#motions at dimitri

[the-californicationist]

They Help You Practice

Task Force 141 asks you to be the bait for a secret assignment. So, they make you audition for the role. You end up getting gangbanged by the whole team and loving it!

TW: gangbang, vaginal sex, anal sex, oral sex, gay sex, degradation, explicitly consensual, spit? please check AO3 link at bottom for full tag list

You let yourself into his office, shutting the door behind you, and stood before him at a sharp parade rest, waiting to be informed about your fate. 

“Sergeant, thank you for coming. There is no need for formalities. This is just a chat.”

You moved to a more relaxed rest and nodded. 

Price continued,

“This is going to be quite the ask. Would you be willing to perform duties which are…outside of your current scope?”

“Yes, sir,” you responded just as you should have, as you were trained to, but Price was hoping you would understand exactly what you would be getting yourself into. 

“I need you to go undercover to a Konni restaurant cover in Minsk…as bait. Am I making myself clear?”

A pause. But, to your credit, you didn’t flinch. You did raise an eyebrow and ask a clarifying query,

“What kind of bait, sir?”

“Our next target, Dimitri Sokolov, will be at the Black Pearl bar in Minsk tomorrow, and we won’t get a better chance to lure him away from his bodyguards. He almost never makes public appearances, so he must be making an exception. Sokolov has,” he paused for a moment, trying to find the words, making general, suggestive motions over his own chest, “particular tastes in his women. You just so happen to have the right profile for the job. Again, this is not an order, Sergeant. I need to know if you’re willing to accept.”

“Yes, sir,” you tried to appear fully in control. You knew your breasts were large, but you had never been asked to use them as a weapon. There was a first time for everything, you supposed. You would do anything to help the team.

The captain loved your composure. He knew you would be perfect for the job. 

“Good. Let's brief the team.”

Price walked with you down to the meeting room at the end of the hall and found Soap, Ghost, and Gaz sitting in the desk chairs every way except the way they were designed, lounging over the furniture like big cats, melting into the various surfaces they encountered. They fixed themselves when the captain walked in. 

“Gentlemen,” Price opened, “this is our bait. Her code name is Rabbit. Rabbit, this is Soap, Ghost, and Gaz.”

You nodded politely and resumed a semi-formal rest position. 

The men had noticed you around the base but hadn’t been formally introduced. You were a desk rider, but still, you were hard to miss. The baggy military clothing had almost managed to conceal a bounty of soft curves, but your lush body persisted beneath it, and the outlines of your feminine form made heinous suggestions in the fabric. Unfortunately for them, you didn’t hang around the gym or the common area enough for them to have generated a fully accurate image of your enticing body, but they were certain it was delicious. They watched you like peckish wolves. Waiting hungrily, shifting in their seats in anticipation. For what, you weren’t sure.

“Rabbit is going undercover for us to take down Sokolov, Vladimir Makarov’s new shipping controller. He has a particular penchant for,” Price paused just long enough for anyone to understand his true meaning, “certain types of women. Rabbit fits the mold, so all she needs is the gear and the training.”

Price cut open three large cardboard boxes to reveal slinky dresses and a number of questionable garments. 

“I’ll need to try them on,” you offered, “Do you want me to get changed, Captain?”

“Sounds good. Come back in when you’re all set,” he smiled, enjoying the view as you left the room. 

Ghost crossed his arms, clearly with quite a mouthful to share and but refusing to. Gaz stared down at the knife he was playing with, bashful. But Soap would not be cowed, and as soon as you left, he said,

“Feeding her to the sharks like bait, Captain? I dinnae ken any of us was so expendable.”

“Soap,” Price warned, “the sergeant is more than capable of handling -”

“I wasnae askin’ about the lassie’s capabilities. Send her in to slit his throat with a knife in her hand, for all I care. But to send her in unguarded, unarmed? No. It’s not right,” Soap crossed his arms. 

“He’s got a point, Captain. Why take the risk of losing an operative?” Ghost spoke coldly. 

Price furrowed his brow at their short-sightedness,

“And do what, exactly? Have the Russians scurry back underground at the first hint of an assassination attempt? We’ve failed that mission three times, boys. I’ll not have this go south again.”

“I’m sure she is capable, Captain. But, is Rabbit committed to this plan?” Gaz asked. 

“Sure,” Price tried to sound reassuring, “we spoke in my office. She agreed to come down here. Besides, she’ll have you three as backup. You won’t let anything happen to her.”

Gaz did not seem convinced. All three soldiers wore a scowl on their faces, and even though Ghost’s was obscured by his mask, his body language communicated his displeasure. Price carefully ashed his cigar to renew the glowing tip, taking a long drag while they waited for you to return. 

You were back without too much of a delay, but when you walked in, your colleagues were visibly stunned. They didn’t recognize you at first. A short black dress had replaced your camouflage fatigues, showing off miles and miles of smooth, shining skin. Your thick thighs stretched the silky fabric, and your ass threatened to escape from the edge of the dress with every step you took. Your new heels clacked sharply against the cold concrete, making your legs flex and tense, showing off your well-formed musculature. You did not miss squat day very often, apparently.

But, the assets you were trying to use for this particular mission were the real stars of the show. Your heavy breasts battled against the low dip of the dress, providing a deep display of cleavage, hinting at pink perky nipples hidden just below the line of the black silk. Your tits jiggled as you struck the floor with each careful step, making the room full of men breathe a little heavier at the sight. 

Soap’s big mouth betrayed them all,

“Christ in Heaven. There you are, bonnie.”

Ghost backhanded him hard on the shoulder. Price glowered.

You had put on a little more makeup than might be socially acceptable in an office setting, making the suggestive outfit complete. Finally, as you stood at the head of the meeting table, you took out your task force regulation braid and pulled your fingers through your hair, breaking up your long waves as they spilled down your neck and back. 

You smiled,

“Well, do I look the part?”

Price coughed, inhaling too much smoke on accident. Gaz hadn’t moved since you walked in the room. He just stood there, dumbfounded, arms held at an odd angle as if frozen in time. Ghost cleared his throat to save them,

“Yes, Rabbit. You clean up very nicely, don’t you?”

“Well,” you sighed, “this is sort of the raunchiest outfit I found in the box. I was going to go with something a bit more casual, but I thought I’d better be noticeable if we’re going to nail this asshole.”

Gaz finally came out of his locked state, aghast,

“Noticeable? Sweetheart, this is more than noticeable. Goddamn.”

“You think it’s too much? I don’t really know what would get his attention,” you shrugged, looking shy as you confessed, “I don’t get asked out very often.”

“You could go out with me, lassie,” Soap edged his way closer to her, slinking around the table, “We’d have a hell of a time, so we would.”

“Don’t listen to Johnny,” Ghost stood in front of him a bit, snaking an arm around your cinched waist, “He thinks takin’ his birds to the dog races is a good date idea.”

“Well, isn’t it?” Soap protested.

Gaz grabbed your hand tenderly, examining your fingers like they were a precious work of art,

“Maybe you could come with me to Berlin next weekend, babes. There’s a killer music festival going on, and we could have a really good time. How does that sound?”

“Boys,” Price interrupted, “I’m sure she has plenty of work to finish here; can’t just be galavanting off with you muppets. In fact, why don’t you stop by my office after this mission, bunny rabbit, and we can work on your projected shipment dates together? You know, I used to be a logistics man, myself.”

Ghost rolled his eyes at the Captain,

“Please, logistics? You drove a truck back and forth on base delivering food to the canteen twenty years ago. I’ve read your file.”

The men all started talking over each other, forgetting your presence in favor of coming out on top of the dog pile. You smiled to yourself, eager to push more of their buttons. 

Slipping one skinny strap down your shoulder, you spoke through the din,

“You know, this dress can be strapless. Do you think Sokolov wants it up…” you locked eyes with Captain Price, seeing his throat swallow hard as he watched you in the silence you had created, “or down?”

The other soldiers were stunned, unable to look away as you slipped both straps off of your shoulders and tucked them into your dress. One strap was still partially visible, and Ghost slowly moved one gloved finger up your arm, tracing your skin lightly, and finished tucking it in for you. He lingered, caressing the side of your breast as he removed it. 

“You gonna be able to seduce this Russian bastard, Sergeant? Or, do you need some practice?” Price asked with a low, threatening tone. 

The whole room held its breath waiting for your answer. The four men towered over your short frame, casting shadows over you like black spells, hoping you would relinquish your control over them. All of their eyes watched as you slowly, achingly lifted a hand and traced it up Gaz’s canvas pant leg, stopping when you discovered the heavy head of his cock, hardening down toward his knee. With the back of your hand, you pet it like a skittish animal, reveling in its smoothness and warmth. Your eyes found his as they fluttered, blood rushing through his body in a panic,

“I think I could use some practice, Captain.”

You felt Gaz’s rod leap at your answer. He bent down to kiss your mouth, slanting his lips fiercely against you. 

Soap came up behind you, gripping your ass through the silk of your dress roughly,

“We’ll help you, lass. We’ll help you practice, won’t we, boys? Jesus, you smell so good,” he buried his face in your neck and sucked against your skin. 

Ghost found your other hand and held it tightly, using it to steady you from Soap and Gaz’s assault. Price moved Gaz out of the way, earning himself a glare, and peeled the dress off of you in one fell swoop, revealing the expanse of uncovered skin underneath. 

“Holy shite,” the captain breathed, whispering his lament, “Sergeant, where are your knickers?”

“I guess I forgot them, Captain,” you blushed, batting your eyes up at him, doing actual damage to his psyche.  

He didn’t have much time to savor the moment though because Ghost was shoving him out of the way to pick you up by the thighs to lay you on the table. The giant knelt between your legs, pulling you by the knees until your ass was hanging off of the low wooden planks. He lifted his mask just enough for you to see him lick his lips over sharp, white teeth before feasting on your wet folds, letting the cloth of the balaclava hide most of his efforts. 

Ghost created a soothing, yet electrically wet warmth in your core which made you keen loudly, only to be muffled by Price’s smoky kiss. You could taste the burned tobacco on his tongue and your skin was scraped by his thick mustache. 

Gaz’s voice got your attention. He had freed his cock from his pants and started to stroke it, standing by your side and playing with your breasts with his free hand as Price savaged your mouth. He tugged on your nipple and told you,

“You know, Rabbit, you’re going to have to really put yourself out there tomorrow. Show him these gorgeous tits of yours. Make him think you’re hungry for his cock,” Gaz rubbed his head, hard and hungry for you, “Can you do that? Let us see how good you can be, princess. We need you to ace this mission”

You felt Ghost dip his hard cock between your pussy lips, distracting you from Price’s tongue in your mouth. You broke the kiss and looked up at Ghost, dazed, into his masked face,

“I promise, sir. I’ll be good,” you looked around at all four of the men, reaching out to grab Soap’s cock that he was stroking for you, “Will you show me how?”

You didn’t give Soap time to answer. The Scot gasped as you devoured him, sucking him down into your throat, making yourself gag as he fucked your throat in and out in long thrusts. He tangled his fingers in your hair. Ghost matched his rhythm below you, pounding his cock into your wet hole. You thought you could feel something on his dick. Was he pierced? You could see your slick gleam on his lips and chin where his mask was still askew. 

“Yeah,” Ghost smiled haughtily, “you like those piercings, don’tcha baby?”

You didn’t have a chance to respond. Price pulled your head away from Soap’s dick, kissing your mouth lewdly again before giving you an order,

“Open your mouth wide for me, love.”

You obeyed. Then, he spit onto your tongue, warm and bubbling, before shoving your face down onto his own fat rod. It made your lips burn with its cruel girth, even though it felt relatively soft, and you thought fleetingly that there was no way your poor little cunt was going to be able to take him, Ghost was big enough to be filling, but the captain was carrying around a true weapon. 

He pulled your head off of him roughly, watching as the strings of drool connected your tongue to his cockhead, growling in short, lustful breaths. 

“Alright, boys. Make sure she’s good and ready for me. You know the drill,” Price barked, and then he was gone. 

The drill? You looked for him, confused, and only found Gaz, who was now slapping his long dick on your cheek, knocking for entrance. He let you take his head into your mouth, having a much easier time than you did with your captain. You bobbed your head up and down dutifully, not realizing just how long his cock was until he tried to force it into your throat. He held you down for a moment, moaning shamelessly, before releasing you to let you breathe. 

“You alright, babes?” He laughed.

You nodded, moaning. Ghost took himself out of your wetness and pulled you off of the table. Soap hopped up to lay where you were, and you moved to ride him, making sure to get right to the edge with him to let Ghost back in. You’d never taken two men at once, much less four, but there was a first time for anything, and you were a quick learner. 

Spearing yourself onto Soap felt like someone had created a warm, custom, living dildo just for you. He was a perfect fit, and you both cried out in pleasure from the sensation. Ghost slapped your ass, hard, and you screamed, clenching around Soap’s cock. Soap moaned darkly. 

“Keep suckin’ that big cock, baby. Need to teach you how to multitask,” Ghost threatened as he bent to eat your asshole, wiggling his tongue into the tight rim to gain entrance.

He started to fuck you with it, his long wet muscle moving in and out as Soap thrust himself up into you, hitting your g-spot every single time like magic. You took Gaz back into your mouth and tried your best to take him deeper into your throat. Every time you did, you would gag, and your muscles would involuntarily clench, and the whole room would moan. You started to come, feeling yourself flood around Soap, whose mouth had latched onto one of your nipples, suckling like he was trying to feed from you. 

You could see Price out of the corner of your eye. He had lit another cigar and was smoking it, stroking himself, still not at his full capacity. You were scared of him. He looked like some sort of demon, breathing fire, as big around as your forearm. He wasn’t as long as Gaz, nor as delightfully curved as Soap, but he made your legs shake without even touching you. When he did touch you, rising from his chair when he wanted to fondle you, pinching a nipple, pulling your hair, forcing your head down on Gaz, it lit you up like you were kerosene and he was the match. 

Suddenly, Ghost’s tongue was gone, only to be replaced by his heavy head. He was going to fuck your ass, and there was nothing you could say to stop him. You’d only done anal once or twice before, and you knew it might hurt. He went so slowly that you could feel each and every piercing as he popped them into you, one by one. Then, as he pulled back out, you felt them pop as each one went through you again, raking himself in and out gently, as careful with you as he could be. When you were more pliant, he began to throw his weight into each thrust, and Soap started to groan below you from the sensation. 

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare, Johnny boy,” Price threatened, his voice full of stern warning. 

You weren’t sure what he was warning him about until Soap pulled his cock out of you and came all over your stomach, Ghost’s thrusts making the fluid smear between you two, rubbing your bodies together. Ghost pulled out next, and you felt his hot, thick ropes spray onto your ass cheeks, melting down your thighs. 

Gaz abandoned your mouth and took over for Soap, feeding himself inch by inch until he found your end, leaving some of his cock out in the cold. He fucked you faster than the others, not caring to move out of the way as Soap rolled off of the table, whining like a whore the whole time. 

Captain Price came around to your face, holding your chin in his hand, looking down at you without pity,

“Garrick’s got a long cock, don’t he, love? You’re being so good for my men, such a good girl. Sweet little slut, hm? You’re going to do so well on this mission. Those areholes won’t know what hit ‘em.”

He grabbed your hair fiercely, hurting your scalp, forcing you to turn and look back at Gaz. Price took a long puff from his cigar, blowing it past your face, 

“Baby, he could fuck you for a hundred years. He’s not gonna come until you scream his name.”

You heard Gaz moan louder at Price’s suggestion, so you did. You screamed for him over and over, not caring who might have heard you, begging for him to come in you. 

“He’s not allowed to come in you, love,” Price kissed your open panting mouth, “But, don’t worry. It’s about to be my turn, and you’ll be feeling my fuckin’ come drip out of your cunt all night long.”

Price’s voice made your blood run cold with fear. He wasn’t making threats. Those were clearly promises. Predictions of the future. His cock was tucked back into the band of his pants, but it lay in wait there like a serpent, eager to strike.

Your heart pounded in your chest as Gaz pulled his long shaft all the way out of you, his come shooting onto your lips and ass, feeling him use his hand to rub it into your skin, making you sticky. Your captain gave him a warning look, and you realized they had done this sort of thing before. Perhaps many times before. As you watched Soap and Ghost comfort each other, breathing close together, touching themselves, you wondered if they ever fucked each other as well. Picturing the four of them rutting into each other made you hungry, deep in your belly, starving to witness such an act. 

Finally, it was your captain’s turn. The look in his eyes made you tremble. You knew he wouldn’t be cruel, not on purpose anyway. He wasn’t a heartless man, but he wasn’t one to hold himself back from what he wanted either. You knew that he would fuck you the way he wanted to, as hard as he wanted to, no matter how much complaining you might do about how his cock would stretch you out - even to the point of pain. 

“On your back, love. Legs up. Spread that pussy open for me,” he commanded. 

You did as he told you, opening yourself up shamelessly, letting your folds spread wide. 

He walked around the table to gaze upon your form, staring at your pink flesh like it was a hot meal, and he was starving. He moaned, rubbing his hand across your sticky mons, 

“Mm, that’s my pretty little Rabbit. Now…” he paused for effect, sinking three fingers into your hole roughly but ever so slowly, twisting his arm as he did, corkscrewing his knuckles into you, “...I want you to understand that there’s a reason I’m last in line, love.”

You cried out from the pressure of his huge hand. It felt like you were going to tear. Then, after a few hard thrusts, he released you. The emptiness you felt was heartbreaking. You looked for him, pleading with your eyes for him to return to you. He pulled his cock free from his waistband, unable to connect his finger to his thumb as he wrapped around it. You whined involuntarily, something animal in you recognizing its fate. 

“Shh, baby, I know,” he drug out his voice, “I know…”

He positioned the heavy shaft on top of your body, measuring himself from base to tip, reaching your navel. As he slapped it against you, it made a loud thudding noise, slamming into your muscles like a fist. Price was so heavy. You’d never even imagined a man could feel like he was pure, warm, thick marble. Your pussy seemed to understand the panic you were feeling, flooding itself, preparing for the upcoming invasion. 

“I’m so fuckin’ eager for you, love,” he slapped you again, quick taps right to your swollen clit.

Then, he put his head inside of you, squeezing himself in. He left it inside of you and started to pump himself with his hand. Between the vibration from his fist and the fact that it felt like you were sitting on the end of a steel bat, you couldn’t hold back your keening, loud and high-pitched. 

Price began the steady, slow march forward, swelling harder and harder by the moment, making your walls feel like they might break. It seemed as if all the blood in your body was rushing down your belly and up your legs, hurrying to your core. 

Your eye were wild, full of your fear, tears forming at the corners of your eyes,

“I can’t, please! I can’t. It’s too big, fuck…”

Price didn’t stop. He just kept feeding himself in and pulling himself back out, wetting his cock’s skin with your soaking hole. 

“You can, and you will, love,” the captain growled, “Now, shut that pretty mouth and take it.”

Your cheeks were wet and your eyes burned, he was so deep within you that it felt like he was thrusting into your throat. You couldn’t breathe.

Suddenly, Soap grabbed your hand, kissing your palm, using his tongue to lick your skin,

“It’s alright, bonnie. I’m here, lass. Breathe with me, lass.”

He bent down to kiss you, but he didn’t quite connect, letting his lips graze yours featherlight. Soap breathed in and breathed out in steady, measured beats. You felt yourself begin to relax. It had such an immediate effect that you heard Price groan, able to slip himself a bit deeper than he had done. 

It was like a chain reaction, the more relaxed you became, breathing with Soap, feeling him suck and lick your nipples softly, the more Price was able to squeeze himself in. 

Finally, you felt his hair at the base of his cock, thick and curled, and as he sighed, he settled inside of you, impossibly pressing against your whole body, making a clear outline of himself in your lower belly. He rubbed it, almost fondly, and you felt every inch of him throb against your walls, his head bullying your womb.

You cried out again from the strain. Ghost and Gaz joined Soap. Gaz began to suckle from your breast on your left side, fondling himself as he did so, getting hard again. Ghost was at your head on the end of the table, and he bent to kiss you, upside down, his tongue running all the way down your throat, long and slippery against your own. 

He pulled away, petting your cheek as Price began to grind himself into you,

“You alright, Rabbit? You enjoying your captain’s cock, hm?”

“Mm hm,” you whispered, whimpering through your tears.

Ghost smiled, and his straight, white teeth looked menacing as he did, sharp, wolf-like,

“I know you are, babe. You’re doing so well. Look at him. You can see him inside of your cunt.”

He lifted your head by your hair, showing you the grotesque shadow of Price’s heavy rod as it shoved itself into you. You reached your hands down to it, feeling it through your skin. It was so unique. His size wasn’t like anything you’d ever experienced, and your body was sending confused signals of passion, your orgasms coming in shattered, broken waves. Feeling incomplete. Too powerful, and yet drawn out like the last note of a symphony. 

As you touched him from the outside, Price moaned aloud for the first time. It shocked you. You looked up at him, managing to meet his eyes.

“Fuck,” you moaned, “You feel so good inside of me, Captain.”

“Mm, yeah?” He replied, using his hands to press yours down onto his cock, making you gasp, “You like it, baby? I’m gonna make sure you never want anybody else.” 

Price reached down and grabbed you by the throat, scaring away Soap and Gaz. He lifted you up, making his dick fit inside of you that much tighter with the change of angle. Then, he began the true performance. He thrust himself in with fast, punishing strokes, slamming himself into you. You were sure you would bruise, and you felt dizzy, almost like you’d pass out. 

Soap was at your side again, holding your hair away from your face,

“Look at you, lassie. Such a good girl for your captain. Takin’ that cock so damn well. Can’t wait to be back inside you, girl.”

He kissed your cheek, palm massaging his dick which was back to full mast, eager again. 

“Alright, Johnny,” Price grinned, “Since you asked so nicely.”

Without any strain whatsoever, Price lifted you up by your hips and held you in the air as he fucked you, bringing you around the table so that Soap could position himself at your asshole. Ghost’s earlier efforts had made it ready for him, and you could very acutely feel how much he was throbbing to be inside of you, pulsing as he fit against Price. 

“Ungh, fuck, lass,” Soap groaned as he began to thrust into you, pistoning with the captain, “He’s got you so tight for me.”

“Yeah? It feels so good. Mmm…” you whimpered, feeling more full than you’d ever been. 

Johnny was holding your breasts as Price lifted you up, brutalizing your pussy. Every thrust felt like an electric pulse, making you cock-drunk and mindlessly pliant. 

They worked in tandem for what felt like eons, pistoning in and out with each other. Eventually, after he had felt you come, Soap addressed his captain directly,

“Sir, I’m…please, sir, can I?”

“Can you what, soldier?” Price grunted through gritted teeth, testing his sergeant.

“Can I come, sir? Please, Cap…”

“Yeah, Johnny. C’mon, mate. Let her feel it.”

“F-fuck! Fuck…” Soap groaned, pushing himself flush against your asshole, pumping his come into you. 

He caught his breath while he was still in you, kissing the nape of your neck, and then he pulled away slowly. He helped Gaz replace him, holding your ass wide apart so his comrade could position himself inside. And just when you thought your poor pussy would have room to breathe, Gaz’s incredibly long shaft was piercing your hole again. 

You felt him sigh, his breath against your neck. He took over holding you up, and Price praised him,

“That’s it, Garrick. She’s all yours. Take it.”

Gaz reacted to his words in a way that made you rethink their entire dynamic. Then, you remembered how he had come when you said his name. He seemed to get harder and harder the more Price praised him, and you wanted to give him that same validation. 

“Gaz,” you whispered, leaning your head back to rest on his shoulder, “It’s so big, baby. It’s like I can feel you in my throat. Oh, Gaz. Gaz!”

“Mm,” Price put his mouth to your neck, groaning, “That’s it, love. Tell him how much you like that long cock.”

“So much, Gaz. It’s so good,” you added. 

Then, Price took his left hand and wrapped it around the back of Gaz’s neck in a moment of surprising intimacy. As Price kissed the front of your throat, Gaz kissed your shoulder and nape. You felt like a peeled fruit being shared between them, a ripped rind, your juicy flesh being split in two; two halves of a ripe orange. 

Gaz lasted longer than Soap had when he fucked your ass, but Price’s attention seemed to spur him on. His movements were slippery, and you could feel the remnants of Soap’s come frothing around your entrance, easing his efforts.

“Captain,” Gaz whined, desperate for more of that approval. 

“C’mon, Kyle. She’s ready for you. Good lad.”

The use of his first name made Gaz thrust up into you with a feverish pace. He cried out as he came, hard, into you. Feeling him fall back out of you made you imagine the tendrils of a giant kraken, seeming to travel forever just to remove himself from your body, slithering out of you with a terrible squelching noise. 

Gaz let Price hold you again, and you turned, expecting Ghost. Price laughed at you, chuckling softly,

“Missing your masked man already?”

You looked at Price, feeling raw and used, waiting for an explanation,

“He’s a little…preoccupied.”

Price laid you back on the table, letting you turn your head to see Ghost, buried in Soap’s asshole up to the hilt, furiously jacking him off, slamming into him a little too roughly for your liking. It was violent, but Soap seemed to be enjoying himself beyond measure. 

Your pussy, though, disagreed with your assessment, clenching around Price’s cock while you watched Simon abuse his friend’s hole. 

“Mm,” the captain moaned, feeling your muscles react, “You like that, love? You wanna be fucked rough like that?”

He didn’t give you a chance to answer. Price wrapped your legs beneath his chest in a full mating press and wrecked you, pounding into your body like a giant fist. You felt your bones shudder beneath his behemoth form. Just when you thought you might puke from how overstimulated you were, you felt him pause. Then, your pussy felt like it was leaking, and it was. Price’s come just kept milking its way out of you, his cock pulsing inside, making your walls throb. 

When he finished, he kissed you on the mouth, almost lovingly, reverently. He started to slide out of you, being extremely careful, and you’d never felt so empty in your entire life. It was as if you’d never be full again. You found yourself whining, whimpering for Price to return. 

“That’s right, pretty girl,” Price smiled, “Never gonna want anybody else, are ya?”

You smiled, shocked and in considerable discomfort. Gaz scooped you up off of the table, cradling you, sitting down with you in his lap in a large chair. He reached down for some water and handed it to you, helping you recover. 

Price was standing with his hands on his hips, panting from his exertion. Ghost and Soap were connected like two hounds, locked together, the Scot cock warming his tall lover, groaning on every exhale. 

“Well, what do you think, lads? Do we have a winner?” Price asked.

“Yeah, we fucking do, Cap,” Gaz pet your head, moving your sweaty hair out of your eyes. 

“Fuck yeah, mate,” Ghost growled, pawing at Johnny again, rabid for him. 

“Hear that, bonnie?” Soap managed to ask, still moaning in little breaths as he was being speared by Ghost, “Got  yourself a new permanent assignment.”

Price walked over to you, grabbing you by the face and kissing you once more,

“You belong to us now, love. Perfect little slut.”

AO3 Link

[bella-goths-wife]

Jealousy at play

James x lost boys daughter, romantic Dimitri x lost boys daughter, father lost boys x daughter reader

Content: a vampiric patron of Dimitri’s bar gets too close to his newest bartender

Warnings: mentions of blood, obsessive behaviour, jealousy, threats of violence

“I still don’t understand why you had to walk me there” you comment with a roll of your eyes as you and Dimitri make your way to his bar, with him lingering slightly behind you to make sure to protect you from any threats from behind

“Because, little bird” Dimitri responds with a playful huff of air “I promised your grandfather that I’d make sure you’d be safe, and a pretty young girl walking alone in the dark on her way to work is definitely not safe”

“I’m not completely helpless y’know” you quip back with a sigh

“I don’t doubt it birdy” he replied with a chuckle “but your sarcastic comments won’t last very long against a supernatural being”

You don’t respond and just glare at his teasing smirk as your arms wrap around yourself to block out the crisp air that you were unfamiliar with after spending your entire life in the humid caves of Santa Carla.

“Cold?” Dimitri asked with an eyebrow piqued in interest

“No” you lie but the wind hits you in that moment and you let out a small shiver

“So you must be shivering from my pure charm then” Dimitri comments with a teasing tone

“I’m just not used to the cold” you say defensively “I’ll get used to it”

“Not before freezing to death you won’t” Dimitri comments with a teasing smile

Before you can make some kind of insulting quip back at him, you feel engulfed by warmth as he puts his suit jacket over your shoulders and lets it cover you

“You can’t-“ your about to protest but Dimitri cuts you off

“What?” He says with a shrug “I’m undead, what’s the cold gonna do to me?”

You just roll your eyes and continue to walk, but you can’t help the small smile that finds your lips.

You absent mindedly play with the necklace around your neck to calm your nervous energy, inadvertently pulling your shirt away from your collar bone slightly and showing a small tattoo off to Dimitri. It was a small bat that laid at the bottom of your collar bone.

“When did you get that done?” Dimitri asks and when you look at him with a confused face, he uses his eyes to motion to your tattoo

“Oh” you say as you subconsciously bring your fingertips to the tattoo and a memory of James holding your hand while you were tattooed forced it’s way into your mind “I got it done when I was fifteen, my ex boyfriends friends owned a tattoo shop and I’d always wanted to get one”

“Bet your dads loved that” Dimitri comments with a small smirk at the thought “what did they do when they found out?”

“Nothing” you answer with a small chuckle “my boyfriend taught me how to care for it and gave me tips on how to keep it hidden, so they never found out”

“And what happened to this boyfriend?” Dimitri asks with a teasing tone before the realisation hits him and his expression morphes into concern that he’s offended you “shit, he’s not dead is he?”

“No he’s not dead” you say in a reassuring tone before letting out a deep sigh and thinking on your next words “we just didn’t work out I guess”

“Did he break your heart?” Dimitri asks intrusively but you don’t seem to care as you nod “did he hurt you?”

“Not physically, he’d never do that” you say with a soft shake of your head “he just tried to keep me in a bad situation and I couldn’t stay just for him, same thing happened with my ex girlfriend, they both just tried to stop me from going into the real work and wanted to keep me in Santa Carla forever”

“Ex boyfriend and ex girlfriend” Dimitri says as he lets out a small whistle, trying to ease the mood as he ruffles your hair playfully “you little player”

“Shut up” you say as your roll your eyes and laugh before beginning to fix your now messed up hair

Dimitri took a moment to just admire you and how you practically glowed under the streetlights of the city and how your laugh sounded like a symphony of angels. You practically looked ethereal under the light of the moon when you smiled.

“We’re here” you point out to a distracted Dimitri as you reach the door of his bar and you wait for him to use his keys to open it up

Dimitri admires you for a few more moments in silence before using his keys to open the door.

“Want me to teach you how to make a Bloody Mary with actual blood?” He asks with a smirk and you just smile and nod in return

———————————————————————

You cringed as you poured the thick substance of blood into a glass for a patron while Dimitri watched on from his seat at the bar with an admiring smile.

You had been working at the bar for a few weeks now and in all honesty, Dimitri had no complaints. You were capable of doing the job with minimal fuss and the smell of your blood attracted vampires from all over the place to come in and have a drink, the fact he got to spend time with you was also a bonus.

But then something made Dimitri frown and his eyes narrow. He watched as a clearly newly turned vampire said something with a suggestive smile and then he only felt his annoyance deepen when he noticed that the comment had made you laugh.

He watched as the vampires eyes looked at you with lust clouded over them, from either your enchanting body or your enchanting blood.

Dimitri called you over once he noticed the vampire beginning to speak again, and you walked over to the other end of the bar to where he had positioned himself.

“You’re running low on type B” Dimitri comments as he gets up and goes behind the bar “why don’t you go get some more from the back and I’ll keep serving our customer?”

You nod as you make your way behind the bar and into the back to where you could reach the cellar. As you do this this, Dimitri turns to the vampiric customer and notices his eyes raking over your figure as you walk away.

“Pretty little thing, isn’t she?” Dimitri comments with what looks like a friendly smirk as he grabs a bottle and refills the man’s drink

“I’ll say” the man says with a crude smile “where did you get one like that?”

“I like to pick up strays, especially pretty ones” Dimitri answers with a smirk “and the smell of her blood, well it’s nothing short of delicious”

“That’s one word for it” the man responds with a laugh “been thinking about talking a bite out of her since I got here”

“That so?” Dimitri asks with a forced smile

“Yeah man, I’d do anything to take a bite out of her” the man says with a crude expression “either her neck or her ass”

“Well, there’s something you’ve got to remember” Dimitri says with a forced laugh

“What’s that?” The man asks curiously

“She’s claimed” Dimitri states as his smile drops and his expression darkens with a protective feeling clouding his chest “so I suggest you pay your tab and leave, unless of course you want me to jump over this bar and rip your throat out with my bare fangs”

The man gulps before nodding and slapping some money on the bar, he then picks his stuff up before taking off practically running out the door.

You returned seconds later as you refilled the empty bottles and looked around.

“Where’d he go?” You ask confused as you look at the empty seat

“Who knows” Dimitri says with a shrug before smirking “maybe he got intimidated by my good lucks and decided to leave”

You roll your eyes but you can’t stop the smile that spreads across your face. Dimitri notices and is reminded of maxs warnings to not become romantic with you and considers them for a brief moment before smirking and watching you laugh at his jokes

Too late max, too late

———————————————————————

Meanwhile with your fathers……

“No way” Paul exclaims at David’s suggestion as he rises from his seat in his position in the circular meeting “we are not turning our daughters ex fling into one of us”

“I wasn’t a fling” James responds with a a defensive tone

“You might as well have been” faith comments passive aggressively before sitting closer to marko when James eyes glare at her

“Why are you still here again?” James asks aggressively

“Enough” David commands with a tired tone “we wouldn’t be turning him for us, we’d be turning him to find our daughter”

“And how would he do that David?” Dwayne asks with a roll of his eyes “we’ve been looking for months, how is tasking a teenager with the same thing we’ve been doing over and over again going to change anything?”

“Because I know her” James exclaims defensively “I’ll be able to find her, and it’ll be a whole lot easier if I have the abilities that come with being a vampire”

“I know her too, I could find her if I was given the chance” faith interjects and marko gives her a nod before James spins round to face her with a sneer

“But you won’t turn, will you?” James asks with a mocking tone “it goes against your little religion”

“Shut up James” faith hisses back with a glare

“It’s because your a coward-“ James hisses back but is interrupted

“Enough you two, always arguing like children” Dwayne yells with an annoyed expression

“It’s decided” David says firmly “I’m turning him and he will get us our daughter back”

“But you can’t-“ Paul goes to protest but marko interrupts

“I think it’s a good idea” he states calmly “I don’t like the kid but he’d make a pretty decent tracker as a vampire, and it’s not like we have any more options”

Dwayne goes to protest but just sighs before nodding, admitting to the truth in his statement.

“I’ll turn you tomorrow night” David says firmly to James “it’s not an easy process, so prepare yourself”

David goes to get up but faith stops him

“Wait” she exclaims desperately “I want to be turned too”

“What for?” David questions with a raised brow

“To get her back” faith states firmly “I can’t live without her, I promise to be useful I just want to help her”

“Doesn’t that go against your precious god?” James asks mockingly and faith sends him a glare

“She’s worth more than god, I’d do anything for her” faith states firmly before her expression turns desperate and she turns to David “please David, please turn me too”

David eyes faith for a few moments before sighing

“I’ll do it” he states with an annoyed glare “but only because you tried to make her stay, you’d be dead if it wasn’t for the fact that you helped us”

Faith nods and David storms out of the room with a face like thunder after having to deal with all these childish antics.

The only thing that brings him comfort is the fact that he’s one step closer to getting you back.

He’ll get his precious daughter back to him soon, undead or alive

[biteofcherry]

Omg! Please more of alpha Ari! I fell in love with that story and I beg for any crumble you can spare 🙏🏻👀

More then a drabble, less than a chapter of any kind.

~ * ~

Bad Moon Rising

alpha!Ari Levinson x omega female reader

warnings for the part below: hints of primal kink; hints of chase kink; a/b/o dynamics; alpha!Ari; shifter!Ari; omega reader

.

.

You're not sure how it even happens that you end up dancing on a table.

Okay, to be fair you do know.

It's the fourth delicious drink and hilarious fun of absolutely stupid game of truth or dare at your friend's birthday outing.

Usually you're not that carefree, or reckless. You're more sensible (and too lazy for some crazy antics). But it's a special occasion, so you let your packmates goad you into joining them.

Along the evening your small group of four growths into seven, then nine. Even the neighboring pack's members find themselves among your group.

It's not forbidden to befriend the other pack. Especially since Dimitri and Levinson are trying out this civilized pact thing. Human-belonging bar that you went to is a neutral ground anyway; anyone can mingle.

It was harmless fun; lots of teasing and funny stories shared over the joined tables. You rolled your eyes at your friend's comments about getting yourself someone to take home for the night.

"Maybe it'll be a romcom type of thing." Holly winked.

"Her romcom is hotter." Joined Lin, smirking at you over the rim of her glass. "She got an alpha interested in her."

"Alpha?" Holly's brows arched in surprise; a tipsy hiccup preceding her next words: "But Dimitri's blindly in love with his wife."

"I don't mean our alpha." Lin had the smug, evil grin of a cat that ate the canary.

Your murderous glare didn't seem to bother her. It didn't scare off the others at your table, who Ohh-ed like a bunch of teenagers.

You weren't interested in entertaining their drunken nosiness. Besides, there was nothing to tell, really. Ari gave you a little adrenaline rush that night at the festivities, declaring a verbal claim, which you prayed would pass.

In the next week everything returned to normal, your days going on as usual. No pushy alpha on your tail to haunt you.

Before your companions opened their mouths to sputter teasing and ridiculous questions, you downed the rest of your drink in one go and demanded to be given a dare.

At the moment it was better than allowing them ask for a truth.

That's how you find yourself on the table. Everyone's drinks and snacks pushed to the side to make room for you.

Beat of the music quickens your blood, your body writhing and rocking to the rhythm. Your dress isn't too short, and it clings to your hips so tightly you're not afraid of flashing anyone.

Alcohol loosens your muscles; your inhibitions as well.

You sway your hips down then shot up straight, bent yourself forward for a second - causing your girlfriends to whoop in glee.

You're turning around, arms thrown up and head tilted back, when suddenly your world spins.

You squeak at the unexpected motion, for a long moment not understanding why your body is doing this weird upside down pose.

The sound of your friends hollering and whistling reaches you, but it dies down as you keep floating further away from the table.

It's when the chilly air outside of the bar brushes your bare arms that you realize you've been carried outside. Your gaze focuses on long legs clad in dark jeans, a really shapely ass right within reach.

Strong hands grip your hips and you're being slowly dropped down onto your feet. Your body slides along a broad, muscled form. The heat of him seeping through your clothes.

You brace your hands on his chest when you feel dizzy. As the world stops spinning, you start recognizing details of your surroundings.

Your face tilts up, gaze traveling from the wide span of a male's chest - blue shirt unbuttoned on top, revealing a thatch of chest hair - up his corded neck and over a nicely trimmed beard, with patches of ginger and gray within dark blond hair.

Plush, pink lips set into a thin line of displeasure. And a pair of cold, blue eyes glinting like a sharpened blade.

Ari fucking Levinson.

He smells really good, your drunk brain notices.

You manage not to follow that thought, instead focusing on the fact he picked you up, threw you over his shoulder and carried out of the bar as if he owns you.

He does not.

You're not that drunk to not remember this small truth; your lifeline.

You frown. And snap.

"What the hell, Levinson?"

You try stepping back, but your legs wobble on the high heels you chose for tonight. Ari's grip on you tightens, preventing your fall.

"Didn't think you'd cause so much trouble, little omega." He says, nostrils flaring. "Was it a deliberate act, or did you forget the rule about not having anyone's scent on you?"

"I was just dancing! Alone, may I add." You want to sneer that you didn't agree to his rule. You didn't agree to his game at all.

"Everyone at the bar was looking at you. Which I don't mind as long as nobody tries to touch." His eyes turn darker. "But there were men approaching, making plans regarding you, for which I'd have to kill all of them."

There's a furious fire in his eyes and his tone so calm in his ire that you have no doubt this alpha would spill blood, if anyone defies him.

"Hell, some of the members of my own pack were drooling over you." Ari shakes his head, still annoyed, but less when it comes to his own friends and family. "Galen's hand was inches from your calf when you bent over. I'd break his fingers if he touched you."

"You're being ridiculous." You huff, yet your body trembles in disgust at the thought of what some men might've been imagining doing to you.

"I wasn't alone." You point out.

It's not like you'd be going back home solo. Actually, the plans included crashing at Holly's place and eating ice cream until you passed out.

Maybe it's the alcohol, or perhaps you're this bold on your own, but you add:

"And you are not my alpha."

You expect anger. For a split of a second you ready yourself to run, in your high heels, in case Levinson attack you.

But he looks amused, darkness actually receding from his eyes.

"Are you this stubborn on a principle?" He asks, using one of his hands to cup your chin. "Or do you like the chase as much as I do?"

It dawns on you that Ari truly relishes in the chase, in the primal side of your wolf nature.

Saying no to him is like an invitation to play. Perhaps if you jumped right in at his advances at the autumn festival, he'd be bored and disappointed, leaving you be.

Ari's hold on your chin tightens. He moves closer, his breath tickling your cheek as his lips trail towards your ear.

"I may not be your alpha yet, but you will give in." He murmurs in your ear. "You'll be begging for my knot and praising every single drop of cum I pump into you, my little omega."

Alcohol likes filth, you tell yourself when your body ignites with heat upon his words.

You clench your thighs, but otherwise remain stoic, trying your best to not show Ari he may have some sway over your body.

Running in heels would really suck, and he already has the advantage of being a damn alpha, so you hope that Ari doesn't push for more tonight.

Sound of a phone ringing saves you. With a sigh, Ari leans back and takes his cell out of his pocket.

"What is it?" Ari grumbles, annoyed. His frown deepens as he listens to the person on the other end.

"I'll be there shortly." He hangs up, shaking his head. Looks up at you and rolls his eyes to the sky - "What is it with everyone tonight?"

"A bunch of teens from my pack got into a fight." He explains. "Get into the car, I'll drive you home."

This time you manage to push away from him, crossing your arms over your chest.

"I'm staying." You announce, tilting your chin up defiantly. "It's my friend's birthday. The party's not over yet."

It's that strong will he sensed the first time he saw you. Ari admires it. He can't wait to break it.

"Do you promise to behave?" His tone is light, amused, but Ari looks at you expectantly like he really waits for your obedient compliance.

"I promise to do whatever the hell I want." You don't say it to spite him, you simply state the truth.

You are a free woman, able to make your choices. Some may be foolish, but you're allowed to do them too.

"Careful," Ari steps to your side, purposely towering over you, "or I'll make the same promise."

You gulp this time. This wasn't just a tease, but a dark threat Ari's capable of fulfilling.

He chuckles when you remain speechless. Then pats you on the ass before walking over to his car.

Your body stirs into movement when the sound of starting engine breaks through the pounding of your heart. You walk back to the bar, car lights following your each step until you safely disappear behind the door.

It's all light and fun inside, your friends waving and calling you over. You force a smile on your lips, decide on having at least one more drink to soothe the spike of fear.

[mint-yooxgi]

{13} - Paradise Gardens - Yandere!Demonic Entities!Ateez X Reader

Yandere AU & Demon AU - Book Two to Hotel California

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst, Fluff, Slight Humour

Pairing: Ateez X Reader (Focus on Yeosang, Yunho, San, and Mingi)

Words: 10,500

Warnings: Mentions of past trauma and bullying: past suicidal thoughts mentioned, and mention of a lack of self worth, OC runs into an old 'friend' near the beginning, I think that's it honestly. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: So, I decided to split this part into two since I feel it makes the story flow better. I'm happy where I ended it, and I really hope you all look forward to the next few parts! There's quite a lot of story coming your way hehehe As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy~

Also, gentle reminder that I don’t do tag lists.

Mini Masterlist - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine - Part Ten - Part Eleven - Part Twelve

There’s a fond look in your eyes as you stand by yourself in front of the large window overlooking the newborns sleeping soundly before you. The hospital is quiet, given how early in the morning it is, a few staff walking behind you every now and then. Still, you cannot help but watch over little Elijah, even now, ensuring that nothing happens to him while his mother rests with his father in her hospital room.

Born a little over eight hours ago, well into the night, he sleeps soundly. A week late, weighing in at a healthy eight pounds, eleven ounces, they keep him wrapped up while Crystal recovers from giving birth the night before.

When you had gotten the call yesterday, you immediately rushed to the hospital with Seonghwa and the others. You met your parents here, waiting as long as you could before being sent home. Having wanted as natural a birth as possible, Crystal had been in for a long night. 

Much to your content, you discovered Elijah had been born in the early hours of the morning, and had already been checked over for any ailments that might affect him after birth. He had none, and is perfectly healthy according to all of the doctors. A fact which makes you, and all of your family, happy beyond belief.

Currently, Vasco is with Crystal, staying with her after recovery while Elijah sleeps. San has went to grab you both coffees with Mingi, who you asked to stop by and check up on Crystal for you on the way to the café. You want to make sure that she’s fairing well while you check up on your baby nephew for the first time. 

The other guys stayed home, per your request. Of course, a few of them had protested at that - Wooyoung, Seonghwa, and Hongjoong - considering you all don’t know what Malik or Dimitri’s next moves are. However, at your assurance, they backed off. Besides, you have both Mingi and San here with you, and you highly doubt you would be attacked in a hospital.

Still, you’re on high alert. Just in case.

Looking over little Elijah once more as he sleeps, you notice a figure come to stand beside you out of the corner of your eyes. He’s tall, but not as tall as Yunho, with dirty blond hair. He looks familiar, but you don’t pay him much mind. You just wish he’d stop glancing at you every few seconds.

The soft call of your name startles you, and you finally turn to get a good look at the man standing beside you. His blue eyes are hauntingly familiar.

“Hi, Jake.” You give him a small, albeit tight smile.

“I thought it was you, but I wasn’t sure.” He smiles lightly back. “I haven’t seen you since elementary school. How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been well.” You reply softly. “Yourself?”

“Never better,” his eyes crinkle slightly as he turns back to observe the sleeping infants before you. “Is one of them yours?”

He holds a paper coffee cup in his hand, using it to motion before him along the line of babies.

“Oh. No.” You shake your head. “Just a proud aunt watching over her nephew.”

The corner of your lips twitches upwards as you motion to Elijah sleeping soundly before you.

A moment of silence as you cradle your elbows in your hands, almost to the point of curling in on yourself. You clear your throat. “You?”

A brilliant smile lights up his features, his eyes crinkling at the sides as his chest puffs out slightly in pride. He nods in the direction of two girls sleeping side by side. “My wife just had a twins.”

“Oh.” You meet his gaze briefly, offering him a small smile. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you.” He grins widely, ruffling his hair which already seems quite disheveled. “It would have been your sister, right?”

You blink, pulled out of your own thoughts for the moment. “I’m sorry?”

“Your sister who had the baby,” he motions lightly to Elijah with his cup again. “If I remember correctly.”

“Oh, uh, yeah.” You clear your throat once more. “It was her.”

“Tell her congratulations for me.” He nods.

You swallow the dryness in your throat, shifting from foot to foot. “I will. Thank you.”

You don’t think you’ve ever had an encounter where you’ve felt more awkward in your life. Sure, you could brush up against Mingi’s, or even San’s mental links right now, but it’s not like you’re in danger. You’re just more uncomfortable than anything at the moment, given everything he did to you when you were younger.

“Actually, it must be pure luck that we ran into each other today.” This time, Jake clears his throat, somewhat nervously.

You hum in response, shifting the slightest bit further from him without arousing suspicion.

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about the past lately, and it just reminded me that I never apologized to you.”

His statement catches you so off guard, that your hands end up falling to your sides.

“I was a huge asshole to you when we were younger, and I don’t know how much this will mean to you now, but I’m sorry. I wasn’t happy when I was a kid, and I felt you were an easy target to take that out on. I was always jealous of you, and I let that and my anger control my actions. That was not right.” He says, no longer looking towards you, but down at his hands with that coffee cup held in them for dear life. “I regret getting my friends involved to torment you, too. The feeling of them listening to me gave me a sense of power I felt I lacked in my life, and you were the unfortunate victim.”

You swear you’ve stopped breathing, whole body feeling numb as you refuse to so much as look in his direction. Jake was one of the ones who tormented you so much when you were younger, and gave you all of those self doubts, as well as an incredible amount of self hatred. One of the ones who made you believe you were worthless, ugly, and unlovable.

The worst part: he started out as one of your closest friends, too. A close friend who you had cherished above all else, just as you do with all the people you care about.

A worried call of your name greets your ears, and you turn to see San standing to your opposite side, a cup of coffee held in each of his hands. Mingi is nowhere in sight.

There is no hiding the narrowed eyed look San sends Jake’s way as the former comes to stand beside you. He places the cup of coffee in your hand gently before immediately wrapping his now free arm around your waist. Almost instantly, he pulls you into his side.

“You don’t have to forgive me.” Jake continues, and you feel San’s grip around your waist tighten. “It’s been years, and I would understand if you never did. What I did was vile, and inexcusable. Just know, that I am sorry, and I regret it all.” He swallows thickly. “I just thought you should know.”

With a firm nod in acknowledgement towards San, and without another word spoken, Jake takes his leave.

Your eyes follow after him down the hall, watching as he retreats around a corner and out of sight. You don’t even notice Mingi has come to join you until you hear his voice speaking to you.

“Who was that?” There’s a hint of a growl to his words, him taking note of the distressed state you seem to be in at the moment.

You inhale sharply, as if suddenly coming back to the reality before you.

“Starlight?” Immediately, worry takes over Mingi’s features as he looks at you.

Beside you, you can feel San physically trembling.

“Baby,” his voice is low in attempts to control his building anger, “What did he do to you?”

You shake your head, blinking a few times blankly. “Nothing.”

“Then, why was he apologizing to you?” Mingi’s brow furrows, stepping in front of you in order to gently grasp your hands still holding onto that cup in his own.

“That was Jake.” You blink, head still reeling at this turn of events. “He- he-“ You take a deep breath in to steady your nerves. “He was my friend. Once.”

The two males share a look.

“You don’t look like you’ve just been chatting up an old friend.” San glares off in the direction Jake had walked off in, as if he can still see the male behind the walls of the hospital.

“He was my friend,” you repeat, pursing your lips for only a moment, “before he started bullying me.”

You swear that were you not in a public place, both males would have let growls escape them.

“He made me feel worthless, and pathetic.” Your gaze is somewhat blank, as if recalling memories from your childhood that you have long since kept hidden. “I can’t count the amount of times he told me I was ugly.” You swallow. “And fat. And stupid. And that I would never amount to anything. That no one would ever care for me, so I should just runaway and die.”

You swear you see San’s eyes flash in the reflection of the glass beside Mingi’s head.

“He got his friends involved, and it was like a game to them who could berate me the most.” You don’t know how you’re still standing, or how you’ve managed to quell your building emotions for the time being, but you do. “He told me to kill myself more times than I can remember.”

You look down at that cup of coffee in your hands, finally taking note of Mingi still gently holding onto you. The way they both have trouble breathing, chests heaving with each breath, you just know that they’re both barely containing their anger for the moment.

“I told you once before how people would pretend to like me as a joke,” you exhale shakily, and you hear the faintest of growls come from the man still holding you to his side. “I wish I could say I saw through it every time, but sometimes having a crush can blind you.”

San nearly drops the cup of coffee in his hand. “You liked him?”

“I mentioned we started off as friends, no?” Your lips twitch upwards sadly. “I think that’s what made what he did worse. I let so many things slide because I just wanted his attention. It’s something I’ve always done. With him though, any attention was good attention to me. It didn’t take long for it to change. His younger brother always was rude to me from the start, but then he started in on the ‘fun’, too.”

This time, there’s no mistaking when Mingi’s eyes flash black right before you.

Quickly, you scan the hallway to ensure it’s still empty. 

It is.

“He never apologized, or even acknowledged what he did to me before. He always denied it when confronted about it, too.” Your grip tightens slightly around that cup in your hands. “Until now.”

Raising a shaky hand to your cheek, Mingi cups your face tenderly in his palm. Gently, his thumb strokes over your skin, and you can feel the barely contained rage in his touch despite how delicately he holds onto you.

“We should tear him apart for what he did to you.” Mingi keeps his voice surprisingly low and steady. His Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. “He doesn’t deserve to live.”

A low growl of agreement sounds from San.

Almost instantly, you’re shaking your head. “No.”

“What do you mean, ‘no’?” San asks, pulling away from you in shock as he begins pacing in front of both you and Mingi in that little space between where you stand and the wall.

“He’s not worth it.” You reach out, and instantly San has his free hand in yours. “I never expected to run into him after all these years, least of all for him to apologize as soon as I did.”

“Are you-“ Mingi takes the time to study your features closely, gently guiding your gaze back to his. “Are you okay?”

“Shocked.” You blink a few times in response. “Attempting to process things for the moment, but I think I’ll be okay.”

“Are you sure?” San steps in closer, nothing but worry etched into his brow.

“Yeah.” You meet his gaze. “I don’t know, it’s almost… freeing in a sense.” You swallow. “It’s almost like getting a sense of closure I never knew I needed.”

Instantly, the two males seem to relax the slightest bit from your words.

“He seemed genuine when he spoke to you.” San adds softly, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Besides, I’m sure our dear Sannie here would have torn him apart in an instant if he sensed any malicious or deceitful thoughts towards you.” Mingi finally drops his hands, turning to glance off in the direction Jake went off in. “I know I would have.”

“You’re damn right I would have.” San hums in agreement.

A soft laugh escapes you. “That I do know.”

They offer you small smiles in response, an affectionate gleam to their eyes. 

“His wife just had twins.” You motion to the two baby girls wrapped up in blankets near Elijah with your chin.

They spare a brief look in their direction before shifting their focus onto Elijah. Almost instantaneously, Elijah stretches in his sleep, a tiny yawn escaping him as he shifts his position.

You coo lovingly down at your little nephew.

“He’s perfectly healthy, as far as we, and all of the doctors can tell.” San is beside you once more, his arm wrapped securely around your waist.

“And Crystal?” You spare a glance at Mingi.

“A little tired, but recovering just fine.” He smiles at you in response. “I checked her over like you asked.”

“Good.” A soft smile pulls at your lips. “I’m glad.”

Slowly, the three of you begin making your way back down the hallway and towards the room Crystal is in. You plan to spend some time with her before heading back for the day, and getting some more training done with Yunho and Yeosang. 

You’re almost at a point where you can start learning the basics of a few weapons, and you’re getting quite excited. Wooyoung is more than ready to start teaching you about different poisons, and he’s often hinted at certain plants which have high toxicity levels. For now, he’s still letting you have some space, not wanting to give you any ‘ideas’ for the next time he gets overtly clingy. 

Not that you would poison him. 

Similarly, Yunho has been helping you hone your mind, strengthening it before the inevitable happens once you become like them.

Once you become like them.

There’s a thought that has been crossing your mind more often than not lately. You know that they mentioned that it would consist of the merging of souls in a way - you give them a piece of your soul while they give you a piece of theirs in exchange - but you’re still not entirely sure what that entails. You’ve been meaning to ask, only, you haven’t found the proper time to do so.

Perhaps you’ll bring it up again, soon.

For now, you’ll focus on joking around and making your sister smile as you sit beside her hospital bed. Vasco managed to pass out in the one chair in the time it took for Mingi to come find both you and San, but you don’t hold it against him. The man has been up all night with his wife.

After about an hour, you notice Crystal starting to drift off to sleep, too, so you bid her a fond farewell for now. With a big hug and a kiss from you, you tell her to get as much rest as she can, and that you’ll be around to visit again soon.

The whole car ride back home is quiet. Both Mingi and San attempt to engage you in conversation, only for you to reply with small, one word answers. That is, if you don’t just hum in response. Your mind is clearly elsewhere, and worry furrows their brows as they watch you almost subconsciously drive home.

You seem distracted, and it’s enough to have the others observing you carefully as you walk through the house. The quiet is unusual for you after visiting your sister, and though you don’t appear angry, or upset, it’s quite unsettling.

Of course, it takes no time for both Mingi and San to be sharing what happened with the others. 

Why am I suddenly getting flashbacks to that worm we disposed of all those months ago? Wooyoung nearly growls out in all of their heads.

Believe me, Hongjoong sighs. You’re not the only one.

So, why aren’t we doing that to this one right now? Perhaps even something worse?Jongho quirks a brow while staring down at the pages of his book.

She told us not to. Mingi replies. Said he wasn’t worth it.

But he hurt her. This time, it’s Seonghwa who responds. None of his brothers need to see him to know that he wears a frown on his features currently. 

An expression mirrored by more than just one male.

She said it happened a long time ago. San adds. We don’t know the full details, just what she’s told us.

And that should have been enough to at least torment the fellow. Yunho says, as if it should have been the most obvious thing in the world.

I don’t know, guys. Mingi sighs. She told us that she felt as if it was almost freeing in a sense for him to apologize after all these years. You know I’m all for eviscerating anyone that harms her, but if she says not to, I think we should listen to her.

We’re lucky she hasn’t found out about Calum, yet. Yeosang chimes in, an almost knowing hum to his words.

And she never will. Hongjoong confirms. Just like she doesn’t have to know about this ‘Jake’ guy.

His wife just had twins, Hongjoong. San states, rather firmly. Besides, do you really want to disobey Our Queen’s wishes like that so easily?

A moment of silence settles over all of them as San’s words sink in.

San’s right. Seonghwa finally breaks the building tension. We don’t purposely orphan children, or widow spouses. Nor should we go against her wishes.

Boo! You guys are no fun. They can all practically hear the pout in Wooyoung’s voice as he says this.

I suppose the circumstances were a lot different last time. Jongho sighs.

We could still torment him mentally. Yunho suggests casually.

Oh, I’m all for this! Wooyoung exclaims excitedly. I could mildly poison him. Make it a hindrance to his daily life for a week or so.

All fun ideas, Yeosang hums. But I think you’re all forgetting one important detail.

At his brother’s inquisitive silence, Yeosang is quick to continue. 

She said, ‘no’.

“Is everything okay?” The sound of your voice, somewhat worried and soft, draws both Yunho and Yeosang out of their mental conversation with their brothers for the moment.

“Of course, Petal.” Yunho smiles at you. “We’re just worried about you, is all.”

“Me?” You quirk a brow in surprise.

“You seem distracted.” Yeosang tilts his head to the side slightly, almost curiously.

“You two have been standing to the side frowning like you can’t decide between cheddar or parmesan cheese for the past ten minutes.” You huff out a laugh. “If anyone’s distracted, it’s you.”

“We’re waiting for you to finish stretching.” Yeosang answers, attempting some form of causality.

“I finished stretching and doing some warm up exercises ten minutes ago.” You deadpan.

“Oh.” 

That seems to shut them up for a good thirty seconds.

“So then, what would you like to work on today, Petal?” Yunho is quick to change the subject.

Immediately, you begin vibrating in excitement, grinning widely as your eyes shine.

“Let’s finalize your hand-to-hand combat training first before we pull out the knives.” Yunho chuckles.

A dramatic pout pulls onto your features and Yeosang elbows Yunho quite pointedly in the ribs.

“Don’t worry, My Dear, we’ll let you try some weapons later today.” Yeosang assures you.

Almost instantly, your mood perks up, and both of them are smiling fondly at you.

“I take it I won’t actually get any pointy objects to start.” You quirk a brow playfully.

The two males share a look before Yunho is shrugging. “If that’s what you want.”

“We may be overprotective, Dearest, but we’re not unreasonable.” Yeosang replies. “If any incidents occur, we can just heal you.”

“Or us.” Yunho adds at seeing your expression of disbelief.

A subtle nod of your head in amusement is all he gets in response.

“You’ve been working on building your strength with Mingi and San, correct?” Yunho is quick to ask, walking over to the sparring mats to your left.

A nod is all the confirmation he gets.

“Alright then, Dearest,” Yeosang smiles, moving over beside his brother before meeting your gaze. “Show us what you’ve got.”

“Are you suggesting I take the both of you at the same time?” You quirk a brow teasingly as you step onto the mats.

The low growls you receive in response are all the confirmation you get that they’ve taken the comment in a different way than what you originally insinuated.

“Keep thinking like that, I’ll easily distract the both of you.” You chuckle, a sultry pull to the corner of your lips.

“We can’t help it, Dearest,” Yeosang sighs, almost wistfully. “You have a habit of dropping the most interesting thoughts into our minds at the best of times.”

“Not the worst?” Your brows flick upwards suggestively.

“Sometimes.” Yunho chuckles, and at the way your mouth falls open in mock offence, he’s quick to add, “I never said it was a bad thing, Petal.”

“It’s just a little more difficult to…” Yeosang searches for the right word, “concentrate on the battlefield with certain additions to our physique.”

“Yes, I can quite imagine how painful it is to fight when you’re hard.” You grin, huffing out a small laugh.

“It’s certainly not the most comfortable thing.” Yeosang nods in agreement.

“You speak as if you have experience with this sort of thing,” Your eyebrows raise, amusement shining behind your eyes.

When both of them shrug, you cannot help the boisterous laugh that escapes you.

“I’d say Captain has the most, though.” Yunho adds, seemingly nonchalantly. “He can get intense on the battlefield. In more than one way.”

“Oh?” This piques your interest. “Then, I look forward to it.”

The way they both blink at you in mild shock has you giggling.

“What? Surprised it doesn’t phase me that much anymore?” You tilt your head curiously.

“A little bit,” Yunho blinks, loosening his stance in preparation to fight you.

“A girl has her fantasies.” This time, it’s your turn to shrug.

Two low growls greet your ears, the faintest tint of black darkening their eyes.

“Care to share, Dearest?” Yeosang begins stalking towards you slowly, like a predator would its prey.

You immediately begin countering his every move, watching Yunho carefully out of the corner of your eyes. “Perhaps I’ll just show you.”

His breath hitches, and you strike.

For the next forty minutes, the three of you spar together on the mats. A few times, you manage to pin one of them, only for the other to knock you right off your balance. You’ve only ever sparred with one partner before, besides last week when Jongho and Mingi decided to challenge you further. So, taking on multiple of them at a time requires even more quick maneuvers and thinking on your part, but you’re starting to recognize a pattern to their attacks.

You’re not sure if they’re doing it on purpose, or if they’re aware of it or not, but Yunho seems to be the one to observe the scene before moving, and only when it looks like Yeosang has created an opening for him to get through. That, or when you’ve managed to subdue Yeosang for the moment.

Yeosang, on the other hand, enjoys staying low to the ground, crouching as he goes in for the attack to throw off your balance. He’s nimble, and much more flexible than you thought he could be. A fact which intrigues you as much as impresses you.

Both never fail to praise you any opportunity they get.

During the second round, Yeosang accidentally manages to tear your shirt. The scraps of fabric hang limply off of your shoulders, exposing your torso and the sports bra you wear.

Luckily, for you, it seems to distract them for a moment. Out of shock or something else, you don’t quite know. Either way, you know an opportunity when you see one.

Using this to your advantage, you manage to land a solid roundhouse kick to the side of Yunho’s head, quickly subduing Yeosang in the next moment.

Your chest heaves as you pin Yeosang beneath you, a victorious grin pulling at your lips.

Just as you go to say something, a low groan from the male laying on his back to your left draws your attention.

“Oh shit, Universe!” You hop right off of Yeosang to inspect the damage you’ve done to Yunho’s cheek. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he replies, somewhat in a daze. His hand comes up to cup his cheek, almost affectionately. “Never better.”

“I just kicked you in the face, and you’re acting like a schoolboy who’s just received a cheek kiss from his crush for the first time.” You chuckle, noticing how Yeosang now kneels beside you with an almost pout on his lips. You quirk a brow, “What, you want me to kick you, too?”

Yeosang shoots you an innocent side eyed look, hope shining behind his orbs.

“I can’t wait to tell Mingi,” Yunho chuckles, pushing himself into a sitting position.

“I think Wooyoung might be more jealous.” Yeosang comments casually.

“You guys want me to harm you when we spar?” The appal is clear on your features.

“We don’t get hurt that easily, Dearest, but when it’s you that manages to surprise us, it’s incredible.” Yeosang tells you honestly. “Not to mention how much pride that fills us when you hit us in this context.”

“Not to mention incredibly sexy.” Yunho breathes, still stuck in that daze as the tips of his fingers gently rub over his cheek.

A brief conversation with Hongjoong about that scar that still sits proudly on his chest flashes through your mind.

“It’s impressive.” Yeosang concludes with a firm nod.

“Oh.” You giggle, a heat rising to your cheeks at their praise. “I still worry, though.”

“We know.” Yunho smiles at you, noticing how you gently pull his hand away to place a tender kiss upon his cheek. His ears flare bright red. “The feeling is, and will always be, mutual, Petal.”

You simply smile in response, helping Yunho back to his feet. Still, you cannot hide the concern in your eyes.

“Don’t worry, Petal.” Yunho chuckles, wrapping his one arm around you briefly in order to place a gentle kiss onto your temple. “Believe me when I say we’ve all suffered much worse injuries at each other’s hands before.”

You blink at him in shock.

“Remember how we told that you we don’t hold back on each other when sparring?” Yeosang chimes in.

Realization floods your features, nodding along to his words slowly.

“The bets were the worst.” Yunho hums, clearly reminiscing some past memories. “We would never kill each other, but we’ve gotten close to it a few times.”

Your brow furrows immensely in worry.

“Heat of the moment, Dearest.” Yeosang is quick to explain at the way your lips seem to part with a response. “It’s why we always had at least one of us to moderate the fights when we made bets on each other.”

“I still want to watch you guys fight one another at some point.” You comment, moving off to the side to take a drink of water.

“We haven’t forgotten, Petal.” Yunho grins. “We’re just saving it for now.”

You pout, somewhat dramatically.

“All in due time, Dearest.” Yeosang chuckles. “All in due time.”

You sigh, “I suppose it might be better for when I know how to at least use some weapons. I can study how you guys all use them, then.”

“Exactly.” Yunho nods, before catching himself. “Wait, what?”

“I thought I mentioned that I’m somewhat of a visual learner?” You tilt your head slightly in inquiry at him.

A flash of your hands weaving together those flowers in that clearing all those months ago flits through his mind.

“I remember now.” He hums, a loving smile gracing his lips.

A smile which you return.

Yeosang clears his throat, looking pointedly at Yunho. “How’s your head?”

Yunho spares a brief look towards you, a smirk pulling subtly onto his features. He licks his lips. “No complaints.”

The second that you spit out the water you’re drinking, Yeosang has jumped onto Yunho’s back, locking his arms around the elder male’s throat and choking him out. You begin coughing simultaneously as laughter attempts to escape you, Yunho thrashing around with Yeosang clinging like a koala to his back.

Finally, you manage to get your coughing under control as laughter takes over in full swing. Your eyes crinkle as you see the two of them continuing to play fight, Yunho soon tossing Yeosang over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and slamming the shorter male onto the mat below him.

The fact that they can hear how joyous you are in this moment makes each of their hearts swell. A sound neither will ever grow tired of. Knowing that they are the cause only serves to make them happy, pride swelling in their chests despite the circumstances that lead to this encounter. Well, at least for one of them.

You watch on with a fond look in your eyes as you lean against the side wall. That is, until a distant look crosses your features, and you seem to zone out for a minute or two.

“Is everything okay, Dearest?” It’s Yeosang’s voice that manages to pull you out of your thoughts.

You focus back in on your surroundings, noticing the worried tug of both his and Yunho’s brows, the two of them standing before you.

“Yeah,” you send them both a small smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “I’m fine. Just thinking.”

“Now, who’s the distracted one?” Yunho jokes, moving beside you in order to nudge your arm slightly with his elbow.

Yeosang sends him a pointed look before turning back to you. “Are you sure you’re okay, Dearest? San and Mingi told us what happened earlier at the hospital.“

You take a moment to think, brow furrowing slightly as you look down at the ground.

“I just-“ you sigh. “I had so much pent up anger and sadness when I was younger for what he did to me. I never understood why he did it, and now that this has happened, I don’t quite know how to feel.”

“How do you feel, Petal?” Yunho steps in closer, placing a comforting hand onto your shoulder.

“Relieved, in a way.” You reply honestly. “Confused. Maybe a little angry, and a slight bit resentful still. It happened so long ago, that I didn’t think too much of the situation anymore. At least, I tried not to, but seeing him today just brought everything back. I’m still attempting to figure out if I’m actually passed everything with him or not, or if I just wanted to scrub it from my memory. I don’t think I can forgive him, though. Not after what he did to me.”

A brief pause.

“You know, I contemplating running away from home because of him. Just disappearing off the map, and dying in a ditch, because I believed him when he said no one would care.” You swallow thickly. “I was only ten.”

The way you see Yeosang’s eyes flash before you out of the corner of your vision says it all. You don’t even need to look at Yunho to know he does the same.

“Yet, hearing him apologize for things today…” you trail off, finally lifting your gaze to glance at both males standing around you. “Well, it’s like I told San and Mingi earlier today. It did feel freeing. It felt like finally getting an acknowledgment of everything bad he did to me, and him owning up to it. It’s- it’s-” you blink, your lips parting as they twitch upwards, “gratifying.”

Gently, Yeosang takes your hands in his own, yet you still manage to feel the subtle way he cannot control them from shaking.

“Is there-“ he swallows thickly, keeping his voice low as he clears his throat, “Is there anything we can do?”

You take a moment to stare deeply into his eyes, thinking of your answer carefully.

You blink lightly once more.

“No.” You shake your head. “No. I don’t think there is.”

“Petal-“

“The past can’t be changed now, nor do I want it to be.” You cut Yunho’s worried tone off. “I’m not the same person I was back then, but it’s made me who I am today. Yes, he hurt me.” You take a breath. “Am I going to let those old memories control my life? No. Besides, I’ve got more important things to think about now.”

“As long as you’re okay, Petal,” Yunho squeezes your shoulder gently. “That’s all we care about.”

“I’m okay, Yun.” You offer him a small smile before squeezing Yeosang’s hands back. “I’ll be okay.”

A comfortable silence settles over the three of you as you all hold onto each other so tenderly. You know both males will do whatever they can to comfort you, should you ask them to, but right now, you also have other things on your mind. Mainly, moving passed this and getting on with your new life.

“So…” You spare a glance at each male surrounding you. “Weapons?”

Yeosang quirks a brow, “What would you like to start with?”

“You’re letting me choose?” Your eyes widen, and you cannot help the way you begin to bounce on your feet. 

At their nods, a large grin pulls at your lips.

“Is there something you have in mind?” Yunho asks, an eager tone to his inquiry.

Multiple weapons flash through your mind at once, and you bring a hand up to your chest in hopes to quell your racing heart. That’s when you remember the state of your shirt, or rather, your now non-existent shirt.

Humming in thought to yourself, you pull the last few scraps of material off of your body. Gently, you tuck the fabric beside your water bottle, leaving you in just your sports bra for the time being. Not that any of you really mind.

That’s when you get an idea.

“Well, it’d be best to start with something at least somewhat familiar, no?” You look between the two males before you.

“That would probably be best.” Yeosang nods in confirmation.

“Well, since I haven’t seen any of you use any of your weapons yet, I’ll stick with something I’ve used before.” You reply, a knowing grin tugging onto your features. “Could one of you please get me a bat?”

You can see the surprise on both of their features the instant you say this. Regardless, Yeosang makes a wooden baseball bat appear in his hand, presenting it to you almost immediately.

“A bat, Petal?” Yunho’s brow quirks.

“Listen, I don’t want to be playing around with something I don’t understand yet. No matter how badly I want to throw an axe, or stab something with a sword, it’s not worth the risk for my first try.” You reply, grabbing the wooden object from Yeosang’s outstretched hand. “This,” you shake the bat lightly, “at least I’m somewhat familiar with. The worst it can really do is break a few bones at the present.”

“Is that why you were going to use it to bash San’s kneecaps in with?” Yeosang’s eyes shine with nothing but amusement.

“I had a lot of pent up rage as a teenager.” You shrug, stepping back onto the sparring mat while letting the bat spin loosely in your hand. A blink, and you’ve allowed it to fall in a circle, the tip nearly touching the ground before you’re holding it upright in the air. “Reina and I spent a lot of time in rec rooms, smashing shit. Especially when the whole thing happened with her ex first year of university.”

“You’ve mentioned.” Yunho nods, recalling that conversation briefly in his mind.

“There’s a reason he takes my threats seriously.” You grin, stepping up before a fighting dummy.

You eye the test dummy, flipping the bat almost absentmindedly in your one hand.

“Should we be worried?” Yeosang chuckles, a pleasant shiver caressing his spine as he watches you handle that bat for the moment.

“It’s been a while, so potentially.” You shrug, solidifying your hold on the base. “The first few times I ever swung seriously, I kept accidentally letting the bat go. It would go flying across the room and into the wall.”

“We’ll stand behind you, then.” Yunho grins, an eager gleam in his eyes as he sees you beginning to weigh the bat in each of your hands.

Continuously, you do more spins with the bat, tossing it from hand to hand to get a better feel of the wood beneath your grip.

“I wonder how much worse my swing has gotten.” You say, almost absentmindedly to yourself. “It’s been a while. My aim’s also never been particularly good.”

“Oh, come on, Baby,” San’s voice suddenly coming from behind you has you jumping before you’re spinning around to face him. “You can’t be that bad if you’re confident enough to threaten me with it.”

Your eyebrow quirks, noticing all eight of them now standing behind you.

“You think we’re going to pass up the opportunity of seeing you hit something with a weapon for the first time?” Wooyoung grins, almost maniacally. “Not likely, Angel.”

“Didn’t realize I’d have an audience.” You mutter, tightening your grip on the base of that bat in your hand once more.

“We’re only here to encourage you, Starlight.” Mingi smiles, a proud nod to his head.

“Yunho also wouldn’t stop bragging about getting kicked in the face by you.” San adds, somewhat bitterly. “We’re also here to kick his ass afterwards."

You shoot a pointed look at Yunho.

“What?” He raises his hands in his own defence. “I told you already, Petal. It makes us proud knowing what you’re capable of.”

“He’s just hoping you’ll do it again.” Hongjoong hums, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Says the one begging to be stabbed all the time,” Seonghwa rolls his eyes.

“Just say you’re jealous and be done with it.” Jongho snorts, leaning against one of the racks with weights on them.

“Okay,” you huff out a small laugh, turning back around to face the fighting dummy.

Lowly, you can hear them continuing to bicker behind you, and the fact that you can hardly feel their attention lingering on you causes you to relax. Inhaling deeply, you fill your lungs with as much air as you can before slowly exhaling. Shuffling from foot to foot, you gently tap the tip of the bat against the side of your foot in preparation for what you’re about to do.

Raising the wooden object, you let it spin once more in your hand before you’re gripping it tightly in your hold. Lining up your shot, a crazed look takes over your features as you swing the bat to strike at the head of the dummy, letting your adrenaline drive you. The resulting crack fills the room on impact, and the dummy goes tumbling to the floor with little resistance.

Silence surrounds you, and all you can register is a loud ringing in your ears as your chest heaves with each breath. Your body stands over that fighting dummy, now laying face down on the floor, the bat resting at your side with the tip balanced upon the floor.

That felt good. Probably better than it should have for the moment.

You turn to face them, a gleeful giggle falling from your lips, “How was that?”

However, you do not expect the scene that greets you as soon as you turn around.

San has fallen to his knees, his chest heaving as his mouth rests open in shock. Wooyoung is right beside him, both his and San’s chests heaving as the younger supports himself using his one arm on the ground. Seonghwa has a hand on Hongjoong’s shoulder, steadying himself while the elder can only stand there, stunned, with his eyes as black as night. To his left, Jongho stands, barely holding himself upright against that rack of weights for the moment as Mingi attempts to steady himself against the wall. Both Yunho and Yeosang are not fairing much better, appearing as if they’ve stopped breathing for the time being.

They all look about ready to pounce on you. In a good way, of course.

“Uh…” you blink at them in shock.

A loud crash is heard as Jongho finally loses his balance, a weight tumbling to the ground as it dislodges from the rack. It lands unceremoniously on his foot, of which he immediately grabs, hopping around as curses fall from his mouth.

“Oh shit, are you okay?” Immediately, you attempt to rush over to Jongho, only to get stopped by two males.

The breath escapes you as you go tumbling to the floor, the bat clattering onto the mat beside you. You hardly register anything for the moment except the sight of the ceiling above you, and the sound of low, pleased snarls filling the room and surrounding you from all angles.

A male rests on top of you, and you can feel yourself laying on top of another, both with their faces pressed into either side of your neck. Their pleased rumbles reverberate through your chest, every exhale they make tickling your skin. You swear they both begin nuzzling into you, too.

“Geez, if this is how you’re going to react every time I smack something, I think we’re going to need to put some rules in place.” You joke, an amused chuckle spilling from your lips as you see Hongjoong finally pull back from your neck to stare into your eyes.

“My Love, you cannot blame us.” There’s a hint of a growl to his words as his gaze swirls with that all too familiar darkness that you’ve become used to. “You must understand, we’ve been dreaming of this moment for a very long time.”

“What?” The corner of your lips quirks upwards. “Me smacking something with a bat?”

“You using any kind of weapon.” Seonghwa answers, his chest rumbling beneath you once more as his grip tightens against your hips.

He shifts beneath you, and you swear that you can feel something hard already pressing firmly into your ass.

Your breath hitches slightly, and you swear you feel him smirk against your skin.

“So, you really could have done some damage to San that day.” Yunho observes casually with a hum.

“Hey!” Said male whines, finally managing to stand back to his feet.

“I would have paid to see it.” Jongho says, replacing the fallen weight back onto the rack.

“You were the one who gave her the bat.” Mingi recalls.

“And I’d do it again!” The youngest replies, quite eagerly at that.

“Okay, so make sure there aren’t any bats around when we do anything to piss her off.” Wooyoung nods, somewhat to himself.

“More like, make sure you hide all the bats when you inevitably annoy her again.” Yunho teases, the others snickering along in agreement.

“Hey!” This time, it’s Wooyoung’s turn to whine.

“Woah, let’s not rule out the fact that I’m not gonna go around smacking you guys for the hell of it.” You chime in, gently guiding Hongjoong off of you for the moment, much to his displeasure.

“So, you don’t want to smack our asses?” Mingi quirks a knowing brow.

“If anyone wants to smack someone’s ass here, Min, it’s you.” You playfully roll your eyes, noticing how he suddenly averts his own gaze knowing damn well that you speak the truth.

“How did we go from baseball bats to smacking asses?” Seonghwa exhales a long sigh, helping you sit up beside him.

“It’s good for moral support.” San quips, Wooyoung immediately nodding along enthusiastically.

“You want me to spank you?” You look at them expectantly, noticing how red quite a few of them begin to get at your words.

Mingi begins to splutter.

“Well, if you’re offering,” Wooyoung smirks deviously, jutting out his hip slightly as if to put his ass on display.

This earns him a smack upside the head from Jongho, who suddenly cannot seem to meet your gaze.

“I mean, if you want me to,” you shrug, unaware of the commotion you’ve just started.

San and Wooyoung now appear to be wrestling on the ground, arguing about who’s going to get felt up first. Meanwhile, both Mingi and Jongho keep pushing each other back every time the other takes a step forward and towards you. Yunho laughs off to the side while both Seonghwa and Hongjoong begin bickering beside you. The only one you have yet to hear speak since this whole fiasco started is Yeosang.

Turning your head, you nearly jump when you see Yeosang crouched beside you. Silently, he presses a finger to his lips, helping you to your feet as you both slip away during the chaos erupting around you.

Carefully, Yeosang leads you to an area off to the side. It’s quite a long area, acting as a shooting range for target practice more than anything. Given how close it is to where you just were, you’re surprised none of the others have noticed your disappearance yet. Looks like they’re too busy bickering with one another to take note of your absence.

“Yeo?” You blink at him curiously, noticing how he moves around quickly, gathering a few things before standing directly in front of you.

“I had to get you away before they noticed.” He smiles, resting a quiver of arrows against the bench closest to you.

A bow rests in his left hand. It’s simplistic in design, and quite slim, but even you can tell that it’s carved from wood despite the smooth, black paint that covers the entirety of it.

“Are you going to shoot for me?” You cannot hide the excitement in your eyes.

“Perhaps.” A teasing quirk to his lips upwards. “Or maybe I intend for us to shoot together.”

Your breath hitches, a large grin painting your features as you giggle gleefully.

“You know, I’ve always loved archery.” You comment, barely able to prevent yourself from bouncing on your toes as you watch him grab an arrow from the quiver.

“I remember.” He smiles, his eyes crinkling in the corners. “Would you like to watch me-“

“Yes.” There is no hesitation in your response, even as you clasp your hands over your chest hopefully. “I mean…” You clear your throat, noticing how he blinks at you in mild shock. “Please. I would love to.”

With those final words, you motion for him to continue.

A kind smile and a nod are all you get in response as Yeosang takes his position on the little shooting platform. Still, he holds that bow in his one hand, placing the arrow into the little nook before taking a deep breath to steady himself. Then, with a smooth precision that you’ve become so accustomed to from him, he lifts his weapon, lining up his shot with the target at the end of the track.

Every movement he makes, every breath he takes, you observe carefully. Your eyes never leave him, noting how focused he looks in this very moment. The string of the bow is pressed against the corner of his lips as he draws the arrow back, arms not so much as wavering even in the slightest in their hold. The line from the tip of the arrow to the end of his elbow is steady, and if you didn’t know him, you’d swear he was a statue rather than a living person in this very moment.

A breath, and the arrow is loosed.

The tip spears through the air, landing in a dull thunk as it meets its target across the way. Naturally, it lands dead centre.

Nothing but awe paints your features as you see him turn to you. Adoration is clear in your eyes as you watch him step up to you, a shy smile tugging at his lips.

“You’re incredible, you know that?” You breathe, your hands still clasped in front of your chest.

“That truly means the world to me coming from you, Dearest.” Yeosang smiles softly, bringing his free hand up to gently cup your cheek. “I’m just glad I can finally share this with you.”

“I won’t lie, I’ve been looking forward to this since you mentioned teaching me that day at the mall.” Your lids flutter shut, leaning into his touch.

“Really?” He tilts his head slightly, thumb tenderly stroking along your cheek. At the way you hum in response, he steps in closer, breath ghosting the skin of your lips. “I’m glad.”

Softly, your eyes open to stare deeply into his own. He seems to be studying your every feature, nothing but fondness reflected in his gaze as he cannot help but keep sparing fleeting glances down at your lips.

Your tongue darts out to wet them, and you hear his breath hitch slightly in his throat.

“I always enjoy spending time with you, Yeo.” The admission is but a whisper on your lips, scared that if you speak any louder, you’ll disturb the moment between the two of you.

Faintly, in the background, you can still hear the other seven bickering about something or other. Not that you’re really paying attention to them at the moment.

“The feeling is, and always will be, mutual, My Queen.” He breathes out, leaning forward slightly to rest his forehead against your own.

Your heart flutters.

“Yeosang?”

He hums, tilting his head slightly forward so that his nose brushes against your own.

“Kiss me.”

Like every time before, you do not have to ask him twice.

How the press of his lips against your own always feels just like the very first time escapes you. Always, he holds you gently, pouring everything he is into the movement of his lips over your own. He cradles you close, loving how your own hands find purchase on his shoulders to steady yourself as he kisses your breath away.

It’s slow, and loving. Nothing more expected than what the other is willing to give. All the same, it makes your heart race, nothing but love flooding your veins as he holds you to him gently.

Slowly, he retracts, only for you to quickly press forward to peck his lips a few more times.

He chuckles, “Dearest.”

“You can’t blame me.” You hum, eyes fluttering open as you loop your arms around his neck. “You’re addictive, Yeosang.”

A pleasant shiver caresses his spine as he growls lowly. “I could say the same about you, My Queen.”

You giggle, and it’s still one of the most melodic sounds Yeosang has ever heard in his entire life.

“Now,” you hum, taking a minor step back while unlocking your arms from around his shoulders in order to stare at him eagerly. “Show me how to do that, please.”

Yeosang smiles, his heart thundering inside of his chest. “It would be my honour.”

A dull thud from behind you both draws your attention to see the other seven seemingly wrestling with each other for the moment. Yunho seems to have pinned Mingi on the mat, both Wooyoung and San going after Jongho at the same time. Hongjoong and Seonghwa seem to be attempting to choke the other out while standing on their feet, locked in a stalemate of sorts as chaos thrives around them.

A low chuckle escapes you as you shake your head. “I have a feeling they’ll be busy for a while.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Yeosang grins right along with you. Extending his free hand out to you, his eyes begin to shine, “Shall we?”

“We shall.” You immediately place your hand in his.

Gently, Yeosang guides you up onto that little platform with him, making sure to line you both up with a fresh target on the track.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you see his first arrow still sticking proudly out of that first target off to the side.

“How much do you know about archery?” He asks, nothing but curiosity in his gaze as he grabs another arrow from the quiver.

“Honestly?” You take moment to think. “Not much. Other than what you’ve already told me.”

He nods, stepping in beside you as he offers you the bow.

“The hardest part to begin with can be finding enough strength to draw back the string.” He explains, noting how you carefully observe the bow and all its intricate details as soon as you have it in your hands. Your wonder and awe makes his heart skip a beat. “We can practice that a few times before you attempt to knock an arrow.”

“Okay.” Your eyes dart back up to meet his gaze, and you hear his breath catch in his throat yet again.

With a little help from Yeosang, he’s able to guide you on how to properly hold a bow.

“Don’t be afraid of it, Dearest.” He instructs. “You can cause far more damage with a bow than it can ever do to you while wielding it.”

A nod from you is all he receives that you understand his words.

For a few minutes, he has you practice lifting the bow into a shooting stance, and drawing the string back as if you’re about to take a shot. Still, he holds that arrow in his hand, watching on with nothing but loving pride in his eyes as you follow his every instruction with the utmost care.

“You’re doing wonderful, Dearest.” He grins, his gaze dripping with affection as he watches you absolutely revel in his praise. “You’re picking up things very quickly, especially the basics.”

You giggle, a subtle heat rising to your cheeks. “Well, I did spend a lot of time pretending to be an archer when I was younger. I may not have known much, but some of my favourite characters are, so I wanted to be just like them.”

Yeosang quirks a brow, “Oh?”

“Yeah,” you avert your gaze, somewhat shyly. “Katniss, Kagome, Legolas. I always wanted a bow from the woodland realm when I was small. I thought the designs were beautiful, and like I said before, I’ve always had a fascination with archery.”

“Remind me to show you my collection soon, then.” He hums knowingly, a fond look dancing within his eyes.

Your whole demeanour perks up even further, “Okay!”

“For now, how about we shoot your first arrow?” There’s nothing but tender love in his gaze as he looks at you, seeing as you begin shaking lightly in excitement. “Deep breath, Dearest. You don’t want to be shooting with a shaky arm.”

You grin, nodding eagerly.

Following his instructions and taking a deep, steadying breath, you manage to calm your nerves slightly. Still, you cannot deny the excitement that courses through your veins as he hands you that singular arrow.

Gently, Yeosang instructs you on how to notch it before drawing it back.

“We can practice with you drawing from a quiver another time.” He says. “For now, let’s just keep it simple.”

“Sounds good.” You smile.

“Okay, Dearest,” he motions towards the target with his head. “Whenever you’re ready.”

A nod is all he receives in response as you take another deep breath.

Looking towards your feet, you take a moment to steady your nerves once more. Shifting your gaze, you study that target across the way, relaxing your shoulders just as Yeosang has instructed you to do. Raising the bow, you draw the string back, lining up your shot as best as you can.

The feeling of his eyes watching you is a little nerve wracking to say the least. You can feel your hands shaking as you attempt to steady your aim, holding your breath as your eyes focus in on the target at the end of the track. With each second that passes, you find it increasingly difficult to maintain the pull of the string, that thin band threatening to snap forward and through your grip at any moment.

There’s a furrow to your brow as you concentrate, but even you can tell how shaky you’ve suddenly become.

Softly, Yeosang moves behind you, placing his hands on your waist in comfort.

“Breathe, Dearest.” He whispers lowly into your ear, causing a shiver to caress your spine as his nose trails up the skin of your neck. “You’ve got this.”

Slowly, his hands begin to trail up your sides. Goosebumps erupt on your arms as you feel him cover your one hand holding onto the bow with his own, the other supporting your arm that’s drawing back the string. His chin rests on your shoulder, head leaning in the softest of touches against your own.

Suddenly, the string doesn’t become as difficult to hold onto anymore.

“Guide me.” His voice rumbles out. “We can make the shot together.”

The soothing timbre of his voice manages to calm you, and you find yourself taking another much needed deep breath. The heat of his body pressing against yours only adds to the moment, and you allow the familiar, comforting scent of sea island cotton to surround you.

You steady your hands.

The arrow is loosed in the blink of an eye, and you barely register the dull thunk of it sinking into the target across the way. All you can think about in this moment is how Yeosang’s hands feel settling back on your waist, the ghost of a smile on his lips as he buries his face into the side of your neck.

“See,” he hums lowly, squeezing your waist gently in his grip. “I knew you could do it."

Blinking to clear your vision, you allow your whole body to relax into his touch.

That’s when you see where your arrow has landed.

An involuntary excited squeal escapes you as you turn around in his hold.

“Sangie! Look!” You giggle, eyes crinkling at the sides with your joyous expression. “We hit bullseye!”

“You did that all by yourself, Dearest.” He grins, hands squeezing your hips gently once more. “I’m so proud of you.”

You begin wiggling happily in his hold, eyes falling shut as you smile wide.

“Leave it to Yeosang to steal everyone’s thunder.” Mingi grumbles from off to the side.

Turning your head, you see him standing with his arms crossed, a slight pout on his lips. The others don’t seem to be faring any better, but you’re too happy to care at the moment.

“Guys!” You bounce on your feet, pointing to the target at the end of the track. “Look!”

Several sets of eyes finally take note of the two targets side by side with arrows sticking out of the centre of each of them.

“Is one of those yours, My Love?” There’s a certain prideful gleam shining within Hongjoong’s eyes as he asks this.

At your vigorous nod, they have all the answers they need.

“That’s incredible, Baby!” San immediately rushes over to you, pulling you out of Yeosang’s embrace and into his own. He immediately lifts you in his arms, laughing along with you in your excitement, much to the elder’s annoyance.

“You did wonderful, Petal.” Yunho hums, being the next to walk over to you. Easily, he pulls San off of you, dragging him back in order for Yeosang to wrap you back into his arms once again.

A firm nod is sent to the taller male from Yeosang in thanks, to which Yunho simply smiles at in response.

A pout rests on San’s lips as he crosses his arms, only lessened by the fact that Wooyoung has to be held back by Jongho in the next second before the male tackles you to the ground in his excitement.

“It’s only because I have such a good teacher.” The way you turn and look back at Yeosang with nothing but fondness in your gaze says it all.

Soft rumbles shake their chests as they observe the scene before them, and they know for a fact that the loving look that resides on Yeosang’s features right this very instant is reflected on all of their own faces right now. Seeing you so happy, and so eager to learn even one of their chosen weapons has both a pride and love unlike ever before filling their chests. Emotions of which they will gladly indulge in when they’re with you, any and every time that they can.

“How was shooting an arrow for the first time, My Divine?” Seonghwa asks, an eager gleam to his eyes.

You smile, hands tightening subconsciously around that bow still held in your hands. You spare a glance down at the weapon. “Wonderful.”

“She’s a natural.” Yeosang hums, never tearing his eyes away from you for one second.

“I swear you’re just saying that.” You avert your gaze shyly, a vibrant heat rising to your cheeks.

“We’re not.” Wooyoung shakes his head almost instantly.

“You’re incredible, Starlight.” Mingi adds without a moment of hesitation.

“Our Perfect Queen.” Yunho’s voice rumble out, growls of agreement sounding around you immediately.

You allow for your eyes to flutter shut, revelling in this moment with all of them for as long as you can as you relax further into Yeosang’s embrace.

“My Lovely Kings.” The words are but a pleasant hum on your lips.

Again, eight low growls rumble out through the room. A smile pulls at your lips as the sound dissipates, allowing for a comfortable silence to settle over all of you.

“So,” Yeosang’s low voice by your ear has you blinking your eyes open, heart skipping a beat as you hear his next words, “Want to see my collection?”

[bijouxcarys]

Ties That Bind - PROLOGUE TEASER

Okay, this story is in no way, shape or form ready for release yet. But I'm interested in what you all think about what I have as the working prologue at the moment. Will eventually go through some editing, but I need to know it's worth it to keep going!

(This is a mafia AU)

It wasn’t hard to miss the trail of black SUVs cruising down the rain-slicked streets of New York City. While passersby made their way home from work, they could only envy the lucky bastards who owned such a vehicle. Not that they could see inside it, of course. Its passengers were completely cloaked in shadows.

“Man, you always got the best tunes, Uce,” Jimmy said as he fiddled with the radio, a grin playing on his lips. He settled on an old-school hip-hop station.

Roman smirked. “Gotta keep the vibe right, y’know? Can’t go into business all tense and shit.”

In the backseat, Jey was stretched out, his eyes closed and his head nodding to the beat. “You think this deal’s gonna go smooth?” he asked without opening his eyes.

“Better,” Roman replied. “We ain’t got time for no drama tonight.”

Jimmy glanced at his cousin. “You hear anything about Dimitri? Anything we should know?”

Roman shook his head. “Just the usual. Volkov’s always lookin’ to expand his empire. This deal’s big for him too. So, let’s just handle our business and get out.”

They drove in comfortable silence, the city’s neon lights reflecting off the wet pavement, creating a kaleidoscope of colours that danced across the sleek surface of the car. Roman felt a sense of calm with his family close, a rare moment of peace before the storm of their criminal world.

It wasn’t much longer before they pulled into the decrepit warehouse, its once imposing structure now a crumbling relic of the past. Roman killed the engine, and they stepped out, their breaths instantly visible in the cold night air.

Wrapping his arms around himself to keep warm, Jey took in the sight in front of him. “Damn, this place down real bad… There even a point of goin’ inside? Shit looks icy in there, Uce.”

“We’re going inside,” Roman responded through a chuckle, signalling to do just that. “Can you handle a little cold for ten minutes?”

“Ten minutes?!” Jey groaned, trailing behind Roman and Jimmy.

“He just mad ‘cause the chill makes Little Jey all shrivelled and shit,” Jimmy teased with a cackle that bounced off the vacant walls of the warehouse.

Roman just shook his head in amusement. Never a dull moment with the Usos around, that’s for sure. It would make the wait more bearable.

That’s the part of these deals Roman hated the most: the waiting. And the twins’ constant back and forth only relieved the restless stretch of time to a degree before he became impatient.

Roman stood in the shadows, his keen eyes scanning the darkened surroundings for the tenth time tonight. This was supposed to be a simple handoff, a straightforward deal. But something about the stillness in the air, the silence that seemed too deep, set his nerves on edge.

“This place gives me the creeps, Uce. What’s takin’ ‘em so long?” Jimmy muttered, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“Patience,” Roman replied steadily. “They’ll be here.”

The sound of approaching vehicles broke the silence. Headlights pierced through the darkness, and a convoy of black SUVs—not too indifferent from their own—pulled up, their engines purring ominously. Roman straightened, signalling his men to stay alert. The doors of the leading car opened, revealing the brooding figure they had been expecting, illuminated briefly by the interior light.

“Dimitri,” Roman greeted, extending a hand. The Russian took it, his grip firm and cold.

“Roman,” Dimitri responded, his Slavic accent thick and voice as rough as gravel. “I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”

“Not at all,” Roman lied smoothly. “Let’s get this over with.”

Dimitri motioned to his men, who began unloading crates from the vehicles. Roman watched them carefully, his senses on high alert. The deal was for a shipment of weapons—high-grade, military-issue. It was a big score for both sides, provided everything went according to plan.

“So, where’s the money?” Dimitri asked, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinised Roman.

“Right here,” Roman nodded to Jey, who stepped forward with a heavy duffel bag. He unzipped it, revealing stacks of cash, neatly bundled and undeniably real.

Dimitri’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction. “Excellent.”

As the exchange began, Roman felt the buzzing of his phone from within his pocket. He pulled it out, glancing down at the screen, half-expecting it to be another message from Maria, telling him more of what he did wrong this week.

Boy, was he wrong.

Unknown Number at 22:47 IT’S A TRAP GET OUT NOW

His blood ran cold. Roman looked up, meeting Jey’s eyes and giving a barely perceptible nod. They had been set up.

“Is there a problem?” Dimitri asked, noticing the change in Roman’s demeanour.

“No problem,” he replied coolly. “Just a little change in plans.”

“Oh?” Dimitri tilted his chin up, an attempt to face up to the hulking 6ft 3 stature of the Samoan in front of him.

“Yeah,” Roman smiled with a nonchalant shrug. “Ya know how it is, man…” His facial expression dropped from jovial to flat-out frigid. “Plans… change. Nei, tama.”

Before Dimitri could react, the air erupted with the sound of gunfire. Roman’s men sprang into action, drawing their weapons and taking cover. The Volkovs were equally prepared, and the warehouse transformed into a battlefield.

“Move it!” Roman barked, pushing Jey and Jimmy towards cover. He ducked behind a stack of crates, firing at the Volkovs as he went. The sound was deafening, the flashes of gunfire illuminating the chaos.

“Dammit, Roman, what’s goin’ on?!” Jimmy yelled over the noise, returning fire.

“Someone tipped us off. We need to get outta here!” Roman shouted back, taking down a Volkov soldier who got far too close for his liking.

Through the haze of smoke and chaos, Roman saw Dimitri retreating, barking orders at his men. It was clear the Russian had no intention of staying to see how the fight played out. Roman’s jaw tightened. This was supposed to be a simple deal, but now it was an all-out war.

“Fall back!” Roman ordered. “Get to the cars!”

His men began to retreat, covering each other as they moved. The Volkovs pressed the attack, but Roman’s team was disciplined, their movements coordinated. They reached the cars, engines roaring to life as they sped away from the warehouse.

Roman’s heart pounded as he glanced in the rearview mirror, watching the warehouse fade into the distance.

/

“This is bad, atali’i,” Sika said, turning to face Roman. “Real bad.”

Back at the Reigns family compound, the atmosphere was tense. Roman’s father, stood by the window, had just endured Jimmy’s entire recount of the night’s events with a grim expression.

“I know, Pops,” Roman replied, his voice steady but his eyes burning with anger. “But we’ll find out who did this and why. And we’ll make ‘em pay.”

Sika nodded. “We need to be careful. Whoever set this up knew exactly how to hit us. We can’t afford to let our guard down.”

Roman glanced around the room at his family, his blood, his soldiers. They were all looking to him for direction, for a plan. And he had one. But first, they needed more information.

“Jimmy, Jey,” he said, turning to his cousins. “We need to tighten security. No one gets in or out without us knowing about it. And I want you to start asking questions. Discreetly. Find out who knew about the deal and who could have tipped off the Volkovs.”

The twins nodded, their faces as serious as ever; they knew the stakes as well as he did.

“Solo,” Roman continued, addressing the twins’ younger brother. “I need you to keep an eye on Ava. From a distance, I can’t give that… strega another thing to hold over my head.”

Solo nodded, his demeanour always as cold as the North. “I got this.”

As his family dispersed to carry out their orders, Roman turned back to Sika. “We need to get answers. Fast. Someone’s playing both sides.”

Sika’s eyes hardened. “And when we find them?”

Roman’s expression was frozen with vengeance. “We make the motherfucker regret they ever stepped foot on my turf.”

This was more than a betrayal; it was a declaration of war.

[gayf1hoe]

Part 1

As I sit down with my bowl of cereal I begin to open my laptop and see an abundance of emails that I have ignored over the course of the past few weeks, because I've been having a full media and work detox.

As the emails load I see the latest email is from Gunther so I decide I best not ignore it otherwise if I ignore it like I did when I first joined the team he will give me a lecture about how rude it is to ignore emails. Opening it I scan it with my eyes whilst spooning my cereal into my mouth. I read that Gunther has called for a meeting for today which isn't much of a surprise given it's only a few weeks until pre-season testing and I don't even know who my teammate is. After last season I need a good teammate. Nikita was a great person but a terrible teammate. It was like Haas had only one driver driving for them because he spent half of his time spinning off the track or going into the wall so this year I need a teammate who will be able to score points alongside me.

I continue scrolling through the emails and curse myself for putting myself in this position, when people say F1 drivers just drive a car they are so wrong. They should try keeping up with all the emails and brand deals we have to do.

I finish my breakfast and quickly jump in the shower and dig out an outfit from my draws that are more than due a clear out but that's very far down on my very long to do list that never seems to be fully complete.

I double check I have everything before shutting the door to my apartment and heading to the factory where the meeting is, thankfully it isn't far away as when I joined Haas I bought an apartment close to the factory and moved.

As I approach the entrance I am handed my ID pass and make my way to Guenther's office. The building has become like a second home to me, in fact I have probably spent more time here in the past 2 years than I have at home, it's full of loads of Haas memorabilia such as the burnt Halo that saved Grosejans life, or the chassis of previous cars. Unfortunately the trophy cabinet isn't as grand or as full as Red Bull's or Ferrari's but it still displays the team's short history.

Eventually after greeting everyone who I haven't seen for a few months I reach the door of Gunther's office and confidently knock and wait for a response from within, it doesn't take long for him to say "come in".

Whilst he is my team principal he is also like a father figure to me and I would be lying if I said I didn't miss his dry humour and constant use of profane langauge over the course of the break.

I take a seat opposite him and see that there is another chair next to me so I assume someone else will be joining us shortly. We take a brief moment to catch up after the break and we discuss what we did and he asks if my swearing is under control yet. As last year every team radio and interview I almost certainly used a swear word, although I don't think he has much room to talk.

I could tell how stressed he was last year having Nikita crashing his car every 5 seconds, Dimitry threatening to pull out the Uralkali sponsor and having 2 rookies on his team was never going to be easy but I don't think he envisaged it being that hard, last year Haas managed to get 112 points all of which came from me so by the end of the year I was very burnt out and spent the entire break doing absolutely nothing.

The conversation bounces back and forth until there is a knock on the door causing silence to hit the room, Gunther goes over to the door and greets who ever is there but I can't see or hear who it is until Gunther moves out the way and motions to the chair, causing me to stand up and prepare to shake the person's hand what I didn't expect was to see that my new teammate was Carlos Sainz.

I knew Carlos was out of a seat this year, with much controversy behind it. I just never would have expected him to come to Haas, it's not that I'm unhappy with the team choosing him but he's going from one of the top teams to a team that is struggling to stay in the fight to be a midfielder.

Another reason I'm stood in silence is because well, Carlos is gorgeous there is no denying that and his natural charm makes him irresistible. I'm snapped out of my thoughts by Gunther repeatedly saying my name until I turn my head towards him and he then motions with his head for me to shake his hand. I shake his hand, make eye contact with him and say hello.

We both take a seat and Gunther walks around to his side of the desk, it kind of feels like you've been called to the Principal's office, even if you know you have done nothing wrong there is always nerves in your stomach.

"So Y/N if you can't tell by now Carlos is your new teammate" Gunther says in his typical blunt tone that makes me smile.

"Yes I had gathered that much Gunther"

We spend ages talking about media and contracts but it's more focused on informing Carlos on how the team works and what the expectations are although I can only assume they are a lot lower compared to Ferrari.

We are doing pre-season testing and revealing the livery in 2 weeks time so there are a lot of things to sort out in a short period of time. But after the meeting Gunther lets us go to lunch and it provides me and Carlos with an opportunity to get to know each other. before we go into the simulator for practice.

The lunch hall is quite full as the preparations for the next season are very much in full swing and with MoneyGram being the new sponsor there is a lot to change, I wish I could say I will miss having Nikita as a teammate but his father and Uralkali made my first season and absolute nightmare constantly accusing me of having a different or better car to Mazepin, I can't even begin count how many times my car was inspected by the FIA last year.

We collect our food and head to a quiet conference room as the dining hall is flooded by engineers, designers and loads of other staff that makes it barely possible to actually hear anyone. We eventually reach a quiet conference room and place our lunch down at the table before sitting down. For the initial 10 minutes we are just sat in silence before I'm the one to ask the first question.

"So why Haas, you must have been pretty desperate for that F1 seat? I say trying to break the silence with some humour.

"No, I wanted a team that would challenge me and I thought you would make a great teammate" as he finishes his sentence I have to look down because I can feel my cheeks blushing bright red like I've just seen my high-school crush.

He has great charisma, humour and looks and he is an extremely talented driver, the polar opposite to my previous teammate so I am elated at the fact he is my team mate although I'm sure my attraction to him will at some point cause a predicament that will arouse drama for us and the team. I can't help but admire him from the opposing side of the table, I probably look obsessed right now - but maybe that's an accurate description.

Throughout lunch we get to know each other more and more. He speaks about what it was like to have Charles as a teammate and I speak about what it was like to have Nikita as a teammate and I think I win at having the more Interesting stories.

But no sooner than lunch had started we have to go and do testing in the simulator which is an all too common thing in preparing for the season however I have never been a fan of simulators I don't feel they give the proper experience and plus 20 to 30 years ago there was no such thing as simulator testing and the drivers managed just as well. Me and Carlos go to separate rooms for the simulator tests and after we have to get our seats moulded so we don't see eachother until about 5 PM when we are allowed to go back home.

Unlike Carlos I live near the factory however he still lives in Spain so he's renting a hotel room. When we meet in the lobby I suggest we go for dinner at a nearby restaurant I know well and he agrees. We both head to my Audi and take a seat, "nice car" he compliments as he buckles his seat belt. We begin driving and in typical England fashion it starts to rain and the sound of rain pelting against the metal is a sound that feels the air of silence. But eventually Carlos sparks a conversation between us that is more personal and detached from racing.

"So do you have a partner?" He asks "nope, painfully single and probably will be forever" I reply further questioning "What about you?".

"Same, still single" he replies, "but sure someone with your good looks would be able to find someone" I instantly regret saying that it sounds like I'm hitting on him and he can clearly tell that I'm embarrassed.

"No need to feel shy, I am very honoured that you think I'm good-looking" whilst his response calms me, I still can't help but feel a little embarrassed still.

Shortly after making a fool of myself we pull into the parking bay of the restaurant and step out into the rain. We hastily rush into the restaurant taking refuge from the rain and are guided to our table by the waiter I know very well.

We are sitting down at the table and the waiter comes by again, "Now Y/N will it be the usual" he says whilst placing his hand on my shoulder, Carlos quickly averts his attention away from us and back to the menu after he's finished taking our orders Carlos comments on his behaviour.

"He's very touchy don't you think, maybe he likes you"

I laugh at his comment, "please I know his mother and he's so not my type"

"Well what is your type?" He presses on.

"The complete opposite of him" I state trying to give as little away as possible.

"Anyway, what's your type?" I ask, trying to deflect.

"Well I don't have a specific type I'm open to all kinds of people" He answers and as he finishes our food comes out putting an abrupt end to that conversation.

Over the course of dinner we talk about the plans for the forthcoming weeks and what the reaction is going to be like when everyone finds out that he's going to be driving for Haas. I can't lie, I can't wait to see the out roar of disappointment when they find out Carlos Sainz, one of the best drivers on the grid is in a Haas. I bet it's an image some can't even begin to imagine.

After dinner I drive Carlos back to his hotel which isn't too far from the restaurant and as I am about to drive off he invites me in.

"Hey, do you want to come in for a glass of wine?" He asks whilst undoing his seat belt.

"I can't, I'm driving" I say.

"Well you can just stay the night", I think about it momentarily and agree to come in. I quickly park the car and walk into the hotel with Carlos.

When we reach his room he quickly digs around in his pocket and pulls out his key card and opens the door. His room is more grand and well decorated than my own apartment and it's fixtures are more extravagant than anything I had ever seen.

Carlos walks over to the mini bar and pours two glasses of red wine and hands me one as I'm walking over to take a seat. I take a moment to admire the rest of the room, and wonder where Haas found the money in the budget for such a nice hotel.

We continue talking about our F1 careers and whilst mine is only 2 seasons old his is much more interesting than mine. We also talk about our personal lives, friends, family, relationships, hobbies and soon one glass of wine turns into a whole bottle.

Whilst I'm not drunk I'm certainly a little tipsy and probably not in the right mind frame to drive or walk home so I decide to take Carlos' offer of staying the night so I quickly get changed into some shorts and a t- shirt Carlos had given me and climb into the bed. Yes it's a little weird sharing the bed with my new team mate but I have known Carlos since last year so I guess it's not that bad.

A little after I had gotten into the bed Carlos comes out of the bathroom and gets into the bed next to me and turns the TV on.

"What do you want to watch?" He asks.

"I don't mind," I respond.

Shortly after he picks a TV show I drift off to sleep and don't really remember much.

Waking up in the morning I feel a headache and a slight hangover sweep over me. I hadn't had a single alcoholic drink since the last race of the season so it hit me pretty hard.

With my eyes feeling extremely sensitive the slight slither of light that bypasses the blinds peirces into my eyes causing me to let out an audible groan that causes Carlos to wake up.

"Are you ok?" He asks.

"Aside from a banging headache I should be fine" I say, pulling myself out of the bed and walking over to his table where there is a pair of sunglasses and putting them on to reduce the strain on my eyes.

I walk into the bathroom and have a shower all whilst keeping the sunglasses on my headache only seems to intensify as time passes.

I get changed in the bedroom whilst Carlos has a shower and we have to be at the factory in less than an hour so I only manage to have an apple and a glass of water for my breakfast and due to my headache I can't drive, so I entrust Carlos with my most expensive possession and pray he doesn't have an accident, but as he is an ex Ferrari driver I have faith in his competence and driving ability.

Although Carlos is a good driver I don't think he understands the speed limit is a limit and not a target and I'm sure when I go home there will be a speeding ticket in the post. However we do arrive much earlier than expected so I guess that's a positive. As we walk into the factory the smell of automotive oil is a smell that doesn't help my hangover at all.

We are left standing around for about 5 minutes before the head of Technical Engineering arrives and tells us what we are doing today, not before he questions me.

"Y/N is there a reason why you are wearing sunglasses indoors when it is winter?".

"I've got a little headache" I reply but he already knows.

"As long as your hangover doesn't impact your performance today I will look past it" he says unlocking the doors to the simulators.

Today is the day that Haas will announce that Carlos is joining the team and we have been informed we are filming a short video which will cause many people to have the shock of their lives.

3 hours of my day is spent in the simulator running through every single setting the car has and the different types of balance settings the car has. It's quite boring but it's also important.

The media manager comes by and pulls me and Carlos out to film the video and we have to do so many retakes because we can't stop laughing and I keep on saying "Uralkali Haas" instead of "MoneyGram Haas" but the final result doesn't show how many times we had to go through it.

"Hi guys my name is Y/N L/N, and I'm Carlos Sainz and we are the drivers for MoneyGram Haas F1 Team"

The team are then going to take that speech and make a promo using photos of me and Carlos in the sim and in our race suits and by 2 PM the video is out and the Internet is going wild especially the other drivers who had no idea Carlos was going to Haas.

I get a text message from George who knows about my slight crush on Carlos and says:

"Don't get too carried away" I laugh at his message and Carlos asks what I'm laughing at but I just say it's a meme, and technically I'm not lying because I am talking to the most meme-able man ever.

Over the course of the next hour the media is going absolutely berserk. They never saw this coming and quite frankly I can't blame them because I didn't either and I don't think Gunther expected Carlos to actually say yes.

Mid way through scrolling through the comments Carlos comes over and says, "I'm going out for dinner tonight with Lando, George and Alex and they told me to tell you that you are also invited" I thank him for telling me and I get back to doing some admin tasks to pass time and clear things off my extensive to-do list.

As the day progresses my hangover eases off and I manage to cope without wearing sunglasses and I vow to myself that I'm not going to drink for a few weeks, but these self promises never seem to stick.

I'm sitting in one of the conference rooms meticulously reading through emails, rules and regulation changes, and other miscellaneous things like sponsorship information. It's all quite banal and mundane but I'm in a great flow and manage to read most of the stuff that I had been tasked with so it should make Gunther and the management team very happy, last year I didn't really make an effort and didn't fully comprehend all the rules and may have accidentally touched Zhou's Rear wing in parc ferme and it was a costly mistake that resulted in me being shouted at by Gunther like a school child.

I decide that I have read enough for one day so I decide to collect my belongings and head down to the reception area to wait for Carlos. He is taking a while so I begin to pace up and down admiring the past cars that are on display showcasing the history of Haas, but eventually Carlos does turn up.

"Sorry I'm late, Gunther was lecturing me" he says sincerely.

"It's fine he does that often" I say putting my coat on and removing my keys from my pocket.

"So what restaurant are we going to?" I add.

"It's a Thai restaurant that Alex found, I'll drive if you want me to".

I think for a moment but see he clearly wants to drive so I chuck him my keys and we exit the building.

When we arrive the guys are already standing outside waiting for us and as we step out the car George is giving me his usual devilish smile that is insinuating something. We greet each other and shake hands and hug each other and they are all excited as they haven't seen each other in a few months. Despite being in F1 for a year I kept myself to myself and maintained a private life and didn't really connect with other drivers apart from George, Lance and Pierre so it's a little awkward for me as I have barely said 10 words to Lando or Alex.

We eventually head in and we are shown to our table. I try to sit next to Carlos but Lando gets there before me so I sit down in-between Alex and George.

I take this time as an opportunity to get to know Alex as we haven't really had much time to talk.

"So how's things going at Williams?" Is the first question that comes to mind but given the results of the season I can sort of make my own answer up.

"Yeah it was a tough season but we are working hard this year, anyway how are things going at Haas especially after Mazepin?"

"Going well, obviously I have a new teammate now so hopefully more points and hopefully the car spends more time on the track than in the wall".

He laughs lightly at my little dig at Nikita and then asks how I'm finding Carlos being my new teammate and I can't really think of an answer as we have only done two days of simulator testing so I can't really give a valid answer so I simply reply "it's going well, I think we get on" George hears my response and I see him pulling that grin again and I lightly hit his leg with my foot under the table causing his grin to dissipate.

Over the course of dinner Lando and Carlos are constantly touching each other and joking with one another and for some reason I feel angry, jealous?

I know I have nothing to be jealous of, it's not as if he's my boyfriend or even remotely interested in me so I have no idea why I'm feeling these feelings that are so irrational.

At one point Lando is holding on to one of Carlos' arms and I excuse myself from the table and head to the bathroom where I take a moment to just cool down and splash some water on my face. I don't intend to make an embarrassment out of myself over a guy I have only really known for 2 days. As I'm patting my face dry with the paper towel I hear the door behind me creaking open and see George enter.

"Are you alright?" he asks.

"I'm fine just struggling with a hangover still" I reply.

"You know you are one of two people after Carlos and Lando is fierce competition. He won't let Carlos go that easily, but don't give up."

"I'm not after Carlos I'm after a race win and more points are the only 2 things I'm after in this world, besides relationships just get in the way" I start heading for the door and George places his hand on my shoulder.

"Believe me trying to block him out it won't work, I've seen Lando try and fail doing that. And you are teammates you are going to constantly be reminded of him"

"Thanks for the words of encouragement George" I say sarcastically before heading back to the table.

I manage to finish my meal and decide I have had enough of watching Lando fanboy over Carlos and say I'm going home and I ask Carlos for my car key.

When he asks why I'm going I say I'm just tired and he asks if I want him to drop me off but I tell him it's fine and he can stay and enjoy his evening.

As I walk out to my car and press unlock I hear someone call my name and turn to see Lando running towards me.

"Is everything alright?" I ask

"Everything is fine, just do me a favour and don't make things difficult for me and Carlos," he says.

"I'm sorry what do you mean exactly"

"Well I like him and I want to get with him at some point but I know you like him too so please let him go and settle for second best"

When he says that I become enraged and say something I probably shouldn't have.

"I guess you know a lot about being second best considering Oscar is always out qualifying you and getting more points than you, McLaren must really love you to still keep extending your contract but you will never be as good as Oscar"

"Don't be bitter Y/N it's not a good look"

During the drive home I am fueled by anger and I have gone over the speed limit a few times but at this point I don't really care, I have never been so annoyed by a single person.

I spent a year with Nikita and Dimitry Mazepin. I thought I had the patience of a Saint to deal with them, yet some McLaren driver comes along, makes a few comments and I see red.

I fumble around with my house keys before eventually finding the right one and open the door. The entire apartment is dead silent apart from the faint ticking of the clock. I throw my keys onto the small table by the front door and sit on the chair by the kitchen Island sipping on a glass of water when my phone pings and it's a message from Carlos.

'Hey Y/N me and Lando are going to a karting track tomorrow for a quadrant video. Would you like to come?"

I can't think of any excuse to get out of it so I text back "sure" despite the fact I'm completely unsure and a day with Lando and Carlos will really test my patience.

[starres-stuff]

Day 3- Tempest FFXIV Write 2024

Tempest: to raise a tempest in or around

CW/TW: Dark Themes, Mature Themes, Hints at Abusive Upbringing.

Long before Vi and Dimitri another story existed, the story of their Mother; Saphelle Jienuex. 

“What will you do to suffer no more? Will you plead with the Dragons to eat them? Will you hire thugs to kill them in the streets or will you submit to me, girl?” Hers was always a cruel and scathing voice when she spoke. The distant specter of the void hungered for another of the Jienuex line to pay her price and step into her trap. Saphelle had noted that she had tripled her visits in recent weeks, her whispers far more tangible than normal. 

“Are you done yet?” the young Elezen asked from the shadows she brooded in, lavender eyes lingering on what appeared to be the shapely figure of a woman cast upon her wall. “We have gone through this nightly Numeria Ichatan” 

A low hiss was her reply and long; needle-like claws moved towards her across her wall, their intention to siphon some of her Aether to remind her of her place but they never did reach her, trying as she might. The girl seemed to be shielded by a powerful ward that a simple voidsent could not break through. 

“My name is not yours to use, girl.” The voice called back, a screeching sound coming from the wall, always dramatic this one was; hells bent on getting her own way. 

“I will use whatever I please.” Saphelle was in no mood for parlor tricks or over-dramatic theatrics. She had sought her darkness to tend to the wounds left behind by a drunken Father who did not know how to keep his hands to himself and needed them broken finger by finger to learn a lesson. He was not the only one either, the cruel gaze of her Mother as she watched him dish out his punishment. “He is sick Saphelle” the spineless creature would whisper later when they were alone, trying to make up for the things that had happened. This was her every night, some macabre play she had been birthed into one moonless night.

“Say yes and it will all be over.” The whisper teased again, there was nothing she wanted more than for it to be over. Soon to be twenty-one and not promised for marriage as any other Ishgardian noble daughter her age would have been. There had been other unfortunate things like this in her young life. No debutante ball, no sweet sixteen, and certainly no entertaining suitors come to ask for her hand.

“And what will you take from me in return to solve my problems Numeria Ichatan?” her, own, cruel smile appeared as she said the name again, a name she had found scrawled into the journal of her ancestors Neophinne the Scholar, her Mhachi ancestors who had been summoner, handler, and lover to the creature that followed her. 

“Nothing now, only after your death. I would claim your name and body as my own. I would live out your days as I lived our Neophinne’s, as I saw fit. In return, I will leave them as empty husk devoid of Aether, a fitting end for what they have offered you.”

Ah, the feelings that rose in Saphelle as she listened, the cold smile devoid or emotion that curled on her lips, as lost herself in the thoughts of all of this being hers. Oh, the sweet notes of revenge that hummed in her ears now. As much as she hated to admit it, the Voidsents price was small for something that would put her plan into motion. 

“You win. I will take your bargain.” Saphelle returned her attention to the wounds on her arms and stomach, a cotton ball dabbing at the lash marks from her Father's whip with a very sterile astringent that her Mother made to care for things such as this. 

“We have an oath then? Do you consent to the pact? Their death and your freedom for the right to claim your body when your soul goes on to the Sea?” The shadows moved and the form of a succubus emerged from them, gliding across the floor without her feet touching as if she was some twisted angel here to be the benevolent savior of the young woman. 

“I agree to your terms.” A slim hand rose, garnets glittering across her pale skin on golden bands “I would like it to be my Birthday present, we will be attending the theater as we always do to celebrate. When it is over we will emerge in the right alleyway from our private box. I expect them not to emerge from the alley.” 

The succubus took her hand turning it over and taking one of her claws to etch a symbol into the skin when completed the symbol glowed with the power of the void and a pair of grotesque lips touched hers, they felt like old parchment dry and ready to decay. 

“An exchange of Aether to seal the pact.” Saphelle's eyes grew wide as she felt her breath sucked out of her lungs, leaving her to gasp for air and then seconds later the voidsent breathed into her an old air that tasted like decay, causing the young woman to shudder in disgust. 

“Three days count them and I will be at your side” Her presence faded then leaving Saphelle alone in the darkness, her empty eyes filled with a vivid ruby light and her emotionless smile became a beacon of hope in the dismal gray. 

 “Happy Birthday to me.”  A short laugh burst forth from her lips into the room, the echo of it ominous and foreboding. She knew well the tempest that she had released that night, the creeping death that would set right all she had endured to this point. It would be a chaotic storm, but she would see the other side. 

[jerzwriter]

Cute interaction 15: trying to make the other laugh

Might be a good way for you to explore T & C (cop edition) 😃

Hey Ren! Sorry for the LONG delay - but here it goes! :)

Book: Crimes of Passion (Early Book 1)

Pairing: Trystan Thorne x F!MC (Carolina Rose)

Rating: Teen

Words: 1500

Category: One-off / Fluff

Summary: Carolina Rose is not accustomed to working with a partner, especially one like Trystan Thorne. She's not in the best mood when she has to meet him for lunch, but he's determined to change that - and it leads to a wager.

A/N: Thanks to @dr-colossal-pita for this OLD ask... thanks for your patience! Participating in @choicesmonthlychallenge April Challenge - Laughter.

Crimes of Passion Masterlist | Complete Masterlist

The luncheonette was always packed this time of day. Carolina was a regular here and normally grabbed a seat at the counter to whoof down some food. But as she stood at the entrance today, she eyed the counter with a huff. Only single seats were available, so she'd need a table. Dimitri, the luncheonette's owner, noticed her from behind the counter and motioned toward the scattered empty seats.

“Plenty of room for you, my dear!”

“Nah,” she shrugged. “I’m meeting someone. I guess I’ll wait for a table.” 

The older man lifted his chin toward the far corner of the room. “Over there. Johnny is bussing that table now."   

As Carolina squeezed between the tightly placed tables toward the empty booth, Dimitri’s voice rang above the fray once more.

“So, who’s the lucky man,” he winked.

She shot Dimitri a nasty look that required no reply when Trystan appeared... and he heard... of course, he heard. Now, a reply was necessary.

“No lucky man or woman, Dimitri. This is all business!”

The overdressed prince's exuberantly overpriced Italian loafers stopped in their tracks, an irritating grin in place as he raised his hands to his chest in mock horror.

“Really, Carolina? You wound me!”

She lifted her menu to cover her face, but not before rolling her eyes to ensure her annoyance was known. If her intent was to deflate Trystan, she clearly missed her mark, for he was as buoyant and charming as ever when he slid into the booth across from her.

“What’s the matter? Were you hoping for a more handsome partner?” he drawled.

Carolina felt every hair on her body stand at attention. It was because she was so irritated, right? There couldn’t have been any other reason for her reaction. In truth, he was handsome, ridiculously so, and even worse, he knew it. What he didn’t understand was that pretty faces meant nothing to her. Not even when they were attached to such a gorgeous physique covered in a suit that probably cost more than every item in the luncheonette combined. None of that mattered to Carolina Rose. Any partner would have been annoying, but Trystan took the cake.

“You’re late,” she snapped.

“What? You just arrived?”

“I know,” she deadpanned. “But I’m late too, and if I’m stuck with a partner, you should at least keep me on my toes. I’m going to need you to up your game.”

“On your toes,” he simpered, his eyes dancing over her, causing a blush she cursed to settle on her cheeks. “I can certainly keep you on your toes... amongst other things.”

She dropped her menu between them with a sigh. 

“Did they ever learn about the concept of sexual harassment in Drakovia?”

“Of course,” he winked, “but it typically didn’t apply to the crown prince.”

“Well, you’re not the crown prince anymore now, are you?”

Immediately regretting her choice of words, she watched the bright grin wash away from his face.

“Touche,” he replied, attempting to conceal the blow she had just delivered. I’ll give you this round.”

As he studied his menu, Carolina’s discomfort increased. She could have let it go. Perhaps he’d even limit their conversation to the assignment if she did. But while she'd be loathe to admit it, seeing the light diminish in his eyes left her riddled with guilt, and she felt compelled to bring it back.

“I’m sorry,” she barely whispered, but the words rang in his ears.

“Excuse me,” he grinned. “Could you say that again, a little louder? I’m not sure I heard you.”

“You heard my perfectly fine, you ass!” She chuckled, playfully hitting his arm with her menu. “I didn’t mean to be so cross. It’s not your fault. I’m just used to working alone.”

“Then you should be happy,” he insisted.

“Why,” she smirked. “Because I’m partnered with you?”

“No,” he said with near sincerity. “Because you are working with anyone. Alone is nice, but it becomes rather... lonely after a while.”  

She mindlessly stared at her glass as she swirled her ice water with a straw.

“I suppose,” she answered, “but I get by fine on my own.”

“Then you are lucky I’m here, Carolina. Because you shouldn’t be getting by; you should be thriving.”

“Oh really? And how do you suggest I do that?”

“You could start by laughing a little. You’re entirely too serious.”

“What! I am not! I’m fun, a lot of fun, actually. People tell me I’m fun all the time!”

Trystan rolled his eyes with a dramatic flair as he leaned closer to the table. “No one who is fun has to say they’re fun. No one who is fun has to be told they are fun. Carolina... I think you’re lovely but fun... I don’t believe you’re fun.”  

He stifled a chuckle as he took in her appalled expression and jumped back in before she could form words.

“But it’s OK. That’s why I’m here to help you.”

“To help me?”

“Yes,” he nodded curtly. “To help you.”

“You’re going down, mister! I’m funny! Very funny! I could have you cracking up all through lunch if I wanted to. I just don’t... I don’t want to.”

“Because you can’t,” he teased.

“I can!”

“Then a wager... we’ll have a laugh off... whoever makes the other person laugh first wins.”

“Fine!” She agreed. “And what’s the wager?”

Trystan’s eyes lit up as his smile morphed into a salacious grin. “Carolina... do you really want me to choose?”

“No!” she insisted. “Absolutely not! Lunch. Whoever loses has to pay for lunch.”

“That’s it?”

“For starters,” she snapped. “Now, are you in or out?”

“I’m so in!”

They put the contest aside momentarily to place their orders and discuss the next moves on their case. But once their food was set before them and a plan was in action, it was game on.

“So, how do I do this... do I tell you a joke or something?” she asked.

It wasn’t easy, but Trystan stifled a laugh. He wasn’t going to let her win that easily.

“Are you serious? This is going to be easier than I imagined.”

“No, it isn’t!”

She began telling him stories of her exploits. Things that would have had him howling under normal circumstances. But she had never heard of the royal stiff upper lift, which left him with a distinct advantage. When she was through, he attempted the same approach. Carolina laughed inwardly; clearly, he had never dealt with a detective from New York City. She had the advantage.

With lunch almost devoured, neither had cracked so much as a smile when Carolina got a gleam in her eye. Her nearly finished milkshake gave her a brilliant idea. Shunning the straw, she took a big gulp from the glass, leaving a frothy, white mustache coating her upper lip. Trystan pinched himself to remain expressionless because, if he were being honest, he found her utterly enchanting.

“That’s it?” He questioned. “A milkshake mustache is your big move.”

Carolina mumbled a curse under her breath as she grabbed a napkin to wipe her lip. 

“I don’t see you coming up with a grand finale.”

With that, Trystan tilted his head forward, then back, emerging with wild eyes and two French fries stuck in his nostrils. Witnessing the former Crown Prince in such a state normally would have left Carolina in stitches, but she all but yawned as she stared at him.

“Nothing!” He demanded, removing the salty spuds. “Nothing at all?”

“Sorry, Your Highness. You’ll have to do better than that.”

Exasperated but amused, he leaned forward to tickle under her chin. But Carolina lurched back before his fingers made contact and grabbed her steak knife, playfully holding it in the air.

“No physical contact, Trystan!” She said with narrowed eyes. “Obviously, you’ve never dealt with a woman from New York. I will stab you!”

“I nev... I never,” Trytan’s head flipped back, his face turning red as he barrelled with laughter. “Carolina, do you know anything about Drakovia? A Drakovian toddler would gladly stab a random passerby for staring at its teddy bear. I’m not worried about being disemboweled by you!”

“You’re not,” Carolina smirked.

“No. I’m not.”

“Good,” she said, dropping the knife to the table with an air of satisfaction. That will allow you to use your faculties to get your wallet out and pay for lunch. Because, Prince Trystan, I believe I... just... made... you... laugh!”

His jaw went slack when he realized she had bested him, but a smile quickly emerged. He couldn’t lie. Being bested by Carolina only made her more desirable. He cleared his throat as he pulled his wallet out of his pocket.

“There will be other lunches, Carolina... and other bets. Don’t get too comfortable. I will exact my revenge.”

“Really,” she grinned, rising to her feet. “First, you’ll have to get me to agree to the terms. Let’s see if you can do that.”

He slumped back into his seat and watched her walk away. Happily observing every sway of her hips as she triumphantly sashayed toward the exit.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered with a smile. “You will. Trust, you will.”

@choicesficwriterscreations @choicesbookclub

Other tags in reblog

[the-californicationist]

they help you practice

Team 141/Reader - Gangbang TW: explicit consent given, polyamory, vaginal sex, anal sex, face-fucking, double penetration, spitting, come as lube, bulging, Ghoap sex, bukkake, degradation, orgasm control. Let me know if I missed one, I'm sorry. Proceed with caution, please.

You let yourself into his office, shutting the door behind you, and stood before him at a sharp parade rest, waiting to be informed about your fate. 

“Sergeant, thank you for coming. There is no need for formalities. This is just a chat.”

You moved to a more relaxed rest and nodded. 

Price continued,

“This is going to be quite the ask. Would you be willing to perform duties which are…outside of your current scope?”

“Yes, sir,” you responded just as you should have, as you were trained to, but Price was hoping you would understand exactly what you would be getting yourself into. 

“I need you to go undercover to a Konni restaurant cover in Minsk…as bait. Am I making myself clear?”

A pause. But, to your credit, you didn’t flinch. You did raise an eyebrow and ask a clarifying query,

“What kind of bait, sir?”

“Our next target, Dimitri Sokolov, will be at the Black Pearl bar in Minsk tomorrow, and we won’t get a better chance to lure him away from his bodyguards. He almost never makes public appearances, so he must be making an exception. Sokolov has,” he paused for a moment, trying to find the words, making general, suggestive motions over his own chest, “particular tastes in his women. You just so happen to have the right profile for the job. Again, this is not an order, Sergeant. I need to know if you’re willing to accept.”

“Yes, sir,” you tried to appear fully in control. You knew your breasts were large, but you had never been asked to use them as a weapon. There was a first time for everything, you supposed. You would do anything to help the team.

The captain loved your composure. He knew you would be perfect for the job. 

“Good. Let's brief the team.”

Price walked with you down to the meeting room at the end of the hall and found Soap, Ghost, and Gaz sitting in the desk chairs every way except the way they were designed, lounging over the furniture like big cats, melting into the various surfaces they encountered. They fixed themselves when the captain walked in. 

“Gentlemen,” Price opened, “this is our bait. Her code name is Rabbit. Rabbit, this is Soap, Ghost, and Gaz.”

You nodded politely and resumed a semi-formal rest position. 

The men had noticed you around the base but hadn’t been formally introduced. You were a desk rider, but still, you were hard to miss. The baggy military clothing had almost managed to conceal a bounty of soft curves, but your lush body persisted beneath it, and the outlines of your feminine form made heinous suggestions in the fabric. Unfortunately for them, you didn’t hang around the gym or the common area enough for them to have generated a fully accurate image of your enticing body, but they were certain it was delicious. They watched you like peckish wolves. Waiting hungrily, shifting in their seats in anticipation. For what, you weren’t sure.

“Rabbit is going undercover for us to take down Sokolov, Vladimir Makarov’s new shipping controller. He has a particular penchant for,” Price paused just long enough for anyone to understand his true meaning, “certain types of women. Rabbit fits the mold, so all she needs is the gear and the training.”

Price cut open three large cardboard boxes to reveal slinky dresses and a number of questionable garments. 

“I’ll need to try them on,” you offered, “Do you want me to get changed, Captain?”

“Sounds good. Come back in when you’re all set,” he smiled, enjoying the view as you left the room. 

Ghost crossed his arms, clearly with quite a mouthful to share and but refusing to. Gaz stared down at the knife he was playing with, bashful. But Soap would not be cowed, and as soon as you left, he said,

“Feeding her to the sharks like bait, Captain? I dinnae ken any of us was so expendable.”

“Soap,” Price warned, “the sergeant is more than capable of handling -”

“I wasnae askin’ about the lassie’s capabilities. Send her in to slit his throat with a knife in her hand, for all I care. But to send her in unguarded, unarmed? No. It’s not right,” Soap crossed his arms. 

“He’s got a point, Captain. Why take the risk of losing an operative?” Ghost spoke coldly. 

Price furrowed his brow at their short-sightedness,

“And do what, exactly? Have the Russians scurry back underground at the first hint of an assassination attempt? We’ve failed that mission three times, boys. I’ll not have this go south again.”

“I’m sure she is capable, Captain. But, is Rabbit committed to this plan?” Gaz asked. 

“Sure,” Price tried to sound reassuring, “we spoke in my office. She agreed to come down here. Besides, she’ll have you three as backup. You won’t let anything happen to her.”

Gaz did not seem convinced. All three soldiers wore a scowl on their faces, and even though Ghost’s was obscured by his mask, his body language communicated his displeasure. Price carefully ashed his cigar to renew the glowing tip, taking a long drag while they waited for you to return. 

You were back without too much of a delay, but when you walked in, your colleagues were visibly stunned. They didn’t recognize you at first. A short black dress had replaced your camouflage fatigues, showing off miles and miles of smooth, shining skin. Your thick thighs stretched the silky fabric, and your ass threatened to escape from the edge of the dress with every step you took. Your new heels clacked sharply against the cold concrete, making your legs flex and tense, showing off your well-formed musculature. You did not miss squat day very often, apparently.

But, the assets you were trying to use for this particular mission were the real stars of the show. Your heavy breasts battled against the low dip of the dress, providing a deep display of cleavage, hinting at pink perky nipples hidden just below the line of the black silk. Your tits jiggled as you struck the floor with each careful step, making the room full of men breathe a little heavier at the sight. 

Soap’s big mouth betrayed them all,

“Christ in Heaven. There you are, bonnie.”

Ghost backhanded him hard on the shoulder. Price glowered.

You had put on a little more makeup than might be socially acceptable in an office setting, making the suggestive outfit complete. Finally, as you stood at the head of the meeting table, you took out your task force regulation braid and pulled your fingers through your hair, breaking up your long waves as they spilled down your neck and back. 

You smiled,

“Well, do I look the part?”

Price coughed, inhaling too much smoke on accident. Gaz hadn’t moved since you walked in the room. He just stood there, dumbfounded, arms held at an odd angle as if frozen in time. Ghost cleared his throat to save them,

“Yes, Rabbit. You clean up very nicely, don’t you?”

“Well,” you sighed, “this is sort of the raunchiest outfit I found in the box. I was going to go with something a bit more casual, but I thought I’d better be noticeable if we’re going to nail this asshole.”

Gaz finally came out of his locked state, aghast,

“Noticeable? Sweetheart, this is more than noticeable. Goddamn.”

“You think it’s too much? I don’t really know what would get his attention,” you shrugged, looking shy as you confessed, “I don’t get asked out very often.”

“You could go out with me, lassie,” Soap edged his way closer to her, slinking around the table, “We’d have a hell of a time, so we would.”

“Don’t listen to Johnny,” Ghost stood in front of him a bit, snaking an arm around your cinched waist, “He thinks takin’ his birds to the dog races is a good date idea.”

“Well, isn’t it?” Soap protested.

Gaz grabbed your hand tenderly, examining your fingers like they were a precious work of art,

“Maybe you could come with me to Berlin next weekend, babes. There’s a killer music festival going on, and we could have a really good time. How does that sound?”

“Boys,” Price interrupted, “I’m sure she has plenty of work to finish here; can’t just be galavanting off with you muppets. In fact, why don’t you stop by my office after this mission, bunny rabbit, and we can work on your projected shipment dates together? You know, I used to be a logistics man, myself.”

Ghost rolled his eyes at the Captain,

“Please, logistics? You drove a truck back and forth on base delivering food to the canteen twenty years ago. I’ve read your file.”

The men all started talking over each other, forgetting your presence in favor of coming out on top of the dog pile. You smiled to yourself, eager to push more of their buttons. 

Slipping one skinny strap down your shoulder, you spoke through the din,

“You know, this dress can be strapless. Do you think Sokolov wants it up…” you locked eyes with Captain Price, seeing his throat swallow hard as he watched you in the silence you had created, “...or down?”

The other soldiers were stunned, unable to look away as you slipped both straps off of your shoulders and tucked them into your dress. One strap was still partially visible, and Ghost slowly moved one gloved finger up your arm, tracing your skin lightly, and finished tucking it in for you. He lingered, caressing the side of your breast as he removed it. 

“You gonna be able to seduce this Russian bastard, Sergeant? Or, do you need some practice?” Price asked with a low, threatening tone. 

The whole room held its breath waiting for your answer. The four men towered over your short frame, casting shadows over you like black spells, hoping you would relinquish your control over them. All of their eyes watched as you slowly, achingly lifted a hand and traced it up Gaz’s canvas pant leg, stopping when you discovered the heavy head of his cock, hardening down toward his knee. With the back of your hand, you pet it like a skittish animal, reveling in its smoothness and warmth. Your eyes found his as they fluttered, blood rushing through his body in a panic,

“I think I could use some practice, Captain.”

You felt Gaz’s rod leap at your answer. He bent down to kiss your mouth, slanting his lips fiercely against you. 

Soap came up behind you, gripping your ass through the silk of your dress roughly,

“We’ll help you, lass. We’ll help you practice, won’t we, boys? Jesus, you smell so good,” he buried his face in your neck and sucked against your skin. 

Ghost found your other hand and held it tightly, using it to steady you from Soap and Gaz’s assault. Price moved Gaz out of the way, earning himself a glare, and peeled the dress off of you in one fell swoop, revealing the expanse of uncovered skin underneath. 

“Holy shite,” the captain breathed, whispering his lament, “Sergeant, where are your knickers?”

“I guess I forgot them, Captain,” you blushed, batting your eyes up at him, doing actual damage to his psyche.  

He didn’t have much time to savor the moment though because Ghost was shoving him out of the way to pick you up by the thighs to lay you on the table. The giant knelt between your legs, pulling you by the knees until your ass was hanging off of the low wooden planks. He lifted his mask just enough for you to see him lick his lips over sharp, white teeth before feasting on your wet folds, letting the cloth of the balaclava hide most of his efforts. 

Ghost created a soothing, yet electrically wet warmth in your core which made you keen loudly, only to be muffled by Price’s smoky kiss. You could taste the burned tobacco on his tongue and your skin was scraped by his thick mustache. 

Gaz’s voice got your attention. He had freed his cock from his pants and started to stroke it, standing by your side and playing with your breasts with his free hand as Price savaged your mouth. He tugged on your nipple and told you,

“You know, Rabbit, you’re going to have to really put yourself out there tomorrow. Show him these gorgeous tits of yours. Make him think you’re hungry for his cock,” Gaz rubbed his head, hard and hungry for you, “Can you do that? Let us see how good you can be, princess. We need you to ace this mission”

You felt Ghost dip his hard cock between your pussy lips, distracting you from Price’s tongue in your mouth. You broke the kiss and looked up at Ghost, dazed, into his masked face,

“I promise, sir. I’ll be good,” you looked around at all four of the men, reaching out to grab Soap’s cock that he was stroking for you, “Will you show me how?”

You didn’t give Soap time to answer. The Scot gasped as you devoured him, sucking him down into your throat, making yourself gag as he fucked your throat in and out in long thrusts. He tangled his fingers in your hair. Ghost matched his rhythm below you, pounding his cock into your wet hole. You thought you could feel something on his dick. Was he pierced? You could see your slick gleam on his lips and chin where his mask was still askew. 

“Yeah,” Ghost smiled haughtily, “you like those piercings, don’tcha baby?”

You didn’t have a chance to respond. Price pulled your head away from Soap’s dick, kissing your mouth lewdly again before giving you an order,

“Open your mouth wide for me, love.”

You obeyed. Then, he spit onto your tongue, warm and bubbling, before shoving your face down onto his own fat rod. It made your lips burn with its cruel girth, even though it felt relatively soft, and you thought fleetingly that there was no way your poor little cunt was going to be able to take him, Ghost was big enough to be filling, but the captain was carrying around a true weapon. 

He pulled your head off of him roughly, watching as the strings of drool connected your tongue to his cockhead, growling in short, lustful breaths. 

“Alright, boys. Make sure she’s good and ready for me. You know the drill,” Price barked, and then he was gone. 

The drill? You looked for him, confused, and only found Gaz, who was now slapping his long dick on your cheek, knocking for entrance. He let you take his head into your mouth, having a much easier time than you did with your captain. You bobbed your head up and down dutifully, not realizing just how long his cock was until he tried to force it into your throat. He held you down for a moment, moaning shamelessly, before releasing you to let you breathe. 

“You alright, babes?” He laughed.

You nodded, moaning. Ghost took himself out of your wetness and pulled you off of the table. Soap hopped up to lay where you were, and you moved to ride him, making sure to get right to the edge with him to let Ghost back in. You’d never taken two men at once, much less four, but there was a first time for anything, and you were a quick learner. 

Spearing yourself onto Soap felt like someone had created a warm, custom, living dildo just for you. He was a perfect fit, and you both cried out in pleasure from the sensation. Ghost slapped your ass, hard, and you screamed, clenching around Soap’s cock. Soap moaned darkly. 

“Keep suckin’ that big cock, baby. Need to teach you how to multitask,” Ghost threatened as he bent to eat your asshole, wiggling his tongue into the tight rim to gain entrance.

He started to fuck you with it, his long wet muscle moving in and out as Soap thrust himself up into you, hitting your g-spot every single time like magic. You took Gaz back into your mouth and tried your best to take him deeper into your throat. Every time you did, you would gag, and your muscles would involuntarily clench, and the whole room would moan. You started to come, feeling yourself flood around Soap, whose mouth had latched onto one of your nipples, suckling like he was trying to feed from you. 

You could see Price out of the corner of your eye. He had lit another cigar and was smoking it, stroking himself, still not at his full capacity. You were scared of him. He looked like some sort of demon, breathing fire, and his cock was as big around as your forearm. He wasn’t as long as Gaz, nor as delightfully curved as Soap, but he made your legs shake without even touching you. When he did touch you, rising from his chair when he wanted to fondle you, pinching a nipple, pulling your hair, forcing your head down on Gaz, it lit you up like you were kerosene and he was the match. 

Suddenly, Ghost’s tongue was gone, only to be replaced by his heavy head. He was going to fuck your ass, and there was nothing you could say to stop him. You’d only done anal once or twice before, and you knew it might hurt. He went so slowly that you could feel each and every piercing as he popped them into you, one by one. Then, as he pulled back out, you felt them pop as each one went through you again, raking himself in and out gently, as careful with you as he could be. When you were more pliant, he began to throw his weight into each thrust, and Soap started to groan below you from the sensation. 

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare, Johnny boy,” Price threatened, his voice full of stern warning. 

You weren’t sure what he was warning him about until Soap pulled his cock out of you and came all over your stomach, Ghost’s thrusts making the fluid smear between you two, rubbing your bodies together. Ghost pulled out next, and you felt his hot, thick ropes spray onto your ass cheeks, melting down your thighs. 

Gaz abandoned your mouth and took over for Soap, feeding himself inch by inch until he found your end, leaving some of his cock out in the cold. He fucked you faster than the others, not caring to move out of the way as Soap rolled off of the table, whining like a whore the whole time. 

Captain Price came around to your face, holding your chin in his hand, looking down at you without pity,

“Garrick’s got a long cock, don’t he, love? You’re being so good for my men, such a good girl. Sweet little slag, hm? You’re going to do so well on this mission. Those areholes won’t know what hit ‘em.”

He grabbed your hair fiercely, hurting your scalp, forcing you to turn and look back at Gaz. Price took a long puff from his cigar, blowing it past your face, 

“Baby, he could fuck you for a hundred years. He’s not gonna come until you scream his name.”

You heard Gaz moan louder at Price’s suggestion, so you did. You screamed for him over and over, not caring who might have heard you, begging for him to come in you. 

“He’s not allowed to come inside of you yet, love,” Price kissed your open panting mouth, “But, don’t worry. It’s about to be my turn, and you’ll be feeling my fuckin’ come drip out of your cunt all night long.”

Price’s voice made your blood run cold with fear. He wasn’t making threats. Those were clearly promises. Predictions of the future. His cock was tucked back into the band of his pants, but it lay in wait there like a serpent, eager to strike.

Your heart pounded in your chest as Gaz pulled his long shaft all the way out of you, his come shooting onto your lips and ass, feeling him use his hand to rub it into your skin, making you sticky. Your captain gave him a warning look, and you realized they had done this sort of thing before. Perhaps many times before. As you watched Soap and Ghost comfort each other, breathing close together, touching themselves, you wondered if they ever fucked each other as well. Picturing the four of them rutting into each other made you hungry, deep in your belly, starving to witness such an act. 

Finally, it was your captain’s turn. The look in his eyes made you tremble. You knew he wouldn’t be cruel, not on purpose anyway. He wasn’t a heartless man, but he wasn’t one to hold himself back from what he wanted either. You knew that he would fuck you the way he wanted to, as hard as he wanted to, no matter how much complaining you might do about how his cock would stretch you out - even to the point of pain. 

“On your back, love. Legs up. Spread that pussy open for me,” he commanded. 

You did as he told you, opening yourself up shamelessly, letting your folds spread wide. 

He walked around the table to gaze upon your form, staring at your pink flesh like it was a hot meal, and he was starving. He moaned, rubbing his hand across your sticky mons, 

“Mm, that’s my pretty little Rabbit. Now…” he paused for effect, sinking three fingers into your hole roughly but ever so slowly, twisting his arm as he did, corkscrewing his knuckles into you, “...I want you to understand that there’s a reason I’m last in line, love.”

You cried out from the pressure of his huge hand. It felt like you were going to tear. Then, after a few hard thrusts, he released you. The emptiness you felt was heartbreaking. You looked for him, pleading with your eyes for him to return to you. He pulled his cock free from his waistband, unable to connect his finger to his thumb as he wrapped around it. You whined involuntarily, something animal in you recognizing its fate. 

“Shh, baby, I know,” he drug out his voice, “I know…”

He positioned the heavy shaft on top of your body, measuring himself from base to tip, reaching your navel. As he slapped it against you, it made a loud thudding noise, slamming into your muscles like a fist. Price was so heavy. You’d never even imagined a man could feel like he was pure, warm, thick marble. Your pussy seemed to understand the panic you were feeling, flooding itself, preparing for the upcoming invasion. 

“I’m so fuckin’ eager for you, love,” he slapped you again, quick taps right to your swollen clit.

Then, he put his head inside of you, squeezing himself in. He left it inside of you and started to pump himself with his hand. Between the vibration from his fist and the fact that it felt like you were sitting on the end of a steel bat, you couldn’t hold back your keening, loud and high-pitched. 

Price began the steady, slow march forward, swelling harder and harder by the moment, making your walls feel like they might break. It seemed as if all the blood in your body was rushing down your belly and up your legs, hurrying to your core. 

Your eye were wild, full of your fear, tears forming at the corners of your eyes,

“I can’t, please! I can’t. It’s too big, fuck…”

Price didn’t stop. He just kept feeding himself in and pulling himself back out, wetting his cock’s skin with your soaking hole. 

“You can, and you will, love,” the captain growled, “Now, shut that pretty mouth and take it.”

Your cheeks were wet and your eyes burned, he was so deep within you that it felt like he was thrusting into your throat. You couldn’t breathe.

Suddenly, Soap grabbed your hand, kissing your palm, using his tongue to lick your skin,

“It’s alright, bonnie. I’m here. Breathe with me, lass.”

He bent down to kiss you, but he didn’t quite connect, letting his lips graze yours featherlight. Soap breathed in and breathed out in steady, measured beats. You felt yourself begin to relax. It had such an immediate effect that you heard Price groan, able to slip himself a bit deeper than he had done. 

It was like a chain reaction, the more relaxed you became, breathing with Soap, feeling him suck and lick your nipples softly, the more Price was able to squeeze himself in. 

Finally, you felt his hair at the base of his cock, thick and curled, and as he sighed, he settled inside of you, impossibly pressing against your whole body, making a clear outline of himself in your lower belly. He rubbed it, almost fondly, and you felt every inch of him throb against your walls, his head bullying your womb.

You cried out again from the strain. Ghost and Gaz joined Soap. Gaz began to suckle from your breast on your left side, fondling himself as he did so, getting hard again. Ghost was at your head on the end of the table, and he bent to kiss you, upside down, his tongue running all the way down your throat, long and slippery against your own. 

He pulled away, petting your cheek as Price began to grind himself into you,

“You alright, Rabbit? You enjoying your captain’s cock, hm?”

“Mm hm,” you whispered, whimpering through your tears.

Ghost smiled, and his straight, white teeth looked menacing as he did, sharp, wolf-like,

“I know you are, babe. You’re doing so well. Look at him. You can see him inside of your cunt.”

He lifted your head by your hair, showing you the grotesque shadow of Price’s heavy rod as it shoved itself into you. You reached your hands down to it, feeling it through your skin. It was so unique. His size wasn’t like anything you’d ever experienced, and your body was sending confused signals of passion, your orgasms coming in shattered, broken waves. Feeling incomplete. Too powerful, and yet drawn out like the last note of a symphony. 

As you touched him from the outside, Price moaned aloud for the first time. It shocked you. You looked up at him, managing to meet his eyes.

“Fuck,” you moaned, “You feel so good inside of me, Captain.”

“Mm, yeah?” He replied, using his hands to press yours down onto his cock, making you gasp, “You like it, baby? I’m gonna make sure you never want anybody else.” 

Price reached down and grabbed you by the throat, scaring away Soap and Gaz. He lifted you up, making his dick fit inside of you that much tighter with the change of angle. Then, he began the true performance. He thrust himself in with fast, punishing strokes, slamming himself into you. You were sure you would bruise, and you felt dizzy, almost like you’d pass out. 

Soap was at your side again, holding your hair away from your face,

“Look at you, lassie. Such a good girl for your captain. Takin’ that cock so damn well. Can’t wait to be back inside you, girl.”

He kissed your cheek, palm massaging his dick which was back to full mast, eager again. 

“Alright, Johnny,” Price grinned, “Since you asked so nicely.”

Without any strain whatsoever, Price lifted you up by your hips and held you in the air as he fucked you, bringing you around the table so that Soap could position himself at your asshole. Ghost’s earlier efforts had made it ready for him, and you could very acutely feel how much he was throbbing to be inside of you, pulsing as he fit against Price. 

“Ungh, fuck, lass,” Soap groaned as he began to thrust into you, pistoning with the captain, “He’s got you so tight for me.”

“Yeah? It feels so good. Mmm…” you whimpered, feeling more full than you’d ever been. 

Johnny was holding your breasts as Price lifted you up, brutalizing your pussy. Every thrust felt like an electric pulse, making you cock-drunk and mindlessly pliant. 

They worked in tandem for what felt like eons, pistoning in and out with each other. Eventually, after he had felt you come, Soap addressed his captain directly,

“Sir, I’m…please, sir, can I?”

“Can you what, soldier?” Price grunted through gritted teeth, testing his sergeant.

“Can I come, sir? Please, Cap…”

“Yeah, Johnny. C’mon, mate. Let her feel it.”

“F-fuck! Fuck…” Soap groaned, pushing himself flush against your asshole, pumping his come into you. 

He caught his breath while he was still in you, kissing the nape of your neck, and then he pulled away slowly. He helped Gaz replace him, holding your ass wide apart so his comrade could position himself inside. And just when you thought your poor pussy would have room to breathe, Gaz’s incredibly long shaft was piercing your hole again. 

You felt him sigh, his breath against your neck. He took over holding you up, and Price praised him,

“That’s it, Garrick. She’s all yours. Take it.”

Gaz reacted to his words in a way that made you rethink their entire dynamic. Then, you remembered how he had come when you said his name. He seemed to get harder and harder the more Price praised him, and you wanted to give him that same validation. 

“Gaz,” you whispered, leaning your head back to rest on his shoulder, “It’s so big, baby. It’s like I can feel you in my throat. Oh, Gaz. Gaz!”

“Mm,” Price put his mouth to your neck, groaning, “That’s it, love. Tell him how much you like that long cock.”

“So much, Gaz. It’s so good,” you added. 

Then, Price took his left hand and wrapped it around the back of Gaz’s neck in a moment of surprising intimacy. As Price kissed the front of your throat, Gaz kissed your shoulder and nape. You felt like a peeled fruit being shared between them, a ripped rind, your juicy flesh being split in two; two halves of a ripe orange. 

Gaz lasted longer than Soap had when he fucked your ass, but Price’s attention seemed to spur him on. His movements were slippery, and you could feel the remnants of Soap’s come frothing around your entrance, easing his efforts.

“Captain,” Gaz whined, desperate for more of that approval. 

“C’mon, Kyle. She’s ready for you. Good lad.”

The use of his first name made Gaz thrust up into you with a feverish pace. He cried out as he came, hard, into you. Feeling him fall back out of you made you imagine the tendrils of a giant kraken, seeming to travel forever just to remove himself from your body, slithering out of you with a terrible squelching noise. 

Gaz let Price hold you again, and you turned, expecting Ghost. Price laughed at you, chuckling softly,

“Missing your masked man already?”

You looked at Price, feeling raw and used, waiting for an explanation,

“He’s a little…preoccupied.”

Price laid you back on the table, letting you turn your head to see Ghost, buried in Soap’s asshole up to the hilt, furiously jacking him off, slamming into him a little too roughly for your liking. It was violent, but Soap seemed to be enjoying himself beyond measure. 

Your pussy, though, disagreed with your assessment, clenching around Price’s cock while you watched Simon abuse his friend’s hole. 

“Mm,” the captain moaned, feeling your muscles react, “You like that, love? You wanna be fucked rough like that?”

He didn’t give you a chance to answer. Price wrapped your legs beneath his chest in a full mating press and wrecked you, pounding into your body like a giant fist. You felt your bones shudder beneath his behemoth form. Just when you thought you might puke from how overstimulated you were, you felt him pause. Then, your pussy felt like it was leaking, and it was. Price’s come just kept milking its way out of you, his cock pulsing inside, making your walls throb. 

When he finished, he kissed you on the mouth, almost lovingly, reverently. He started to slide out of you, being extremely careful, and you’d never felt so empty in your entire life. It was as if you’d never be full again. You found yourself whining, whimpering for Price to return. 

“That’s right, pretty girl,” Price smiled, “Never gonna want anybody else, are ya?”

You smiled, shocked and in considerable discomfort. Gaz scooped you up off of the table, cradling you, sitting down with you in his lap in a large chair. He reached down for some water and handed it to you, helping you recover. 

Price was standing with his hands on his hips, panting from his exertion. Ghost and Soap were connected like two hounds, locked together, the Scot cock warming his tall lover, groaning on every exhale. 

“Well, what do you think, lads? Do we have a winner?” Price asked.

“Yeah, we fucking do, Cap,” Gaz pet your head, moving your sweaty hair out of your eyes. 

“Fuck yeah, mate,” Ghost growled, pawing at Johnny again, rabid for him. 

“Hear that, bonnie?” Soap managed to ask, still moaning in little breaths as he was being speared by Ghost, “Got  yourself a new permanent assignment.”

Price walked over to you, grabbing you by the face and kissing you once more,

“You belong to us now, love. Perfect little slut.”

Reblogs and comments deeply appreciated!

AO3 Link

[retiredficwriter]

stumbled on this post about crazy ex-girlfriend songs applied to thg. as someone equally obsessed with cxg, va/bloodlines and just va/bloodlines in a musical setting, YOU KNOW i had to mix both.

but me being me, i went an extra mile and decided to tell (an exaggerated version) the plot of series through the songs.

vampire academy

i'm in a sexy french depression - lissa

feeling kinda naughty - rose

woman gotta stick together - mia

what u missed while u were popular - christian

let's have intercourse - dimitri

frostbite

a boy band made up of four joshes - christian

where's the bathroom? - janine

greg's drinking song - adrian

getting bi - adrian

maybe she's not such a heinous bitch after all - rose

you're my best friend (and i know i'm not yours) - mason

shadow kiss

i'm a good person - rose

what it'll be? - adrian

this session is going to be different - rose's therapist

i gave you an uti - dimitri

back in action - rose and christian

after everything i've done for you (that you didn't ask for) - rose

blood promise

i'm just a girl in love - rose

i’ve got my head in the clouds - sydney

i give good parent - rose and the belikov family

you go first - lissa and rose

real life fighting is awkward - rose and dimitri

settle for me - adrian

i love my daughter (but not in a creepy way) - abe

spirit bound

friendtopia - rose, lissa and eddie

slow motion - rose, lissa, eddie and adrian

the group mind has decided you're in love - rose, adrian, eddie, mia

hello, nice to meet you - rose and dimitri

don't be a lawyer - abe

you stupid bitch - rose

last sacrifice

this is my movement - lissa

trapped in a car with someone you don't want to be trapped in a car with - rose, dimitri, sonya, victor, robert and sydney

i want to be a child star - jill

we should definitely not have sex right now - rose and dimitri

nothing is ever anyone's fault - rose and dimitri

scary scary sexy lady - tasha

after everything you've made me do (that you didn't ask for) - adrian

the end of the movie - josh groban (c'mon... who else was going to sing this?)

be on the lookout for the bloodlines version!

[covertenforcer]

@father-jude | Weekday after Mass

It wasn't too often that he went to church, even less often to go to an entirely different branch of the church. And yet with both realizing that it had been some time with his 'sins' gathering in number and his church closed for renovations, Dimitri had found himself at The Church of the Holy Innocents. Sitting amongst its people, perhaps feeling slightly out of place, and yet knowing he couldn't entirely forgo Mass or confessional. The teaching of his mother growing up and going to the Church as often as they were able to as a child were at the forefront of his mind, what did it matter if it was another belief? The split between the two churches had been in the past and, perhaps the main reason, it had been relatively close by compared to another Orthodox church. Perhaps not his normal flock but a connection to God all the same.

Many of the people had cleared out already, Dimitri lingering behind. Sitting in the back pew with head bowed, some quiet mumblings to himself though not discernable to those left behind. Moments ticking by before he finally raised his head with blue eyes taking in the Church for probably the first time since he'd entered. Older, definitely. Modern churches, they were all about the bright lights and electric equipment, far too showy for his taste; while Dimitri wasn't a regular attendee, he felt as though it strayed too far from the message and drew attention anywhere else but whatever 'holy' feeling was meant to linger in the air.

Not that he had ever felt it. Not that he ever cared about it.

Finally, he stood, moving past the pews and other lingering members of the congregation towards the front of the Church. "Reverend Father?" he asked once he was close enough to the man up front. He kept his tone more gentle, curious if anything. There were some differences between the churches when it came to confession but the intent and end result was surely all that mattered, right? It was all about going through the motions. "Do you have a moment? I've got— quite a list of sins to confess to."

[comfort-questing]

"headache/migraine"

All through class that day, Dimitri had been looking forward to getting outdoors and away from books, and from the dense smells that suddenly seemed so much stronger as the pressure behind his right eye built to its usual aching crescendo. At first he squinted, and then leaned his head on his hand, directing his good eye towards the page and trying his best to answer his share of the logistical discussion problems they were supposed to be studying.

"...oh, no, wait, I forgot about the feed the horses would need. What's the rate of feed per horse per day..." Sylvain shredded his bright hair with distracted fingers. "Dimitri?"

For someone who spoke so particularly of training to be a mounted knight, that question should not be such a puzzle, Dimitri thought dimly through the throbbing in his head. The migraines weren't new, and always seemed to follow his more sleepless nights, when the ghosts teased him in and out of any remnants of rest he could grasp. Sylvain was wearing cologne again and the heavy tinge of floral scent almost sickened him, faint as he knew it was.

He made some vague answer, as he'd done all morning, and tried to blink his eyes clear unsuccessfully.

"Are you all right, Dimitri?"

"Yes. Yes, of course." They had enough to worry about, these classmates and future subjects of his, without knowing about yet another of his endless skein of weaknesses.

Somehow he did make it through class, the moments blurring together, the rest of the Blue Lions' voices blending into a universal too loud, too much beneath the high wooden ceiling. He scrounged up some words to allay Dedue's concern as they passed each other in the hallway, although the other boy's steps seemed to lag at parting. Still, it was undeniable that the stables and the training grounds were in opposite directions.

The sunlight struck him like a blow as Dimitri left the shadow of the classroom building, and he clenched his teeth. This was going to be a very long day.

-

Dimitri didn't know, at first, whose hand it was that gently tapped his shoulder as he curled up in the corner of the tack stall, struggling to get his throbbing head and queasy stomach to cooperate enough to let him stand up again. He startled sluggishly, the whispers echoing between his ears dimming, and blinked upwards to see scruffy hair and a small swinging braid silhouetted against the daylight outside.

"Hullo, Your Princeliness. You don't look so well."

"I'm - resting. Just a slight headache."

The side of Claude's mouth twitched, as he quirked the corresponding eyelid above in a most remarkable wordless display of dubiousness. Dimitri gritted his teeth as another spike of pain drove through the bone above his own eye.

"Do you really think this is the best place to rest, then? Wouldn't you rather go somewhere else?"

That would require standing up, and staggering somewhere back through the sunlight, and letting people see him like this. Dimitri started to shake his head, but grimaced instead, wincing at the movement. "I'll - be fine soon."

He thought - hoped - Claude would go away; the last thing he needed right now was a witness. Outside the shade of the stalls the buzz of voices and the clatter of horseshoes on cobblestones echoed dimly.

But Claude didn't. Claude came closer, cautiously but surely, the minute sounds of his breathing and the brush of his clothing loud in the stillness. He reached out, Dimitri stiffening up under his touch, and slipped an arm under Dimitri's shoulders.

"I've got medicine in my room, if you don't want to bother Marianne," he said, his voice a low murmur, the smell of sweat and wyvern breath strong on him. "Though I don't think magic does much for mine when I get them, so... C'mon. Close your eyes and let me know when you're ready to stand up."

Dimitri had never dreamed of bothering any of the Faith mages with a problem like this. He wanted to protest, but the slight motion of opening his mouth jolted the pain into fresh throbbing, and he swallowed hard. His eyes had slid shut almost without his intention, distant sunlight bright as he turned his face.

He was so, so tired all of a sudden.

Be strong, whispered someone, the choked rasp of a corpse long dead by smoke and flame. Stand up, boy.

"I'm... ready."

-

Thinking back on it, he probably should have refused any of Claude's dubious original concoctions, but by the time the other boy got him back to the officers' academy dorms he didn't have the composure to protest. Claude helped him sit back against the wall, in the shadow of the building that was delight enough, and returned some moments later.

The sickly-sweet taste of the potion guided to his lips made him gag at first, but the fuzzy tingling that followed as he breathed deep dulled the pain and nausea a few notches in a sudden mercy he could have wept for. The arm behind his shoulders didn't leave, even as he leaned his head back against the wall, waiting for the relief to spread.

No words. Just Claude's hand firm at his shoulder, a comforting pressure that reminded him obscurely of old days, and fingers now ash and dust.

And when he finally let himself go into the drowsy heaviness beneath, he woke with a scarf folded under his head, and Dedue sitting next to him with a worried scowl.

"Your Highness? Sylvain told me you had vanished from the stables..."

"It's - it's all right, Dedue." Dimitri rolled over and got up on his elbows, some lingering dizziness catching him, but the weight and pain stretched out and lightened in his temples. "I had some help to feel better."

And he thought he'd imagined the fleeting smile on Dedue's face, as they both saw the bundle of gold cloth he'd napped on; but perhaps not, at that.

[bijouxcarys]

𝑻𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑩𝒊𝒏𝒅 (𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝑹𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒏𝒔 𝒙 𝑶𝑪) - 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑺𝒊𝒙

Masterlist

Character Profiles/Face Claims

Playlist

A/N: My favourite chapter thus far. Really hope you enjoy this one... I feel like it's been a long-time coming lol. Make sure to let me know your thoughts, etc... Any questions are greatly appreciated! I like interacting with you all, even if I do take a minute to reply hehe. Enjoy!

Tags: @trippinsorrows @empressdede @thetribalqueen @heauxvibez @bigsimperika

@cyberdejos2 @keyaho @headoftheetable @jstarr86 @southerngirl41

@tshepisho @cry1nwhileimcumm1n @maeb99 @thedesireds @dzdndcnfsd

@expert-texpert @niknakbucks92 @sillyteecup

(let me know if you want to be tagged in future Roman fics)

Nate stood at the base of her Tribeca high-rise, the cool evening breeze doing little to soothe the heat around her neck. Pure tension. Stress. She was a tough cookie, sure, but the constant vigilance required in the Volkov family took its toll.

Tonight, she needed a break, a moment to herself before she had to put on her mask again at the auction this weekend. She craved the solace her apartment usually provided, a minimalistic refuge from… well, from everything else.

The lobby was quiet, the only sound being her heels echoing against the floor. Acknowledging the doorman with a curt nod, heading towards the elevators near the back. It was always in her best interest to not form any kind of relationship with the staff in the building. This was her time to be alone. The more obscure she was, the better.

Then again, forming a connection with someone like Natalka Volkov was synonymous with signing off on your own death warrant.

Even though the apartment was technically hers, and under her name legally, it was still a Volkov property in essence, acquired only through Dimitri’s permission when she turned 21. And when a property is associated with the most powerful mob boss in New York City… personal touches are out of the question.

Don’t leave anything that could help anyone trace it back to you.

Don’t let yourself be known.

Don’t give it away.

Don’t… be your own person.

Years of meticulous planning and cautious maneuvering, however, had taught Nate how to live under the radar of her family’s scrutiny.

She was acutely aware that the Volkovs had co-opted the building’s security, ensuring they had constant access to CCTV footage and details of all residents. But Nate was no amateur. She’d grown up in this life, for God’s sake. She knew how to navigate such… constraints.

At one point, she managed to reroute the security cameras in her apartment, looping the same few hours of footage. But she eventually had to come to terms with the fact that it wasn’t foolproof, and someone would figure out what she was doing. So she ended up enlisting the help of two people who knew her deal, knew her family, and knew her. A quick word to her close friend, Lana, and her husband, and she was in business.

They had painstakingly compiled a convincing collection of footage from her apartment at various times of the day, creating a realistic feed to fool even the most watchful eye. Boom. Problem solved.

As Nate stepped out of the elevator and made her way down the hallway, an unease instantly settled in the pit of her stomach when she clocked the view of the door to her penthouse apartment.

It was ajar.

Her senses sharpened immediately, and she paused. Of course, the one moment I get to just chill the fuck out for a minute, and this shit happens…

She reached into her black jeans, fingers wrapping around the handle of her pocket knife. Flipping it open with precise motion, she held it behind her back as she cautiously approached the door.

Step 1: Analyse the break-in.

Upon initial inspection, it was clear that whoever had made their way into her apartment knew how to pick a lock. And well. Nate had never seen such a clean pick before. Not only that, but a small nudge with her foot revealed the chain behind the door had been cut. A sleek, sharp, precise job. Right down the middle.

Step 2: Touch as little as possible upon entry.

She slipped inside, refraining from opening the door entirely, and scanned the apartment with her eyes.

Step 3: Figure out the nature of the intrusion.

Everything was in place. No sign of struggle, or theft. The PS5 under the 52” TV mounted on the wall in the living room was in the same place as she left it. The priceless family heirlooms dotted around on shelves and walls in the hallways were untouched. Almost like… nobody had been there at all.

The silence was unnerving. Each second stretched out.

Step 4: There isn’t a step fucking 4, what is this, an instruction class?

Thanks, Dad, that one was really helpful…

“Whoever is in here, make yourself known in the next 5 seconds, or I swear to God I’ll cut out your fucking tongue!” she took the risk of calling out, stripping her voice of emotion and taking on the well-rehearsed tone of Dimitri.

The apartment, however, remained silent, tension thickening with every breath. 

It all came to a head when Nate stepped through into the kitchen, her heart jolting, and damn near giving her a heart attack.

“What the fuck?!” 

Rhea turned slowly, her lips curling into a little smirk. “Seriously?” she glanced down. “A fucking pocket knife?”

“Who are you, the fucking boogeyman—why’d you have to be so fucking creepy?!” Nate’s voice came out sharper than she intended as she slammed the knife down on the kitchen island.

“I needed to see you.”

“What, and you couldn’t just text me? You had to break into my apartment like a fucking serial killer?”

“Do serial killers break into people’s apartments?” Rhea raised an eyebrow, turning fully on her heel with her hands tucked into her front pockets.

“Wh—I don’t bloody know, Rhea, why are you here? And how did you know I was gonna be here?” Nate sighed, taking a deep breath from the scare.

Rhea’s smirk widened. “Nate… it may have been a long time, but I still know you better than you know yourself.” She began to move around the room, her gaze sweeping over the minimalistic decor. “You always did need your space from time to time… You’ve always been a recluse.” She paused at the counter beside the oven, spinning and leaning back against it. Her arms folded, and her perfect brows narrowed slightly.

“What I didn’t peg you as, though, was a fucking traitor.”

The atmosphere shifted instantly as Nate felt the meaning behind Rhea’s words sink in. “Rhea, I d–”

“I don’t need any bullshit right now, Volkov,” she snapped icily. “My right-hand, my confidante, my best friend, is dead because of someone in that bloody warehouse.”

Rhea was never one to openly communicate such raw emotion. Vulnerability wasn’t her forte, as some would say. Nate was potentially one of the few people in Rhea’s life that had seen it, which also meant she knew when she was withholding it. And the way Rhea’s mouth twitched and her nostrils flared a fraction… God, it was chilling.

“It’s torn us apart,” the Australian continued. “Finn, JD… they’ve been going off at night. Come back in the morning smashed out their gourds. Dom Dom’s become a-a fuckin’... I don’t know, a child. Disinterested in figuring this shit out, avoiding any confrontation.”

Nate pulled her mouth into a tight-lipped smile. “Yeah, well, Mysterio’s never had balls big enough for that, has h–”

“Don’t you start on my Dom, alright?” Rhea’s blue eyes locked onto Nate’s; a kind of warning sign to shut the fuck up… Mami is not in the mood, it seems…

“Rhea, I had nothing to do with Damian’s death,” she said sternly. 

The stare-off was intense. Long. It wasn’t in the books to be blamed for Damian’s death, let alone by Rhea Ripley herself.

“I… am not ruling out the possibility that it was your family,” she said finally. “If I find out it was you,” her jaw tightened, “or if you had… any part in this, I swear…”

“You swear you’ll do what?” Nate’s response was automatic, a defensive reflex. She squared up, straightening her posture and lifting her chin in provocation.

Rhea’s eyes hardened, mirroring Nate’s stance. “I will make sure, on the soul of Priest, that you… and everyone you have ever cared about pays.” She placed her hands on the kitchen island and leaned in. “I won’t stop until I’ve torn your world to pieces. Starting with little Katerina.”

Nate clenched her jaw, swallowing harshly as she felt her own muscles twitch—telling her, commanding her, to raise her hand, to slap Rhea into next week. But she remained still.

“Very scary, Rhea,” she managed to calmly utter. “But it wasn’t us. We’re not that stupid.”

Rhea’s gaze bored into her, searching for any hint of deception. Slowly, she seemed to relax, though the mistrust didn’t completely leave her eyes. “Alright, Nate. I’ll take your word for now. But know this,” she pointed her index and middle finger towards her face. “I’ll be watching.”

“Good,” Nate replied, accompanied with a sour smile. “Now can you get the fuck out of my apartment?”

The eradicator’s smirk returned as she headed for the door. “You know, I always liked that spunk, Natalka,” she commented, winking at Nate over her shoulder.

Despite herself, Nate felt a small smile tugging at her lips. But she was very swift to push it back into her face, running her tongue over her teeth.

Complicated histories induce complicated feelings.

Just before Rhea left entirely, Nate did call after her with a slightly softer resolve. “I really am sorry… about Damian.”

Rhea paused at the doorway, her back to Nate. She didn’t turn around, but she nodded slightly. “Thanks,” she murmured, and then she was gone.

Rubbing her temples, she squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to keep her wits about her, stay sharp, dump the self-pity she had a history of wallowing in. 

Besides, she had other things to worry about. Other things she needed to put her energy into. Sure, it stung to be suspected of such betrayal, especially by someone she had such a rich history with, but she really did need to focus. Review plans for the auction. Make a headstart on bringing justice for her mother.

Look into the man she swore to bring down.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

There was a promise of rain in the Manhattan sky as Nate sat in tense silence, eyes fixed on the cityscape gliding past the window of the SUV. Boris was seated next to her, adjusting the cufflinks on his tailored suit, and casting her sidelong glances every now and then. His attempts at small talk had been met with cold indifference, but that didn’t stop him from trying.

“Prekrasnoye plat’ye,” he hummed with a slight lean. “Brings out your eyes.”

Nate didn’t bother to reply, only to deposit a glance of her own down at her dress. Her mind was elsewhere. She knew this auction was important, but it really was just another chore for her. Dimitri’s reiteration of his orders before Boris arrived at the house were clear—acquire the weapons, keep an eye on Boris, and most importantly, don’t cause a scene. That little defiant streak in her bristled at the final order. Wanted to defy the notion of not causing a scene. But it wasn’t an option—not when there were such tensions mounting between her family, The Judgement Day, and The Bloodline. It kept repeating in her head: let Reigns announce we took the shipment. He knows they did it, and they’ll pay for it…

The car came to a halt outside Grand Central Terminal. Boris was quick to step out, offering Nate his hand. She ignored it, slipping out of the road-side of the vehicle and adjusting the deep green silk dress that clung to her curves. The slit running up her thigh allowed for much easier movement, though she hated how it made her feel like a display item at one of these auctions.

“Natalka?” Boris said, an edge of impatience creeping into his voice.

Nodding curtly, Nate followed him through the grand entrance of the terminal. The main concourse was as busy as ever, but their destination was far from the prying eyes of tourists and commuters. They made their way to a hidden entrance near The Campbell Bar, a restored 1920s-era cocktail lounge that served as a front for tonight’s event.

The bar’s luxurious interior—dark wood panelling, vintage leather chairs, and dim lighting—set the tone for the evening. They were greeted by a tall, stern-looking man who eyed them both before nodding and stepping aside to reveal a stairwell leading down to the auction room.

The room below was a stark contrast to the opulence above. It was an intimate, dimly lit space, with the rich and powerful of New York’s underworld already seated around a series of tables, discussing the illicit goods that would soon be up for bid. 

Nate’s eyes swept across the room, assessing each figure. She recognised some of them—arms dealers, drug lords, and corrupt politicians. Others were new faces, potential threats she needed to keep in mind.

Boris loved to play up to the people—to play the part of the doting gentleman. He guided Nate to their reserved seats right near the front. Eyes landed on her as they passed through the crowd, men noting her presence, women sizing her up. But she was used to this—the scrutiny, the judgement. It all slid off her like water off a duck’s back.

The auctioneer, a slim man with slicked-back hair and a sharp suit, took his place on the small stage at the front of the room, tapping the microphone to get everyone’s attention.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began with a smoothly practised cadence, “we have some exceptional items up for bid tonight. But first, let’s start with something a little closer to home…”

The first few items were standard fare—high-end jewellery, rare art pieces, a couple of luxury vehicles. All of them stolen goods with tampered mileage and licence plates, of course. Nothing that caught Nate’s interest. She waited patiently, though, knowing the real reason for their presence was still to come.

Finally, the auctioneer reached the point of the evening that had everyone leaning forward in their seats.

“And now, for those of you with more… unique tastes,” he said with a knowing smile, “we present a collection of belt-buckle knives and sword canes, custom-made and perfect for those unexpected moments when a more subtle touch is required.”

Nate felt Boris shift next to her, a greedy glint in his eyes. This was what they were here for. She watched as the auctioneer’s assistants brought out the weapons, displaying them with care. The room buzzed with mumbles and murmurs as the bidding began.

Her mind was sharp, calculating each move. She noted who was bidding, how high they were willing to go, and when it seemed as if the bid couldn’t go higher, that was when they’d sweep in. Whenever Boris raised his paddle to bid, she shot him a quick glance, subtly signalling her validation. He nodded, understanding her cue. They usually had limits, but that wasn’t the case tonight. Dimitri wanted those knives, and he would get them.

As the bids climbed higher, nearing six digits, Nate took a moment to survey the room again. She wanted to know who had given up on their bids and who still had the money to continue. But that’s when she saw it. Noticed it. The familiar face in the crowd—tall, imposing, and stood towards the back. In the shadows.

Roman Reigns.

Her heart skipped a beat, her crossed legs stiffening under the mask of her dress. What the hell is he doing here?

The golden-green of her eyes shot through the darkness in which he presided, when his own gaze landed on her, the recognition in them too stark not to notice. He knew the Volkovs would be there. Had to—why else wouldn’t he react similarly to how she was? Or maybe he was and he was just fucking good at hiding it. At least she was wearing a dress to cover up how tense her muscles became.

“195,000!”

As the bidding war intensified, Nate’s focus snapped back to the auction. Boris was still in the game, thank God, his hand raised as the numbers climbed higher and higher. But her mind was now divided, half on the auction, and half on Roman.

“205,000!”

Why is he here? What is he after? Why isn’t he bidding?

“Sold! For $230,000 to bidder number 13!”

Boris won the bid just as Nate’s thoughts began to spiral. The gavel came down with a resounding thud, and a smattering of spiteful applause broke out in the room. Boris turned to her with a smug grin, clearly pleased with himself.

“See? Easy,” he whispered, leaning in a little too close for comfort.

Nate forced a little smile, but she was already thinking ahead. The auction wasn’t over, but her attention was no longer on the weapons they’d just won for Dimitri. She needed to know what Roman was doing there, and more importantly, if it had anything to do with the shipment.

As the next item was brought to the stage, she glanced back to where Roman had been standing, but he was gone. Her pulse quickened. The unease settled in the pit of her stomach. She didn’t even care about the additional illicit items that were put up for bid. Boris was completely oblivious to her almost frantic scan of the room, probably taking a moment to stroke his own ego at the win. Even if it was a given, and money bore no issue.

Suddenly, the lights flickered—a brief pulse of darkness that sent a murmur through the crowd. Nate stiffened once again, her instincts screaming at her that something was seriously wrong.

And then it happened.

The room plunged into darkness, the auctioneer’s voice cutting off mid-sentence. The dim emergency lights kicked on, casting an eerie red glow over the room. People began shifting uneasily in their seats, some even rising to leave.

“Uh—apologies, ladies and gentlemen,” the auctioneer tried to project his voice over the switched-off microphone. He leaned back to talk to someone, presumably asking what the fuck was going on. “It seems there’s been a bit of a technical difficulty, just bear with us…”

“Stay here,” Nate hissed at Boris, already pushing up from her chair.

“But—” Boris began, but Nate was already moving, slipping through the crowd during their none-the-wiser confusion. Some people were clogged near the exit, their natural instincts telling them they had to leave, but Nate wasn’t heading that way.

“You!” Nate spun to see another man in a perfect suit. “You’ve been here before, right?”

She raised an eyebrow, and nodded slowly. “Yeah…”

“You know where the fuse box is? I gotta keep everyone under control.”

“What do I look like, a janitor?”

“Will you just go check on it?”

Nate sighed, realising that doing this simple, tedious favour for a stranger would be synonymous with Dimitri’s order of not causing a scene.

“Yeah, I’ll handle it.”

She did, in fact, know exactly where the fuse box was. It wasn’t too many years ago where she was instructed to switch the damn thing off in order to secure an item without bidding for it. Play the role of a ditsy woman who didn’t know any better once someone saw her standing near it.

As she navigated the darkened corridors towards the fuse box, she felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. Being alone down here, in such strange circumstances. None of it just seemed right to her.

She turned a corner and nearly collided with someone in the narrow hallway. As the faint, red emergency lights flickered, she found herself face-to-face with none other than the exact man she was so unnerved seeing earlier on.

They froze, staring at each other for a moment that felt like an eternity. Neither of them had met in person before, but they knew each other by reputation. God, did they know of each other… Roman’s family may have been less familiar with the Volkov family, minus Tamina who literally knew everything, but he knew as much as he needed to. Research and all.

For Nate, the anger was instant. Being this close to the man responsible for not only Damian’s death, but for her family missing out on a prime shipment of goods. Words evaded her momentarily, and she took an instinctual step backwards.

“What are you doing here?” Nate snapped sharply.

He smirked a little, rocking back on his heels. “Thought I’d check out this wonderful place y’all got here—”

“Don’t bullshit me, Reigns, I wasn’t born yesterday.”

Whatever was left of the smile on Roman’s face instantly faltered, and his eyes became icy, cold, narrowed with frustration. “Listen, Princess, I ain’t here to pull shit… Unlike your family, I have some con—”

“Unlike my family?” Nate huffed, pointing to herself. “What, the family that your family fucked over?”

“Think I’m just gon’ spill my business to you, Volkov?” He let out a rueful chuckle, running his hand over his beard. 

“Yes, actually,” Nate folded her arms, pursing her lips. “When it involves getting screwed by some sloppy amateurs, yeah…” She squinted her eyes slightly up at the over 6ft Samoan. “...I think you should spill your business.”

Roman’s eyebrows raised a little, slightly taken aback at how bold this… little girl in front of him seemed to be. How she just carelessly called The Bloodline sloppy amateurs. Impressed wouldn’t be the correct word here, but the correct one was floating nearby it. It still pissed him off to no end that she thought she could speak to him like that.

“You got some fuckin’ nerve,” he grumbled, jaw clenching.

Nate smirked, amused at the fact she clearly managed to creep under his skin, even if only a little bit. “Y’know, people speak, Reigns. I’ve heard a lot about you, and not only from my father.”

Tilting his head to the side, Roman gauged her tone. Smug. Provocative in all the wrong ways. “Yeah? What’s that supposed to mean, Princess?”

“It means I didn’t expect to be able to anger you so easily, Mr Head of the Table…” The smirk on her face turned pitiful. It almost bordered on a pout, mocking his very existence through the red hue of the corridor.

She watched with great interest as his features twisted, neck craning through an attempt to subdue the inevitable outburst that bubbled up within his chest. He couldn’t make a move on her. Couldn’t bash her pretty little head against the breeze block wall inches to their left. It would be the stupidest decision he’d ever make. He would be dealt with… irreparably.

She chuckled, stepping back again to lean against the wall opposite him. “So let’s cut the shit,” she started, her face dropping neutrally. “I think we both know why you’re really at an underground auction. And it’s not to admire the architecture.”

Okay, she’s good, she’s good… Roman found himself stunned—for a microsecond, but it still happened nonetheless. The last thing he expected was to confront Natalka Volkov tonight; Tamina was very thorough with what the best cause of action would be. As much as he desperately wanted to take the abduction route, to use Dimitri Volkov’s precious daughter as a pawn to get his half of the shipment back… He had to trust that Tamina knew enough about the Volkovs to know that taking Natalka hostage would be the least helpful solution.

He just didn’t expect the girl to square up to him verbally.

But as encumbered as his thoughts were in that moment, they were fleeting, and he was able to respond almost immediately.

“Damn right it ain’t to admire the architecture—I came to take back what’s mine.”

“And what exactly is it that you claim is yours?”

Seriously? “You gon’ ask me that? You really gon’ stand there in front of me, and ask me a dumb fuckin’ question when you know exactly what I’m talkin’ ‘bout?”

“Well, maybe you should tell me what you’re talking ab–”

“I’m talkin’ ‘bout my half of that damn shipment!” He hissed through gritted teeth.

Nate scrunched her brows up, pushing herself up from the wall. “Oh, the shipment that you took?”

“Don’t fuck with me, Volkov, if I had that shit, do you really think I’d be stood here talkin’ to your ass right now?”

“And if I had it, do you think I’d be down here, looking for a fucking fuse box so I can get the fuck out of here, let alone talking to you?”

“Oh, so it’s just a coincidence that you’re here with your fiancé, at a fuckin’ auction, right after a whole ass shipment disappears—you people really need to work on your stories, ‘cus they suck.”

“You people? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean you people,” he finally took a hefty step towards her, “you, your daddy, your uncles, and whoever else the Russians fuck with these days.”

Nate refused to back down. She wasn’t about to be ridiculed, talked down to, accused, by someone like Roman fucking Reigns.

“Okay, big man, let’s say we did take the shipment and kill off The Judgement Day’s VP—we didn’t—but let’s just say we did for a second…” her voice dropped to a confident, patronising hum. “The last thing I’d be doing is wandering around New York with little to no protection, present at an auction if a shipment of weapons we stole was being put up.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Ugh,” she groaned, running her hand over her face. “My dad wanted this collection of knives, Reigns, we aren’t here to sell a shipment of heavy-duty weaponry. Y’know… the weapons you stole.” She added through a mumble.

“We didn’t steal shit, Volkov,” he barked.

“Well if you didn’t, then who the fuck did?!” Nate flung her arms up. “It sure as fuck wasn’t us, it had to have been you!” Alright, rein it in a little, Nate, don’t let your emotions get the better of you…

Roman’s fists clenched at his sides, rolling his shoulders. “You really expect me to believe you had nothin’ to do with it?”

“We’re not that stupid.” Four words, each punctuated like a stab in the ribs. “I cannot think of a single reason why we would ambush our own shipment and take out an ally.”

Roman then took a smaller step towards Nate, the space between them shrinking to almost nothing. “Maybe you wanted more than what was agreed.”

Nate’s heart pounded in her chest. “Maybe you were looking for an excuse to clean house. Blame us, take over… Call it retribution.”

The silence returned, but this time it wasn’t born of hostility. It was the silence of two people realising that the pieces of the puzzle they’d been trying to force together didn’t fit, no matter how hard they pushed. Nate’s gaze faltered for a fraction of a second, a moment of hesitation that she immediately regretted.

Finally, needing to break the tension and get away from the confusing mess of thoughts swirling around in her head, Nate took a step back. “I’m checking the fuse box,” she said, the words coming out sharper than the words that started the conversation. “If you want to keep playing detective, be my fucking guest, Reigns.”

She turned on her heel without waiting for a response, leaving Roman alone with his own puzzled thoughts on who was to blame.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Roman was expecting—no, hoping—to come home to a silent house. Too much had happened over the past few hours, he really needed time to just… exist. Try to regain composure, a semblance of cognitive power, to figure out what the fuck he was going to do.

It wasn’t that he believed Natalka Volkov when she insisted her family had nothing to do with Priest’s assassination, or the disappearing shipment. As she loved to remind him, one could not be so stupid. But he’d be a liar if he said some of her points didn’t… make sense.

When Roman stepped inside, he was met with the muffled sound of voices coming from the living room. He sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose before heading in. The sight that greeted him wasn’t what he wanted after the night he’d had. Tamina was in the kitchen, packing up her laptop, looking more frustrated than he’d ever seen her.

“You’re still here?” he asked, the edge in his voice suggesting it was more of a lament than a question.

Tamina looked up with tired eyes. “It’s like tryin’ to find a needle in a stack of fucking needles.” She closed her laptop with a soft thud, rubbing her temples. “Closest I got is a fucking liquor store’s CCTV across from the Volkov’s warehouse in Queens. Not much to go on, though.”

Roman sighed, running a hand over his face. “I appreciate it… but if there’s nothin’ solid, we’ll just… regroup tomorrow or somethin’.”

She gave him a curt nod, gathering her things. “Alright. Just don’t do anything rash, we still don’t know who’s pullin’ the strings here.”

“I know,” Roman muttered, though his thoughts were already a tangled mess of plans, suspicions, and dead ends. “Thanks, ‘Mina.”

Just as Tamina was packing up, the unmistakable sound of boisterous laughter erupted from the next room. Roman’s shoulders slumped in exasperation. Of course, they’re still here too…

He found them sprawled out on his sectional, their energy levels somehow still through the roof, even at this hour. Jey was flipping through channels like he was searching for something he’d never find, while Jimmy was narrating some ridiculous plan about how they should handle the Volkovs.

“Bruh, I’m tellin’ you, we gotta roll up on ‘em, catch ‘em slippin’!” Jimmy grinned, throwing an uppercut in the air.

Roman leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms, exhaustion dripping from every pore. “Y’all ever go home?” he grumbled, though it was clear the question was nothing short of rhetorical.

“Home? Uce, you know this is home,” Jey replied with a wide grin, finally landing on some late-night talk show that neither of them would actually watch.

Roman gave him a flat look. “Funny. Real funny.” He walked further into the room, lowering himself onto the opposite end of the couch with a weary grunt.

“You find out what went down at that auction?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Roman resisted the urge to roll his eyes, knowing his attempt to deter wouldn’t be enough.

“Come on, man, you know we gotta know!” Jimmy chimed in, sitting up and looking at his cousin eagerly. “We can help, you know we got your back.”

Roman huffed heavily, rubbing at the back of his neck. He knew they meant well, but right now, their relentless energy level was the last thing he needed.

“Fine,” he relented sharply. “Natalka Volkov swears they didn’t take the shipment–”

“Damn, you actually talked to he–”

“She claims they’re just as in the dark as we are. And she was pretty damn convincing…”

Jey whistled low, exchanging a look with Jimmy. “So what, you think someone else is playin’ both sides?”

“Could be,” Roman replied, though he wasn’t entirely convinced. “But I don’t trust her. Could just be another angle she’s working.”

Jimmy leaned forward, his eyes narrowing in thought. “Man, we should just storm their warehouse, make ‘em talk. They can’t hide from us. You need–”

“What I need is quiet. Not a couple of hyperactive idiots who think they can solve everything with some half-baked, adrenaline-fuelled idea.”

“Okay, but hear me out–”

Roman cut him off with a sharp glare. “Enough.”

The room went silent, the energy dampening as Roman’s tone shifted from annoyed to outright deadly. “You think I haven’t thought of it all already? You think I’m playin’ with some amateurs here?”

“Chill, Uce,” Jey said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “We just tryna help.”

“I don’t need help. I need you both to leave,” Roman snapped, the fatigue in his voice barely masking the anger simmering underneath. “Now.”

The Usos exchanged another look, this one less amused. They could tell Roman was done, and for once, they didn’t push back.

“Alright, alright, we’re gone,” Jimmy said, getting up. “But just say the word, and we’re there.”

“Yeah,” Jey added, grabbing his phone from the table and patting Roman on the shoulder. “We got your back, Uce.”

Roman didn’t respond, just watched as they finally made their way to the door, their presence a lingering buzz in his already overworked mind.

As the door clicked shut behind them, he let out a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding. The silence in the house settled around him like a blanket, but instead of comfort, all he felt was the weight of everything that happened—and everything that still needed to be done.

Finally, he allowed himself to sink into the couch, closing his eyes, trying to shut out the world for just a few minutes. But even in the quiet, all he could think about was how… wrong everything felt. He wasn’t sure who was telling the truth, wasn’t sure who was lying to his face, or who might already have a knife aimed at his back.

He just knew he was too damn tired to figure it out tonight.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow, he’d sort this shit out. But tonight… The man just needed a few hours of sleep.

[yandere-blushblush-writer]

That boy is MINE(PT.1)

TW/CW:The art was founded on Pinterest,Yandere behavior, unhealthy behavior, unhealthy relationship,abusive relationship, abusive behavior,Himbo reader(the best type of men<3),cussing,sharp teeth Y/N(same bro),werewolf Y/N

Requested:No

Gender:Male reader

Romantic or platonic: Romantic

Characters:Ichiban,Dimitri,Anon,Garret,Cashew,Garret,and lastly Garret

Summary:Y/N is a delivery boy for sweet and bake goods,Y/N is a stupid yet sweet werewolf who only has sweetness on his mind. Y/N has been cheated on but he falls in love fast. When Y/N comes to six people in his bosses store the war of love for this man stars

Part 2

Knock,Knock. “Ah hello Y/N!” “Hello Mrs.Harper! I got your usually! Which you’ve already paid for?” “Yes sir,have a nice day” “you to!” Y/N smiled and handed the box then left. He just did his last drop off so he went back to the shop. DING “Hm? Oh hello Y/N! All done?” “Mhm!!” Y/N got behind the counter and just sit down,he does this until his times over. Y/N just noticed six familiar men. Ichiban a YouTuber that often orders Y/N’s favorite,Anon a hacker who orders sugar cookies in the shapes of lemurs, Garret a lumberjack/fireman(?) who orders sweet honey biscuits,William a doctor who orders a simple heart shaped cookies that are sprinkles,Cashew a shy man who orders different stuff,and lastly Dimitri a handsome man who orders chocolate covered strawberries.

He knew them all as they often came while he was still at work. He was friends with Garret and Ichiban so he got up and went to the two males table to hang out with them. “Hey Y/N how’ve you been?” “Good done with work finally!” “That’s good” Y/N rested his head in between his arms letting Ichiban pet his hair as he worked on a video. Ichiban petting him made his dog instincts happy as it enjoyed the attention. Ichiban and Garret agreed to share the werewolf and not fight for his love. They had to act fast as they knew the other men were going to try and take them.

“Hey Y/N wanna hangout with me at my house later?” “Sure!” “Garret is coming yes?” “Of course Garret!” The two himbos cheered as all three of them get to hang out all together. The other guys knew what Garret and Ichiban had in mind and up there sleeves which PISSED THEM THE FUCK OFF. How dare they try and take their darling boy from them!? They couldn’t just start a fight as it will ruin their own image in Y/N’s eyes so they’ll have to be careful with trying to eliminate Ichiban and Garret.

“Y/N! YOU CAN GO HOME!”

With those words everything was set in motion as three guys left the cafe chatting and plotting what they were going to do at Ichiban’s house. Garret and Ichiban will be able to confess their undying love to Y/N and make sure he NEVER EVER LEAVES THEM!

[randoimago]

Day 2 - Time Loop

Fandom: Fire Emblem

Character(s): Hubert

Type of Request: 31 Days of Oc-Trope-R

Warning(s): Mentions of blood, mentions a couple more brutal ways to die (not too descriptive, but still), major character death

Note(s): Requester asked for every loop to have Hubert as the enemy besides one! There are some angsty parts, but I did my best to give it a happy ending.

"No, no, NO!" You yelled as your fist hit the ground next to the fallen body of the man you knew. The one that was pierced with an arrow this time. You'd think you'd gotten used to this. That you'd grow numb, but you haven't.

You've seen this body mangled, broken, electrocuted, burned, and now shot with a damn arrow. You've seen so much blood sometimes and others, not a drop. The only constant had been the lifeless eyes.

And then you watch as everything begins fading out. Like it was glitching before going to a white space. And you wake up in your bed, back at the academy, not yet sorted into your house.

The outcome is the same. It's always the same. The man you grew to love through the first three loops, the man that you tried to save in so many ways, the rest of the routes, and the man that you always broke down next to as his dead body laid on the ground every single time.

You go through the motions, you try to be cheerful, but you're losing hope. Even looking at Hubert brings you pain as you want to talk to him but know that you won't be able to. Because every damn loop made you, his enemy. Like whatever damn time deity didn't care about your happiness.

You barely paid attention as you were walking to take your lunch plate of hardly touched food back to the kitchen staff. You barely noticed that you ran into someone. A sigh left you and you opened your mouth to apologize, only to meet the glare of the man that doesn't love you yet. And that glare makes you decide to do something that you haven't done every route that you dedicated to him.

You snapped at him. You had enough of slowly worming your way into his heart, saying and doing things that you know makes him fall in love with you. Why should you waste that time when he's just going to die? You were tired, you were exhausted, you told him to watch where he's going. Yes, it's your fault for running into him, but you didn't care. You were exhausted. You were ready for him to snap back or curse you or something. Instead, you got an amused chuckle and he walked away. That's fine with you, the less time with him, the better.

Except the universe laughed because now you ended up in the same house as Hubert. Your jaw dropped when you found out and you swore you felt the smirk from Hubert, who undoubtably had something to do with this. Maybe he was going to be the one to kill you this time.

And this time feels so much different than any other time. Yes, you've gotten to know Hubert before and fell in love in the other loops. But this time, you're his classmate. You sit in the same room as him every day. You hear the answers he gives during class. You hear how he truly feels and thinks in regard to the empire and Edelgard. While you had snapped at him in the beginning with the intention of pushing him away, you feel yourself growing even closer.

But then war approaches. And it's so different this time because Hubert approaches you. He asks you to join Edelgard's side and go against the academy. Against the other students that you had gotten to know in your previous loops. Against your close friends and people that you have learned the names of their families and even met in those loops. And you feel your heart breaking for a different reason.

Hubert living had always been the goal you wanted in the other hell-like loops you went through. But now that you seem to be on the path to that goal, you realize that there's even more sacrifice you have to make.

You had been with the Blue Lions many times before. You had befriended the stoic Dedue and helped Dimitri through a dark and dangerous time he was going through, you'd seen the suffering both had to endure and saved them.

You had also been with Claude and his Golden Deer. You had laughed and cried with all of those dorks and promised Hilda many times to attend the balls in her kingdom wearing the most ostentatious clothing possible.

And your heart truly breaks because can you really go against those friends and close allies of the past to be with the man you love? Hubert sees your hesitation and gives a nod. He turns to walk away, and, in that moment, you make your decision. You follow and take his hand. The smile he gives you is almost enough to make you not think about how the bodies of your friends will be the next to haunt you.

You never grew numb whenever you saw Hubert's death. It haunted and plagued your mind every time. Seeing the deaths of your friends, your once allies, that had hurt. Edelgard had at least convinced some of them to your side and that made things a bit better. But it still hurt to watch as some refused and fell, dying in the same ways that you saw with Hubert.

The war grew to a close and you waited. The final scene that you ended at every loop approached and your eyes fell to Hubert, as they often did. You both had already spoken at length, he had asked you to marry him when the war had finished. And now approached the hour of his death.

You fought by his side, making sure to protect him. This wasn't something new that happened, but now it felt like this really is the last chance you'll have. And when you saw the arrow at the last second, your breath left you and you heard a groan from behind and a thud.

You slay your opponent quickly before running to where Hubert's body lay, tears in your eyes as you knelt next to him. A wave of relief hit you when you saw his eyes open and a frustrated look on his face as he broke the arrow that impaled him.

"Damn archers," he muttered and looked to your tear-stained face. An amused smirk crossed his. "Did you really think I'd die from a single arrow?" An urge to smack him came across your mind, but instead you pressed your lips to his as the sounds of battle died in the background. You kissed Hubert as silence fell before cheers erupted as the war was won.

You kissed Hubert as the loop had broken and you stood across from him, a ring on your finger and your marriage finalized.

[blaiddllodi]

[ 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 ] : sender takes a hold of receiver's both hands.

The sparring session was called to a halt by the older man as he slowly approached Dimitri. “Show me those hands of yours. Both.” The boy wore gloves and gauntlets much like himself, but he could see blood seeping into the black fabric. With a sigh, Lambert put his lance away to fetch a first aid kid. “Sit down, we will take a look at that together. I refuse to allow any student to fight while injured.”

“You will genuinely hurt yourself if you continue to do it like that, kid. Look at your hands…” 

A tug here, another there, and he removed the house leader’s glove to better inspect the injury, frowning slightly at the sight of bloodied blisters. Gloved hands held into slightly smaller ones, carefully as if any wrong move would be enough to cause them to shatter. Lambert was no faith mage, so he couldn’t offer the near instantaneous comfort of a healing spell. It would have to be the old way. 

Lambert took his own gloves off, so he could have at least better sensitivity in handling the bandages. 

Somehow, it was as if he had done this before, with that very same hand- though the blurry image in his mind envisioned a much smaller one. Instead of blisters, was a scrape from a fall. 

“You should be more careful, Mitya. You are a strong boy, but it pains your father to see you hurt. Promise me to take care next time.” “You should be more careful, kid. You are a strong one, but no teacher enjoys seeing their students hurt. Promise me to take care next time.”

The bandages were wrapped just right. Not too tight, not too loose. Enough to do their job, but they wouldn’t restrict Dimitri’s movements or his hold on the lance. Lambert held the prince’s hands into his own for a moment, mouth open as he was going to continue his advice, until his mind bugged for a short second. He blinked, then shook his head. “Ahaha, sorry about that. You almost remind me of someone.” In reality, he felt uncomfortable for some reason. As if his mind were yelling at him for whatever reason but he couldn’t comprehend.

“So, prince. Rest those hands for today, am I clear? Do not go around trying to destroy it all.” Lambert then got up, slipping his gloves back on.

With his back turned to Dimitri, he hummed.

“Also, go to sleep earlier today. Chamomile tea does wonders for that.”

He had never seen this kid before, but he somehow knew he didn’t sleep well. Odd coincidence.

"Oh, I..."

Hadn't even noticed.

There was the bashful hesitation that always came after - after his displays of strength, unprompted and unwelcome, or after his body failed to behave in the ways that a body should, to temper that strength, to show him his limits. Dimitri was not unused to the attention, but it always settled too heavy on his chest, the one thing that his strength could not help him lift.

His hands had been smaller last time.

He jerked at the thought as the professor's fingers began to tug at his gauntlets, though blessed be the Goddess above he seemed to take it as a matter of delicacy, as though in the bowl of their hands combined they held the world. He had never seen this man before today, there would have been no last time, but still his hands fitted into the cradle easily, comfortably, relaxing as though the motion were practiced and expected.

"A-ah, I suppose...that I had not expected them to be so bad..." Not the splinters, nor the blisters nor the callouses borne of them, nor the strange crook of his fingers, the tremor in them that the fought to control at the best of times and ignored at the worst, nor the terrible thoughts in his mind that if he ever were to take the precious hands of someone else he loved that they would shatter-

It felt strange, to be handled in this same way, he realized, to be held in such a way that he were so fragile he might fracture into shards at the slightest breath wrong, or for someone to understand exactly what it meant to have strength beyond their body.

That hadn't happened since-

The scratch of gauze against tender flesh jerked him back into the present moment and Dimitri suddenly felt vulnerable, small and weak in a way that he had not for some time, and he lifted his gaze to meet the man's eyes, familiar in their way, like looking into a mirror at night, through heavy steam, and he attempted a smile.

"Yes, you are right. Of course. I...have a tendency to push myself too hard. Perhaps I will spend the rest of the evening in the library." He wasn't ignoring the chastisement, the direction to go to bed earlier, but it felt more pointed than if another had said it, if someone like Dedue or Ingrid held his ear.

A short, chuffed laugh. "I...yes. I favor chamomile, myself. I shall prepare some, then. Ah...thank you. Professor."

Who was it who had told him about chamomile's properties as a sleep aid? It felt like it had been so long ago now...