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b0nten · 1 year ago

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IT’S YOU AND ME AGAINST THE WORLD (THE CRUEL ONE I’VE DRAGGED YOU INTO)

[SYNOPSIS] ˚⁀➷｡ kakucho takes you to meet his family. or, the closest thing he has to one, besides the one made by you two.

[NOTES] ˚⁀➷｡ FIRST KAKUCHO FIC WOHOOOOO. timestamps may be a little off so yeah. sorry4dat. anon i hope you like it!

today is the day.

straightening your clothes with your palms, your eyes scan your body in the mirror.

“i thought i told you something casual was enough?” a shirtless figure emerges from down the hallway of the apartment, toned muscles flexing as he stretches.

“and i thought i told you you should ditch the blue and go natural, kaku.” you sarcastically answer, turning to him.

he’s got an amused expression painted across his face, eyes softly laid on you and mouth corners sewn into a delicate upward smile.

“so you really hate my aegean blue hair that much?” he jokes again, and, as if teleporting himself, emerges from nothing next to you.

“that’s not true, after all, this aegean blue is the one that charmed me the second time around, but your natural hair color is beautiful, and you know that!” by fake-punching his chest you earn a laugh, “i’ll dress casually when you stop dyeing your hair!”

“alright, alright,” he muses, “are you ready to go?”

“shouldn’t you get dressed first, princess?” you question back, stressing the second word and inspecting his ‘outfit’. “you look handsome like this, gotta give it to you, but i’d like ti think i’m the only woman that gets to see you like this.”

“shoot, you’re right.” he laughs as he grabs the neatly laid out shirt from a nearby chair, “what would i do without you?” he asks, awarding you with a forehead kiss.

“go to work half-naked, apparently..” you fake a disapproving head-shake and make way to the door. “i’m gonna wait in the car, try to not be late, please.” you warn, jingling his car keys in your right hand.

“yes ma’am.” kakucho fakes a military greeting rushing to the bathroom to brush his hair.

✣ ✣ ✣

looking at the high building in front of you, you let out a shaky breath.

“you ready?” kaku asks, blue hair shining in the hot summer sun.

in response, you only hum a weak ‘mhm’, accompanied by a slight nod. you ponder — are you really ready? — you know what kakucho does for a job, he’s a mafioso. not only that, but he’s the no. 3 of japan’s most feared crime syndicate. if every single one of his coworkers is as serious as your kaku is whenever he talks business on the phone (which happens very rarely, as he values his time at home and with you more than drug deals and murders) then you’re screwed, to put it lightly.

“hey, c’mon,” he looks at you, face contorting into a goofy grin, “you really don’t have to be nervous. they look scary but each one is dumber than the other, i promise you. you’ll like them, and they’ll like you.”

his reassuring words tug at your heartstrings a bit, and warm your worry-frozen heart just enough to get it to pump blood again. so, you take a deep breath and nod again, only this time, confidently.

“let’s do this.” with the corner of your eye, you see kakucho smile proudly, before stretching out his arm, allowing you to loop your’s through.

you enter the building: the lobby is cool and and feels so much better than the scorching heat of the outside. the decor is nice, it brings a certain richness to the place, with accents of gold and spanish oak and baroque elements here and there. it’s not flashy, and certainly not like any other japanese office tower interior you’ve seen before.

your heels smack against the macael marble as you allow yourself to admire the interior.

“ran redesigned this whole place when we bought it.” having observed you until now, kakucho chimes in with some fun facts.

“he really has the eye for art.” you add, and watch his eyes light up as he presses the elevator button.

“and he’s quite the snob too. god forbid we touch his montblanc pens or he goes apeshit.”

“oh, kaku…” you can only sigh as he bursts out laughing. “i really don’t know what to expect from you guys.”

he calms down his laughter before entering the lift, “and that’s just the beginning.”

the elevator ride is long, their offices being the second to last floor, which is not so bad as kakucho gets to tell you more about the guys.

“the pink mullet with the piercings is sanzu. he’s quite… eccentric, sometimes.. even uhm..” kaku swallows, uncertain if he should say more, but sure enough that this slip-up may cause you some fright.

“sometimes what, kakucho?” you urge him to continue his sentence.

“well, he can be scary or creepy sometimes. but just sometimes. other than that, he’s a dumbass.” your boyfriend scratches the back of his head, almost relieved. “he’s also no. 2.

as you know, I, your handsome boyfriend is no. 3, while the advisor is takeomi, sanzu’s brother. he really likes trench coats for some reason, so he’ll probably be wearing one today. he’s got a long scar on the right side of his face. oh, yeah, and sanzu also has two scars at the corners of his lips.”

“two down, five more to go, including montblanc guy.” you comment, leaving kakucho somewhat surprised.

“ye— wait, how do you know?” confused, his head darts in your direction.

“by paying attention to your phone calls, during conversations and doing some simple maths.” you reply, sarcastically.

“oh, my beloved einstein.” he kisses the crown of your head gently, “yeah, we have montblanc guy, ran, and his younger brother rindou. ran has short hair, black and pink and rindou also has a mullet, blue and purple. and they both have the tattoo on their necks.

then there’s mochi. well behaved guy, but his beard almost makes him look like an npc or the daiso version of a pimp. he’s the guy with the jumbo dumplings i told you about!”

“oh, that’s mochi! good to know, good to know!” you reply, just as excited as he is.

“and last but not least we have koko. he’s got really long blonde hair and a… unique hairstyle. his tattoo is on his head.

i think that makes them all.”

“are you not forgetting someone?” you quirk up a brow and kakucho mimics you. “maybe… that mikey guy? your leader?” you finally ask, long pauses between each word.

“it’ll be easy for you to see which one’s mikey once he enters the room. but don’t be fooled! he’s tougher than he looks.”

you nod and run through the information one last time before the elevator light pings and the door opens. you step onto a soft carpet, kakucho right next to you, eager to explain more about his workplace.

“we each have our own offices but usually meet in the conference room, where we do most of the work. for separate tasks we use our own spaces, tho. mine is… right here!” the turns left and points to a black door. it’s not hard to see it’s his thanks to the nameplate.

“across from mine is sanzu’s and the one behind us is mikey’s. over here is akashi takeomi, just beside the elevator is mochi, across from his is the conference room, and then there’s kokonoi’s, and the haitanis’ offices towards the end of the hall.”

you would’ve liked to see how the offices looked, being sure kakucho’s was just as neat as he keeps the one at home, interested in the older haitani’s the most, to be frank. you could’ve bet money he also took charge of the floor’s design, this time more simple and elegant than the ground one. muted colors, different textures and simple paintings; the guy really seems to know what he’s doing, maybe he should ditch organized crime and do interior design.

“let’s get this over with.” you turn over to kakucho, who’s just looking around, as if it’s also his first time visiting the place. when he hears you, he smiles, and takes small steps toward the conference room, hand still looped through yours.

you un-loop your arm from his, resting it on his shoulder as he opens the door. he enters, aegean fringe bouncing with every small step. you come in just behind him.

analyzing the room, you really can’t believe these are japan’s most feared:

ran is filing his nails. next to him, legs propped up on the table, is his brother, playing a video game on his phone, occasionally hissing as his eyebrows twitch in frustration.

across from them is sanzu, pink mullet covered by a long white towel, dripping on the wool carpet. just beside him is his older brother, takeomi, wearing a tan trench-coat. he’s reading — you rub your eyes to be sure you’re seeing everything exactly as it is — a guide to becoming a multi-millionaire through bitcoin.

mochi is doing paperwork, and koko — god have fucking mercy on their souls — is reading the same book as takeomi.

“can you close the fucking— ” the younger haitani bangs his fists against the table in a fit of rage, freezing completely when he sees you. “oh my god, it’s the lady whose picture he keeps on his desk! KOKO GIVE ME MY FUCKING MONEY YOU MOTHERFUCKER HE HAS AN ACTUAL FUCKING GIRLFRIEND!” he grabs his hair while pushing past every chair to get to the mentioned, disturbing ran in the process.

“rindou, try to look whenever you’re running around like a wild boar, i hurt my nail when you pushed me!” his brother accuses, but rindou is long gone.

when he gets to koko, he’s met with a book in his face.

“i’m not giving you jackshit, bitch!”

“come on man, you can’t go back now! we had a bet!” he whines and pleads, but koko is nowhere near turning his decision around.

all of a sudden, rindou kicks koko’s chair, sending him flying into mochi.

the bearded man looks up from his papers distraught, an evil look in his eyes.

“do you even know how long it took me to convince this corn company to deliver corn directly to my house?” he asks, and both shake their heads no. “do you have any idea how long it took me to write this goddamn ‘thank you’ letter?” he asks again, and they both shake their heads again. “THEN ARE YOU TWO GOING TO WRITE IT AGAIN FOR ME BECAUSE YOU JUST MADE ME THROW AWAY A MONTH’S WORTH OF CALLIGRAPHY CLASSES?” this time, they nod.

from the left, sanzu groans.

“CAN YOU FUCKERS STOP SCREAMING? MY HEADACHE IS GETTING WORSE.” he roars, ripping the towel off his face, ready to jump out of his chair. thankfully, takeomi holds him back.

“i think you should all calm down. this is no way to greet the lady.” he says as he closes his book and stands up, bowing to you from afar. “akashi takeomi, bonten’s advisor. nice to meet you.” he says, smiling slightly.

“thank you takeomi.” kakucho starts “this is y/n, my girlfriend, just like rindou has correctly observed.” he shoots the man a judging look, “we’ve been dating for a little shy of, what? nine years now?” he looks at you and smiles, and you give an approving note, signaling he has gotten the time right, “she wanted to meet you all, so i brought her here.”

he steps forward, stretching out his hand toward you. you take it and follow him, nearing the guys on the left side.

“y/n f/l. nice to meet you, everyone. i hope we can get along well. i heard lots about you.” you take your turn and bow, looking at every single one of the guys as you speak.

every one of them continues with the introduction, except for takeomi, since he had already done it while lecturing the guys.

kakucho pulls a chair out from under the table and gestures you to sit. he sits down next to you and surprisingly, the boys are all eager to talk as soon as they get the possibility to.

rindou and koko apologize for their behavior and you just shrug it off with a laugh, reassuring them smilingly that it was funny. you compliment ran’s interior design skills to which he seems very grateful and laugh with mochi, hinting that you know about the jumbo dumpling incident. sanzu compliments your ear piercing setup and asks you about some more jewelry and you offer to go with him shopping sometime, and bond with takeomi over your shared interest of the sengoku period, finding out that he shares the same birthday with his idol, samurai akechi mitsuhide.

everything is going smoothly, when all of a sudden, the door flies open, every one of the executives jumping up in an instant, with you closely behind. when they bow, you do the same, although you didn’t get to see who came in.

when you all pull your heads up again, the short blonde who has entered looks at you puzzled.

“who are you?” he tilts his head to the left, analyzing you carefully.

“mikey, this is y/n, my girlfriend. i brought her to meet everyone!” kakucho explains instantly, and watches him approach you.

“you… you’re the one … that makes those cute bento boxes for kakucho?” he asks, serious look plastered on his face.

unable to control your excitement for your work being recognized, you beam up, hands clasping each other happily: “yes! that’s me!”

as if he wasn’t the ruthless leader he is, mikey’s eyes widen with the childish love for food he’s had forever.

“do you think…,” he starts off shy, unusual for him, “but only if you have the time, do you think you could also make one for me?” the head of bonten inquires, eagerly awaiting your response.

ever so flattered, you smile so hard you can barely see anymore, screeching out in a delighted tone.

“of course!” you’re amped, ready to cook fifty bento boxes because of how happy you are, “do you have any allergies or themes you like?”

as if having been offered a million dollars, mikey answers you enthusiastically, “i don’t like spicy food, and… i like omurice, and if you could add a mini- flag on top, please…” he says, hands meeting behind his back.

“of course!” you affirm, high on the rush of dopamine and continue asking mikey about how he’d like his bento boxes. he himself feels like a kid in a candy store.

the rest of the guys are left dumbfounded, kakucho’s mouth having hit the floor long time ago already.

he picks it back up when mikey interrupts his own conversation.

“i’m sorry to cut it short, y/n-san, but we should start the meeting. we can discuss after it more, if you want!” he apologizes, subliminally saying he wants to talk about these upcoming bentos more with you.

“that’s alright, and of course!” you smile again, “kaku, i’m heading to your office!” and turn around to face your red-faced boyfriend.

“of course, i’ll see you there after we’re done.” he smiles, nodding, assuringly.

“kakucho, does she know where your office is? are you not gonna walk her?” mikey intervenes and before kaku can say anything else, he offers himself to guide you to your lover’s workroom.

“take your places, guys, we’ll start when i come back.” the blonde orders, closing the door behind him.

“looks like boss is gonna steal your girl, kaku.” sanzu teases his subordinate, while ran makes kissy noises and coos ‘kaku’ in the background.

“wait…” rindou interrupts abruptly, “you said you have been dating for nine years? that means.. koko! do the math, please!” he orders.

“you’ve been keeping her secret ever since kanto manji!” the blonde gasps in shock.

“you bastard! you kept her hidden through that— ” mochi is just as angry.

“and tenjiku too?!” kokonoi, having redone his math, is in utter disbelief.

kakucho tries to drown out the sound of the guys accusing him of treachery, thinking about the end of the meeting and heading straight for his office to get you home and spend his time with you, alone.

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songmingisthighs · 1 year ago

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[12.54] yeosang × reader

⇀ he can't believe his eyes

⇁ he's so lucky, he's just so in love with you

genre : timestamp, fluff, relationship

wc :

warning : -

a/n : i literally thought of this when i saw yeosang performing with nae99z

It wasn't news to anyone when Yeosang said he tend to let his mind wonder like an untethered balloon. But what people find curious is the actual thought that goes in his head. Either he would just say 'things' or he would ask people back what they think he's thinking about and he would neither deny or confirm. For example, people tend to guess that Yeosang was thinking about games or technology or maybe even a movie which was not wrong but those thoughts only occupied 20% of his mind.

The rest of 80% was you.

Days on end, Yeosang thought about the fact that you two were together and it would just make him feel stupid because his stomach's all fluttery and his brain goes fuzzy. He couldn't control his face whenever you're around and he pried himself as a man of composure but of course that notion goes out the window as quickly as it flew in.

Every morning, whenever he got a text from you, he'd curl up into a ball in his bed and use all his might to not scream at how much he felt he was loved. Every time he sees you, he just wanna run up to you and hug you and it would sometimes be because he felt safe in your arms but more often than not, it was because when you two were joined, he felt as if he was whole.

But the best of all, was when you're both in close proximity and you looked up to him. You could be just sitting down or crouching to get a pan from his kitchen because you wanted to cook him (and his roommate Yunho by extension) something, and then you looked up at him. That moment was dangerous because Yeosang could feel his brain short-circuit and his face grew red like a lobster. Every time that happened, Yeosang had to excuse himself to calm his beating heart that beat so hard it could break his ribcage. Not to mention the stupid smile that he tried so hard to suppress because he knew that once he let himself smile around you, he'd be stuck like that for the next hour.

You noticed how sometimes when he looked at you, he had to turn his head to the side and covered his mouth with his hand as if to prevent you from seeing him but of course you did. How could you not? And why would you allow yourself to not see his beautiful smile? The smile that got you to put aside the fact that he's a clumsy idiot. A clumsy, yet very pretty idiot that you just love with all your might.

The way you both were so in love with each other is the reason why nobody wanted you two around because it's both sickening and infuriating how you two riled each other up. But it is entertaining seeing Yeosang lose his marbles and act like a bull in china shop, bumping into people as he tried to not let his overwhelming love for you to take over his body entirely.

Good thing he looked cute doing it so people can't really blame you when start doing things intentionally.

network :

@cultofdionysusnet @sandsofire @kflixnet @pirateeznet

taglist :

@kodzukein @phenomenalgirl9 @skzatzloveismonsterous @memorymonster @surveilenceysystem @dreamlesswonder86 @maddiebabyxoxo @imababywolf @do-you-actually-care @marievllr-abg @ilsedingsx @wasteitonserendipity @bbymatz @noonaishere @honeyhwaaa @ateezourstars @yoonjunshi @yoongiigolden @camillelafaye @charreddonuts @kpopnightingale @starryunho @atinct @mirror-juliet @hyuckilstan @jayb17 @kpoplover718 @haatohwa @x-bluee @erinaimeexx @blackb3ll @mingiholic @angelicyeo @vampcharxter @meowmeowminnie @marvelous-llama @kawennote09 @hongjoong-lovebot @stopeatread @spooo00oky @jwnghyuns @cutie-wooyo @asjkdk @shinotani @aestheticsluut @mingiberrii

@chloepurpy

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couldawouldashoulda50 · 5 months ago

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previous Chapter here Chapter Two - word count 5.9k Notes/Warnings - 18+ only, profanity, alcohol, brief female masturbation ◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈ A few hours had passed from the time Loren and Gary left the event, to the time where Loren picked up her phone to text William. The fact she even had his number at all left her mind reeling.

He’s just a guy. Only a guy. And are we interested in guys right now? No, we are not. Loren silently reminded herself as she inhaled deeply.

Nerves shot through her stomach as she started to type a message.

Hey William, it’s Loren. Gary’s home safe and he’s resting now. Hope you have a great night!

After she pressed send, she threw her phone into her purse and tucked it away on the kitchen counter. With her shift about to end, and with the final rush of adrenaline with sending a text to “the” William Nylander, Loren’s head was beginning to pound. She took a couple of headache tablets before saying goodbye to her co-workers and the rest of the residents, hopped into her dated SUV and headed home. As a means of decompressing, the 20-minute drive was silent. No streamed music and no radio; only her recollections from that afternoon played in her mind.

Relief washed over her as she pulled into her driveway. She sat for a moment in her vehicle and stared at her house. Each time she pulled into her driveway, after every double or triple shift she worked, she felt a sense of pride and accomplishment for still being able to call this house her home. God knows she’s fought hard to keep all the bills paid and the house maintained.

After she entered and removed her boots at the door, she padded along through the open concept layout toward the kitchen. She turned on the recessed lighting above the small marble island in the kitchen. The house still smelled of fresh paint and she continued to assess the results of her long and arduous transformation from the outdated green walls to the light and breezy white walls with leaden-blue contrasts throughout.

It had taken every moment of spare time and money that she had, but shopping at stores that resold donated building supplies allowed her to stretch every dime to the maximum.

After opening a bottle of red wine gifted to her from Christmas, she absent-mindedly fished around for her phone in her purse.

The text notifications that appeared from William startled her, making her stomach twist once again.

Thanks. Glad you guys made it safely.

The next message was timestamped 20 minutes after William sent the first text.

It was great meeting you both. How are you doing?

Once Loren’s frazzled mind reassembled itself from reading William’s text, she managed to type out a response that she hoped didn’t sound as eager as she felt.

It was amazing to meet you all. I’m doing well - just really glad to be home now. How are you?

Loren cringed as she pressed send; texting one of the stars of the Maple Leafs was most definitely an unexpected turn of events.

Loren leaned against the island and took a healthy sip of wine. She leaned her head back and slowly swallowed; the tannin giving the distinct dry sensation on her tongue from the rich Valpolicella Ripasso.

She could feel the warmth of the alcohol travel from her neck into her face; a very familiar feeling given the number of times she was flushed in William’s presence earlier that day.

It wasn’t long before her glass was empty and the text conversation, if one could call it that, had completely dissipated.

It was fun while it lasted, she thought as she locked the front door and ascended the stairs to her bedroom, accompanied by another full glass of wine.

Walking into the ensuite bathroom from her bedroom, she lit candles and began to run the water for a bath. She propped up her phone on the closed toilet lid next to the tub and wandered back into her bedroom to undress.

Two more healthy pulls from her wine glass had her wishing she had just brought up the bottle, but she joked to herself that a hot bath, too much wine plus exhaustion could be a bad combination.

Walking back towards the bathtub, Loren stopped to view her naked reflection in the vanity mirror while gathering her hair into a messy bun. A smile formed on her lips as she flexed her abdomen and saw the faint outline of her core muscle groups. She twisted her waist and looked over her shoulder to see definition along her shoulders and back. Turning back around, she gently cupped her breasts and silently thanked the boob gods that they were no less droopy than when she was in her early twenties. After the end of a disastrous relationship years ago, she finally felt happy in her skin and continued to nourish her body to the best of her ability, every single day.

Loren stepped into the tub, eased herself into the almost too hot water and leaned back, flinching at the cold enamel surface when her skin pressed against it. Sitting upright again, she bent her legs and rested her chin on her warm kneecaps, waiting for the still-running water to reach the perfect level.

Wiping her hands on a nearby towel, she grabbed her phone and selected a playlist that reflects her mood.

Definitely low key. Maybe a little bit of slow R&B. Something chill. Like the Swede you met today. No - don’t think of him. Ugh….too late.�� Fuck. Loren scolded herself in her head.

Loren started to giggle at her own musings as she turned off the water. The wine had settled into her system, and as the music softly streamed from the speakers on her phone, she took another long sip of wine and leaned back again, letting the water’s movement rock her gently as she released her muscles into total weightlessness.

She gently placed the glass on the wider ledge beside her head and closed her eyes. It wasn’t long before the feeling of being completely encompassed in warmth started to stimulate a need between Loren’s thighs. She softly smiled to herself as she allowed her fingertips to brush over her own taut nipples that were not fully covered by the water’s surface. The warmth of her wet fingers against the exposed flesh that was chilled by the air, made her skin prickle with goosebumps despite the temperature of the water.

Loren squeezed her thighs together as the pressure began to build in her core. Her hands leisurely traced an invisible path along her lower abdomen and she quickly indulged herself by running her middle finger between her folds.

As much as she tried to ban images of William’s perfect features in her mind, she gave up the fight easily and granted herself full permission to visualise his mouth pleasuring her.

“God dammit” she gasped as she inserted her middle finger from one hand into her pussy, trying to mimic the feeling of his tongue. The middle finger of her opposite hand stroked her clit as she gently bit her bottom lip.

A chime sounded and as Loren’s eyes quickly opened, a text notification appeared. Her eyes widened in surprise when she saw that the message was from William, a continuation from her last message.

I’m good thanks. It was a bit of a crazy afternoon for you so I wanted to see how you’re feeling?

Loren smiled at William’s thoughtfulness and for his concern.

She took a picture of her wine glass, now just half full, followed by the lit candles on the vanity and sent them to William, with the caption

“Nice and relaxed now…”.

Feeling a little cheeky, she followed her message up with:

I’ll spare you the picture of my bathtub but it’s currently part of the solution too 😉

While envisioning your mouth on my…. Loren joked to herself, but the thought was interrupted by another text notification from William.

That sounds NICE. What kind of red wine are you drinking?

Loren blanked; she knew the type but she hadn’t really looked at the label when all but downed the first glass of it as she stood in her kitchen earlier.

Some kind of Ripasso - but please don’t ask me the name of it…I yanked the cork out and poured as fast as I could when I got home…I didn’t bother to look at the label (haha) How is your evening?

Loren set her phone on the plush bat mat on the floor, with the screen down. She covered her face with her hands to try and calm the rise of adrenaline in her body.

He’s only asking how you are - don’t get too ahead of yourself…he’s likely got a million girls on the go anyway, and you’re not going to be one of them Loren reminded herself.

However, as another text chimed in, her mind went spinning all over again.

Haha that’s usually how I do it too. Just buy whatever JT says is good and then I drink it. It’s alright, me and some of the boys are at Mitchy’s new restaurant just chilling.

Loren smiled as she pictured the gorgeous Swede amongst a table of his other handsome teammates enjoying a little bit of downtime during this late part of the season.

Loren and William continued their light-hearted text exchange. Loren explained she had no idea Mitch had a restaurant; William suggested Loren come and check it out with her husband or boyfriend.

Well hmmm, Gary’s pretty much the main man in my life, but he’s more of a Swiss Chalet kind of guy

At the restaurant, William laughed aloud as he read Loren’s response, which caught the attention of Max, who was sitting in the plush club chair across the table from him.

“I have never seen someone on their phone as much as you - fuck Willy, you need to hire some help to deal with all of that….peel yourself away from that thing,” Max joked. “How many are you chatting to right now anyway?” Max continued to tease.

“Nah, man - it’s not like that,” William smiled, pushing his fork around on the table.

“Not like what? Hey uh - Willy, have some of this - it’s Chef Selection,” Mitch arrives at the table and slides a beautifully assembled sushi tower towards William and Max.

William wasted no time in snagging a couple of pieces from the elegant display of food.

“Mmm…so fucking good,” William said as he eyed another piece and lobbed it in his mouth.

Max begins to respond as he lifts a piece of sashimi off the plate. He rolls his eyes once the flavour hits his tongue in obvious satisfaction.

‘Ah - I was just asking Willy how many ladies he’s got on the go…he needs an assistant just to manage all of his text messages,” Max quipped.

“I don’t think Willy even knows how many girls he’s in contact with - probably couldn’t even give an educated guess,” Mitch said as he and Max continued to rib their friend.

“Oh yeah, speaking of which - Angelina, that server from last time…she’s working the other section tonight but she saw you…she wondered if you’d stop by and see her before you leave,” Mitch nudges Max with his elbow as he waits for William’s reaction.

“I hope you didn’t say that I would…I told you last time too…no interest in her,” William chuckled, hoping they would change the subject.

William’s phone chimed and he glanced at the screen; his smile widened when he saw another message from Loren.

I googled the restaurant and that menu 🤤 Can you indulge me a little and tell me how amazing the food is please (all i had for dinner was a lousy grilled-cheese sandwich lol)

William started to take a picture of the sophisticated platters of food that had just been brought out which was a mixture of the most tantalizing array of surf and turf options.

“You taking a pic of the food? For who?” Max asked with a wry smile. When William didn’t answer him right away, Max stealthily changed positions to peer over Willam’s extended arm and saw the name “Loren” in the list of names in William’s message app.

“You got Gary’s worker’s number? Jesus dude…that was quick. Hey, has there ever been a girl that’s turned you down?” Max laughed but based on William’s eye roll, he knew he needed to start backing off the subject.

After a few minutes passed, William excused himself from the table. Remarkably, there was an empty corner at the bar and William slid onto the stylish leather seat, resting his elbows on the expensive marble bar top.

William thought about just sending the food pictures through to Loren, but he quickly changed his mind and decided to FaceTime her instead.

The distinct chime indicating FaceTime triggered panic in Loren. If she answers, and it’s actually him, she’s literally going to be naked while on a video-call with William Nylander.

Answering the call, and despite the lump in her throat and her stomach being in knots, she managed to fake looking relaxed and at ease. She tried not to critique her overall appearance when her face appeared in the small window on the screen; her cheeks were flushed and damp with moisture from her still, rather hot, bath and her hair loosely piled up in a bun atop her head.

William had forgotten she was in the bath and her wet wisps of hair that clung to her beautifully contoured neck quickly jogged his memory. She looked so incredibly pretty as she smiled back at him, so much so that he had to shift in his seat to accommodate his burgeoning hardness.

William apologised. ”Ah - shit…sorry - I totally forgot you were in the bath….I can call back later if you want?”

“I’m ok if you are? I’ll even try and keep it classy and not flash you,” Loren laughed as she shook her head in slight disbelief that those words just flew out of her mouth. “Jesus, sorry William - I shouldn’t have said that….”

“Ha - well, if you’re offering,” William said, his eyes gleaming with interest.

“Ah well, shit - I knew I should have brought the whole wine bottle up with me…it just might have happened had I polished it off,” Loren imitated disappointment, followed by a grin. “Considering that I think I already reached my low point when I couldn’t remember my name after you introduced yourself this afternoon,” she smiled.

William loved Loren's ability to poke fun at herself. He almost forgot he was sitting at a busy bar as he laughed aloud at Loren’s personal play-by-play of the event earlier that day. William even had the bartender and other patrons chuckled as they overheard his distinct giggle as he and Loren continued their conversation.

Although the restaurant was beginning to fill up with more customers, William was completely unfazed and unaware of anyone else’s presence at that moment; he was completely engrossed in the conversation with Loren.

As William talked about the incredible menu items that he was fortunate enough to sample that evening (at Loren’s request), his hunger eventually drew him back to the table to rejoin the group, with Loren still on his phone.

William disconnected his air pods and continued his conversation with Loren, despite the drone of the background hustle and bustle of an extremely popular establishment. He wasn’t even concerned about the group knowing who he was talking to; he just knew his face already hurt from smiling and laughing with her.

As he spanned the table with his phone showing the smorgasbord of food, fit for a king (or friends of one the restaurant owners), Loren stared in amazement, and she could feel herself salivating while William asked her if she were ordering what would be her menu choices. After Loren rhymed off every single one of his favourites, he found himself wishing she was there enjoying the evening with him.

It wasn’t long before another face on the screen appeared beside William’s. Max leaned over William’s shoulder and gave Loren an exuberant greeting, making small talk with her as William grabbed some more food from the platters within proximity of his reach. More of the team popped their heads into view to say hello, leaving Loren feeling like she could float away on a cloud. For not only could she return to work and let Gary know that so many players asked about him and sent along their best wishes, William especially, had also made a huge impression on her.

When William resumed his one on one conversation, Loren suddenly realised that her once piping hot bath was barely above lukewarm. Her skin was suddenly riddled with goosebumps, and she involuntarily began to shiver.

William suddenly stopped himself mid-sentence. “Hey - uh, what’s happening…you ok?”

William paused for a moment and noticed she hadn’t really moved since they started their video call. “Oh, wait…holy shit, you’re still in the bathtub…have I kept you from getting out?” William asked, borderline embarrassed.

“No! Well…yes, I’m still in here but I swear, I just noticed it myself…you didn’t keep me from getting out….”, Loren giggled, as she turned over her hand and looked at her fingertips. “Jesus - I’m as wrinkled as a ninety-year-old nut sack.”

When Loren realized what she had uttered aloud, she clasped her hand over her mouth and looked wide-eyed at the screen, unsure if William had heard her.

He did. And he was totally laughing at her.

“I promise you, I’m not normally this bad with words…and yes, I’m cutting myself off from the wine tonight,” Loren said with a smile despite feeling a little flustered.

“I say keep going - let’s see how much trouble your mouth can be,” William said with a wink.

Loren paused and shook her head slowly; a playful grin spanned her face as she mouthed the word “wow” while arching an eyebrow.

“Given I’m about to step out the tub, the odds of me showing you something I shouldn’t just got a lot higher, my friend,” Loren joked as she set her sights on a bath towel. She turned off the camera and quickly stepped out of the tub, wrapping her cold body in the thick cotton bath sheet.

She heard William’s laugh through the speakers and decided to throw caution to the wind and turn the camera back on. “Ok, I admit it - I was totally bluffing - there’s no way I was going to flash you.

With a playful grin, Loren continued. "Alright, I’m changing subjects for a sec….my curiosity has been killing me to hear how the other half lives…what does the rest of William Nylander’s Friday night look like?”

There was no way he was going to explain what he originally had planned.

“Nothing too interesting. Hey, wait - I thought you were going to finish that bottle of wine still?” William hinted, not wanting to end the call.

“Yessir I am - but…. wait...are - hmm…are you…planning to stay on the phone while I finish it up?” Loren asked, her teeth still slightly chattering from being cold. She walked with her phone towards her bed where she had already laid out warm, zip up hoodie and flannel pajama pants to change into.

“Is that okay?” William asked, his eyes softening as he smiled.

“Of course, but - it’s gonna be a bit…boring….at least in comparison to where you are and who you’re with tonight,” Loren said, smiling until a shiver ran through her body again.

“Nah, meeting and talking to you today has been anything but boring…and I see these guys all the time,” William said, with a hopeful tone.

William was at the point that if he gave into his basic urges, he’d be in his car or an Uber or whatever mode of transport would get him to her door the quickest. He had to caution himself to remain laid back and not get too wrapped up in this girl, but he was rapidly losing that battle in his mind.

“If you’re sure, I’ll take you downstairs in a sec - I’m fucking freezing…just going to change real quick,” Loren said, semi-apologizing to William for her profanity.

“Hey uh, can you leave the camera on? And no, I don’t mean for you to gimme a peek of anything…I’m just looking at the jersey you had on today…there’s something wrong with it,” William said wryly.

Loren set the phone on her nightstand, looking around to make sure William couldn’t see her or her reflection in the nearby mirror as she dropped her towel to get changed.

“OK, spill it - what is wrong with it? Wait - it was a Christmas gift so maybe don’t tell me,” Loren chuckled as she slid into a tank top and panties.

William could hear her voice change as she pulled on her clothing. He tried not to picture her naked, for too long anyway.

“I won’t say it then, it’s nothing major. So Matty is your favourite player?” William asked.

Loren paused as she zipped up her white hoodie. She picked up the phone and turned it to face the screen. “Hold that thought for a sec,” Loren said as she padded down the hallway leading to the stairs.

As she made her way downstairs toward the kitchen, Loren could see on the screen that William was suddenly talking to a woman that appeared next to him, dressed in a sleek black dress and looking like she belonged on a Paris runway. Loren hated the slight pang of jealousy that suddenly made her stomach twist, and her first instinct was to flee the situation, excuse herself and hang up. It’s not as though she would be seeing him again anyway.

But instead, Loren propped up her phone and busied herself by pouring another generous glass of wine - the last of the bottle.

William looked back toward the phone screen and saw Loren sipping wine and leaning against the counter, trying to mind her own business. How William wished he was there with her or even at home with his dogs - basically anywhere except where he was - sitting next to a woman who was making a play for him, and whom he had no interest in.

Loren watched as William spoke to the woman, and she suddenly stood to leave while leaning in for a hug.

Coolly and casually as ever, William resumed his conversation with Loren.

“So you’re all set - is that the rest of the bottle?” William said, still with his unwavering smile.

Loren raised the bottle, angling it in the light and closed one eye to make sure she did, in fact, get every drop in her glass. William watched her in total awe of her striking features with every expression and every movement she made.

“It’s all in there,” she giggled.

“Good - so you told me ‘hold that thought’…” William reminded Loren, hoping to continue the conversation for as long as possible.

“Right, Auston’s jersey. The thing is…I actually wanted a Nylander jersey…your jersey - my parents tried to find one of yours at Christmas, but they were sold out, so I was given a Matthews’ jersey instead,” Loren explained.

William’s eyes grew wide in sheer delight. He asked Loren to hold on for a minute and he scanned the nearby tables, apparently looking for someone.

Loren then heard William call out Auston’s name and seemingly waved him over.

“Hey man - what's up…what’s going on…”, Auston slid up next to William and saw Loren’s face on the screen smiling back at him.

“This is Loren - Loren, meet Auston,” William smiled as he introduced the two. Auston exchanged pleasantries with Loren as her cheeks increasingly grew hot to the touch.

“So, Loren was wearing a Matthews jersey today, and I asked her if you were her favourite player,” William said tongue-in-cheek, and as Loren’s mouth began to drop and as Auston started to chuckle (somehow knowing William was going to chirp him about something), William continued. “And Loren, you explained that…what - you had hoped to get a Nylander jersey…but they were…?” William trailed off.

What a little shit Loren snickered to herself.

“The Nylander jerseys were apparently sold out, so I was given yours as a gift instead,” Loren half-laughed as she jokingly glared at William for putting her in that position.

“She haaaad to settle for a Maaaatthews jersey because mine were soooold out”, William repeated as he laughed, elongating certain words for extra effect.

Auston looked at the screen, shaking his head and noticed Loren was doing the same.

“Has he been a total asshole all night or is this something new that he's trying to impress you with?” Auston laughed.

“I - hey….that's all between you two….I'm not getting involved,” Loren said as she laughed and put her hands up in faux surrender. “But to answer anyway, no, he’s nowhere close to being an asshole…”, Loren said with a warm smile.

William jokingly backhanded Auston, laughing as he said “See? She knows what she’s talking about AND…she’s clearly got great taste…you know with me…being her favourite player and all”, William said, laughing even louder at Auston’s unimpressed expression.

Auston glanced back at Loren and joked “You just had to tell him that…he’s never gonna shut-up about it now.” Auston turned back to William and patted his shoulder. “And just so you know - we’re heading out to the other place in a few minutes so…,” Auston hinted to William that he’d better wrap up the call sooner than later. “It was really nice meeting you Loren - hope to see you….maybe you can bring your friend back down to a game sometime. Heard about what happened - that was really too bad for him,” Auston said apologetically.

Loren’s pulse raced and pounded in her throat. “Thank you so much Auston; it was so great to meet you too and for sure, I think something’s in the works so hopefully he’ll get a chance to see you guys play,” Loren grinned and waved to Auston as he left the frame.

There was a pause in the conversation as Loren took one last sip of her wine. Loren realised that her and William had spent a significant amount of time chatting on the phone and he did not seem concerned at all about whether his teammates were waiting for him to finish his call.

Nevertheless, Loren didn’t want to keep him from leaving for his next spot of the evening.

“This was - I don’t even know quite what to say but thank you so much again...it was really nice talking with you. And… I know I’ve said it like a million times, but I really appreciate you taking Gary around the ice today - and well, everything else,” Loren said, her eyes sparkled as she showed her sincerity. “But I’ll let you go - I know you guys are getting ready to leave,” she smiled.

Loren suddenly felt a jolt of disappointment knowing William was heading to some other joint in the city, likely bumping into a hundred more women who looked exactly like the model-type girl that she just witnessed him hugging. Definitely a far cry from what she looked like currently, or so Loren felt.

“Yeah - it was really great talking with you too. So….I guess my luck ran out then?” William grinned.

A smile crept across Loren’s face as she looked at William quizzically.

“Your luck ran out? How’s that?” she asked with amusement.

“You finished the bottle and now I have to leave….so I guess the chance of you flashing me has passed…,” William teased.

“Ha - well….hmmmm….yeah, I think everything that was flashable has been tucked away for the night…but the evening’s still young; I’m sure half the female population in Toronto would gladly give you a peek of something….I don’t think luck has much to do with it either” Loren winked, hoping she didn’t sound petty or jealous.

William only responded with his signature laugh.

“Alright William, be safe…enjoy the rest of your night then,” Loren said with a wide grin.

“Yeah, thanks, Loren…. I guess have a good night to you too,” William smiled softly as he ended the call.

William slid his cellphone into his pants pocket and readied himself to leave with the rest of the group. He faintly chuckled as his teammates chirped him about being on the phone for most of the evening and how he always seems to increase his already substantial roster of female admirers everywhere he goes. He laughed along as he normally would, but William silently disagreed with their taunts about his supposed list of readily available women.

At that same moment, Loren stood in her dimly lit kitchen, processing the conversation that just ended with William. Such was the way her mind had worked for years; for every optimistic or cheery thought, often-times, a negative or cynical one would supersede it.

‘He seemed so nice’ was ousted with ‘it was all an act’.

‘He was so easy to talk to’ quickly evaporated and in its place, ‘glad you enjoyed it because it’ll never happen again’.

‘It would be fun to hang out with him’ was at once replaced with ‘you’re way too beneath him’.

Loren let out a long audible breath; the excitement she had been feeling since William first messaged her that evening, had morphed into an aching pit in her stomach. It was from within that pit that the negativity, pessimism and overall cynicism stemmed from - beliefs that Loren continually had to fight within herself to overcome. The beliefs that were fed to her from the words of her ex-boyfriend that she was never good enough clearly were still alive inside of her.

Turning off the overhead light in the kitchen, the light-sensor night lights flickered on, guiding her back up to the bedroom.

To say it was a whirlwind of a day would be a massive understatement and whatever energy Loren had earlier rapidly drained. She finished her bedtime routine, brushed her teeth and braided her hair and wearily traipsed back to her bed.

Every muscle and joint throbbed, releasing the built-up tension from the day as she sank into her pillow-top mattress. Despite her momentary relapse into despondence, Loren relished this moment of the day. She was safe and secure in her home; she had food in the fridge and money in her bank account to cover the bills. She reminded herself that she did all of this on her own, and with turning off her bedside lamp, her contentment eased her into a deep slumber.

Meanwhile, William and various players from the team entered a lavish night spot along King Street West; the pulsating beat bounced off of every surface and could be heard from the street. Strategically placed lights and lasers that hung from the iron beams and rafters cast a seductive glow through the expansive square footage of the club.

Throngs of fashion-forward and upscale club go-ers eyed the popular athletes as they meandered through the maze of reserved booths toward the security-monitored VIP section.

Within minutes, the scantily clad bottle girl designated to their table for the evening arrived with some additional servers for assistance, placing multiple bottles of expensive spirits on the table.

William ordered a cranberry-vodka and flashed the server a smile as she leaned over the table enticingly to select the bottle of Grey Goose.

She returned the smile and said “I’ll make this extra delicious, just like you Mr. Nylander,” followed by a wink. In no time at all, she handed him a tumbler with his mixed drink.

William laughed and had a sip. He looked out into the increasingly crowded club as the music pumped out heavy basslines and the strobe lights flashed to the beat. Bodies bounced to the music as the DJ worked his magic, getting everyone up dancing and working them up into a fever pitch on the dance floor

William nodded to the beat and continued to scan the crowd. There was no shortage of attractive women; in fact, everywhere he looked, there was a certifiable knock-out that he could easily approach, and likely leave the club with, if he chose to.

As William’s gaze randomly fell upon each perfectly put together woman, his mind travelled back to earlier in the evening when he was on the video call with Loren.

He found her absolutely striking as she sat in the bath talking with him; no make-up, her hair swept up on the top of her head, and really, no clothes to even speak of. Loren had immediately caught William’s attention at the Easter Seals event and hadn’t been decked out in a low-cut mini dress by the latest designer, or wearing a pair of Louboutin stilettos, or carrying a Dior clutch. She was ravishing just by simply wearing a Leaf’s jersey and leggings.

William scanned the other booths with their magnificent sushi boats and other gourmet fare and smiled as he recollected Loren’s wide-eyed reaction to the delectable platters of food at Mitch’s restaurant, after having a “lousy grilled cheese” presumably for her dinner. And yet, she had immaculate taste, in William’s opinion at least, in the menu options she selected as thought she had she been sitting across the table from him.

Regardless of how gorgeous of a woman she was, it was Loren’s brand of wit mixed with shades of vulnerability that had William completely enchanted. In the middle of a crowded club, at that moment, he found himself unconsciously smiling as he thought of her.

Before he could change his mind, he reached into his pants pocket and scrolled through his message app until he found Loren’s name.

He opened the last received message and paused, unsure of what exactly he wanted to say.

William quickly typed:

Are you still awake?

Waiting for a reasonable period with no reply, William sent another message to Loren.

Do you have a day off coming up that we could maybe get together?

Knowing a response was unlikely, but satisfied that he reached back out to Loren, William rejoined the rest of the players that had congregated around the booth. William smiled and laughed along with jokes, stories and observations of the club dwellers, but the night now felt stale and uneventful. He chipped in on the club tab, ordered an Uber, and much to the dismay of his teammates (and several women who had been eyeing him all night), William exited the club and headed home.

#william nylander #willy nylander #william nylander smut #william nylander imagine #nhl fanfiction #hockey romance #hockey fic #fic rec #william x loren #wn88 imagine

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kissingghouls · 1 year ago

Text

The Prince

Part One: The House //ao3 // Part Two // Part Three missed The Count or The King?

Vampire Terzo x Female Reader

Summary: An unconventional summer job turns out to be way more trouble than you thought. // Part 3 of the Suck Club Series 💕

tags: NSFW, MDNI, 18+, horror themes, vampire violence, violence, blood, smut, a dash of enemies to lovers, and more tags on ao3

could not have done this without @ramblingoak. thank you for the encouragement, editing help, letting me cry sometimes, and making me pretty things. 💖💖💖

Part One – The House

This was not how things were supposed to go. Of all the worst-case scenarios you tried to prepare for, this was so far out of left field you hadn’t even considered it. It left you weak and vulnerable, sporting a split lip and bruised knuckles. This was definitely not how things were supposed to go. You blocked one blow and dodged the next, using the momentum to send the heel of your palm smashing into your attacker’s face.

Instantly, he dropped to his knees and wailed in pain. Blood gushed from his nose, pouring freely between his fingers and dripping onto the expensive rug.

“Terzo!” You shouted, trying to get the vampire’s attention. He didn’t even flinch.

Fuck.

Your opponent took the opportunity to dive at you, taking your legs out at the knees. Landing hard, the breath knocked painfully from your lungs as you hit the floor with a dull thud. He crawled over you, blood dripping from his face onto your clothes. That asshole actually smiled at you, teeth stained as crimson as the rest of his face as he brandished something shiny and sharp.

“What are you trying to do?” he asked as he pressed the metal stake into your sternum. He leaned into the weapon, the pressure pushing against your chest. “Are you trying to save him?”

Your answer was little more than a shout, the piece of metal now dangerously close to snapping the bone.

This was far from the summer you’d hoped to have.

A nice, relaxing summer job by the seaside. That’s what you were supposed to tell people you were looking forward to most. You even practiced it in the mirror a handful of times, trying to make your fake smile fit perfectly around the words. Trying to make your life look comfortably “normal” from the outside.

But “normal” didn’t weigh your backpack down with stakes and poisons. “Normal” got to vacation and play in the ocean, relaxing whenever it felt like it. You couldn’t relax until all this was over.

Until Terzo Emeritus was dead.

Outside the window, the tree line sped past, bright green smears against a cloudless sky as the train roared toward the tiny town. The car jostled slightly as the wheels followed the slow curve of the track, bringing you parallel with the southern edge of the coast. Further along the horizon, that brilliant blue dipped down to meet the ocean beyond the jagged, rocky cliffs that cut a harsh line against the shore. It was the kind of sight that probably looked amazing at sunset, but instead of picturing it you turned your eyes back to the screen in your hand.

“…the grandest of all the summer homes of the time: Meliora House. The Gilded Age estate rests on a breathtaking fifteen acre plot overlooking the ocean. The grounds are covered in spectacular gardens…”

You squinted at the image, tuning out the narrator’s droning voice. You’d seen the special a hundred times by now, knowing exactly when the angles of the shots changed and the timestamps for each room of the ridiculous mansion. The ballroom, the reception hall, the conservatory. Rooms encased by ridiculous amounts of marble and ornamental plaster designed to impress and shame every other asshole with money in the late 1800s.

What those magnates didn’t know, and the documentary failed to mention, was just how impossible it would be to compete with the Emeritus family. Back then, they were considered little more than a group of eccentric brothers who came from old money. As true as it was, no one realized how old the money and the brothers truly were. They’d had hundreds of years to amass the fortune required to build the most impressive house on the block and even more time left to enjoy it.

What did money matter when you would live forever?

The gentleman seated next to you leaned over the armrest and softly cleared his throat. “It’s closed.”

You slipped your headphones from your ears, quickly pausing the video to look over at him. “Sorry?”

“Meliora House,” he said with a kind smile. He was an older man with the kind of soft, wrinkled face that reminded you of your own grandfather. He pointed toward your phone as he continued. “The family closed it for the season. Said it needed renovations or something. Hope that’s not where you were headed.”

You shot him that perfect, practiced smile. “Oh, no. I’m afraid I’m here on business. No time to visit all those old mansions.”

“Ah,” he said with a nod. “What business are you in?”

“Extermination.”

“Heh, that like pest control?”

“In a way. I deal mainly with large predators. The kinds of things that are dangerous to the human population.”

He blinked. “Like…bears?”

“Something like that,” you agreed with another smile.

The breaks squealed below. The grinding sound of the train slowing to a stop thankfully cut off any other questions the man might have had. You slung your heavy backpack over your shoulders and gripped the handle of your suitcase until your knuckles went white. It was now or never.

The iron gate of Meliora House stood tall in front of you, a small, tasteful “closed for the season” sign dangling from the middle. You slipped through, following the tree-lined drive toward the house. It grew taller and wider with each step, its stone façade blotting out the sky. None of the usual adjectives suited the property. Grand. Stately. Ostentatious. All of them paled in comparison to the real thing.

Meliora House was built under the Emeritus family name, but it quietly changed hands in the 1920s. Shuffling the property through shell corporations over the last one hundred years was enough to make people believe the brothers who built the mansion were long gone. Like other mansions in the area, Meliora House was regularly used as a wedding venue and opened to tourists in the summer under the disguise of preserving the history of the grandiose home. Unlike the other homes, Meliora House was still under private ownership and had not been gifted to any preservation society. That small thread had been enough for you to unravel the history of the notorious vampire family over the last century.

As soon as they announced the house would not open for the season due to needed “repairs,” you knew exactly where at least one Emeritus vampire would be. It took a little more research to figure out which of them would take up residence in the old mansion. Secondo was heavily favored after word spread that his favorite club had burned to the ground. You were happy to play along with the idea, even encouraging others to believe it, but you knew he was far too flashy to find solace in the antiquated summer home. It was much more likely to be occupied by one of the younger Emeritus brothers.

Terzo and Copia leaned more old school than Secondo, both having heavy preferences for castles, chandeliers, and from what you heard, interesting clothing choices. But Count Copia had reportedly coupled up with a younger vampire and would most likely be returning to his castle for the summer, leaving a trail of bodies in his wake. That left only Terzo and his companion demons.

It was pure coincidence that you found the employment ad they’d placed. But it was a series of careful, calculated moves that secured you the position. You weren’t going to miss the chance to take out one of the brothers.

Inside, the mansion swelled around you, endless stretches of veined marble floors and archways leading to the kinds of rooms “normal” people had no use for. Even you had to admit the video hardly did Meliora House justice, getting the scale of the grandeur all wrong. It was a remarkable sight, like a relic stuck frozen in time, but you couldn’t help but think of all the other things unlimited riches could provide.

It was vastly different from the tiny one room loft you called home.

Ahead of you, the caretaker Omega rattled on as he’d done in the video, hands making broad sweeps as he spoke. Neither of you mentioned the odd silver mask that covered his face during your initial introduction or even during the assessment of your responsibilities. You saw no point in talking about it now either. Your resumé alluded to the fact that you had seen some weird shit in your time working for other prominent families with strict NDAs and you weren’t about to blow your cover in the first five minutes.

Another staffer, Alpha, sat at the bottom of the stairs with his masked head in his hands while somewhere above him glass shattered.

“Your turn,” was all Alpha said as he stood and moved past the two of you.

“What the hell are two still doing here?” a voice rang out angrily, echoing against the vaulted ceilings.

The three of you turned your attention toward the landing. The vampire wore little more than an annoyed look as he sneered at his demons, black hair framing his face as he rested his hands on his slim hips. Even half-dressed, he commanded the room in a way photos could never hope to capture.

“Well?” he huffed, his odd white eye seeming to glow with his irritation.

“We were just leaving,” Omega said quickly and spun around to head for the door.

Alpha caught him by the collar, keeping him from getting away. “This was your idea,” he hissed.

Terzo groaned. “You don’t need my permission. You have the summer off, just go. Get the fuck out.”

“Um, sir,” Omega started carefully with a nervous shake in his voice. “We—well, sir, remember how we talked before? It’s a lot of work to keep up the house and we thought—”

“He thought,” Alpha corrected.

“Right. Eh, well, this is the assistant I hired to help you.”

The vampire groaned and took a step to the side, leaning over slightly. His painted face was set in a frown as he squinted down at you, his actual expression unreadable. He crossed his arms over his bare chest and studied you a beat longer. He looked younger than you expected, the evidence a little more visible on his lithe frame than his face could show. A pair of grey sweatpants hung dangerously low on his hips, but as he shifted his stance, they almost gave up completely. There wasn’t much of the vampire left to your imagination—the thatch of black hair and the very distinct outline of his dick were hard to miss.

Fucking vampires.

“Oh, come on,” Omega hissed and rushed up the stairs. He gripped the waistband of Terzo’s pants and yanked them up enough to cover his boss’s decency. “We talked about this.”

Terzo slapped his hands away and started shouting, the hint of his accent becoming stronger with his frustrated emotional state. “What is this? What are you doing? I put on pants. What more do you want?”

“Sir, please,” Omega pleaded. “We have company. This is why we have the pants rule now.”

“Why are you doing this? Who are you calling ‘sir?’ What the hell are you wearing?” he yelled and flicked the metal mask covering Omega’s face.

“I—we—”

“No. You get out of my house, now,” he ordered, pushing Omega away once more. He stomped down the stairs, pausing in front of you as he landed on the main floor. He tilted his head as he looked you over, eyeing you curiously, appreciatively. “You can stay.”

He turned on his heel and headed in the direction of the dining room without another word.

Alpha sighed and shook his head. “I’ll be outside.”

Omega approached you slowly, his voice low. “He’s…Mr. Emeritus has been under a lot of stress recently. I’m afraid he’s not himself. I apologize for his outbursts, but I don’t think I can guarantee it will be the last.”

“Omega, it’s fine. Really. He’s far from the first difficult client I’ve had,” you said with a slick smile.

His shoulders relaxed slightly. “He’ll probably keep to himself most of the time. Mr. Emeritus can be a bit peculiar about his privacy, so don’t be surprised if you don’t see him for a couple of days. He’ll show up eventually.” He leaned in closer to whisper, “I think he’d die if he went without attention for too long.”

“I heard that!” Terzo snapped from the hallway. “Stop calling me Mr. Emeritus and get out of my house!”

Omega quickly shook your hand. “Well, good luck,” he mumbled as he stalked off.

The heavy front door closed with a loud slam as the two demons made their exit, leaving you and the vampire in silence. He turned and closed the space between you before dipping into a deep bow.

“Buonasera Signora.”

“Uh, hi?”

His head snapped up, a playful grin resting on his painted mouth. He took your hand and brought it to his lips, barely ghosting a kiss against your knuckles. “Welcome to Meliora House. Please allow me to—” He paused and looked around the reception hall. “Bellezza, where are your things?”

“Right here?” you replied with a shrug and motioned to the small suitcase at your feet.

“No, but…where?” He looked at you like he was about to short-circuit. “That’s all you have? For the entire summer? Stai scherzando con me?”

“You’re wearing a lot less than this right now.”

His brow furrowed. “I have closets, bellezza. Many closets.”

“Well, good for you, I guess?”

He blinked rapidly. “Sì, it is good for me? But you…this cannot be enough? How is this enough?”

You folded your arms over your chest. “You do realize that not everyone lives in a Gilded Age French chateau, right? Like, you’re aware that some people live in studio apartments?”

“Yes, bellezza. I’m not an asshole.”

You snorted. “If you say so.”

He placed his hands on his hips and shook his head, mumbling in Italian. “At least let me show you to your room. Where you can put your one bag.”

Six days. Six excruciatingly long days trapped inside a vampire’s fucked up approximation of a summer home. If you weren’t already here to kill the vampire, the last week would have easily driven you to murder him. Even in a house this size you couldn’t avoid Terzo for long. You’d been assigned the room directly across the hall from him, the one boundary he chose to respect amongst the countless others he ignored. While he never entered your space, it didn’t stop him from creepily lurking in the hallway at odd hours.

No matter how badly you wanted to get it over with and take him out for good, you couldn’t rush this. Vampires were always stronger than they appeared. It was a fact you couldn’t afford to forget, even if he was small and odd. And mouthy.

Terzo never ever shut up.

Meliora House might have been empty of other people, but it was filled to the brim with all things Terzo Emeritus. He left things everywhere, a bizarre collection of designer clothing shed wherever he felt like it. A path of destruction and debris always followed him, like a one-vampire tornado tearing through every room of the mansion he passed through. And when you weren’t stuck cleaning up after Hurricane Terzo, his voice could be heard on every floor, belting out anything from opera to modern top 40.

He didn’t seem to have a care in the world. It never once occurred to him that his doom could be across the hall, lying in wait for the perfect moment. And you were, of course. You were studying harder than you ever had for any test, memorizing his movements and routines. There were weapons planted strategically throughout your room, everything within arm’s reach in case the vampire became too bold or too hungry. In reality, there was little-to-no risk of that happening. Most of the time, Terzo forgot you were even there.

It was almost humorous to watch this powerful immortal be repeatedly surprised and sometimes startled by your presence. Not a single thing you knew about the fearless killing machines seemed to apply to the third Emeritus. As far as you could tell, the most dangerous thing about him was an addiction to sappy low-budget romance movies. Which he watched constantly. At all hours. At full volume. With a soundbar.

If you had to hear another big city woman fall head-over-heels for a small-town baker, you were going to burn the entire place to the ground.

Your respite came in the form of the company car Omega had left for you to use at your leisure. The temperature had dropped after sunset, the dark clouds of a storm rolling over the ocean. It was the perfect night to drive along the scenic route and lose yourself in your thoughts without the constant noise and mess of the creature that dwelled within the mansion. You pulled your sleeves over your hands and walked a little faster toward the car, uninterested in getting caught in the rain. As you slid into the seat, you reached over your shoulder for the seatbelt when the dome light burst to life, illuminating the dark interior of the vehicle.

The vampire was in the car.

Blinking in disbelief, you shook your head and reached across the center console, prodding at his body in the hopes that you were hallucinating. “What the hell are you doing?”

Terzo shrugged from the passenger seat, the soft leather creaking under him as he leaned away from your threatening hand. “I’m bored.”

You poked him in the side, confirming he had really just climbed into your car without asking. Ok, maybe it was his car, but Omega had left you the keys. “You’re bored…so you just…”

He turned to look at you, his white eye shining oddly in the dark. “Just what?”

“People don’t really tell you no, do they?”

He shrugged again and focused his attention on the storm clouds in the distance. “I don’t really know many people.”

You kept quiet, opting to start the car instead of trying to tackle Terzo’s existential crisis.

As you pulled the car onto the main road, you focused on slowing your heart rate. Being this close to the vampire physically without a weapon wasn’t really part of your plan. There wasn’t anything you could use to defend yourself in the car either. Unless you wanted to count that tiny vial of pepper spray in your bag. You doubted he would even blink at that.

Your body jerked involuntarily as Terzo shifted in his seat. He leaned his elbow against the window as he pointed his body toward you, his head lazily resting on his hand.

“Is it the storm?” he asked.

“What?”

“Something is making you nervous. Is it the storm? You’re…jumpy.”

“No,” you sighed, running your hand through your hair. “Can I be honest with you?”

“Ah,” he said softly, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. “It’s me.”

“Oh, you fucking wish,” you choked out, holding back a laugh.

“Bellezza,” he began, his voice sultry and low. “It’s ok. You don’t need to be afraid of me.”

“Oh my god,” you groaned, eyes darting over the road as rain began to pelt the windshield. “I am not afraid of you.”

He nodded once, his stupid smirk turning into a smile.

“I’m not! It’s just…we don’t really know each other, you know? And you just kind of jumped in the car? It’s a little unnerving.”

“I told you I was bored.”

“Sure, but most people, you know, ask.”

“Oh.”

The quiet lasted only seconds before Terzo began flicking every switch and turning every dial within reach. He turned the heat to full blast and, despite the rain, held down the button for his window letting it descend completely as water splattered the interior and his clothes. Slowly, he let the window rise halfway before bringing it back down again. When the window held no more joy, he leaned across the console and started fucking with the radio.

“Can you stop?” you snapped, fingers itching to slap his hands away.

“What does this do?” he asked, clicking several buttons repeatedly.

“I don’t know,” you answered, taking a measured breath to keep from screaming at him. “Isn’t this your car?”

“It might be, maybe?”

“Shouldn’t you know how your car works?”

“There are A LOT of buttons here!” He emphasized the statement by pressing as many buttons at the same time as he could reach. The air was on now, cold blowing straight in your face. “Omega usually makes me sit in the back. Not as much to do back there.”

“I can see why,” you ground out through gritted teeth.

The rain shifted to a heavy downpour, the drops loud as they bounced off the car. Terzo reached up and pushed one more button. The moonroof slid open, torrents of rain soaking the two of you instantly.

“Oops” fell from his lips with a childlike innocence that could not possibly be real.

You jerked the car to the right, pulling onto the gravel shoulder as you slammed on the breaks and threw the car into park. You flung open the door and stomped to the edge of the scenic cliff the road followed, rocks crunching under your feet as you came to a stop. Bending at the hips, you began to scream at the ocean.

“Bellezza, what are you doing?” Terzo yelled as he ran over and pulled you away from the edge.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re insufferable?”

He bit his lip and nodded. “Sì, Reginetta tells me this.”

“Ok, well, whoever that is, they’re right.”

“Eh, she’s mio fratello’s girlfriend—”

“Not the point, Terzo,” you shouted. “You have two choices, Emeritus. You can get in the back and stop touching shit or you can walk home.”

“I’ve upset you.”

“Yeah,” you replied flatly.

“Mi dispiace, bellezza,” he offered solemnly, bending into a deep bow. “I did not mean to upset you. I will keep my hands to myself.”

“Just get in the car, Terzo,” you instructed, shaking your head.

The two of you began to walk back, Terzo falling behind you as he made to climb into the back.

“Look, you can sit up here if you swear you won’t touch anything else. Deal?” you offered, thinking better of having the vampire at your back.

He placed a hand over his heart. “On my Mother’s grave, bellezza.”

“Oh my god, it’s not that serious. Just get in.”

You couldn’t wait any longer. You had to kill him and soon, otherwise it might cost you your sanity.

Killing a vampire was not as easy as books and movies made it out to be. Sure, the methods were mostly correct: stakes were remarkably effective, as was beheading. Fire was often too messy and risky to guarantee much of anything except structural damage. Crosses and holy water were complete bullshit, but modern hunters had found an effective way of debilitating the soulless monsters.

By some happy accident, an inventive hunter found a way to produce a toxin that caused a paralytic effect in vampires. It made the difficult and often extremely dangerous task much more manageable for a team of one—provided there was only one vampire you were after. Too many new kids had underestimated their enemy only to stumble on an entire nest and become breakfast.

There was no way in hell you were going to become a victim of Terzo Emeritus.

You propped your boot on the antique chest at the foot of your bed, carefully slipping the loaded syringe against the leather. Your weapon rested against your spine, tucked neatly into the waistband of your jeans. There was no more time to waste; sunrise was in less than an hour and if you didn’t make a move soon, you would lose your chance and your nerve.

The solid wood door creaked no matter how quietly you tried to open it. Normally, the sound was covered by the blaring copywrite-free scores and shitty dialogue of those awful movies Terzo consumed like air. But tonight, the mansion was disturbingly quiet. Crossing the hall, you skipped the areas of the old floor that groaned the most, hopping from one foot to the other until you reached the vampire’s bedroom.

You leaned into the door, turning the handle slowly and hoping the thing gave way without a sound. It swung wide, the scent of fresh-cut flowers punching you in the face. You paused at the threshold; lip worried between your teeth as you scanned the room. You thought you’d prepared for everything, weapons at the ready, senses dialed to eleven—but you had never once considered the interior of the vampire’s room.

The space was light and open, a splash of soft pastels, gold, and plush velvet. Gauzy curtains swayed in the breeze from the open balcony doors, the thick, heavy blackout curtains pulled far back. There were white roses everywhere, no surface left untouched by a vase of at least a dozen or so. A massive bed encased in pintucked velvet in a soft lilac color lay against the far wall, its gold filigree headboard stretching halfway up the vaulted walls. Above, a chandelier adorned with crystals and sculpted roses hung in a circle of ornate plasterwork.

The idiot vampire lived in some Marie Antionette Rococo nightmare. But that didn’t trouble you the most. Of all the ridiculous things that made up Terzo’s bedroom, there was one particularly important thing that was missing: him.

The bed was suspiciously empty, a mountain of decorative pillows still in place like it hadn’t yet been touched. You rolled your eyes, a heavy sigh heaving from your lungs. As if the vampire needed to be more annoying, he had completely ruined your plan. Another quick look past the dark doorway of his bathroom confirmed he wasn’t in his suite. Unless he was somewhere lying in wait for you.

You gripped the stake at your back, slowly sliding it out of your waistband when you heard it. As you moved toward the balcony, a soft, melodic voice floated up from below. There was no way it could have belonged to the irritating hundreds of years old vampire, and yet there he was barefoot in the garden singing a solemn tune.

It was beautiful.

Quickly, you retreated from his room, snaking your way down the marble stairs and through the empty ballroom. Killing the vampire on the lawn wasn’t your preferred method, but he forced your hand. A steady chant of now or never repeated in your head with each step as you bounded off the terrace toward him. You reached behind you, fingers secured around the stake as you moved closer.

Terzo stopped singing and cast a weary glance in your direction before shaking his head. He turned his attention back to the delicate blooms of the soft pink peonies that lined this section of the gardens, kneeling in front of them. “It’s late, bellezza,” he said quietly, running a finger through the petals of an open flower. “You should be in bed.”

“Technically, it’s early,” you countered. “Shouldn’t you be inside? The sun is about to come up.”

He shook his head. “Don’t worry about me, dolce. A little sun won’t hurt me. Come, sit.”

You shifted from one foot to the other, weighing your options.

“I won’t bite,” he offered with a coquettish grin.

Stupid fucking vampires.

“What are you even doing out here?” you asked as you dropped onto the grass next to him. Carefully, you folded your legs under, a hand coming to rest just above the syringe. He could move faster than you, but fuck if you weren’t going to put up a fight if you had to.

“What are you doing out here?”

“My job?”

He snorted at that. “Sì, I forgot. Hired to babysit a grown man.”

“What’s your definition of grown?”

“What’s yours?”

“I mean, I thought you’d at least be able to dress yourself,” you teased, gesturing toward the vampire’s overly casual crop top and tiny shorts.

He smiled as he stretched out on the lawn. “You’re welcome to borrow anything you’d like.”

“Hard pass.”

He shrugged. “You’re the one sleeping in your jeans, bellezza.”

“I don’t—you know what? No.” You moved to stand, but the vampire wrapped a hand around your wrist. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m sorry, bellezza.” He let go of you and sighed. “I’m afraid I can’t do much of anything right these days.”

You rolled your eyes. “Are you always so fucking maudlin?”

He scrunched up his face in deep thought. “No, actually. This is somewhat new for me.”

“What? Forlornly walking through the gardens at night while singing isn’t your favorite pastime?”

“My brothers would like you, dolce,” he replied with a soft chuckle. “I am sorry if I woke you.”

“You didn’t,” you admitted. “I didn’t know you could sing.”

He cracked another smile, his head lolling over to look at you. “Why would you? You said yourself we don’t know each other.”

“You’d be surprised what I’ve learned about you in the last few days.”

“Would I?” he asked, propping himself up on his elbow. “Tell me, dolce. What is it you think you know?”

“Oh, you know,” you started, holding yourself back from mentioning the whole 900 year old vampire thing. “You can’t sleep without the TV on. All your comfort films involve a woman falling in love in a small town she doesn’t want to be in, but learns to love by way of handyman dick—”

“That doesn’t tell you anything!”

“It tells me you’re anxious about something, otherwise why would you rewatch the same three movies with the same basic plot on a fucking loop for a week? Which, by the way, you should probably get your hearing checked too.”

He frowned at you as he sat up, pulling a handful of grass from the lawn and letting the blades fall through his fingers. “So what?”

“So, nothing. It doesn’t mean anything, it’s just an observation. But if mystery millionaire bachelor is what you’re looking for, it’s not really what you’re giving off.”

He laughed softly to himself as he stood. He leaned down, plucking one of the beautiful peonies from the garden and held it out to you. He raised an eyebrow as you hesitated to take the thing from him before relenting. “You’re not as mysterious as you think you are either. Good night, bellezza.”

You turned to watch the insufferable ass saunter back inside his ridiculous mansion. Terzo Emeritus knew nothing about you. You’d made sure of that before you arrived. Whatever he thought he knew was all part of the bullshit cover story you landed on his front door with.

You groaned and flopped onto the grass; limbs splayed every which way. You were letting the vampire get in your head, something you absolutely could not afford to do. You had eighteen hours to come up with a better plan.

Pretend everything was normal. Go about your day as scheduled while avoiding the vampire as much as you could. The plan you settled on wasn’t the most inventive, but it was better than acting on impulse and getting yourself killed. You neatly tucked away the weapons from the night before, slipping them under your pillow to hold while you slept. It did little to comfort you, but at least they were there. Now you had nothing to keep you safe, just an empty hope that the vampire would leave you alone.

If only your stupid job wasn’t to tend to him.

You knocked on his bedroom door, pausing to wait for a response. The house was quiet again, the loud sounds of the TV dulled somewhere around noon. With no sign of the vampire, you sighed and pushed your way into the ridiculous room. The vampire was there, stretched out on his stomach on the bed that might as well have been a fucking wedding cake in an outfit that could not have been comfortable.

Who the fuck lounges around in leather pants?

You cleared your throat, but Terzo made no move to acknowledge you. “Um, didn’t you hear me knocking?”

“Yes,” he said sharply and turned the page of the book he was holding. “Can’t you see me ignoring you? Now, go away. I’m busy,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

You moved further into the room, squinting at the cover of the book. A handsome cowboy dressed in red stared back at you with a damsel in distress pinned to his side. “I can see that. Moving on to romance novels, huh?”

He looked over the top of the book, an increasingly familiar deep frown setting into the lines of his face paint. “Is that why you’re here, bellezza? You wish to be romanced?”

You coughed out a laugh. “By who? You?”

The frown reached his eyebrows, a crease forming between them. “I don’t think anyone has ever laughed at me before.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry. It’s just…you’re really, really not my type.”

He nodded, his expression relaxing as he raised one eyebrow. “Ah, sì. Women?”

“No…well, ok, yes. Sometimes.”

Women? Sure. Vampires? Never.

He shrugged easily. “I would not judge you, bellezza. I have had many adventures in my day—”

“Ok! I don’t want to hear about your depraved sex life—”

“Depraved?!”

“Oh my god. I’m not doing this,” you huffed. “Do you want clean sheets or not?”

“Oh!” He perked up immediately and hopped off the bed, his sour mood disappearing as his feet hit the floor. “Are they still warm?”

“I—maybe?”

“Grazie mille, fiorellina,” he sang as he swept past you. He reached over and pressed his finger against your nose, grinning as you swiped at him. “Try not to miss me too much while I’m gone, eh?”

Oh, you were going to fucking kill him.

Night fell on Meliora House. The moon, round and full, reflected off the calm ocean just beyond the reach of the grounds. You stared out at the water, lingering just a beat longer in the window of the sitting room, surrounded by the opulence of a forgotten era. It may have been a giant waste of money, but the house was starting to grow on you. Even more reason to make a move and get the fuck out as fast as you could.

Stilted dialogue backed by a Christmas tune bounced down the hall, signaling the vampire was at least in his room. You traced your steps back, skipping the creaking spots just as you’d done the night before. This time, you were better prepared. Armed with weapons strapped to your thighs and loaded syringes tucked into your boots, you quietly slipped through the door.

Bursts of red and green color lit the room, flashes dancing from the screen on the wall. Terzo lay motionless atop a mountain of pillows and blankets, cradled in the kind of luxurious comfort only he could afford. He would have looked so peaceful if it weren’t for the man leaning over him, a stake raised high over the vampire’s heart.

There was no time to think about your actions. You hurled yourself across the room, vaulting off the edge of the bed to slam the sole of your boot into the other hunter’s face. He stumbled backward, a sickening grin sliding across his face as he spat out your name.

Who the fuck?

It was enough of a distraction for him to land a solid blow to your gut. Of all the fucking ways this whole operation could have gone wrong. Part of you expected another hunter to show up eventually, but you were so sure you’d be gone, and the vampire would be dead before you had to worry about it. Whoever this guy was, he didn’t seem interested in combining forces.

You worked too hard to get yourself here. All that training and research and torment you fought through and for what? For someone else to show up and take it from you? You weren’t going to let that happen.

Your opponent swung fast, catching your lip and splitting it before you could pivot away. But he was young, inexperienced, and too quick to celebrate, letting himself get carried away enough that he didn’t expect the blow you landed at his ribs or the next. You blocked and dodged, feet moving fast as he came at you. The heel of your palm snapped his nose, sending him to his knees.

“Terzo!” you shouted as you turned. Your stomach dropped as the vampire failed to move or acknowledge you at all. That little fucker had poisoned him.

Your attacker lunged at you, knocking you off your feet and sending you crashing to the floor. Your chest burned as you struggled to catch your breath, struggled to pull yourself away from the other hunter. He had you pinned, blood splattering from his nose and onto your face as he closed a hand around your throat. You clawed at his wrist, feet kicking wildly as he denied you air. He smiled down at you as he pushed the silver tip of the stake against your skin.

“What are you trying to do?” he asked cruelly, shifting his weight to press the weapon to your sternum. “Are you trying to save him?”

Your answer was little more than a shout, the piece of metal now dangerously close to snapping the bone.

A pained cry left your lips, the sting of metal slicing into your chest as the weigh on top of you doubled. Over your screaming assailant’s shoulder, Terzo’s mismatched eyes locked on yours. His expression was feral and predatory, maybe a touch protective as he opened his mouth wide. You closed your eyes as tight as you could, not wanting to see. You heard it all—the sound his fangs made as they cut into the flesh of the man’s neck. The grunt of pain that left your attacker as the artery burst under the pressure of the vampire’s teeth. Hot, thick blood spilled over your face and neck, crashing like a copper-scented wave but you didn’t dare look. You couldn’t. You wouldn’t.

The weight lifted from your chest, finally allowing you to take a full breath. The air around you was soaked in the disgusting taste of blood, that metallic twinge that coated the entire room. You finally opened your eyes to find Terzo standing over you, the lifeless body of a vampire hunter still clutched in his grasp.

Red dripped onto everything around you, pouring freely from the space where the vampire had bitten your attacker. It dribbled out of the man’s throat and onto the vampire’s bare chest and down, staining the silk of Terzo’s pajama bottoms as he drank from the man for what felt like hours. When he’d finally had his fill, he tossed the body aside, careful to keep it from falling back on you.

You wanted to run. You needed to run, but your body was in such a state of shock that you couldn’t push yourself up. Once all that adrenaline wore off, you knew you were in for a world of hurt if Terzo didn’t kill you first.

But he didn’t make a move to attack you. Instead, he offered you a hand that you were too shaken to take. He bent down and hoisted you to your feet without a second thought or seemingly any effort at all. You swallowed hard, realizing you were chest-to-chest with what you’d been taught was a soulless monster.

And he’d saved you.

Your heartbeat thundered in your ears, drowning out the sound of his voice as he poked and prodded at you. The sting of your tongue running over your busted lip combined with the sharp taste of blood—your own and whoever the fuck that guy was—brought you back to your disturbing reality.

Terzo wasn’t going to kill you.

“Did—did you just save my life?” you asked, your voice hoarse from the hunter’s hand squeezing your throat.

“It only seemed right since you were trying to save mine,” he countered.

“I—”

“It’s nothing, bellezza—”

You cut him off by slamming your mouth against his. It was an ugly, brutal action, barely capable of being called a kiss, but the way his arms locked around your waist told you he didn’t care. Without a word, he pulled you into the massive bathroom, the horrible pink tiles sending a shock to your brain.

He moved away from you just long enough to reach into the shower and turn the taps. He returned, hands moving fast to pull your bloody clothes from your body. He smirked at the sound of your favorite knife clattering against the floor as his pants joined the mess of material on the floor. He picked you up, maneuvering you under the stream of hot water, the red slowly washing away from your bodies. Steam began to rise in the little glass room, the air thick and humid as Terzo pressed you against the wall. His mouth was on your neck, his tongue and teeth dancing playfully against your skin. You gripped fistfuls of his hair, a low moan leaving his throat as you pulled him off.

“No biting,” you ordered flatly.

“I wasn’t—"

“Bullshit you weren’t.” You let a hand fall away from the hair on his head, opting to run it through the patch on his chest that grew thicker as you trailed further down. His eyes snapped shut, mouth forming an O shape as you wrapped your fingers around his annoyingly impressive length. Slowly, you pumped his cock in your fist, squeezing as you reached the base.

“Don’t tease, bellezza,” he growled as he crowded you against the shower wall. He pressed his lips to a space below your ear, working at it until he coaxed a soft moan out of you. He reached between you, fingers brushing yours as they dipped into your entrance. He urged your leg around his hip with his other hand as his thumb lazily pressed against your clit.

“Now who’s teasing,” you hissed, trying to angle your hips for better contact.

He grinned as he pulled away and placed his hands on either side of your head, trapping you under him. “Così bella.”

Your eyes met his. “Are you going to keep being weird or are you going to fuck me?”

He rolled his eyes, letting out a heavy sigh as he dropped his arms. “No patience, bellezza.”

Whatever argument you were about to make died in your throat, replaced by a surprised squeal as he picked you up. Your legs locked around him, back resting against the warm tiles as he lined himself up and slid the head of his cock through your folds. He pressed against your entrance, a slight whimper leaving your mouth as your cunt stretched around him. He kept his eyes trained on where he slowly disappeared inside you, his grip tightening with each push and pull. He slowly pumped into you, taking his time before burying himself completely.

He closed his eyes, letting his head rest against your shoulder as your body adjusted to the fullness of his cock.

“Terzo?”

He snapped his hips forward, a slick smile gracing his face as your eyes rolled back. He set a rough pace, his fingers pressing bruises into your hips as he held you there. He fucked you against the wall, pounding into you until you were whining and begging.

“Terzo, I—”

He angled himself just right, finding that perfect spot inside you that made you shut up. You had never come so hard or so fast in your entire life, but you locked your arms tight around his neck as stars danced in your vision. And he was just as content to repeat the action, trying to coax the next orgasm from you while his thrusts began to stutter.

“I—” he choked out.

“S’fine,” you mumbled, too blissed out to care. “Don’t stop.”

He nodded once, his pace picking up as he pressed his face against your shoulder. He came with a low moan, his cock emptying pulse after pulse into you as the water began to run cold. Clarity hit you both as he lifted his head, those mismatched eyes locking onto yours.

“I—we should—” he started nervously, moving to set you down.

“Yeah. Ok,” you agreed stupidly as you cleared your throat.

Absolutely not how the summer was supposed to go.

thank you for your time! please let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list! xo Ghouls

#my writing #my fics #suck club forever #papa emeritus iii x female reader #vampire terzo #papa emeritus iii x reader #terzo x reader #the band ghost fanfiction #ghost band fanfiction #ghost band fanfic #vampire terzo x reader

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whatswrongwithblue · 6 months ago

Text

The Fire in the Sin

Chapter 6 - Little Sunshine

Word count: 4,227. Read on AO3. Series Masterlist. <- Previous Chapter.

Summary: Mina's POV of where she disappeared to at the end of the last chapter and a bit of backstory of what her job working for Abaddon in The Pit entails. TW: Canon typical violence and language, torture, gun violence.

Series Summary:

In the 1950's, Alastor met the woman he would eventually marry but unfortunately his Radio Demon persona went for her soul rather than her hand. He has to learn what it means to love, and cherish, without possessing and he does. Their relationship is beautiful, strong, unbreakable . . . but he carries a dark secret through their marriage for decades until eventually he has to face the consequences of that secret and leave her, without warning, for seven years. He returns, finding her at the Hazbin Hotel, and has to convince her to forgive him, while being literally bound to secrecy, unable to tell her any of things he now is desperate to explain to her.

(This is a duel timeline fic, timestamps will be a the top of every chapter.)

Chapter 6 - Little Sunshine

Present Day

Earth

A marbled tabby cat walked along the edge of a mausoleum roof, ears flicking back for a second, as it watched the group of humans below. Its green and gold eyes took a second to look around, finding a raven looking down from a nearby tree. On the eve of a nearby, smaller mausoleum, nearly imperceivable, was a tiny bat hanging upside down, but very awake.

A graveyard; how cliché.

One would think these demonic traffickers were amateurs for their choice of location, were it not for their impressive human disguises and the efficiency in which they were burning the bodies. Bodies that had belonged to real humans less than an hour ago.

These traffickers were a real threat if they were not only dealing up on Earth but causing violence and mayhem as well. Mina only cared because it was her job to care; to bring these criminals back down to Hell where they belonged. The human deaths were of no real concern to her, other than making this situation even messier, when she just wanted to get this job done and over with.

She had honestly meant to spend the night at the hotel.

After all, she had invited Alastor to come to bed with her. But as she had tossed and turned, sleep avoiding her restless mind, her phone had lit up the darkened bedroom walls, buzzing rhythmically against the top of her nightstand.

She groaned at first but when she saw the screen, she sat up, very awake.

“What is it?” she asked, concerned.

“I’m sorry to wake you, truly,” Abaddon’s voice said, “but the team needs you tonight. Again, I’m sorry for the short notice, but can you be here in 10 minutes?”

“I can be there in five,” she had said, and hung up.

Usually, her jobs were more scheduled than this but the ones that weren’t were always the most violent. Torture had become monotonous after so many decades, but hunting, especially when it required her to work as a team, was always exhilarating. She took it without thinking, the thrill of the idea getting the best of her, but now that she was in the midst of things, she was antsy and regretting her decision.

They had almost missed their chance of catching this group; luckily their informant among them had dialed Abaddon when their colleagues’ plans had suddenly changed.

It was three against five, but it was no matter, Mina could handle this group on her own; the back up was just reassurance and would help make this go by quicker.

The tabby cat stretched out its front legs, arching its back into a deep stretch, giving the raven and the bat the signal.

Lifting off from its branch, the raven began to fly in a circle around the graveyard. Roena was the ravens name, and she had the ability to create barriers, even in her full animal form. It would ensure none of the demons could leave by anything except a portal made of angelic fire.

Ro, and the bat, Alina, where much older than Mina, and had been very welcoming to her when she was promoted to their ranks. She admired and trusted them to have her back on jobs like this.

A flash of moonlight gleamed unnaturally from the graveyard below, catching her eye, and still in feline form, Mina switched from watching the raven work above her to down at the would-be-humans gathered around the gravestones.

Even her quick glance was too late.

A resounding bang made the cat flinch backwards, ears pinned back against the assaulting noise.

Black feathers burst in midair, and the raven fell from the sky. What landed with a final thud on the soft grass of the graveyard appeared to be a young woman, with large black wings sprouting from her back and black talons beneath her knees rather than feet.

The cat opened its mouth as an unnaturally loud roar erupted from it, and Mina shifted into her more human form, and fire shot forward from her outstretched hands.

Alina had also shifted into her natural state, large bat ears framing the sides of her face and snarling her teeth.

For the first time, Mina truly wished she was alone. She couldn’t use her voice here, her most powerful tool, not with Alina here in the crossfire. Her ears were too sensitive; even if she covered them, she would be susceptible to the magic and be rendered helpless. But she still had her speed and her claws, as well as the angelic fire that Abaddon infused into all of those that worked for them.

The demons they were after had also dropped their disguises and were fully fighting back now; even the half fox demon that was supposed to be their informant.

A double agent.

But the sly fox wasn’t the one wielding a Carmine angelic steel gun.

He came at Mina with a sword, swinging high, so she ducked low, allowing them to stagger forward awkwardly as he missed his mark. She caught the demon by his large fox tail and yanked him back, digging her claws into the underside of his sword arm, ripping apart muscle and ligament until he dropped his weapon. After a bite to his neck, she shoved him to the ground and picked up the sword. He had time to turn onto his back, showing Mina his pointed vulpine facial features twisted in fear before she shoved the tip of the sword under his jaw and out through the top of his head.

Another bang resounded as she pulled the sword free and Mina felt a punch to her shoulder. She stumbled forward from the momentum of it, trying to pull air into her lungs but if felt as if she had just fallen several stories and had the wind knocked out of her.

She turned, pressing her hand to her shoulder, not even noticing the blood yet, and saw the Hellhound with his gun raised at her. He hadn’t made a killing shot but the smile on his face told Mina that he was sure he wouldn’t miss a second time.

Alina had her hands full with the other three so Mina was alone, starring down the barrel of one of the few weapons capable of killing her permanently.

She felt the angelic fire burning in her fists, ready to strike out.

“I wouldn’t if I were you,” the Hellhound said. “I’d have another bullet in you before you’d know it.”

“And I’d have you burning alive if you tried to pull that trigger,” she said cooly.

It was a stand-off.

A wet whack from across the graveyard and the Hellhound’s attention quickly went to the battle beside them, where Alina had just sunk an axe into the gut of crocodilian demon.

Mina used the second of distraction to shoot a jet of fire towards the Hellhound.

“Shit!” he yelled, and jumped out of the way, but not fast enough to save his arm from getting engulfed. He let out of a howl of pain as the bitter smell of burning fur and flesh filled the air.

Mina started to feel faint and looked down at her shoulder. She could barely move her neck that way with how stiff and sore she was quickly becoming, but her hunting clothes – black trousers, with an orange top, and black leather jacket – were completely soaked in her own blood. She swayed at the sight before she steadied herself. She still had to kill this mother fucker before she could allow herself to pass out.

He was down on the ground, having rolled out the fire on his arm, and was just sitting up. He raised his gun as she raised her fist to send another blast of fire his way.

The Hellhound’s hand that was holding the gun began to smoke and he screamed again before it burst into flame, forcing him to drop the gun.

Mina stopped, her hand still raised high to strike, because it was not her burning the Hellhound’s hand.

A blast of warm air put out the rest of the small fires that Mina and Alina had accidentally set during their battle. Mina closed her eyes and raised her hand against the wave of heat and small debris and when she lowered her arm, Abaddon was standing over the Hellhound.

“You dare use angelic weapons against my own?!” they said, their voice a much lower masculine octave than what they usually used. Their eyes were burning red, and they wore a crown of fire around their blond locks. Mina had seen this terrifying display used before, but she had never seen them look this furious. Even she was scared.

“Fuck you, man,” the Hellhound panted in pain, “I’m just trying to make a living.”

“You think I give a shit about your life when you just ended the life a soul old enough to have seen the building of Hadrien’s wall, you Hellborn scum?”

“Go ahead then, arrest me. You can’t torture my kind over and over again. I’m not a Sinner. You wont be able to do your worst.”

Abaddon snatched up the Hellhound's burned and mangled fist and with a touch of golden light, it was whole again.

“I’m an angel, you dipshit,” they said, and as quickly as they healed the hand, they crushed it between their fingers, the bones crunching audibly across the graveyard. The Hellhound screamed anew. “I can keep you alive for a very, very long time.”

Abaddon let go of the hound's broken hand and stepped back as a ring of fire opened up beneath his paw-like feet, and he fell screaming into The Pit.

“AS FOR THE REST OF YOU!” Abaddon roared, raising their arms and the four other Sinners lifted into the air, revived but still bleeding. “Let’s see how long you last in my lake of fire.”

Abaddon dropped their arms and each Sinner fell into the fiery portals below their suspended bodies.

Alina ran to Mina’s side and caught her as she finally gave into her wooziness. She was battered and bloody as well but hadn’t been shot with angelic steel like Mina had, and her wounds were already visibly healing.

The two women watched as Abaddon walked over to Roena’s fallen body and knelt beside her.

Mina could never have imagined the anguish on their face as they cradled Ro’s broken body. Tears spilled down their flushed cheeks as they brushed her hair back from her face, exposing her unblinking, dead eyes.

“Oh, my girl,” they cried, “my sweet girl, what did they do to you?”

Alina supported Mina as together, they walked over to Abaddon, and then left Mina braced against a tree as she also fell, sobbing at the corpse of her fallen friend.

Mina watched the display of grief and had to look away.

Abaddon was a better parent to Mina than her own had ever been, but Roena and Alina had been friends for hundreds of years. She felt the failure and the loss of Ro more than her bullet wound, but she still felt like an outsider in this moment. The other women and Abaddon had been family for centuries.

She closed her eyes, stubbornly fighting the brewing emotions inside of her, and wished she were just back in her bed at the hotel.

___

Abaddon had taken them back to The Pit, insisting that Mina’s bullet wound be seen to. Being in no state to refuse treatment, Mina complied, and Abaddon had accompanied her back to her old quarters.

“Thank you,” she said, as Abaddon helped her peel off her ruined and bloody jacket. She could barely move the shoulder on her own and the slightest bit of movement caused the skin to break open and bleed again. “I can’t go back to the hotel like this. Charlie will ask too many questions and Alastor . . . well, he’d lose his shit if he saw me like this.”

“I’m sure he would,” Abaddon said with disinterest. “May I?” they asked, gesturing at the shirt sleeve that needed pulling down to have access to the wound.

Mina nodded. Covering up her skin was an old habit of hiding the pattern of spots across her shoulder and upper back. Alastor had helped her get over her insecurities about the leopard like pattern ages ago, but she still didn’t like others to see it.

Abaddon was family though, and willing to help her with the intense pain she was in, so she didn’t hesitate to allow them to gently slip the sleeve off, exposing the bloody skin between collar bone and bicep.

Carefully then, they placed one hand on either side of her, covering the entrance wound, and the much larger exit wound.

“I’m sorry, Mina, but this will be unpleasant at first before it gets better.”

“I can handle it,” Mina said, and Abaddon pressed down. They didn’t use a lot of pressure, but it still felt like they were cranking a vice against her sensitive, wounded flesh. A glow of light luminated in the corner of her eyes and then a tingling sensation tickled through the path of destruction in her shoulder before it was replaced with a sudden intense burning.

Two seconds later, though it felt like much longer, Abaddon removed their hands. The flesh now completely healed; they tenderly pulled the orange sleeve back into place.

They stood then, getting a wet rag, and using it to wipe her blood off their hands.

“Take your time here. Clean up, get a fresh set of clothes, make yourself good as new. But then I think you should go back to my niece’s.”

Mina stood as well, still feeling the effects of the blood loss, but no longer sore or stiff.

“Yeah,” she agreed, exhaling, “that was the plan. Can’t be gone from there very long these days, anyway.”

“I mean for you to stay there.”

“W-what?”

Abaddon sighed, and came over to her, putting gentle, parental hands on each of her shoulders.

“You need to take some time off. You’re pushing yourself too hard with this job and what Alastor’s been having you do at the hotel-“

“Alastor’s not-“

“You’re distracted,” they said firmly. “And I can’t have a repeat of tonight.”

Mina’s head spun at their words, and she felt her ears flatten pathetically to their sides.

“You think this was . . . my fault?”

They pinched the bridge of their nose and sighed again.

“It’s not that, not entirely at least. I blame myself as much as anyone. Mostly, I can’t lose you, too. It’s my job to look after you, and ever since Alastor’s return, I’ve been putting you in a position to choose the hotel over me and it’s too much for you to bear, I can see that now. It would be irresponsible of me not to give you this. Please, just take some time and we’ll see where things are at in a few months.”

Mina pulled herself up to her full height, leaning into her anger and indignation, rather than give in to how much this rejection stung.

“Fine, I’ll be out of here in a few minutes.”

“Please, sweetheart, don’t be angry,” they said, as she turned away and headed for her bedroom.

“I’m not angry,” she lied, and flung her door open, feeling like a teenager being asked to leave the dinner table.

“Mina,” they said, stopping her mid motion as she was about to slam the door shut. “Remember. Even when you leave this place, you are never alone. You can always reach me.”

They vanished then, in a glimmering ball of light, as warm and soft as sunshine on Earth.

Mina slammed the door behind her even if her adoptive parent was no longer there to see it.

She cleaned herself up, changed into the same style of sundress - always orange - and knitted sweater - always black - and opened a portal directly into her bedroom at the hotel.

Well, at least Abaddon hadn’t stripped her of her powers. And if they really thought she was responsible for Roena’s death, then what was one little inappropriate use of a portal going to hurt?

Once she was in there and realized how late it was, the exhaustion of the evening hit her like a freight train. She had lost hours of sleep and probably half the blood in her body. It took the last of her strength to strip out of the clothes she had just put on and change into her sea green nightgown.

She flopped unladylike onto her bed and threw her comforter over herself, too exhausted to even cry, and fell asleep in seconds.

___

1917 – 1952

Abadon’s deal was simple.

Work as a Torturer in The Pit and get paid in housing and a comfortable stipend. The job offered safety, which Mina desired above all else, and didn’t require her to sell her soul. It was as straight forward as employment could get. She could quit whenever she wanted, no strings attached, and no coercion tactics to keep her there.

She hadn’t agreed right away, of course. Abaddon had graciously shown her around the workplace, so to speak. Mina was allowed to observe several sessions to see if she really had the stomach for it, which she easily did. They encouraged her to speak with the other demons who would be her coworkers, and each of them had wonderful things to say about the fallen angel who would be her employer and the quality of life the job gave them.

The lodgings were impressive. A chain of apartments that were as magical as they were macabre. Black brick walls and twisting vines on the outside and dark but cozy furnished rooms on the inside. What drew Mina to the apartments the most though, were the large garden windows that faced the lake of fire that the row of buildings surrounded. It burned eternally and Abaddon said it was their own personal torture device, something they used on those souls that had personally affronted them. Mina thought it was one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen.

After being shown everything there was to see and having gone over the terms of her potential employment once again, she was given a couple days to mull it over and when Abaddon returned, she had already packed the few possessions she had acquired.

Mina noticed that almost all the people who worked for Abaddon were women and the few that weren’t were either clearly homosexual or they were androgenous like the angel. It was just a point of interest to Mina, who was from the early 1900’s, and so the commonality of the queer community there in Hell still surprised her a bit. It didn’t take her long, though, to realize she felt much more comfortable in that kind of company than she did around the straight men she had been forced to socialize with while alive.

She had asked Abaddon about their preference in employees once and they had smiled their kind, knowing smile.

“Hell hath no furry than the scorned, darling. It’s one thing to employ violent sociopaths to do such bloody work but it’s another thing when it’s truly cathartic for those dealing out the torture. They are the ones that are best at it, can hold out the longest before the job wears them down, and best of all, they aren’t so far removed from their humanity that they aren’t pleasant to be around . . . for the most part.”

Abaddon really treated the people they hired like their family. It was years before Mina witnessed them interacting with other Overlords or the higher echelon of Hellborn. They rarely even spoke of their most famous brother, Lucifer, though she got the impression the two were close, just private. It really seemed like the people they were fondest of were those that lived and worked in The Pit and they doted on Mina like she was their own flesh and blood.

It was several weeks into her job, and she and her new friends were sitting out on the fiery lakeside, enjoying the end of their day. Shoes off and toes pressing into the black sand that was so pleasantly warmed by the multitude of flames in front of them, she sipped her wine and basked in her newfound luxurious life.

Abaddon came and sat next to her, taking her glass and returning it a second later, mysteriously refilled.

“What is it about this place,” she asked after a sip, “that lets souls respawn?”

Abaddon raised an eyebrow at her.

“You know,” she said, gesticulating at the lake in front of her, “is there some power source or is it your own abilities to heal, that lets souls come back from the dead? Because I’ve been torturing the same fellas over and over again and they have definitely died on me. Then I come back the next day for a new shift and there they are, magically put back together again.”

Abaddon started laughing so hard they had to set their glass down in the sand.

“What?!” Mina asked, not amused by her question being laughed at.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” they said, taking a moment to catch their breath, “I suppose you adjusted so quickly I forgot how new you still are to all this. My dear girl, souls do not die here in Hell. I thought you had realized that.”

Mina frowned, “But I . . .”

“Well,” they held up a finger, “not permanently at least. You could grind a Sinner into a pulp, and they’ll feel everything, but eventually they’ll respawn anew somewhere else. The only magic here is that The Pit makes you respawn right where you died. The real power is held in the human soul; your kind’s essence is truly immortal, not so unlike us angels. It’s a gift from our Father. All of us that come from Him cannot be so easily wiped from existence. And that’s why the more common Hellborn get lighter torture sentences for their crimes. Some of them . . . many of them, can be killed.”

Mina thought back to all those she believed she had killed before she came here, like the couple at the park on her first night, which she suddenly felt a smidge better about. It gave her a sense of freedom, knowing she didn’t have to hold back as much anymore when using her power. She could kill guilt free now; it wasn’t like it was permanent.

But then she remembered the one person she had very much intended to kill and felt extremely bothered.

“You’re thinking of Johnathan, aren’t you?”

Mina sipped her wine. “His name had crossed my mind.”

“Ah, well, I hope this isn’t awkward but consider it a ‘Sign on Bonus.’ You’ll never see him again.” Mina could only stare in response, unsure of what to make of what they had said. “I said we cannot be so easily wiped from existence. I didn’t say it was impossible,” they said and lifted an open palm to her eye level. A small, unnaturally golden flame burned in the air an inch above their skin, fueled by some unseen force. “Angelic fire, one of few devices that can destroy a human soul. I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of dealing with all your exes when you agreed to work for me.”

“All of them?” Mina asked.

“You didn’t think the other men you killed while you were alive would end up in Heaven, did you? Not when poor souls like us aren’t even allowed there?”

“Did it hurt them, when you did it?”

Abaddon studied her for a moment before answering. “Immensely.”

Mina nodded. “Good.”

They closed their fist and extinguished the flame, before giving her a small smile, looking prouder of her than either of her parents ever had.

“The power to wield it will be yours someday if you stick around long enough. And something about you tells me, you will.”

‘Long enough’ turned out to be just over twenty years but two decades to someone who was thousands of years old and saw the creation of Earth wasn’t much time at all. Mina sometimes wondered how Abaddon could see her and the other Sinners as anything but mere insects when their scale of time was so incomprehensible to her and yet, they never treated her like she was beneath them.

Eventually, Mina had fully come into her own. It had taken decades, but she had slowly become a well-respected member of Hell, to those who could recognize her for what she was. She was armed with her own Siren powers and the ability to wield angelic fire. She wasn’t on anyone’s leash, she didn’t deal in souls herself, and she stayed out of the politics of Hell completely. And yet she, and those she trusted enough to associate herself with, were some of the most powerful souls in Hell.

At that point in time, she had been living a quiet, easy-going life as a single lady of Hell.

Until she unwittingly caught the attention of the Radio Demon.

Next Chapter ->

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor fanfiction #alastor the radio demon #alastor x oc #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel oc #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfic #alastor fanfic #the fire in the sin

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lostmyremembrall · 1 year ago

Text

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑪𝒐𝒏𝒇𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒂 𝑩𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒅

𝑇𝑜𝑚 𝑅𝑖𝑑𝑑𝑙𝑒, 𝐴𝑏𝑟𝑎𝑥𝑎𝑠 𝑀𝑎𝑙𝑓𝑜𝑦 𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: 𝐻𝑢𝑚𝑜𝑢𝑟. 𝑇𝑜𝑚 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎 𝑑𝑖𝑐𝑘.

Summary: Every villain has his regrets. So what is Tom Riddle's? Well, not getting to say 'fuck you' to his own father before he accidentally fell down the stairs to his death, of course. But, Abraxas says he needs closure, so you could say the trip to Little Hangleton wasn't a complete waste.

Recommended Music: I'm Sorry by Brenda Lee

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This is the first time I’ve felt the need to confess.

It all started with Abraxas’ suggestion to visit my father.

I’ve asked him: why. His answer: closure.

He believed my mental health to be somewhat, “unstable” and “unhinged.” Apparently, childhood trauma does that to you.

So, closure was the answer.

I’ve pondered about it. Why not. Why not go up to the man in the mansion and stick it into his face? Why not tell the rich man in a big mansion, “fuck you,” “I hope you’ll die in a ditch,” and “You will not be invited to my inevitable coronation.”

If this will help me become a better leader, then gladly I would accept the opportunity to cuss in my father’s face.

Apparently, that was not what Abraxas meant by closure.

But, being the open-minded leader that I am, I said why not.

The plan was to visit Little Hangleton on New Year’s Eve anyway, to assess exactly what I will be inheriting. So, why not make the trip more interesting? Why not start off the marvellous year of 1944 with a clean slate?

Needless to say, the closure has gone slightly out of hand.

I stood on the second-floor foyer, overlooking the entrance hall. Perhaps unwisely, I thought I would give my father a surprise, apparating behind him.

Now, a man lay unmoving below me. His body mangled. His eyes, wide open in the shock that ultimately led to his untimely death. The blood, pooling beneath him.

So much for a clean slate.

Abraxas appeared on the first floor, returning from the kitchen, carrying a slice of cake that he had nicked from the New Year’s celebration. His feet, along with the long shadow cast on the marble tiles, came to a halt.

“Huh,” his brows furrowed, tilting his head, still sucking on his fork. “Is a human head supposed to look like that?”

He pointed his fork at the large dent on the inion of the head.

Tom Riddle Sr. lay still, face down on the floor. Even a corpse did not have the energy to answer such a dull question.

“Shit,” I gritted my teeth. “Fuck, Abraxas. Damn!”

Abraxas’ eyes widened, the realisation finally dawning on him. The slice of cake slowly slid down the plate and fell, the splatter marking its timestamp in the silence.

“Tom…!” Abraxas’ mouth gaped and closed like a helpless fish, “When I said closure, I did not mean this!” He waved the fork over the corpse, as if to say ‘Whatever this is.’

“It. Was. An accident!” I hissed in return at his unhelpful contribution, my fingernails digging into the mahogany handrail.

“Merlin’s beard,” Abraxas ran a hand through his hair, devolving rapidly into a panic. “We’re fine. We’re fine. We merely need to get rid of evidence.”

“Just clean up after ourselves. We weren’t here long. Nobody saw us,” Abraxas began pacing about the room. “Nobody can trace this back to us.”

“Ah, shit,” Abraxas paused as his feet stepped into the crumbled mush on the floor. “The cake! They can trace my DNA, oh god, oh god oh god.”

“The what?”

“It’s a new thing, Tom,” Abraxas wiped away the sweat with his shaky hand. “Heard all about it on that crime radio I listen to.”

I paused to close my eyes, willing myself to ignore Abraxas’ pathetic wailing, taking a deep breath. If my brilliance had served me thus far, it was going to serve me now.

“Calm down, Abraxas,” I opened my eyes again, and let out a shaky breath as I began to descend the stairs.

Abraxas turned his teary, desperate eyes to me, hoping that his leader had some incredible plan.

“Look at this,” stopping next to Abraxas, I languidly gestured to the crime scene. “It merely looks like he fell, does it not?”

For the first time in this dreadfully long night, a glimmer of hope and conviction appeared in Abraxas’ eyes.

“You’re right. He did fall,” he nodded fervently, as if attempting to convince himself. “An unfortunate accident.”

“That befell on an unbalanced man,” I reassuringly patted the back of Abraxas with a smirk, ending his sentence, “Now, let us calm down, and enjoy the serenity before we begin rifling through their possessions.”

I sauntered to the stairs, and sitting down on it, took out a flask for a swing. Still shaking, but now considerably less so, Abraxas followed.

Abraxas nodded his thanks as he took the flask that I offered, taking a swing as well. The alcohol seemed to do wonders, as it was always the case for Abraxas, as his breathing evened out and the confidence returned to his blue eyes.

“You know,” Abraxas began, returning the flask to me. “It is impeccable timing, if you think about it.”

I raised my brows at him, urging the blond to continue.

“It is your birthday. And the old man died, giving you everything in this room,” his gaze wandered around the room, to the antique armours guarding the front doors, the expensive Chinese vases, to the crystal chandelier above them. “Shit, you might be as rich as me, now.”

“Hm, true,” I pondered, my eyes also trailing the many valuables in the room. The word ‘closure’ came to my mind. Yes, I suppose, counting these as an apology gift and my birthday gift, I could find it in myself to forgive my father. Maybe.

My eyes landed on the man’s face, still slumped down on the floor a few feet from us. Tom Riddle Sr. was extremely handsome. Deadly handsome, even.

Too soon, perhaps.

I raised a flask towards the body that eerily resembled me. “Thank you, father, for the gifts!”

“And the cake!” Abraxas joined in with a smile.

I smiled against the flask as I took another swing, revelling in the immediate warmth that spread through my core. “You know,” I murmured, suddenly feeling uncharacteristically sentimental all of a sudden. “I’m glad you’re here, with me. On this memorable night.”

Abraxas turned to me with a genuine smile that came more easily to his lips than mine. “Always happy to help, Tom.”

Abraxas fell silent, however, when there was a groan from the corpse. My eyes widened, as my father groaned, and he raised his head, his eyes fluttering open. We froze as our eyes met. Nothing has terrified me more than that moment, when my father’s irises captured us, his son and a stranger, on his stairs, eating his cake, celebrating his death.

“Avada Kedavra!”

My wand had reacted sooner than I’d had the time to think.

The head dropped again with a heavy thud.

“TOM!”

Abraxas’ shriek pierced my right ear, and I winced.

“Why?! WHY did you do that?!” Abraxas was wailing again, “You have to stop casting a killing curse on your reflex!”

“Shit,” I grimaced. “I panicked.”

“Yes, I’ve gathered, Tom,” Abraxas ruffled his hair, leaping to his feet to begin pacing again, his hair now beyond recognition from the neat style he usually kept. “Merlin, now they’re really going to think it’s a crime scene.”

“He saw our faces,” I murmured darkly. A weak excuse, I knew, but Abraxas’ finger-pointing was unbearable.

“Fuck, Tom!” the blond was hyperventilating now. “I cannot go to Azkaban! They will eat me alive!”

I glared up at the rattled man, still pacing back and forth in front of me, his nerves getting to me. A terrible idea crossed my mind, for a moment, whether keeping Abraxas alive was a liability. He did not do well under pressure. He’d crumble under interrogation in mere seconds.

I growled, “Well, there’s nothing we can do at the moment, but to–”

Abraxas yelped when there was a low grumble from the corpse. He turned on his heels, the fork gripped tight in his hand. I widened my eyes at the savagery of the blond, watching him straddle my father and plunge the fork into him again and again. The muggle way.

He screamed at him. Then cursed. Then stabbed some more.

Watching Abraxas go absolutely feral on the poor corpse that resembled me, I had to consider the possibility that Abraxas perhaps harboured some pent-up vehemence towards me.

“Jesus,” I watched him stand up, the sweat-matted strands of hair falling into his eyes. “Could you not? That is my father.”

“Fuck,” he let out a shaky breath, the fork slipping from his hand and rattling on the floor. His pale skin, splattered with red. “I thought he was dead! How’s he still alive?!”

“It happens,” I sighed, scratching my brows at the situation that was rapidly growing out of hand. “Corpses release gas and liquid.”

“Oh god,” Abraxas fell to his knees, as if begging for forgiveness from my father. He began sobbing, the tears streaming down his cheeks. “Oh god, my life is ruined.”

To be frank, I found the situation somewhat amusing. How the tables have turned. I bit my tongue, wanting desperately to say ‘Who panicked this time?’ Instead, I stood up with a heavy sigh, and laid a supportive hand on his shoulder.

“Yes, it does look like ‘fuck you in particular’ now, doesn’t it?”

Despite my solace, Abraxas began to sob harder. Perhaps it was the way I said it.

“Come,” I helped him up to his feet. My father’s blood painted his blond hair and pale skin. His tears and spit have now mingled with it as they trailed down his chin. I sighed, producing a handkerchief from my pocket.

“You’ve always enjoyed crime radios,” I wiped his face clean, until reconsidering the futile attempt as more tears poured. “Now you get to be a part of it.”

Abraxas howled as more tears began to pour.

“There there,” I wrapped my arms around him in a comforting embrace.

“You won’t let me go to Azkaban, will you?” his frail voice came muffled against my wool uniform.

“Of course not,” I patted his shoulder. “I’ll always be here to fix your mistakes.”

-----

A few hours later, in the wee hours of the morning, we stood in front of a roaring fire. The sky was just beginning to brighten as Abraxas rubbed his hands over the fire, trying to warm his pale hands that had gone frigid.

“I’m glad we built this fire,” he said with a relieved smile. “Fire has a soothing effect, I think.”

I hummed in agreement, blankly staring at the flames that reached for the sky before me. There was a hint of nervousness in the voice that Abraxas was desperately trying to quell. I chose to ignore it.

“Say, do you know if they wanted cremation?” another nervous whimper from Abraxas.

I took one last drawl of the cigarette before tossing it into the fire. “Now, how the fuck would I know that, Abraxas.”

Abraxas merely hummed and nodded, numbly staring at the three bodies that had grown unrecognisable. The grandmother and the grandfather had to go as well. Loose ends and all that. They’ve lived a good long life anyway.

“You know, I don’t think I’ll ever be the same,” Abraxas’ voice was dead and despondent as he accepted a cigarette from me. “That image of you, underneath me, as I plunged the fork into it… It’s changed something within me.”

I knitted my brows at his wording. “You mean… my father,” I raised a suspicious brow at my oldest friend as I corrected him. “You felt the urge to kill my father.”

“Hm, what?” Abraxas had borrowed the light from the roaring fire in front of him, his gaunt features light ablaze with orange contemplation. “Yes, of course.”

I fell into an anxious silence, the image of Abraxas straddling someone that resembled me, too similar for my comfort. The animalistic sheer will that burned in his eyes – no thinking, no reasoning, all his focus on simply doing – as he poked holes into my father. The image shall haunt me for the rest of my days.

I cleared my throat, and took a step away from the blond. Suffice it to say that the night had changed something inside me as well.

“Well, father,” I tightened my tie as a respectful gesture that seemed appropriate for the sobering moment. “Grandmother, grandfather.”

Abraxas tossed the cigarette, crushing it underneath his black leather shoes, taking his hat off.

“Wish I got to talk with you a bit more,” I cleared my throat again, not having had much experience with eulogy, despite deaths that seemed to follow me wherever I went. “Maybe discuss my inheritance. Alas, it is what it is.”

I looked down at the bouquet of flowers, gripped tightly in my hands. “Abraxas and I gathered a little something for you. Don’t know what kind you liked, but – there are some dandelions in here.”

I furrowed my brows, angling the plants in an attempt to name them. “Some… grass. Well, I hope you’ll like them.”

I tossed the bouquet on top of the fire, watching the flowers shrivel as the flames licked them hungrily.

“Closure,” Abraxas leaned over to me and whispered, giving me an encouraging wink.

I nodded and took a deep breath. My eyes surveyed the first hint of light behind the roaring hills at the approaching dawn. I bit my lips in deep contemplation, trying to put a label on what I was feeling.

“You were a shit father… father,” I continued, blinking away the tears that were beginning to pool in my eyes. “I wish I got to tell you that in person. I admit things could have gone better.”

“But,” I sniffed, looking up at the chalk-white sky to dry my eyes. “Rest assured, your assets will be put to good use. I’ll promise you that.”

My eyes landed on Abraxas, who had given me a thumbs-up. I nodded in appreciation of his support.

I sighed, growing restless at the idea that Abraxas and I still had to bleach the entire place. “Goodbye, father. And fuck you.”

I knew I did well by the congratulatory pat on my shoulder. I turned my eyes as the first ray of sunshine hit my cheekbones. The clouds. The birds chirping by. It was strangely serene, even idyllic, betraying the violent night that we just shared.

But, I found myself smiling as the strands of my hair in the breeze tickled my cheeks. I felt it. Abraxas was right. My mind was finally at peace.

Reflecting the serenity of our environment. Save for the burning corpses.

I knew it in my heart. That was to be the last time I killed a man.

A single tear rolled down my cheek, as I clasped the blond’s hand on my shoulder. A fresh new start, I felt it in my core.

A/N: Written for Quidditch writing competition a few months ago! I am sorry that I haven't been writing/uploading new stories recently. But the new ones are coming!

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