a hurry. The tears spill from your eyes as your writhe and moan beneath them, clawing every inch of their skin. 

  Eddie cleans you up with his tongue holding your hips in place as you shake and try to wiggle away from him. Too sensitive as you lay practically lifeless on the bed of the truck. 

  “Told you,” Eddie says as he sits up, with a sheen of your arousal all over his face. Smiling wide. “I’m just that good.” 

  Steve sits up and tucks his cock back into his boxers, pushing his hair back from his sweat slicked face, “yeah yeah, whatever…” he says, looking out towards the blue sky and the wavering, heat wave horizon, a stupid grin on his lips, “better get dressed sweet girl.” 

  “Thought we were just getting started,” you whine as Eddie kisses his way up your body, laying on his back next to you, his finger threaded with yours. 

  Steve chuckles and points a long finger to the road, “it’ll have to be another time, princess, our ride is almost here.” 

I have a part two partly written .. lemme know what you would think of that?

CHAPTER 2: DOUBLE DOSED

[lawslinger]

𐚁₊ 𓂃 COWBOY id pack  ( req. )

┄⠀NAMES⠀;⠀wilde, county, chase, ryder, james, clyde, colt, east(on), hudson, josh(ua), jack(son), luke, maverick, mason, connor, graves, reid/reed, colt, stevie, riley, jesse, john, arthur, billy, cassidy, anderson, prairie, sundance, will, shep(herd), farmer, hunter, will, sawyer, todd, walt(er), wayne, elliot, chance.

┄⠀PRONOUNS⠀;⠀cow/cows/cowself, cattle/cattles/cattleself, boot/boots/bootself, farmer/farmers/farmerself, sheriff/sheriffs/sheriffself, rev(olver)/revolvers/revolverself, shot(gun)/shotguns/shotgunself, wheat/wheats/wheatself, fence/fences/fenceself, jump/jumps/jumpself, iron/irons/ironself, mustang/mustangs/mustangself, hoof/hooves/hooveself, mount(ain)/mount(ain)s/mount(ain)self, steed/steeds/steedself, barrel/barrels/barrelself, wood/woods/woods, pry/prys/pryself, kick/kicks/kickself, hit/hits/hitself, dirt/dirts/dirtself, gra(ss)/grass(es)/grass(e)self, river/rivers/riverself, dive/dives/diveself, ace/aces/aceself, spur/spurs/spurself, star/stars/starself, poker/pokers/pokerself, hill/hills/hillself, clad/clads/cladself, clash/clashes/clash(e)self, shout/shouts/shoutself, denim/denims/denimself, gold/golden/goldenself, hold/holdem/holdemself, fire/fires/fireself, punch/punches/punch(e)self, sun/suns/sunself, drive/drives/driveself, holdem/holdems/holdemself, ranger/rangers/rangerself.

┄⠀GENDERS⠀;⠀westerngenreic, cowboygender, cowboybodiment, sillycowboyic, classicowboywestin, cowboysapphic, cowboycoric, cowboypet, cowboy/girlish.

© lawslinger.

[shiny-jr]

☀ damnation [ the hyena chieftain ]

– Summary: When you commit a crime, you receive a punishment. This is especially true in your society. No matter the crime, your punishment is the same: banishment. But to where you will be sent in exile and how miserable will it be? No one knows, because no one has ever returned.

– Warning: Yes, this is a yandere thing. Gender-neutral reader.

– Characters: Jack Howl, Ruggie Bucchi, Leona Kingscholar.

– Note: Not much to say right now, just a continuation of transferring the results from the quiz onto here so people can read. Like last time, if you haven’t taken the quiz, please try it! I worked a lot on it. As for now, I’m working on the next batch of results (Scarabia, Pomefiore, Ignihyde, and Diasomnia). Scarabia is a current work in progress, had to part of it because I didn’t like it. 

– Pages: 42

– Not satisfied? Try looking here for the quiz to take it yourself and see where you end up banished!

The King of Hearts   |   The Hyena Chieftain   |   The Diviner 

Wrapped. You were partially wrapped in a thin cool cloth. It was hot, and whatever you woke up on was uncomfortable but was much better than the hard cold benches of the jail. Everything came rushing back in an instant, your crimes, those scowling judges, and the portal that led to your punishment— You were here, the place where you’d live the rest of your life in exile.

Looking around, you thought to yourself, it could be a lot worse. It appeared that you were in some type of room, or a small house, or rather— a cave. The low ceilings were uneven, rocky, reflective and shiny with dew. The hard cold floor was uneven, and looking down, you could see that you lay atop a dirty old mattress with no bed frame. The mattress was just on the floor, there were even a couple of springs cutting through the corners. Thankfully there was light thanks to an old broken lamp in the corner, lit by a flame instead of electricity. The few shelves on the wall were stock full of pots and pans and silverware, and just a few feet away there was a small stone stove. Looks like you ended up in someone’s house. But who’s? And why?

As you jumped up on your feet, you realized that the cloth you were swaddled in was not a blanket for this bed, but a gray wrap that stretched from your left shoulder to the right side of your hip, the cloth held in place by a thin belt around your waist. Attached to the belt was a scabbard, and inside was a curved dagger you curiously examined in the palms of your hands, covered in long fingerless brown gloves. This knife might be useful to keep on you. You never know when things might get dangerous. Tucking the weapon back in its place, you returned your attention to the rest of your outfit. Underneath your wrap, you wore an extremely loose fitted sleeveless brown tunic that could just barely be seen, with matching cargo pants and worn boots.

“Hey, boss! Guess who got a great haul?”

Surprised by the sudden voice, you looked up only to see a short guy barreling into the room, past the curtains that served as a barrier, with an armful of goods. You weren’t too focused on whatever he was carrying, you were distracted by something else attached to his head and lower back. Ears, and a tail. The guy had fluffy but messy brown hair that faded into a sandy blonde, his semi-round ears were brown and his short tail matched his hair color. Were those the characteristics of a dog or a cat…? More important, why had he called you boss?

His downturned eyes, gray in color, peered up at you as he dropped all of his goodies on the mattress you were just asleep on moments ago. Flashing a proud grin, he rummaged through the pile as he explained, “Bunch of tourists from afar were on their way to the kingdom. Lucky for us, they took a wrong turn and ended up on our land. I mean, look at all this cheddar! Coins, jewelry, clothes, oh, and check it out–– rations! There’s a bunch more where this came from. And don’t worry, we split up all the stuff like you told us.”

As he sorted through the various objects, you pried your eyes away from his animal features and noticed his gloves were torn, old and rugged from what must’ve been countless times being worn. In the spots that were torn through, his hands looked rough and damaged from work. Curiously you stepped closer, scanning the pile, “There’s no gloves…?”

“Nah, I went through everything before we split it and sent them to the different ends with the guys to hand out.” Tossing aside some cans, he inquired, “Why? You lookin’ for some?” Actually, now that you were looking at him, you realized most if not all of his clothes were most likely stolen. The white cotton tunic was browning with age and was several sizes too big on his thin form, the large gray pants he wore were held up by a belt similar to yours that held a knife, and he had a dark brown shawl long enough to wrap around his shoulders and extend down his sides.

You still weren’t entirely sure what was going on, but as you looked down at your hands, it became evident that this guy needed these accessories more than you did. Peeling off the long brown gloves from your palms, you outstretched your hands and watched as he hesitantly, confusedly, placed his palms against your own. Removing his old gloves, you replaced them with your own. They matched his shawl. “If you don’t want to throw away your old ones, then save the material to make something else.”

“Really? For me? Seriously, you’re always giving me your things…” Eyeing the new gloves on his hands, he tugged on the material, seemingly content with the new pair. Raising an eyebrow, he eyed you suspiciously, “Spit it out, what job do you want me to do?”

Job? Right, so it seemed like this guy thought you were his boss and he was the subordinate. But it wasn’t just an ordinary gig being run here. Based on what he said before, these people stole if not for a living, then probably very often. And it was a large number of thieves that included himself, and you were their leader…? This was getting too confusing. “Look, I think you’re getting things wrong.” Clear things up now. “I’m not––”

“Is bringin’ ya the news good enough to pay you back? Because I heard a lot of it from those tourists and from locals in the pride lands. Come on, let’s walk while we talk.” Gesturing you to follow, you hesitantly did, and what you saw outside surprised you.

It was the slums. The little house you had been in, was inside of a huge cave system that housed multiple other rooms and even rooms outside in the sun. The environment was rocky, hot, and barren, but there were still countless people about. People like this guy, with fur-covered ears and tails, in rags and worn clothing. Clothes were being washed in huge bins by groups and hung to dry on lines, there was another group over fires cooking bits of food and collecting cans, and various other jobs being done. However, what caught you off guard, was that each person smiled at you and greeted you merrily, calling you boss, as if they had known you for years. Then, they also greeted the guy beside you. Ruggie, they called him.

“So here’s the deal, it’s not looking good on food for the week. We scavenged and sent some fishermen to the far end of the river, we even got some more people than usual at the markets in the kingdom making the usual food runs. But with King Falena making random rounds with his soldiers, we’re risking the chance of our guys getting caught.” Rolling his eyes at the mention of this king, Ruggie scoffed, muttering in annoyance, “Falena’s a dad now, why can’t he just go waste his time playing dear old daddy for that dumb little spoiled brat of his?! That’d make things so much easier for us, you know?”

A king and a land of hungry… Why did this seem familiar? You looked back at the guy beside you and his animal ears and tail. Almost everyone else here had similar appendages. What animal were they…?

“Oh, and before I forget, that Prince Leona was skulking around the borderlands again. Says he wants to talk to you, told me to tell you that myself. Gave a time and everything, talk about conceited.” Annoyed at the memory, he folded his arms behind his head and huffed, “You know, I kinda hate that guy. He’s always trying to boss me around, as if I work for him. Lions, am I right?”

A lion…? A lion prince, and an impoverished community… That… That sounded like the story of the Lion King. A story you used to read a lot when you were a kid. It was about a powerful and majestic lion that ruled over the savanna, and eventually his queen had a son who became heir and next in line for the throne. However, the majestic king had a prince brother who desired the throne more than anything. So, in secret the second prince met with the frowned upon hyenas that lived in the outskirts of the kingdom where there was little food and little water. The second prince befriended the hyenas and with the promise of being allowed into the land of plenty, plotted to overthrow his brother with the help of the hyenas. His plan succeeded, partially, as he murdered his elder brother but his prince nephew escaped. Only years later, after a short harsh rein under the cruel second prince, did the young prince return, now grown. The young prince took back the throne after a duel, and the second prince fell to his demise as the very hyenas he allied himself with, turned against him when the second prince attempted to blame them for the entire ordeal.

“Rightttt…” You responded quietly, not really paying that much attention to him because you were currently trying to piece together what you knew and what was going on. “... What time did he give you?”

“Who? The prince?” Ruggie stopped to look up at the sun, analyzing the angle of the light and length of the shadows with the position of the sun. Slowly he shrugged, “I’d say in ‘bout… few minutes actually. You’re not actually thinking of going, are you?”

The prince… This was a possible lead to… well, something, wasn’t it? Nodding to yourself, you answered confidently, “Yeah, I am, actually. Lead the way, will you?”

A sigh escaped past his lips as his shoulders sagged and he shoved his hands into his pockets. It seemed he was considering it, like he even wanted to say no, but finally he relented and threw up his hands. “You wanna see that stuck-up guy? Go for it. You’re the boss, you know what you’re doing.”

Yeah, you totally don’t know what you’re doing at all. Going with the gut feeling at the moment, and apparently your gut thought you should meet this prince, whoever he was. So you followed Ruggie as he obediently led the way through the dirt streets.

So wait, did that mean that this Ruggie guy and the rest of those people in the community were supposed to be the hyenas? Glancing at his animal characteristics, you could totally see it now. The fluffy ears and the short tail with brown or black colors, they were definitely the frowned upon hyenas of the story. Which meant that the majestic king was King Falena who Ruggie beside you off-handedly mentioned earlier, and his son was the kid prince that would one day rule the land after the tragedy. And finally, the villain of the story, the cruel and calculating second prince, brother of the majestic king… was this Prince Leona that wanted to meet you.

If you got all that right, then one of those outlandish rumors about where prisoners were banished to, was actually right! What a weird punishment, to be transported to the animal equivalent of Hamlet. At least they weren’t actually animals, just people with animal traits?

Now, considering all that, the rumors and information you had so far, what role did you play? It was obvious that the hyena folk didn’t see you as just some random human stranger that popped out of the sky and fell onto their land. No, they held you in high regard, like a person in power, despite not having their animal traits and you not knowing a single one of them. There was this one rumor your crazy aunt used to rave on and on about whenever a trial was broadcasted. Now it made sense as to the reason she always read you bedtime stories about good guys and bad guys, was precisely because she firmly believed that theory she always talked about. She truly believed that criminals would somehow end up in fantasy tales, and die in those tales. Maybe she wasn’t crazy after all. She actually had it right on the money. Wait—

Did that mean you were going to die here? Nervously you looked over at Ruggie, who seemed completely content with walking in silence, as he led you through dry rugged lands of cliffs and stone.

As you walked beside him, careful of where you stepped, you replayed the whole story in your mind. You were with the hyenas, they called you boss, so were you… the hyena clan leader? The clan leader was respected by the rest of the hyenas, she called the shots, and dealt directly with the second prince when negotiating. It was also her who overheard the second prince betraying them when confronted by the kid prince after he returned. Then, she and the rest of her kin, attacked and killed the royal that betrayed them. Queen shit, but what happened to her after? It never clarified, since the story revolved around the kid prince and how he restored the savanna to its former glory once he reclaimed the throne. If you had to guess, she and the rest of the hyenas were probably forced into the outskirts once again, where there were little resources to live off of.  There was no immediate death for her, no violence that ended her life, but she was surrounded by poverty, starvation, and lack of water until the day she died. That was still a horrible way to die…

The ending never sat particularly right with you as a kid. Surely all the hyenas weren’t bad, so why were they all driven away while all the lions got to live in the land of milk and honey? It didn’t make much sense, considering the main villain was a selfish lion too. You for one, did not want to settle with the destined ending already set in place.

If we’re going according to the plot, then this must be when the second prince initiates first contact with the hyenas and begins to gain their trust to use in the plotted coup against his elder brother. As you got near the top of a few cliffs, on one side were the slums you just emerged from, and on the other side was vast greenery as far as the eye could see with a large colorful vibrant city. Two completely different worlds, separated just by cliffs.

From your spot this high up, you could see various animal-like folk. Yet the most common had golden ears and a shiny mane, wearing just as shiny gold and jewels with fabulous garbs, living in huge houses no-doubt furnished entirely with fine objects and appliances. In a way, the huge gap between the rich and the poor reminded you of home, and not in a good way. You scowled at the abundance these lion-folk had, while thinking of the misery the hyena folk lived in. It really was no wonder that the hyena clan leader had willingly helped in a coup, if it meant her people would finally get a piece of the wealth. The scowl grew on your lips as you spat, “Eat the rich.”

“Hear, hear!” Ruggie threw his head back and laughed, but it was a sort of desolate laugh, not one of happiness. And it was obvious as to why it came out like that as he eyed the bountiful city down below. “If it weren’t for them, you’d be the ruler of this land, you know. Doesn’t that seem great? Getting to live life without worrying when your next meal will be or if there’s even enough water to drink?”

Resuming your trek behind Ruggie, you slowly nodded along to his words. “Yeah, that sounds like a dream to be honest…” But the hyenas eventually succeeded in becoming part of the savanna. However, it doesn’t last long before the savanna becomes a desolate wasteland. Perhaps it couldn’t support both the lions and hyenas, but stories liked to claim that the hyenas just consumed far too much due to their greed. If things did go according to the story, then you would have to find a way to prevent the land from becoming barren and lifeless.

Just as you reached the top of the cliff, you and Ruggie roamed the high grounds until you spotted something. Or rather, someone.

They were a towering figure, if you had to describe them, he looked like the most intimidating bouncer to stand at the entrance to the most exclusive club. Perfectly fitting the body-guard type, he must’ve been security for the second prince. He looked to be on the younger side but he had to be over six feet tall, and with a muscular build like that, you feared that he’d easily be able to take on both you and Ruggie if things went south.

His attire was unlike yours, it was dark brown thick fabric with colorful orange and red vibrant patterns over his torso, that were mostly concealed by bronze and gold plates over his shoulders and chest. And in his hands, he held a long sharpened spear. Yup, definitely a guard. It became obvious that he noticed you, because his golden-brown eyes became laser focused on you and your companion. His ears–– among his wild mess of white hair that contrasted against the healthy bronze glow of his skin, were white pointed wolf-like ears, standing upright in attention. That’s when you noticed his long bushy tail too.

Yeah, that’s a white wolf, but there were no white wolves in the story…? Additionally, he looked nothing like Ruggie, who was short with his brown and blonde hair and beige skin, that easily allowed him to blend in with the rocky environment. Were you wrong? Was this not a story?

The wolf guy eyed you and Ruggie with suspicion before stamping the dull end of his spear against the ground and barked, “The prince approaches! His highness wants–– er… is requesting an audience with… you.” He pointed at you with his spear.

Inexperienced. You were right, the guard was young and he doubted himself with that last line. You exchanged glances with Ruggie, who must’ve been thinking the same thing as you, because he covered his mouth and whispered,

“Newbie. Fresh meat.”

You cracked a bit at that last bit, a very short and brief laugh nearly escaping your lips, to which Ruggie only grinned at before lowering his hand. The guard did not seem to appreciate the laughter in response, because his ears flattened back a bit and his frown deepened in embarrassment as he chastised, “I heard that! You disrespectful–– If you have dignity, you would respect the prince!”

“Why should I? He’s a lion, he’s definitely not my prince.” Crossing his arms, Ruggie took amusement in the wolf’s annoyance. So he continued cockily, “Yeah, we know who he is. He’s just like all those other lions, lazy, arrogant, you name it.”

The guard looked like he wanted to retaliate, but you weren’t sure if he wanted to go about it physically or verbally as he clenched his fists and gritted his sharp canines. You sent a look over at Ruggie to which he zipped his lips and offered a half-assed apologetic shrug that was directed more to you than to the wolf.

Just before you could find out if this wolf would act on impulse, a figure you hadn’t even noticed appeared from the shadows of the cliff.

“Don’t let them get to you, Jack. They enjoy seeing you all flustered.”

Immediately you whipped your head towards the approaching figure, wondering how they were so quiet. How long had they been there? When he stepped out of the shadows, you were immediately blinded by the jewels and beads wrapped around his neck and wrists. Even his red agbada was decorated with golden and orange linings, highlighting his wealth even further, as if the rare accessories weren’t enough. A mane, a long brown mane just slightly darker than his cool umber tone, was nearly enough to hide his own animal traits. Almost. You could make out the shape of large cat-like ears and a long thin tail that hung limply. A lion. This could only be Prince Leona, the second prince.

Turning his predatory green-eyed gaze over to you and your companion, he faked mock dejection before an amused type of grin appeared on his tired face. “We lions can’t be that bad. Try not to lump me in with them.”

You stood a distance away with Ruggie, carefully eyeing the prince. Right over his left eye, was a lengthy scar. At the moment he seemed… alright, but if you were right about this world’s events following the plot of the story, then this prince was to be feared. The second prince was cunning, calculating, and cruel. Very nearly did he succeed in everything. He murdered his elder brother, he completed the coup, he won over the hyenas, he became king. The only thing that went astray in his near-perfect plan, was the escape of his nephew that allowed the cub to grow and eventually become strong enough to regain the throne. That was the second prince’s one mistake that led to his demise. Slowly, albeit unsurely, you nodded your head in acknowledgement of his presence.

“Chief.” Leona nodded back regally, his curved charming smile keeping you on your toes. “I’m surprised you accepted the invitation. I didn’t think you would come. I thought maybe you’d send your little lapdog for you.”

Glancing at Ruggie, you noted his irritated frown, but the comment didn’t appear to dig into him too much. You’d have to choose your words carefully. Afterall, this was a prince you were dealing with. These were practically diplomatic issues, one misstep could bring trouble. But, luckily, you knew how things would go, and you had a rough idea of how the second prince would react according to the story’s plot. Even if things did go astray, not everyone would jump to defend the second prince. It’s said he was disliked by nearly everyone in his home kingdom.

Turning your attention back to the said royal, you responded calmly with an even smile, “I thought maybe the prince would have better manners and better brains than to just openly offend one of my own. Do you know what we do to royalty that step out of their kingdom?”

Once those words left your mouth, Jack bared his teeth and pointed his spear at you, bending his knees and shifting into a fighting stance.

However, Leona’s amusement at your retort quickly faded as he appeared unimpressed at his guard’s action. “Easy, boy. Relax.” Once the wolf begrudgingly lowered his spear and resumed his standing position, the prince shrugged, “It’s true, it’s not much of an invitation from me since we are still on your land. Forgive my impertinence, won’t you, chief? Where are my manners? I shall practice my curtsy next time I greet the ruler of the hyenas.”

At his sarcasm and dramatic curtsey, you gave a quick chortle. “Flattery won’t get you anywhere, you know.”

“I realize that, which is why I’ve come with an offering.” Leona snapped his fingers, gesturing to his bodyguard.

You hadn’t even noticed but Jack was carrying a bulky knapsack which he removed off his back at the sound of the prince’s snap. Zipping it open, he dumped all the contents of the bag onto the space between himself and the royal. Shaking it to make sure it was empty, he then tossed the bag aside, leaving a sizable pile of canned rations and packed goods. The metals and reflective packaging shone in the sun, tempting the hyena beside you.

Holding out your arm, you stopped Ruggie from jumping into the pile of food, shaking your head at his hands itching to snatch up every single object he could carry. This was it, you realized. This was how he befriended the hyenas and earned their trust. He bore gifts they desperately needed in the name of good-will, and only later did he reveal his plot that required their assistance. It wasn’t a friendship, it was something akin to a treaty. A treaty that would one day be torn to shreds the moment he betrays the hyena-folk. When you looked up, everyone was watching you, waiting to see what you would do. It felt as if the lion was patiently biding his time until you fell into his trap.

The plot was moving forward. Leona needed the hyenas, he couldn’t complete the coup all on his own. So either way, with or without your approval, he would win the majority of the hyena-folk by his false good-will. You could reveal to Ruggie and the others that you weren’t who they thought you were, but that didn’t work before. Even if it did work this time, what then? Would they turn on you? Would they accept you but lower your standing in the ranks? Or would you be banished, die stranded in a hot desert where the vultures would peck at your remains? There was that option, or… you could stay and play the role of chieftain of the clan. Then, with your knowledge of the story, you could alter the course of the future, get rid of the kid prince and keep the kingdom from declining once the hyenas arrived, and live the rest of your life in the beautiful land of plenty. To be honest, that last option sounded way better than the first.

Clearing your throat, you began, “I see what you’re doing here, Prince Leona. Offering food with a smile, waiting for us to eat out of your hand like obedient mutts so you can save us in your backpocket for something… devious. I respect that.” Focusing your gaze on the surprised prince, you once again flashed another smile before nodding to Ruggie, to which the hyena immediately dove forward to claim the offering. “But if you want our trust, or are trying to fool us, it’s going to take a lot more than that.”

In an instant, Ruggie had shoved every single ration and good back into the sack. Once done, he threw it over his shoulder and merrily gave a salute, jogging backwards until he was right back at your side. “Pleasure doing business!”

“Distribute that when we get back.” You murmured to the hyena, then averting your attention back to the important matter at hand. The prince. Giving him a thankful nod, you began to take your leave, following after your energetic companion, but not without bidding your goodbye, “Prince Leona, and Jack, was it? I look forward to next time. And next time, try not to underestimate us.”

At your words, Leona merely scoffed, his smile gone as he warned slowly, “Oh no, perhaps you shouldn’t underestimate me. But for now… Be well, little chieftain.”

✧   ✧   ✧   ✧   ✧

By the second visit, a week had passed.

In that week, you had begun to get a feel for what this role you took over required. It may have seemed like an attractive role, to be a clan leader beloved by many, but it was tiring and grueling work. It required hard labor, there wasn’t a moment you weren’t busy either with tasks directly for the clan or by solving disputes within the community. Directing the groups of expert pick-pockets and looters to areas of the prosperous kingdom where King Falena was least likely to appear on his rounds, assisting in separating and handing out the stolen goods when the group returned, collecting foraged foods to cook with a group designated to prepare meals with the little they had, that was only a small list of responsibilities you had somehow managed to successfully deal with since arriving. The meals you had were not full course ones, but it was just enough to get by on, but not enough to keep you full since you’d wake up every morning with an aching hunger.

As you climbed up the cliff to the meeting spot designated by the prince who once again sent word through Ruggie, you were followed by said hyena. The guy was really a huge help around here, it was no wonder that everyone in town loved him, even if he was conniving, he only really ever plotted against the lion-folk.

In your head, you went over the story for the umpteenth time. You couldn’t remember any other specific reason the second prince would visit again unless he was trying to further build the foundation of trust. To be honest, you had been so busy trying to complete your work and blend in the past few days, that you had forgotten about the prince for a while. Until now that is. When you arrived at the meeting spot, Jack and Prince Leona were already there waiting.

As soon as the lion’s green gaze landed on you, a smile appeared on his face. You didn’t like his smile. It was the type of smile that felt like it was hiding something, it felt like more of a grin or a smirk. But perhaps that’s just the way he smiled. “Why, if it isn’t the chieftain descending from on high to meet me? Or shall I say, ascending from down low.” His gaze flickered to the run-down abodes down below.

“Haha, uh-huh, watch it, Prince.” You raised your gaze to meet his, having to look up at him as he casually strolled past you. Getting close enough that you worried he might try something. “Let’s speak privately. You seemed to doubt my sincerity last time, so let me try again. Jack.” Turning to face his personal guard that approached when summoned, Leona gestured to the wolf and continued, “Take him. You have him for one week. Use him as you like. Through intense labor, guarding, whatever. He’ll serve you well, just try not to use him for your little thieving parties. If caught, I’d rather not have to explain to the court why my own guard was working hand-in-hand with you hyenas, stealing from citizens of the kingdom. He’s a good guard, comes from the northern continent, new and naive but he has enough strength to overpower some of my brother’s own guards. But I laid claim to him before Falena could.”

You eyed the muscular guard up and down, looking at Ruggie who appeared just as caught off guard as you were. When your companion met your gaze, he shrugged, looking uncertain. Turning your attention back to the guard, you crossed your arms and inquired, “And what’s your say on this, big guy? You’re really okay being left here for a week in this wasteland?”

Those big pointed ears of his perked up as he peered down at you, looking the tiniest bit astonished that you would even ask his opinion on this matter. Actually, you were a little offended, because you could clearly tell he was surprised.

“I’m not gonna take you if you don’t want to come. Please, I am not as savage as your royal master here.”

That slight smirk on Leona’s face and lack of denial spoke volumes.

Jack nodded, hesitantly bowing his head in respect as he answered, “I’d be honored to be part of any deal to mend relationships between the hyena-folk and the rest of the kingdom.”

Ah. Now it all made sense. That’s how Leona was painting it out to be to his loyal guard. In reality, what Jack said wasn’t that far from the truth. Hyenas would become part of the kingdom, but probably in not the manner he expected it to happen.

“Well, that settles it, doesn’t it, chieftain?”

“I guess it does.” Shifting your attention from Leona and with one more glance at Jack, you resisted the urge to laugh at the wolf’s slowly wagging tail and determined expression. Poor guy really thought he was going to make a meaningful difference, when he was all just a pawn in the prince’s plot… “Ruggie, take Jack down to the town and show him the ropes. Give him a job that won’t get us in trouble with the king.”

Your subordinate side-eyed the guest who was looking at him expectantly, before frowning and finally waving at him to follow. “C’mon, let’s get outta here and let them talk boring politics. I’ll show you around then tell you where you’ll be working the rest of the day.”

You watched the two take their leave and head back down to the town, ignoring the way Leona purposefully stepped closer. So close that his thick locks nearly brushed against your nose when he turned to walk away. “As he said, let’s talk politics.” You watched as he sat on a large rock conveniently placed under the shade of the higher cliffs, and he gestured for you to do the same. So you sat across from him on another rock, and continued with your inquiry, “Why are you so incessant on gaining our trust?”

“Hm, I wonder…” He hummed, pulling out a bag that was hidden behind the very rock he sat on. Without any explanation as to what was inside, he dropped it at your feet. You had a decent guess as to what it was. Supplies. “Here you are. Now, I’ll be taking my leave––”

Watching him get up, you remained seated and merely murmured, “If you won’t answer me, you won’t receive my trust. Trust is a two way street, you know? So if you tell me what it is you want, we might actually make progress today instead of just ending at another standstill.” When he stood still, you murmured with a confident smile, “You want the throne, don’t you?”

Those tired green eyes carefully studied you before he grinned with equal confidence and muttered, “You aren’t the real chieftain, are you?” You slipped up and froze, your expression dropping, and that’s when he knew he had you. “The real chieftain wouldn’t take the initiative to extend conversation with me, or have the confidence to tease. And yet, the hyenas appear to treat you the same. I wonder if they have realized, hm?”

A standstill once again. You felt your throat dry, uncertain how to respond. He had you, but you had him. If you revealed his secret, then he could be banished from his homeland or worse, and he’d never ever get to sit on the throne. If he revealed your secret, you may be a goner, there was still that slim chance that the hyenas would turn on you. When he didn’t sit down, you gulped and hesitantly tried, “Your brother… what would he say?”

“You would tell him? Oh, how the thought of my big brother knowing makes me quiver with fear.” He mockingly hissed, chuckling at the end. “Falena knows I wish to be king, he just cannot comprehend the things I would do to attain the crown. Even if you could reach him, why would he have any reason to believe the word of a lowly being from the hyena clan? Is it not as you said? Trust is a two-way street.” A smirk curled on his lips, revealing his unnaturally sharp canines. “Let’s establish a bit of trust between us, little chieftain. You must know, I mean no disrespect. I have a certain… respectfor those that try so hard to be on par with me.”

You watched him carefully, feeling your nerves rise until he slowly sat back down. Only then could you breathe a sigh of relief, but you didn’t, because you had to keep your guard up around him. You couldn’t allow another little thing to slip, and give him the upperhand. Meeting his tired green eyes that never once strayed away from your form, you admitted, “I just want to survive.”

For a moment, he was quiet, looking you up and down, analyzing you as he slowly leaned against the larger stone behind him where he rested one arm. “Life's not fair, is it, my deceitful friend? I’d gamble and say wherever you’ve come from, whatever your circumstances, they were not much better than they are now, are they?”

The trial and your banishment immediately came to mind once his words reached your ears. You averted your gaze downward and frowned as you thought of how cruelly you were tossed out of the community, how they did not care what would happen to you now. And then there was everything beforehand, your personal grapples and struggles with the rigid rules of that society. It left a bitter taste on your tongue. Somehow, it's as if Leona sensed your anger and hate boiling inside. It might actually be similar to himself, perhaps that’s why he one day snapped and decided that what he desired most far outweighed the lives of those few who loved him.

At your silence, he continued, “While some are born to feast, others spend their lives in the dark, begging for scraps. The way I see it… you and I, are exactly the same. We both want to find a way out, and that way is through what my brother has.”

Your eyes shifted back up to his neutral expression. You knew what was coming. But, you were curious, “Why confide in us? Why not just challenge the king in the duel? You do have that right, since you're from royal blood just like him. Ritual combat is the easy way out, isn’t it?” You already partially knew of the answer to this, but maybe now, under these changed and special circumstances, he would give up more information.

At that, he scoffed, appearing irritated as he replied, “You think facing Falena is the easy way out? Tsk. I’d call you a fool, but you clearly aren’t that. Just ignorant at times. I wouldn’t dream of challenging him again.” Leaning forward, he folded his hands together, and then his mood began to change. That vexed frown began to steadily shift into an eager grin, an ominous one that showed hunger. Not a gluttonous hunger for food or drink or anything of that sort, it was a hunger for power, and the second prince was starved of it. “Unfortunately, I don’t have the mighty strength his royal highness has. But, I do have something he does not best me in: brains.”

There it is. The proposal. This was it.

Leona turned his head to the horizon, noting the direction of the sun that was beginning to fall, day was turning to night. Gazing at the colorful sky with you silently observing as you remained in his company. “I believe I should be going.”

What? You watched incredulously as Leona stood from his seat and stretched his arms over his head, opening his jaw to let out a big old yawn. What lax behavior for a prince. And what was his deal? Cutting things off when things were just getting good! You felt like you just watched the most anticipated episode of a soap opera only for it to end on a cliffhanger at the huge climax, but also… it felt like he finally moved the knife away from your throat, metaphorically speaking. It felt like he was doing this on purpose, so his words would haunt you until the day he returned. “That’s it?”

Noting your frown, the prince gave a lazy grin as his arms swung back against his sides. “Don’t be too depressed. I’ll be back in a few days for my guard, and to continue these talks with you. And I won’t hold your little secret over your head, as long as you don’t hold mine against me. I have a very interesting proposition that you and your kin will love, one I��m sure we can all agree to without the use of our secrets. But until next time, consider to what lengths you’d go for yourself… and your clan, of course.” Nodding his head to you in acknowledgment, he turned away and began his trek back home, but not before leaving you with these thoughts weighing heavy on your head, well over an armful of supplies to carry home, and those familiar parting words, “Be well, little chieftain.”

✧   ✧   ✧   ✧   ✧

Over the next few days, not only had Leona’s words truly haunted you and prevented you from getting sleep at night, but you also had to keep watch over the wolf on top of your usual duties.

But surprisingly, Jack fit in just fine. You weren’t sure what to expect from the guy in the first place, considering he was pretty out of place in this setting and you still had no idea what role he played in the original tale. Yet somehow, he seemed to fit right in, swiftly handling chores that would usually take multiple people hours long to complete, getting along with the village children running about and mischievously attempting to trip him up, and beginning to look up to the conniving Ruggie. Everyone was incredibly weary that a palace guard was among the community, some even questioned your decision, but when he showed he was useful, he was gladly accepted. Most even thought he was humble and pretty amusing for such a tough guy to be so dedicated to following your right-hand hyena.

Speaking of following… You had caught the wolf stalking you on multiple occasions, but never outright admitting he was tailing after you. Had you been had? Was Jack actually instructed to spy on you by that second prince? No, there was no way. Jack had rigid morals and stooping so low as to spy under the guise of a diplomatic deal to mend relations would definitely go against those morals. Although you did have to admit, it was pretty funny to see him try and sneak around to shadow you when he stuck out like a sore thumb.

One day, in the middle of his stay, you were startled to find him outside of your room, so alarmed that you mistook him for someone else with the lack of brown hyena appendages, that you nearly brought out your dagger to strike. Only for him to greet you good morning rather enthusiastically, confusing you with the change of attitude from him. It was different from what you were used to. Ruggie was fairly quiet in the mornings, he was much kinder, at least to you and those he cared for, so he’d greet you with a dopey smile and sparkle in those downturned eyes. Jack, however, was not like that. His greeting was reminiscent of that of a soldier at morning salute, not smiling but still full of energy. Then he’d only take his leave once you informed him where you would be throughout the day.

Then came the unexpected acts of service. Whenever you required assistance with a chore or had to send word out, the hyenas would listen to your commands obediently. But Jack took that to a whole other level. Whenever he had completed his tasks, he’d come to you, taking up the role of subordinate much to Ruggie’s annoyance. The only way you could get the wolf off your back and to stop him from taking over your own chores, was to give him a list of more tasks that was hopefully enough to keep him busy for the next few hours. Yet somehow despite all that, it never was enough to stop him.

At dinner time when most of the clan sat down to eat at the center of the village, he’d serve you and proudly explain that he helped hunt and gather food for the day! Just when you thought you could get away after eating, you’d be dead wrong. Because somehow, Jack would find you, and escort you home, despite your insistence that you didn’t need a personal guard to walk you home. It had only been one day, but the guy was already starting to get on your nerves. How did Leona even deal with him?

So when you were greeted by him on the final day of his stay, you decided to cut things off here.

“Look, Howl, answer me this. Why are you so insistent and respectful all of a sudden?” You crossed your arms, eyeing him warily as you continued your small interrogation. “Didn’t you nearly attack me and Ruggie the first time we met? You seemed like you hated us, so why the change? Huh?”

At your words, his ears flattened in shame and he averted his gaze down to the uneven ground, looking like a kicked puppy. “I misjudged you and your clan, I’m sorry… I’ve been trying to make it up to you.”

“What?”

“I’ve been watching you, and you’re a respectable leader, more than most give you credit for.” Did he not realize how weird that first line sounded? “I have to apologize. I fell for the rumors without knowing anything about you, and that was wrong. In the kingdom, they don’t exactly say the most… flattering things about you and the others. But they’re dead wrong!” At his sudden exclamation, your eyes widened and you stared at him as he continued his rave angrily, as if he were the one being whispered about. “You aren’t some mangy stupid rude crook! You’re fair, selfless, and diligent! And all the hyena-folk starving and living like this… they don’t deserve it!!”

“Are you done?” You frowned at his outburst, waiting until he pursed his lips together and silently nodded. His fluffy white tail hanging limply behind him. Well, he was sincere, even if everything he said wasn’t true, at least about you. You weren’t all those good things he said, you were just doing this to survive, to save and later improve your own life. However, if accepting his apology meant you would finally get some breathing room, then you had no choice but to accept. “It’s alright. You’re forgiven. Besides, complaining isn’t going to help us in any way. If that weren’t the case, you’d hear me complaining all the time.”

Jack remained quiet, slowly nodding, “You’re right… Which is why I’m going to help for as long as I can!” He what…?Looking even more determined than before, he gazed down at you and confided, “You’ll be striking up a deal with my boss, won’t you, chieftain? Now I know why he’s so incessant on sending rations every once in a while! And the king… he wouldn’t approve so that’s why he’s gotta do it in secret!”

Yeah, no, Leona was most definitely not sending supplies out of the pure goodwill of his heart.

“I want to stay here with you, and help out as much as I can! Until people won’t go hungry anymore!”

“Uh-huh…” You muttered, noticing his slowly wagging tail. He was getting way too worked up over this. “Don’t you know, if the king heard you say all that stuff, then you’d be a traitor? Hyenas and lions are sworn enemies. You’d lose everything. The only reason you’re currently not labeled as a traitor by the state, is because your boss has you here in secret.”

“I know… but Leona wants to help you guys out too, doesn’t he?”

The answer to that was… debatable. “Sure, let’s just say we both might help each other out. Why?”

“Then… I’m swearing my loyalty to you!”

You froze, stunned into silence. Without even needing to ask why, he answered.

“You know I’m from the north. I’m from a small village, a poor one. Not as poor at this one, but I know what it’s like to be in need. This place needs my help, more than the king and his kingdom do, even more than Prince Leona. So I’m going to do all I can until everyone has enough to eat and drink.” Stepping closer, you winced a bit at the rapid wagging of his tail that created a slight wind and you did not miss the instance his pointed ears perked up straight in attention. “Leona doesn’t need my help, he’s honestly stronger than me… but that doesn’t mean I’m weak! I can be useful!”

Yeah, you know. You witnessed a sparring match with him yesterday where he was able to take on five of your own men and women. Actually, with everything he’s saying now, it all made sense as to why as soon as he was victorious in yesterday’s match, he looked in your direction as if expecting praise. Total sense. Even if you did reject his pledge, you had a feeling he wasn’t exactly the type to take no for an answer.

“I’ll be your guard now, boss!” He was looking down at you expectantly again with those sparkling eyes.

Jack really had no clue what he was getting himself into, did he? You merely sighed, not willing to sit here and listen to his reasoning all morning. “Okay, you know what? Fine. Jack, welcome to the clan. Just don’t expect me to be the one to break the news to your now former boss.”

✧   ✧   ✧   ✧   ✧

“Chief!”

You stirred, groaning as you begrudgingly opened your eyes, stretching out on the rough mattress and shivering from the cold of the windy outskirts. When you glanced to the side, there was Ruggie, crouching at your bedside and looking both wide-awake and alert. Blinking slowly, you muttered, “What is it, Ruggie?”

“There’s a spy! We’ve been had, boss, but they’re still around. We got them surrounded, so they’re not going anywhere.” The hyena watched as you immediately sat up, giving you space to place on your boots and grab some weapons.

You grabbed a few things, whatever seemed useful and small enough to carry on your person. Something like this hasn’t happened since you arrived, but you had a good idea on how to go about the situation from stories told to you by local residents. They said spies were much more common a few years ago, and the former clan leader could be much more… brutal in her resolve. A spy appearing now was throwing a wrench in your plan, especially if they noticed a certain white-tailed soldier here. “Who noticed them?”

“Jack. He’s the one keeping them at bay, but knowing him, he’s probably beaten them an inch within their life.”

“Shit.” Great! Just peachy! Just the opposite of what you needed. If that spy got word back to authorities that a guard of theirs had turned, it could ruin Leona’s plot. Which might mean that the hyenas would never get to live in the pride lands. When you heard running footsteps, you quickly removed the curtain separating your room from the outside. You stepped outside just in time to see a figure sprinting past your door–– that is until a thin rope was thrown at their feet, tripping them up by getting their legs tangled in the material.

Thump!

They fell over with a yelp before being dragged in the direction they had come from. In an instant, the person who had caught them and dragged them back, had tossed the remaining rope over a tall wooden pole that held a small lit candle to dimly illuminate the dark street. Jack heaved on the rope, pulling so the captor hung by their legs several feet off the ground, like some rare catch being displayed in the middle of the town.

“Y-You can’t do this to me! You’re part of the kingdom! This is treason!” The spy cried as Jack tied the rope to the pole so he could let go and they wouldn’t fall.

Slowly approaching, you announced your presence with your voice. “What do you have there, Jack?”

As soon as his ears detected your voice, he stood upright almost as if in salute as he answered, “Boss, I heard them sniffing about the storage. They planned to poison the only water source we have.” He turned to glare at the captured spy, nearly growling, “This would’ve made everyone sick, and people would’ve died.”

“Huh. I get it now.” According to your knowledge, this was not the first time something of this sort had happened before. Although the last time it happened was years ago. Several years ago, when a group of lion-folk attempted to cut off the biggest food source the hyena-folk had. Tilting your head at the spy, you noted their dark lion ears and tail. One of the few outcasted so called weak and sick lion-folk that came to the village as the only place they could go when their own turned them away.

Jack gazed down at you, murmuring, “It’s your call, boss.”

Their arms flung around wildly as they attempted to stop themselves from swinging in their captured state. From the shadows there were eyes, watching so intently, and you were sure that this snoop knew they were being watched by more than just you and the wolf beside you. They struggled to speak properly, but managed to choke out a desperate plea, “If you let me go, I-I’ll never come back here or to the kingdom! I won’t say a word about this wolf-man here. And–– I’ll tell you who sent me! But! You must promise that you won’t kill me.”

You ignored Jack’s gaze, focusing your attention on this back-stabber. You recognized them. They had been in the hunting group. Continuing your staring contest with them, watching their wide eyes and the way their chest went up and down with quick breaths in rapid succession, you finally had your reply. As calm as can be, you responded, “I swear I won’t kill you. Now, who sent you to stick your nose in where it doesn’t belong?”

Hesitating, they then groaned and relented, “The queen! The queen has been wanting to put a stop to the constant thieving and tricks by the hyenas. So she sent me to get rid of a few.”

“That’s all I need to know.” The queen was hardly mentioned in the original tale. All that you knew was that she was supposedly a strong and respectable woman, beloved by the whole kingdom, and deeply in love with the king. Oh, but now you are beginning to despise her. She too had no idea of the change that was to come. “I think it’s fair game now. She tried to take the lives of people here, so I’ll take everything from her.”

As you began to walk away and wordlessly gestured for Jack to follow, the captee began to squirming anxiously, not able to reach the rope around their ankles. They hung out like a piece of steak to dry, and for their crimes, that’s exactly how they will be treated. A piece of scrap to be torn apart bit by bit. “Wait, chief! Don’t leave me like this! We had a deal! Any crime seen has to be reported, wolf! You took that oath when you started working for the royals!”

Slowly nodding at his words, after a few more paces you noticed Jack froze. Sighing, you turned around, watching the enemy struggle like a miserable little fly caught in a web. Bending down, you picked up a sizable stone which you judged the weight of in your hands, inspecting it in your palm. “You’re right. I promised that I wouldn’t kill you. And as per his oath, Jack has to report what he saw. He can’t report what he doesn’t see.” Tossing the stone, you struck the candle atop the post, extinguishing the flame and the only light source for this block. It was night, and there was no way to see.

“W-Wait, what are you doing?”

The glowing eyes of the watching hyenas seemed to brighten in the sudden darkness. Multiple pairs of eyes steadily creeping closer to the defenseless traitor.

“Oh, wow, too bad. The light went out. Guess we can’t see.”

You ignored the traitorous lion’s cries and begs for mercy, a rapturous laughter breaking out from the multiple spectators. Their giggles rung in your ears, the pure multitude of them overpowering the fearful shrieks of the one criminal. You managed to get the former royal guard to look ahead instead of back behind him, escorting the wolf further down the road because from your room you were certain you would still be able to hear the carnage about to take place. As Jack went a few steps ahead before taking a turn at a block, you lingered behind, looking back to see the enemy screaming and wriggling wildly but to no avail. They continued to hang from their feet as the glowing eyes from the darkness crept closer and closer, no doubt ready to strip them for all they had and give them a punishment for their betrayal that could only make them yearn for the sweet release of death.

You followed with Jack, getting far away, enough so you could no longer hear the pained screeches and wails of misery. Once far enough, you questioned, “Did you know? About the queen?”

Jack whipped his head towards you, his white hair rising a bit. He looked as if you asked him if he poisoned the water. Betrayed. “No!! I’d never do something as low as that!”

“It’s just a question.”

He frowned deeply, ears flattening as per usual when he was somber. “Why did you do that…?”

Stopping in your tracks beside him, you looked up at him, able to see his features well on these dimly lit streets. “What, that back there? If we let them go, they would’ve reported you anyway. I know their type. Besides, I have to help out my own, don’t I? That’s my job.”

His expression went blank, but you could practically see the words being processed in his head. The more it registered, the more his ears perked up and the faster his bushy tail wagged. It was difficult for him to hide that slight curve tugging at the corner of his lips, no matter how hard he tried to remain stone-faced. “Your own…” That meant acceptance, didn’t it? “Right, I understand now… Thanks, chief.”

✧   ✧   ✧   ✧   ✧

Maybe saying that to Jack was a mistake. His insistence on being your closest subordinate had only worsened, if that were even possible. He burned through chores and tasks even faster, sticking by your side like glue. As you tried to escape his presence at least for a minute, you found yourself on the outskirts of the village by the abandoned bones of giant creatures and in the dark rocky valley where most lion-folk wouldn’t dare venture.

In between two small cliffs, you were abruptly yanked up in a tiny cranny where a familiar hyena quickly motioned to keep quiet. It was a small little nook he found off the ground, a cool shaded perch nestled between the larger rocks. Holding a single finger up to his lips in a shushing motion, he grinned when he heard the wolf calling your name was getting further and further away. After a moment, he finally relaxed, sighing loudly, “Man, I thought that beefcake would never leave! Seriously, who’s he think he is? He’s practically trying to rob me of my top spot! I’ve worked my tail off for this place beside you, you know? Jack won’t ever understand, he could only dream of getting on my level with you! I kept my promise, you know.”

“Hm?” When you turned your head to look over at him, he was gazing at you with those gray eyes, watching you intently. Before a content looking smile steadily overcame his features.

“My promise, you remember, don’t ya? When you used to take care of us and the other kids, just because you were the oldest and the strongest. So you’d go out and make those dangerous rounds into the kingdom all on your own, and you’d always come back with just enough food for us to share. But you were always injured somehow.” In this small space, he had to sit curled up, bending his knees but using them as a spot to lean the side of his head against. He continued to smile at you, giggling at those mysterious memories in his head. “It worried us sick when you left, and when you came back scratched up we couldn’t stop cryin’. So one day, I promised you that I’d get stronger to help you out and… Well, I’ve kept that part of the promise. Now the only part left is the part where I swore we’d live in a huge fancy palace one day where you didn’t have to go out and do the hunting!”

So Ruggie was close to the real chief, even before they became leader of the clan… It made you feel slightly guilty for taking up this moniker. But you had no choice when you were tossed into this world with no warning. However, even if Ruggie couldn’t fulfill this childish promise, you would. It was the least you could do, not just for yourself, but for the rest of the hyena-folk. He helped you so much in that first week. Leaning your head against the wall, you responded quietly, “I’ll make sure you get to live in a palace someday soon, Ruggie. I promise.”

“Don’t say that, or I’m gonna hold you up to it! Besides, I promised first. Make up your own.” He laughed, playfully bumping his shoulder against yours as a cheeky grin spread on his lips. After a moment, he waited, gazing at you impatiently as he tilted his head and rested it back against his knees. “Well? C’mon, tell me, what’re you gonna promise to me?”

“What should I promise you…?” Tapping your finger against your chin, you pondered on the thought. What would Ruggie want? Scratch palace off the list, because he already claimed that. An abundance of food seemed like an option, but you rather not risk promising him that and watching the land run out of resources. Promising him a place in the pride lands was a bit too much on the nose. It would just make you seem suspicious when you would eventually get all the hyena-folk access to the pride lands. Finally, after a few moments of thinking with no ideas, you shrugged and inquired, “Well, what do you want, Ruggie? What can I give you?”

That cheeky grin grew wider, stretching across his face as he averted his gaze, beating around the bush and drawing out his words for further suspense. “Welllll… Actually, there is something I can think of, call me greedy.”

Rolling your eyes, you scoffed, feeling your own smile begin to form. “Okay, greedy, what is it?”

If you took a peek, you could see his short brown tail moving side-to-side rapidly as he lifted his head, “Swear you won’t laugh? Even if it is mushy and stuff?”

Amused, you gave a soft chuckle, “I swear, I won’t laugh. Even if it’s mushy.”

Shifting so he was facing you with his legs crossed, he began somewhat hesitantly, almost nervously, before gaining a bit of confidence the more he went on. “I want you to promise me that I’ll always be your number two, and you’ll always let me stay beside you.”

Raising an eyebrow, it suddenly hit you. Ruggie was jealous of Jack! At that realization, a small laugh escaped your lips as you poked him, pestering him for a response as you teased, “Aww, were you jealous of that big bad wolf~? Is that it? I should’ve known! You’ve always been sticking by me, then Jack comes and ruins your flow. Who would've guessed?”

“Shut––! I’m not jealous!” He hissed, growing embarrassed. “You promised you wouldn’t laugh, you lyin’ little––!”

Laughing and giggling reached your ears, causing you and Ruggie to both freeze. His semi-round ears perked up, both of you listening intently to the voices. It sounded like two children, but it wasn’t familiar. Leaning your ear closer to the stone wall, you listened to the voices that were getting closer and closer, almost directly below the hiding spot you were in.

“This is it. Just like my uncle said!” One of the voices whisper-yelled, as if they were worried about whatever may lurk just around the corner, or just above them. It sounded like a young boy. But none of the children you had encountered in the village sounded like him, and you met practically all of them.

The second voice piped up. It was the voice of a young girl. “It’s so creepy… People really live out here?” That implied they were children not from the outskirts.

Then you were reminded of a scene from the original story. The young prince, son of the majestic king, heard a secret from his uncle, the second prince. The second prince told him of a graveyard full of bones among the outskirts, just past the kingdom’s reach, where only the bravest of souls ventured and returned from. The young kid prince, being such an ambitious child, foolishly snuck out to the outskirts with his friend. There, they were attacked by the hyenas, for the outskirts were their territory. The only reason the two children and royal attendant who arrived late to save them, were not killed, was because the majestic king arrived just in time to fend off attacks and warn the hyenas to never attack his son again. That scene was about to happen, right now.

As the two children, the kid prince and his friend, went back and forth, you and Ruggie exchanged glances. Steadily a grin spread on the hyena’s face as he mouthed: fresh meat.

Before he could even think about moving, you held up your hand, motioning him to keep still and quiet as you detected an additional pair of steps. Steps coming quickly, heavier, meaning it was someone in a rush. Someone heavier than a child. “Wrong! The only thing we’ll be doing is going home! We’re way beyond the boundaries of the kingdom!”

The royal attendant that served the king himself, there was no mistaking it. It was happening. Silently, you and your right-hand hyena listened to the slight bickering and scolding occurring between the young royal and the attendant. As much as you wished to end the king’s royal lineage here, which would allow Leona to take the throne once Falena passed, that would take far too long. The kid prince couldn’t die here. He needed to remain alive, that way you could be sure to kill two lions with one stone later. Besides, killing the two later by staging the accident was much more preferable to killing the young prince in cold blood while the king remained alive and could wreak havoc in revenge.

Ignoring the continuous conversation down below, you looked over at Ruggie who appeared antsy. “Now?” He whispered impatiently.

You shook your head. You didn’t want to face the majestic king alone if he really was strong enough to make people fear him. So, turning your attention to Ruggie, you replied in a hushed tone, “Backup first. No wolf in this royal business. And I want them alive.” You grinned, giving him the sign to go. “Scare them good.”

The royal attendant quickly attempted to usher them away, but the two children stubbornly refused to budge. “Right now, we’re all in very real danger––!”

Interrupting him was a whistle. A slow quiet whistle in an ominous tune, carried on by the wind which seemed to make it echo throughout the entire area, bouncing off the bones and walls of the rocky terrain and carrying it beyond. Any hyena-folk or a wolfman within close distance would be able to pick up on the whistle with their ears, and those of the clan might be able to decipher its message. Backup needed. Only hyenas, no wolf or lions. Capture guests alive.

The whistling had caused the three unexpected guests to become paralyzed in fear, you could see the hairs on the back of their neck were raised in alarm. First they heard Ruggie, who’s whistling had turned to cackling at their expressions of freight.

You too couldn’t contain your laughter at their pure fear. “Heh, Ruggie, when I said give them a good scare, I didn’t mean to the point of making their souls leave their bodies.”

The hyena shrugged, giggling as he followed you when you stalked closer to the unexpected guests. “Gee, boss, what can I say? It’s not my fault it’s as easy as stealing candy from a baby.”

You ignored the other two, and honed in on the kid prince, the protagonist, the hero of the story. Too young to fight back, yet one day he’d be powerful enough to defeat even Leona. “How unexpected to be greeting the son of a king.”

The three had nowhere to run, not when the reinforcements arrived. Soon, they were surrounded by a good number of hyena-folk. One thing you learned about hyena-folk is that they were small and gaunt due to lack of nutrition, but they worked frighteningly well together in groups to defeat much bigger and stronger opponents. As you focused solely on the little prince, you examined his features as he bravely stood in front of his friend. There was a healthy glow in his bronze cheeks, and his hair was unlike his Uncle Leona’s. His short messy locks were thick strands of a bright orange that faded into yellow, and he had big brown eyes that never broke eye contact with you. “Two children and a servant of the king’s. I know exactly who you are.”

The royal attendant interjected, stepping between you and the two lion-kids. “Let them go, chief! We did not mean to step on your land. We will leave immediately!” No matter how he spoke, you could tell he was scared but his tone and the way he stepped back each second when you didn’t stop moving forward, forcing the two younglings behind him to step back as well. Had he been a hornbill bird like in the original tale, his feathers would surely be all ruffled by now. “If you do this, you will start a war with Falena!”  

“Hyenas and lions have been at war since anyone can remember.” Removing your knife from its sheath, you gripped its handle in your hand. In its reflection, you could see Ruggie and the other hyena folk appearing fidgety and ready to sink their claws at any given moment, while dread and terror crept onto the faces of the three in front of you. “But with this… I can cause the kingdom a tiny shred of grief, just as they have caused the village a world of pain.” All you wanted to do was knick them, a cut small enough to draw blood, but when you lunged forward, the royal attendant threw the long blue sleeves of his cloak at you, effectively blinding you but only for a moment.

As soon as you lunged, so did the others. Those hyenas closest to you, instantly removed the royal attendant and pinned the squirming man to the ground. When you could finally see again, it revealed you were correct on your guess. The two lions had run, with some of your own chasing behind them until they were led to the underground tunnels. Placing your knife back at your hip, you scowled at the royal attendant now restrained and unable to help those he was tasked to protect. “Keep him there, don’t let him go. The rest of you, after them!”

From where you remained, you could hear and see the hyena-folk running about, in and out of the maze of tunnels. They were small, yes, but the children were smaller, so they’d no doubt get away until they were cornered, just as they did in the original plot. But this was exactly what needed to happen for the plot progress. There was no point in changing the plot now. It was best to change the plot when you could reap the most, and that was not now. It was a loss required to win in the grand scheme of things.

It didn’t take long for the two lion-children to reemerge from a hole in the ground, leading the two to become surrounded. The two huddled together, fearfully scanning the faces of the dozens of hyena-folk that surrounded them.

Three.

The young prince bared his baby fangs, letting out a squeak of a roaring war cry. A pathetic example, probably puny compared to his father. Speaking of which, he should be here soon, judging by how the royal attendant was gone meaning he had somehow escaped the grasp of his hyena captors. That attendant would probably be sending out an alert by now.

Two.

You watched, unimpressed as the hyena-folk present broke out into laughter at the cub’s tiny yeowl, their heightened anxiety only doing more to add to the hyena’s howling cackles. Even Ruggie was doubled over in laughter, but you knew better than to lower your guard right now, especially as a few of the underlings poked and prodded for the little prince to do his war cry once again.

One.

You grabbed Ruggie’s collar and pulled him back just the young prince opened his mouth, and a much powerful louder war cry like a terrifying roar could be heard that echoed in the space all around them. Just in time, you watched as the hyena-folk stepped back in alarm at the sudden noise. Towards the back of the crowd, you could make out the scene of some of your own men and women being flung to the side like rag dolls by a mightier figure. It was clear by just that glimpse, that this was King Falena, and he was stronger than even Prince Leona and former royal guard Jack. You couldn’t watch these people get hurt anymore, so you whistled, instantly signaling your kin to back away as the lionman’s ears perked up at the noise from your direction.

When he rushed forward to stand closer to the two children, you nodded at your kin to step further away, giving him plenty of space and no one within radius to attack. Their brown and black semi-round ears were flattened as they kept their distance, none daring to attack, not that you would make them right now. You felt Ruggie’s hand on your back, he too kept low and didn’t engage.

When the king’s brown-eyed gaze turned to you, it held nothing but pure fury. Now that you were looking at the majestic king of the tales, he really did look like his son, the similarities were uncanny. But King Falena didn’t look anything like his brother, Prince Leona. Falena had bright brown eyes that must’ve been usually filled with kindness whenever his son wasn’t in danger, Leona had watchful green eyes that felt they were judging you with every move you made. Falena had a long warm-colored mane with sand-colored fur on his lion traits, while Leona had a dark mane with dark brown fur on his lion traits. Falena had a stature and was built with an incredible strength that must’ve even greatly surpassed your wolf guard, and while yes Leona had a sure strength himself he was only a few inches shorter than Jack. It really was no wonder Leona had never won the crown through ritual combat. No matter how you saw it, Leona couldn’t beat Falena through a battle of brawn. However, a battle of brains may have a different outcome…

“If you ever come near my son again––”

You stood your ground as he stood close, his face merely inches in front of yours. Behind your back you gripped the dagger in your palm, resisting the urge to plunge the weapon through his eye. Imagine that, if you could give the king a scar matching his disgraced brother. It took everything not to snap back, attack him for all he and his kingdom had done by leaving the hyena-folk to rot. But somehow, you didn’t lunge forward. You only nodded slowly, answering firmly, “No, Falena, never again.” Patient. You needed to be patient this time.

“You’ve been warned, chieftain.” Falena growled before turning around, giving his son one last firm look before silently escorting them through the crowd of hyenas that parted ways for them to take their leave.

Once they were gone, you gazed around, seeing the hyena-folk help the injured and wounded by Falena’s short rampage. Behind you, Ruggie emerged, moving in front of you to do a once over, despite knowing you had barely even touched anyone throughout that entire ordeal. “Are you good?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Perfectly fine…” Just then, your gaze traveled up to the cliffs. High on the top of the rocky terrain, was that familiar lionman, the second prince, gazing down at the scene with a slight frown. When his green eyes flitted over to you, you frowned in turn as a small smile appeared on his face before he promptly disappeared away from sight. “Ruggie, you stay and help the others. I have to have a little talk with our prince friend.”

It didn’t take very long to reach the top of the cliff where you found the second prince lounging in the shade. Leona didn’t spare you a glance, and he didn’t even open his eyes, but you knew he was awake. When his ear slowly flickered, he sighed, “Why didn’t you kill them?” When you blinked, his eyes were open, those green orbs gazing at you intently. “You had the perfect opportunity. Yet you hesitated.”

Begrudgingly, you sat down across from him, frowning at his lazy form. “Because I know you have a better plan. A plan that will get rid of both Falena and his son.”

A sly grin made itself visible on the curve of his lips, and you felt that you made a mistake before the words even left his lips. “I never once told you that, or anybody about that.” Shit. Sitting up before pushing himself up to his feet, he slowly began to circle you as he mused, “You know, you always seem to know what’s going to happen, before it happens. Somehow, you were able to get this far without any of your clan noticing you aren’t the true chief. You’re always looking at me with this wise-ass look, like you’re so proud that you can predict what comes next. When we first met, for a brief second there was a look of… disbelief on your face when you kept staring at me. After pondering on the possibilities after our last meeting, I think I figured you out. It sounds insane, but then again, I’m not completely sane if you haven’t noticed by now. But you aren’t even from this world, are you? You had this foreign scent on you when we met, it was something I couldn’t name even if I tried, but now all you smell like is hyena. Then I looked into it. I went down to the kingdom’s marketplace, I even contracted merchants to bring me sweet-smelling products from all around the world. But nothing matched that scent you had on the first day, nothing at all. At least… nothing in this world.”

You went still as he stopped pacing, and opted to plop close down beside you. Incredibly close, so much that his arm that propped up half his upper weight was against your arm. You could feel his warmth, but his close proximity made you squirm in place. You didn’t move an inch though, because even scooting over an inch would be giving him a sign that you would bend to his will.

As he leaned against you, you glared at his amused expression. That cocky smirk was on his lips, because he knew he had you in his claws. When he spoke, he was so close that he only had to speak in a low and husky whisper. “This time, I brought a proposal instead of an offering. But I want to hear you tell me what it is I’m planning.”

You were silent.

“Well?”

Under the pressure, you finally relented. “Fine. But only if you answer one question I have.”

It only took a second of consideration until he hummed, “Of course. That’s only fair, chieftain.”

Taking a deep breath, you averted your eyes away from intense green-eyed gaze, attempting to forget the fact that his face was literally inches beside yours. There was no point in hiding it from him anymore, was there? He already knew everything. “My guess is that you’ll want to do it in the gorge. You’ll have myself and some of the other hyenas start a panic with wild wildebeest grazing on the grass. There’ll be a stampede, and you’ll have the little prince down there waiting. When his old man goes to save him, you’re hoping he and the prince get crushed by the stampede. If not, at least it’ll weaken them enough to finish off quietly and stage it as an accident.” When you glanced at him, you could see his grin had grown. “Did I get all that right?”

“Everything down to the smallest minute detail.” He chuckled, somehow finding this tense exchange amusing. His tail swished slowly side to side, and you couldn’t help but notice how pleased he looked with himself. “Now, your question.”

You paused, carefully considering how to go about wording this specific inquiry. All the while he continued to watch you, never once taking his eyes off you. Until finally, you had it. “Why’ve you kept me alive? If you knew I wasn’t who I said I was, you could’ve told the hyena-folk by now. You would’ve been a trustworthy figure then, at least in their eyes. They’d follow you, just like you want. You never needed my help. Besides, if you knew I knew stuff about the future, wouldn’t that mean I was a threat to your plan?”

“You see me for the wonder I am.” Noticing your confusion, he continued, “You don’t know what it’s like to be the second born, when your entire kingdom scorns you just because you were born a few years late. But now…” He chuckled, holding your chin between his fingers and forcing you to look him in the eye. “With meticulous planning and suffering through years of denial, I’ll become King. I’ll get everything I ever deserved and more. And should you help me achieve my vision, I promise you, you will do more than just survive. You shall thrive. But without me, you won’t get a thing… If it's agreed, shall we go then? Let’s inform your beloved little village of the coup of the century that will take place tomorrow.”

✧   ✧   ✧   ✧   ✧

To say the clan rejoiced at the news felt like an understatement. They were elated, it led to partying and laughing all night, all of them eager to follow your command and the second prince’s plan if it meant that they could finally improve their way of living. Even Jack, who you thought you might have to deal with his refusal due to his strong morals and all, only silently listened to the declaration by Leona before approaching you and announcing he’d follow what you decided.

It wasn’t much of a choice anyways. You’d get to survive and live in splendor, and you’d improve the lives of so many hyena-folk that may have later died of sickness or starvation, all in exchange for the life of a king and his son. When the day arrived, you sent out the able-bodied hyena-folk to prepare. Burn the wild wall of thorns between the cliffs and the desert, have a few posted at every potential escape route, place watchouts on top of high cliffs so they could see everything, and above all was the warning from you to the clan. Do not let the young prince escape, because if he does, then hope for the lion-folk will live on and he may one day grow to be as powerful as his father.

When everything was prepared, you waited. You had assembled a small team to rile up the wildebeest, which consisted of yourself, Ruggie, Jack, and two other small groups of three hyena-folk currently positioned on other sides. You would frighten the creatures simultaneously, flanking from the back, the right, and the left, forcing the gigantic horde to go down into the gorge where they’d create a deadly stampede, trampling anything in their path.

Jack gazed at you silently, before he murmured quietly, as if to himself, “Is it alright to really be doing this…? To kill the king and the prince? I know you said it was, and I trust you, but…”

“Jack, you’re way too soft. It’s an eat or be eaten world! If you’re so worried about it, think about it this way. Those two lives will allow countless hyenas and outcasts like me and you to survive.” Ruggie scolded, watching as the white wolf slowly nodded. While waiting for the signal, he glanced at the wildebeest grazing on the grass before looking at you. “You know, I knew you were ruthless, boss, but going along with Leona’s despicable plan? I mean, not that I’m opposed to it, but it was surprising at first, is all.”

“I do whatever I have to for…” Me. “You and the others.” Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a figure on an opposing cliff. It was Leona, who was staring you down with a devious sort of smile. He must’ve already left his kid nephew down in the gorge. Quick to change the subject, you announced, “There. Let’s go. Jack, signal to the others.”

Obediently he fulfilled his command, standing upright from his spot leaning against the boulders and rocks they hid among. When he whistled, it rang in the air, immediately alerting not only your allies on the other side of the herd but also the wildebeest that shot up in alert.

It took one stone from you, a stone tossed at full speed, smacking the hind leg of one of the closer wildebeest, causing it to let out a deep pained noise and instinctively react by kicking about wildly, causing a chain reaction of confusion and alarm to those around it, which only spread further and further. Jack’s whistle was the sign to attack, and having already made the first move, you stood back as you watched Ruggie, Jack, and the two other hyena groups jump out of their hiding places and cause even more of a panic throughout the entire herd as they scared the beasts with their spears and knives.

You watched as the wildebeest began to scatter in the opposite direction of yourself and the clan members, leading them right into the gorge. They moved as a group. One thing about wildebeest, is that they traveled in herds with numbers ranging anywhere from a few hundred to a couple of thousands. They were so numerous and sizable creatures that caused the ground to shake when startled and running. It would be very very difficult to survive a stampede of such magnitude, maybe that’s why Leona chose such a demise in the first place.

When all of the wildebeest had been chased off the flat and into the gorge, you stood beside your subordinates and paced at the edge. Ruggie and the others looked excited, almost as if they were having fun, especially because they managed to catch and kill one of the straggling creatures. Jack looked down at the gorge, frowning but doing nothing else until he inquired, “What next, boss?”

You couldn’t be at ease until you knew that both King Falena and his prince son were dead. You didn’t want to imagine the prince getting away, which would lead you to years of sleepless nights as you would have to plot a way on how to track him down through the desert and send people to kill him. “Good job, everyone. Now, go out to individual posts along the desert. Make sure the entire perimeter is covered. The king and the prince cannot leave that gorge alive, got it?”

A chorus of hums and giggles responded, “Yes, chief.”

Once they all departed and you were alone, you slid down about halfway into the gorge. You weren’t on the ground floor, so you weren’t concerned, but for now to avoid being seen, you would keep behind boulders and rocks to blend into the environment. At this point in the story, the second prince would feign horror as he goes to inform the majestic king of the stampede occurring with the young prince trapped within the gorge. The two brothers would rush to the gorge to save the young prince. For now all you could do was follow the cloud of dust and stragglers the stampede left behind, keeping low and against the wall so you would not be spotted.

The gorge was massive, so you continued for a few minutes, all the while reciting the rest of the story from your childhood in a low mutter. “When Falena and Leona get there, they see the kid prince hanging onto a branch during the stampede. Falena jumps in to save his son, dodging almost every hit by the wildebeest. As he’s right next to the branch, he’s hit, knocked down and the branch breaks. Before the kid prince can fall to his death, his dear old dad jumps and catches him. When he lands, Falena is hit again, dropping his son. Falena manages to get up and pick up his kid, putting him on a ledge right before he’s swept away in the stampede. The prince watches in horror, looking for his dad, until he sees Falena jump out and cling to the steep wall of the gorge. He struggles to climb up, obviously weak from being hit before, but he reaches the top and there at the top… is Leona.”

Leona. There was Leona across the gorge standing upright and looking down at the figure beneath him as if they were nothing but a speck of dirt on his feet. Just below him, nails dug into the rocky walls and slipping, was King Falena. You couldn’t hear what they were saying over the thousands of hooves stomping against the ground, but you didn’t have to hear a word in order to know what was going on. This was the moment where the majestic king died. In an instant, Leona lunged forward slightly, digging his nails into the flesh on the back of the king’s palm, which caused him to emit a roar of pain. You knew what came next. You averted your gaze to the side as you heard his plummeting scream, and then it was silenced, drowned out by the continuous running wildebeest. Long live the king.

One down, one more to go. The cloud of dust left behind in the stampede’s destructive wake, concealed the bottom of the gorge from your sight. You need to get down there now. You needed to see Falena dead with your own two eyes, and you needed to make sure that the kid prince he left behind would not live to see tomorrow. Upon finding your way in the dust, you squint to see past the sandy clouds, and one of the first things you could make out upon searching the ground was the king’s motionless body on its side right under the broken branch. Yet neither of the princes were anywhere in sight.

Continuing forward, you felt your nerves spike. That kid prince must have ran–– and you could only hope the story would truly divert from its original course here and now. You could only pray to whatever cruel god there was that allowed you to be thrown into this world, that all your preparations worked to stop the runaway prince.

When you heard a footstep, you froze, hand hovering over the dagger at your hip as the approaching shadow in the cloud of dust got closer and closer. However, when it was revealed to be Leona from the ashes, your shoulders slumped, relieved of the tension. No breath of relief, because you could not be relieved when knowing that the job was not done yet. However, that tension immediately went straight back into your system when you noticed the red on his hands. By now he had already noticed you, he probably was aware of your presence far before you were aware of his. Hesitantly you gestured to the blood on his hands. “What’s that from…?”

“A finished job. It’s not mine.” He answered with an ominous smirk. Steadily he stepped closer, before announcing in a melodramatic tone, “My brother’s death is a terrible tragedy, but to lose my nephew who was swept away in the stampede and whose body was never found… For me, it’s a deep and personal loss.” No longer could he hold in his laughter as he stood right in front of you and concluded, “So it is with a heavy heart that I assume the throne. Yet out of the ashes of this tragedy, we shall rise!”

You frowned, prying your eyes away from his hands and to his face full of wicked mirth. “And the body?”

Sighing, he rolled his eyes but answered in a slight chuckle, “I knew you’d worry about that. So I had your clan dispose of the body, in the desert where no one will find him and his remains will be plucked by the vultures.”

At that moment you froze, eyes going wide. That… That might have been the fate that would have awaited you…

When he stepped closer, so close that you were practically up against his chest. You winced when he tapped the bottom of your chin until you looked up at him, painting the bottom half of your face red with the blood smeared on his fingers. Blood that was not his, whether it belonged to the king or his son, you weren’t entirely sure, and you’d rather not know. “That won’t happen to you, I wouldn’t let it happen.” He spoke, as if he sensed your current fears. Just then, another delighted smirk grew on his face and that familiar spark of desire reignited in his eyes. He had the throne, the kingdom, what else did he want? What else could he possibly gain? “I promised you that you’d thrive, didn’t I? Well, now that the throne belongs to me, I’ll make good on that promise. Your reward is the opportunity to be my royal consort.”

Your stomach dropped, feeling dread settle in the pits of your gut as his thumb moved to rub small circles on your cheek, covering you in more red. Only a small choked whisper could escape your throat. “What?”

“Be my consort.” He repeated casually, looking down at your stunned expression with amusement that made him chortle. “What better way to unite two, lion-folk and hyena-folk, then by matrimony between two leaders? You get a life of splendor and continue to hold power, while I reign as king with you by my side. It’s like… killing two lions with one stone, isn’t that right, my Little Chieftain?”

[mrs-stans]

GQ Hype

How Sebastian Stan became Donald Trump in The Apprentice

With an uncanny performance as a young Donald Trump in The Apprentice and an even less recognisable turn in A Different Man, the shapeshifting actor is embracing his freaky side

By Ben Allen Photography by Daniel Jack Lyons

Coat by Loewe. Boots by Dolce & Gabbana.Necklace by Cartier.Daniel Jack Lyons

When Sebastian Stan was growing up in Romania in the 1980s, he began to learn English through passive immersion. His mother, a concert pianist, would regularly play English music and language lessons on the family record player while they were going about their day. “I’d be playing with toys and I’d hear, like, ‘frog’ and ‘dog’, or whatever,” Stan says. It meant that by the time the actor moved to Vienna at age eight, where he attended an American international school – and later, when he moved to New York at 12 – he had a decent jumping-off point. “I’m a big believer in putting yourself in a situation where, subconsciously, there’s work being done.”

In the past two years, Stan has put that method to use in a very different way. As he entered preproduction to play Donald Trump in Ali Abbasi’s The Apprentice – which charts the former President and current Republican candidate’s early rise through the New York property scene – he started spending his waking hours with tapes of the young Trump playing in his ears. He brushed his teeth with Trump, he went grocery shopping with Trump, he spoke to friends with one earphone in, Trump still nattering away in his ear. “I slept with him, by the way,” Stan says, well aware of how strange that sounds. “It just sort of ends up taking over your life.” He’s sitting somewhere in Los Angeles at lunchtime, speaking to me over Zoom, with the afternoon sun reflecting off his chlorine-blue eyes.

Jacket and shirt by Gabriela Hearst. Hat by Gladys Tamez. Ring by Cartier.

The Apprentice, which Stan first signed up for in 2022, explores the question, ‘How did Trump get like this?’ (The answer, it posits, has a lot to do with Roy Cohn, a lawyer and prosecutor who had risen to prominence in the 1950s as Senator Joseph McCarthy’s attack dog in the communist witch-hunts.) The film is the latest in a string of freaky, transformation-heavy roles that have run parallel alongside Stan’s very mainstream 13-year-and-counting stint as Captain America’s pal Bucky Barnes in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, which has made him a globally recognised action star. The Apprentice lands this month in the UK, two weeks after A Different Man, an A24 production in which Stan plays an aspiring actor with neurofibromatosis, a genetic condition that has caused the growth of non-cancerous tumours on his face. They’re not your typical actor-in-between-superhero-outings roles – and the fact that Stan is spending so much time in the make-up chair outside of the blockbusters is indicative of a desire to get truly lost in his work.

I started to think a lot about the American dream. What is it? Is it a ghost you keep chasing?

Preparing to play Trump, he says, was like any other time he has portrayed a real-life person – take, say, Tonya Harding’s ex-husband, Jeff Gillooly, in I, Tonya, or Tommy Lee in Pam & Tommy. But this time around it came with an added layer of stress. “There’d be nights when my anxiety levels would be through the roof, because I’d be like, Why did I say yes to this?” he says with a laugh.

But Stan thrives when he leans into fear. He had been terrified of I, Tonya, and even more terrified of Pam & Tommy – which, in its exploration of the couple’s romance and sex tape, involved a scene where Lee converses with a silicone puppet of his penis. (The latter earned him Golden Globe and Emmy nominations.) Trump was a different beast. “I thought, I don’t know if this is doable. I don’t know if I have it in me,” he says. “But it’s not not gonna happen because I’m scared of it.”

Coat, shirt and tie by Ludovic de Saint Sernin. Trousers by Gabriela Hearst. Boots and gloves by Versace. Hat by Gladys Tamez. Daniel Jack Lyons

Jacket and shirt by Gabriela Hearst. Hat by Gladys Tamez. Daniel Jack Lyons

When his mother told him he was going to be leaving Vienna for the United States at 12 years old, Stan felt like the floor had fallen from beneath him. “It was like you were telling me that my life was over,” he says. His mother was a single parent and had met an American man and fallen in love; he wanted to bring them both to live with him in New York. Stan remembers crying in the shower in the days leading up to the move. After departing Romania a few years before, he had worked hard to forge new friendships. Now, he’d have to rebuild from the bottom up again. “That did feed me resilience, because it did allow me to get better at restarting and restarting,” he says. “It fed a lot of who I am.”

Upon arriving in America, he started working on his impersonation of an American teenager. “I was so traumatised by being different,” he says. He refused to speak Romanian, even at home. He didn’t tell anyone he was from a foreign country. “I wanted to change my name to Christopher,” he says. “I wanted to be as normal in America as anybody else.” Having already set the ball rolling with his passive English lessons as a child, he was able to adopt a seamless New York accent, leaving little to betray his otherness. He tried out every personality marker available to him at school, to figure out which one fitted: debate team, forensics, every sport he could muster, and drama, eventually gravitating towards the latter. “I became popular in high school through acting,” he says. “I went on dates. I found my path.”

Still, this otherness was a part of Stan, as much as he initially tried to suppress it. As he came to appreciate life in America – in a middle-class household, with a good education – he began to reappraise his background, and felt a sense of gratitude to his stepfather for bringing them over, and for the drive it seeded within him. “This idea that you’ve been so lucky to have been selected to get this opportunity,” he says. “I was able to seize it and work with it, but on the other hand it’s a never-ending burden because you go, ‘You better not blow it!’” He remembers taking a walk through the city on their arrival, gawping up at the skyscrapers, when his mother impressed upon him that very sentiment: “You see these buildings? This is where you have a chance to become something.” He thought about this conversation quite a lot while he was playing Trump, probably because it feels like a scene ripped right out of a more varnished biography of the former President. “I started to think a lot about the American dream, and sort of like, what is it?” he says. “Is it a ghost you keep chasing?”

That was a way of me understanding that you're just out there, like target practice.

When Stan was doing theatre in high school, he loved getting a chance to transform and become a different person entirely. “You’re 14, 15, and you’re playing parts where you have to be, like, 35 years older than you are, and you have to change your appearance, you have to change everything, and you have to walk a certain way,” he says. “That shit was fun.” He would find himself craving those meatier transformations later, after landing a run of roles in Hollywood playing traditionally hot villains and heroes in Gossip Girl and in the Captain America movies. “Watching Christian Bale do The Fighter and watching him do Batman and Vice and The Machinist… He was a guy that, to me, could have made very conventional choices because he’s very good at any of it. But then he’s trying these things.”

Opportunities like this aren’t necessarily afforded to nascent actors. In a weird way, you kind of have to wait for your face to become recognisable before you’re allowed to start messing with it. The first real taste Stan got of this was in 2017 – after he had been solidly established as a Marvel hero – in the Margot Robbie-led, Oscar-winning I, Tonya, which told the story of the assault on figure skater Nancy Kerrigan, orchestrated by her Olympic rival Tonya Harding’s camp. For Harding’s ex-husband – who sets the assault in motion – they were looking for someone very different to Stan. The real Gillooly is slight and short, with narrow features. Stan felt his teen-drama looks would work against him in the audition process. “I’m like, ‘I’m gonna walk into that room and they’re gonna see the taller guy, The CW [the young-people-melodrama US TV network that first aired Gossip Girl] guy.’ I felt like I was going to be immediately judged.”

Coat and pyjamas by Dolce & Gabbana. Daniel Jack Lyons

I, Tonya director Craig Gillespie saw in Stan a capacity to become Gillooly. “I was familiar with Captain America: Civil War and his work there, and I couldn’t quite picture it [at first],” Gillespie tells me. “But he actually turned up [to the audition] in the turtleneck and the moustache, almost in character. And the transformation, and his instincts tonally and comedically… He was actually improvising things in the scene that worked incredibly well.”

Gillespie was impressed not just by how Stan had remoulded himself in the shape of someone else, but by his ability to tap into the character’s humanity, too. “It has to be emotionally resonant,” he says. “You have to be able to connect to the characters… He completely commits, which is an incredibly scary proposition for an actor.” Still, Stan was filled with anxiety heading into I, Tonya. “The amount of fear I had was almost traumatising,” he says. But then he did it. “I worked so hard for that movie, and it worked.”

A DIFFERENT MAN takes things up another notch. The film was written and directed by Aaron Schimberg, a rising indie director whose work has explored how disability has impacted his life (Schimberg was born with a cleft lip and palate). In it, a prosthetics-heavy Stan plays Edward, an actor whose biggest break to date is a small role in a corporate training video about how to treat employees with facial differences in the workplace. Edward’s spirit has been crushed by the world around him, weathered by the relentless gawping of strangers and rejection. Then, he takes part in a clinical trial for a new drug that could remove the tumours from his face. It works. Edward fakes his death and adopts a new identity, looking just like regular old Sebastian Stan. But when Edward’s kind neighbour – played by The Worst Person in the World’s Renate Reinsve – stages a play about him, he finds himself in competition with Oswald (played by Adam Pearson, a British actor with neurofibromatosis) for the part. It is, to put it mildly, a confronting drama, excavating both society’s unwillingness to treat people with disabilities fairly and the fallacy of our terminal dissatisfaction with our looks.

Coat by McQueen. Shirt by Louis Vuitton. Trousers by Louis Vuitton. Tie by Dolce & Gabbana. Boots by Versace. Daniel Jack Lyons

Though the film treads across the noir and comic horror genres, and at points tips into the absurd, it feels most like a parable. “It’s another version of the American dream, right?” Stan says. “Don’t wish for the things you want; you don’t know what’s going to happen.”

During the shoot, Stan often had long stretches between having his facial prosthetics applied and his call time (the film’s make-up designer, Michael Marino, was simultaneously working on The Marvelous Mrs Maisel, and would sometimes have to squeeze Stan into make-up in the early hours before running to that job). So Stan would walk around New York, including parts of his own neighbourhood, wearing hyperrealistic prosthetics, getting just a little taste of what his life would be like if he had been dealt a different hand. At one point, he went to his local coffee shop, where a barista he has known for years was working the counter. “She was so busy handling stuff, and suddenly she turned and she didn’t expect to see me,” he says, “and I could see the shock going immediately into overcompensation.” Pearson told him that those are the reactions that he is most often confronted with as a person with a disability: shock verging on repulsion, and guilty, over-the-top kindness.

Schimberg helped Stan to draw a neat line between Edward’s life and his own experience of fame. The one thing they had in common is how they’re observed in public spaces. “He said, ‘You have to think about what it’s like to be recognised. And the sense that you’re fair game out there.’ That I could understand,” Stan says. “I’ll go to lunch with my mom and somebody will be filming me the entire time, pretending they’re not. Or I’ll see somebody look at me strangely and then they’ll whisper to their friends. Or I’ve had someone come and tap me and run away. The invasiveness of that… And I can’t do anything but just receive it.”

Stan is quick to clarify that his experience as a famous person is not really comparable, that it comes with all sorts of upsides. But this point of similarity helped him to fully embody the character. “That was a way of me understanding this thing – that you’re just out there, like target practice.”

Coat and pyjamas by Dolce & Gabbana. Daniel Jack Lyons

Production on The Apprentice was hazardously stop-start. Several times over, Stan began his Trump immersion routine – which also involved pounding Coca-Colas and peanut butter and jam sandwiches, among other things, to put on some very un-superhero bulk – only to find out that production had been suspended. At one point, the project came so close to overlapping with his next Marvel outing, next May’s Thunderbolts, that he had to start shredding instead – only for Thunderbolts to be postponed because of the WGA and SAG-AFTRA strikes. Straight back to the PB&Js. All that work wasted. “I’m fuckin’ 41; I just worked pretty hard to get in shape here!” he says.

Stan’s Trump is admirably nuanced, particularly for a person who has been so widely imitated – on SNL, on late-night talk shows, every second of every day by comedians trying to make a name for themselves on TikTok – as to be reduced to a caricature in the public consciousness. Initially, it feels quite removed, but then you spot the shape his mouth curves into while enunciating words like “deal” and “loser”, a subtle pursing of the lips when he’s being spoken to, a hand gesture. As the movie progresses, the man with whom we’re all exhaustingly familiar comes closer and closer to the fore.

Suit and boots by Versace. Vest top by Schiesser. Hat by Gladys Tamez. Watch by Cartier. Daniel Jack Lyons

The challenge, in Stan’s eyes, was to tread the very fine line between interpretation and imitation. “It’s a balance between having the familiarity without it becoming sort of a schtick,” he says. “There is a small window of time where you are going through the impersonation phase, because you’ve got to get through that in order to come out the other end,” he says. “There is a mechanical, technical piece to it, and that comes from actually studying a person.” According to Stan’s mother, he spent much of his childhood relentlessly impersonating people he came in to contact with. “I’ve always been good at watching people,” he says.

I'm going to commit the fuck out of it and surrender myself to the story.

Once he got comfortable enough, he would take the show on the road – trying versions of the character out in restaurants to see if anyone would pick up on it. “Because there’s a thing getting born,” he says, “and you want to test it out in the world, but you don’t want to overdo it too quickly – then it gets frozen.” No one seemed to notice in the moment, which was at least some indication that he hadn’t tipped over into parody, but some friends who have seen the movie realised retrospectively: “They’ve come up to me after and said, ‘Now I see this fuckin’ weird thing you were doing!’”

When we meet Trump in The Apprentice, he is a footsoldier in his father’s company and significantly less self-assured, though he’s got the trademark wispy hair and the ill-fitting suits. The wheels begin to turn when he meets Cohn – portrayed here in typically committed fashion by Succession’s Jeremy Strong, with whom Stan only had the chance to interact in character on set – who begins to sculpt Trump in his own image, laying out his rules for success, which will be very familiar to anyone who has paid attention to Trump’s political career: 1) attack, attack, attack; 2) admit nothing and deny everything; and 3) always claim victory and never admit defeat.

Coat, trousers and shoes by McQueen. Vest top by Ami. Sunglasses by Jacques Marie Mages. Pin by Cartier. Daniel Jack Lyons

Stan seems reticent to get into the politics of The Apprentice, which depicts Trump as, among other things, a rapist, in a scene referencing allegations made in a deposition by his first wife Ivana during their divorce proceedings. (Trump has previously denied the rape allegation; Ivana later issued a statement clarifying that she had felt violated, but was not raped in a “literal or criminal sense”.) But the movie speaks for itself. And Trump’s camp is already speaking back: after the film premiered at Cannes in May, the presidential campaign’s chief spokesperson Steven Cheung called the movie “garbage”, “pure fiction” and “election interference by Hollywood elites”, while also threatening a lawsuit. In a press conference at the film festival, Abbasi suggested that an ideal release date would be in mid-September, to align with the second presidential debate (but the film, as it happens, is now due out on 11 October in the USA, and 18 October in the UK). It wouldn’t take Alan Turing to decipher the message being transmitted. But I try and press for a direct answer: does Stan feel an added sense of responsibility playing Trump in an election year? “You can’t not think about it,” he says. “But I had tremendous trust in Ali Abbasi and his vision for the movie. And it is an important story – I think the movie makes a great attempt at exploring: how did we get here? But I approached it with the same responsibility as I approached anything I ever got involved with, which is, I’m going to give this my all. I’m going to research the fuck out of it; I’m going to commit the fuck out of it and surrender myself to the story.”

Does he have any concerns about backlash from Trump or from MAGA supporters? “I mean, is there anything out there now that doesn’t get backlash? You can’t worry about what people think,” Stan says. “But I’m fully aware that I’m doing things that are not going to be for everybody.”

He’s not far off the mark. Even Marvel, the world’s highest-grossing movie franchise of all time, has faced quite a bit of criticism in recent years – in part for the way in which they’ve handled the transition to a new set of heroes and storylines since 2019’s Avengers: Endgame. Stan doesn’t have any time for it. “I’ve never been part of a company that puts so much heart and thought into anything,” he says. “I think if Marvel was gone, it’d be such a big hole to try and fill up. Don’t just go out there and shit on something without offering something better.”

Coat by Loewe. Boots by Dolce & Gabbana. Necklace by Cartier. Daniel Jack Lyons

He’s certainly not done with the MCU yet. Thunderbolts, which he’ll headline alongside Florence Pugh, will arrive in May next year. And he’s already looking beyond that, to a potential reunion with Robert Downey Jr, who has been announced to return in the next Avengers movie – not as Iron Man, but as the villain Doctor Doom. “I hope I’m in a scene with him,” Stan says. “Is there any other guy that could pull that off? I don’t know, probably not. After Tropic Thunder, is there anything that guy can’t do?” he says, laughing. It is perhaps the movie that I least expect Stan – or anyone, to be honest – to reference in 2024, but I should know better. Downey Jr is a transformation master, too. Game recognises game.

Trump doesn’t exist in the Marvel universe – or at least not yet – but if you spot a hint of him in Thunderbolts, you’ll know why. “I went off to Marvel after [The Apprentice],” Stan says. “And we were doing scenes, and I would do something, a thing or two, and be like, ‘Fuck! This is still living somewhere.’”

Styled by Sean Knight Hair by Erica Adams Grooming by Kc Fee using iS Clinical at Redefine Representation Set Design by Daniel Horowitz Production by May Kielany

[nightxcreature]

Don't Call Me (SoldierboyxReader)

Summary: Reader and Ben have an altercation after an interview gone wrong.

Warnings: Cursing, Verbal Threats (Homicide), Sexually exploiting women, Jealousy, Anger, Angst

Pairing: Soldierboy x Jealous!Reader

A/N: Number two for @jacklesversebingo 2024! This one is based off the prompt: "Got something to say about that?" "No." "Well, you look like you do." Prompt is in bold. As always, edited as well as I can and this one has been proofread lol Criticism welcome, reposts, likes, and comments adored. 💕

Part Two is out now! It's titled "Payback".

My leg feels like it’s shaking a million miles an hour, electricity radiating down my arms. We had been sitting in Vought headquarters for the last three hours doing interview after interview with the flirtiest journalist. Her blonde hair bounced past her shoulders, her boobs on display no matter where she turned, and the sickly-sweet smiles she sent Ben sent bile up my throat every time. He was eating it up, of course, he always did. It didn’t matter how many times I let him fuck me, He always ate up these stupid interviews. They praised him, practically stripping themselves bare to please his ego. It was always the same statements, ‘You’re the world’s greatest hero, Soldier-Boy.’ ‘What would we ever do without you, Soldier-Boy?’ ‘What’s it like being the strongest man alive?’ ‘Do you want to sign my tits?’ Okay…that last one only happened once, but that doesn’t change the fact that they never have anything to say to me. If he had brought Mindstorm or Black Noir, hell even the twins, I’m sure this interview would be going a completely different way. The men are always front and center for these girls; Crimson Countess, Stormfront, and I are the last on the list, and the jealousy that boils in my veins at that knowledge is second to none.

                Of course, watching her throw herself at him wasn’t helping the situation. I can’t keep the little green monster at bay whether thinking about her ignoring me or about him wanting her. I always wondered if he thought of me when they were shoving themselves at him; I know the answer, but maybe in a perfect world he thinks of kissing my lips, of my hands on his body and his mouth on mine, of our bodies moving together and our minds melding as one when… “Hey! Hey! I’ve been yelling at you forever, Y/N!”  His voice snaps me out of my fog, and I turn to face him as he continues, “What? Have you got a dick up your ass? Pay attention!”

                The journalist laughs as I nod, rubbing a hand up his arm, and my eyes narrow, “Sorry, we’ve been doing this for hours and it feels like we’re getting nowhere. Are there any important questions left, Sweetheart, or are you just gonna sit here and keep theoretically sucking him off?”

                Her head snaps back and her jaw drops as she takes in what I asked, “Ex-excuse me?”

                “Do you have any important questions for me, or should I just leave the two of you alone?” I repeat slowly, “I’m getting a little sick of watching you two eye-fuck each other when I could be a fifth of Jack deep in my hotel room by now.”

                “I-I didn’t write down an-any questions for you.” She stutters out and flips through the papers in her lap, “I’m sure I can think of something though.”

                I roll my eyes and stand, “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got better shit to do than this.” Turning on my heel, I storm out of the room and down the hallway. I barely make it to the elevator before I hear Ben’s heavy boots behind me. “Got something to say about that?” I ask turning to look at him, his features cold. Arms crossed and jaw set, the little muscle there jumping as he breathes.

                “No.” He responds curtly, a slight shake of his head the only change in his demeanor.

                “Well, you look like you do.” I snap, stepping into the elevator as the doors open. He shoves in behind me and we ride down in silence.

Just before we reach the ground floor, he slams a hand down onto the Emergency Stop button and corners me into the back of the small area. His eyes are blazing, breathing ragged, and his hands blocking me in, the epitome of anger all rolled into one man.

                “What, Ben?” I ask annoyed, glancing at his forearms above my head, “I have places to be.”

                “What the fuck is your problem?” He cuts me off, the vein in his neck bulging as he glares down at me, “Do you think just because I fuck you that you get to be a bitch to everyone else that wants to fuck me, too?”

                “I don’t give a shit who gets in your bed.”

                “Yeah? It sure seemed like it back there.” He nods behind him and his frown deepens, “What the fuck is your problem?”

                I sigh and duck underneath him to start the elevator back up, but he snatches me by the hair and shoves me back into the corner, “I’m not done talking to you.”

                I shove him back, standing taller to get in his face, “Well, I’m done talking to you. Hell, I’m done talking about you! That’s all anyone wants to talk about.” My breathing begins to shake, and I can feel my eyes blazing as my voice raises, “Do you think all this came from having a sexual relationship with you? From me being jealous that other women are in bed with you? No, Ben! That bitch didn’t even have questions for me. If I have to be there to watch you flirt with these stupid women over and over, the least they could do is ask me something more than how uncomfortable my suit is if I gain a few pounds!”

                He rolls his eyes and takes a step closer to me, towering over me, “You’re seriously going to act like this over her asking the face of Payback a few questions? Get it through your fucking skull,” He spits, tapping a finger against my temple, “I am not your boyfriend. I am not your friend. I’m your boss, I use you for a good time and I leave. That’s it.”

                “Fuck you, Ben!”

                “You already did.”  He smirks and slides a hand behind him to press the button, “And you’ll do it again.”

                Shock reverberates through my body, and I can feel the electricity building in my palms at a rapid pace. I hate him. I hate his cocky attitude. I hate his stupid face. I hate that he’s right. God, I hate him. Unconsciously, I reach out to grab his arms, but he steps to the side as the doors slide open. A raise of his brow tells me that he knows just as well I do, he was a centimeter away from the shock of his life.

                “That would be the last thing you do, Sweetheart.” He whispers maliciously, “You’re a great lay, Y/N, but I’ll kill you before you can blink, and we both know it. That sweet pussy isn’t worth all this trouble.”

                I smile sweetly, a sudden surprising confidence taking over my body. I blink once, twice, and finally a third time before staring him dead in the face, “I’m still breathing.” Flipping him off, I step out of the elevator and head down the hallway, “Don’t call me, Asshole.”

If he’s going to kill me, I’m going to give him a damn good reason.

______________________________________________________________

A/N: This one was a little easier to write without a tiny human running around the house, I actually got it finished while she was in school. I have been so nervous since dropping that smutty fic yesterday, so here's a little angst and anger to make me feel better lmaooo