#so here we're focusing on the ratings part

[donut-button]

Info about the ratings regarding the cartoon. Apparently what was released to the public at one point in time was worse than what the reception actually was - reason could be that it was from ‘one local market’, not all the ratings in general. 

Source: The Sam & Max Homepage

[lucidlivi]

she calls me daddy now

popping in with the supernatural/true blood crossover you didn't know you needed!

Warning: not suited for minors, strong language, sexual innuendos, sex, slight threesome, violence, blood, gore, major character death, blood drinking, blood draining, mentions of death, staking, vampire burning, major angst, heartbroken Dean

I will be working on other prompt requests soon but I had this idea and didn’t want to lose it, I hope you guys love it as much as I do!

A switch in viewpoints will be indicate in bold italics

Reader

"Fangtasia? really?" I snort glancing at the boys beside me.

"Leeches with a sense of humor.. great." Dean grumbles.

"So much for mainstreaming, Louisiana has one of the highest disappearance rates in the country... 346 people in this last month alone. You and I both know what really happened to them." Sam says looking at the news article on his cellphone.

"And you're sure we're going to find help here?" Dean asked in disbelief.

"I mean there has to be some sort of order to things, even for vampires.'" I shrugged.

"And since we're not scoring a date with the vampire queen , one of her pawns should work just fine." Sam said as I watched the eager humans line up to get in to the famous vampire bar.

It's been years now since vampires exposed themselves to the world.

Of course we already knew of their existence.

However, with the invention of synthetic blood the vamps decided they wanted to become part of society, mainstream they call it.

It took the world by storm.

People were lining up to meet and more disgustingly volunteer to get bitten by a vampire.

It was sickening.

As you can imagine this did not go over well with the hunting community.

It was a question on everyone's mind.

Could vamps really change?

Could they be functioning members of a society?

In Louisiana the answer was no.

"I still don't like this." Dean growled as we took our place in line for entrance to the bar.

"No one does, but we have to try to work out some sort of treaty, some sort of peace between us and them, too many people are dying." Sam said.

Oh Sammy.

As if peace between vampires and humans was possible.

We were a meal to them, nothing more.

I could feel Dean's anxiety pushing in to me, making me anxious.

I grabbed his hand giving it a reassuring squeeze. He was quick to lace our fingers together pulling me closer to him.

He instantly calmed a bit.

Dean and I had an interesting relationship.

Sam, he was like my annoying little brother.

But not Dean.

Dean and I shared a connection that went deeper.

He and I just got each other.

We weren't what you would call a thing though.

A hunter's life didn't afford us that privilege.

I knew that no matter what we would always look out for each other and if something were to happen to one of us, the other would never be the same.

It was a terrifying feeling in our line of work, since a brush with death was a daily occurrence for us.

As we got closer to the door I slipped my hand from Dean's.

I could see a lady at the door taking ID's, and from her too straight posture and her perfect looks I could tell she was one of them.

I had seen a vampire or two in my lifetime so they were easy for me to spot.

I felt the air shift as we got closer, causing me to pull my leather jacket tighter around my body.

"ID." she ordered extending her perfectly manicured hand towards me, her eyes focused elsewhere.

I sized her up, trying to guess her age. If I had to I'd say definitely over 100 years old.

She looked experienced, which is how you could tell a vampire's true age.

After a moment of stillness she finally glanced up meeting my eyes.

She glared at me, as if I was beneath her.

I simply stared back at her.

She flashed her fangs willing me to fall at her feet in submission.

I could feel Dean tense behind me, ready to pounce if needed.

"ID." She ordered once again with a southern drawl.

I gave her a forced smile, pulling out a fake ID card.

If she knew it was fake, she didn't say anything, just let me pass. Sam and Dean were let in without showing ID much to my annoyance.

As soon as we were past the rope, the woman at the door disappeared.

I could smell the stench of sex, sweat, and booze as the doors to the bar opened.

If I thought the name was ridiculous, the inside was even more ridiculous. It was decorated in reds and blacks, really selling the vampire theme.

I scoffed at the patrons who were clad in leather and lace. It was like they were proud to be flaunting their flesh for the bloodsuckers.

Perhaps though the most ridiculous and tacky thing was the throne in the middle of the stage overlooking the bar.

My eyes traveled up the throne before connecting with a pair of icy blue ones.

Suddenly it was as if I was being pulled into some sort of trance.

His eyes boring into my own.

I quickly broke eye contact taking a moment to take in his other features.

A mess of blonde locks lay on his head.

His jaw perfectly defined along with his other facial features.

His hands that were gripping the arm rests of the throne, large and lethal.

He was frighteningly tall, even taller than Sam, and he was basically Bigfoot.

It was however the smirk that played on his lips that made my blood boil.

He knew what I was, just as I knew what he was.

A vampire.

Just the pawn we were looking for.

I noticed the perfect blonde woman from the door suddenly at his side, leaning over and whispering in his ear.

I could see her glance in our direction.

She was trying to be discreet but I was on to her.

She was warning him.

Warning him about us.

I didn't get to see anything else as Dean pulled me towards a booth in the back.

I took this moment to study the people.

It was sickening seeing so many vampires and humans mingling like they weren't bloodthirsty monsters, and the humans eager to be their next meal.

"So I think the big blonde guy is who we need to talk to." Sam said looking between me and Dean.

I rolled my eyes.

Is he serious right now?

"Really Sam what gave you that idea huh? The throne in the middle of the stage? The way all the other vampires flock to him? Or, or maybe it’s the fact that he's glaring daggers at us right about now." I sassed feeling the blonde's eyes burning me from behind.

"Okay so what's the plan then, I don't think he's going to talk to us willingly." Dean said ignoring my attitude.

"Well maybe not us." Sam said pointing between himself and Dean.

Dean looked around seeing the blonde man's eyes devouring my form.

"No absolutely not." Dean interjected quickly.

"Dean, it may be our only shot I seemed to have peaked his interest." I said turning my body fully towards him.

"We can figure something else out then, this is reckless and you know that." Dean growled.

"I know but I don't think we have that kind of time, people are dying Dean, people we swore to protect." I shot back.

"Yeah well I swore to protect you." Dean gutted.

"So then protect me." I said rising from my seat.

Dean was not happy, that much was evident on his face. I couldn't focus on that right now though. I was doing this.

I took a deep breath straightening out my jacket.

I slowly approached the throne, center stage.I could see people eyeing me with envy. I was only focused on the vamp, whose eyes grew more curious the closer I got.

I was about to take another step but was halted by another man, who I could tell was also a vampire.

"Sorry no one speaks to Mr. Northman without his permission." He growled at me.

I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes at this.

Who the hell did this vamp think he was, god?

"Chow, let her through." A strong voice spoke.

It didn't take me long to figure out it came from the vampire on the throne.

The man grumbled something under his breath before stepping to the side.

I took another deep breath striding in front of the blonde man.

"Mr. Northman I presume?"

"Please, call me Eric, and who do I have the pleasure of speaking with?" He smirked.

I thought for a minute if I should make up some fake name.

"And mind you I can tell if you're lying." He added, somehow reading my thoughts.

"y/n." I offered only my first name.

"What I can I do for you y/n?" He asked interested, as if I was going to offer him my neck.

"I think you know why we're here." I stated crossing my arms in front of myself as if it would put more distant between me and Eric.

"Yes unfortunately , it was only a matter of time before you hunters showed up."

"We wouldn't have to if you leeches kept yourselves in check." I bit back quickly.

"Well aren't you sweet." Eric smirked.

"Yeah not really."

I knew I should probably watch my tongue in a bar full of vampires. However, when my anger got the best of me, I couldn’t control the things that spilled from my lips.

"You have no idea who you're talking to do you?" Eric laughed, standing to his full height.

He towered over my short stature easily.

I wouldn't let him intimidate me though which is exactly what he was trying to do.

"So enlighten me then Mr. Northman."

"I'm a thousand year old viking darling, I'm not threatened by you or anyone for that matter."

"I'm not here to threaten you, I'm here to help you." I retorted quickly, acting unfazed by the declaration of his true age.

My statement resulted in another laugh from the viking vampire.

"Help me? Now what in that pretty little head of yours makes you think I need, or want your help." He whispered menacingly, clearly trying to threaten me.

I would have been a little more afraid had I not noticed the slight crease in his eyebrows as he spoke.

He was worried about something.

My guess, pressure from his boss to solve his little vampire problem.

Order.

Creatures couldn't function without it.

I couldn't fight the smirk that made it's way to my face.

"I think you're worried, 346 bodies is a lot of bodies to hide, I mean we know that they didn’t really disappear did they? Also isn't it your job to keep all these vampires in line? I'm guessing a bunch of rogue vampires going on a killing spree doesn’t exactly fair well with your boss." I taunted.

I knew I pushed it too far when his fangs popped out with a click.

He quickly wrapped a hand around my throat causing Dean to shoot up, pulling out his gun loaded with ultraviolet emitting bullets.

If Eric saw him, he was completely unfazed by his actions.

I gave Dean a look, telling him to wait before he starts blindly shooting in a room full of vampires.

I could handle myself well, Dean knew as much.

“Don’t you tell me how to do my job.” he growled his hand squeezing a little tighter around my throat.

"Do your job then." I spat, pushing him a little further.

Eric then looked deeply in my orbs as his glazed over.

He spoke in an enchanting voice.

"Now you and your little gang of hunters are going to leave my bar, but before you go, you're going to let me taste you while your boyfriend over there watches me."

I knew what he was trying to do.

He was trying to what they call "glamor" me.

Get in my head.

Control me and my thoughts.

No man controls me.

"No offense Mr. Northman but you're not really my type." I managed to squeak out, his hand still squeezing my throat.

Eric quickly released my neck with a confused look.

"Why can't I glamor you?" He growled in frustration.

I quickly turned around, pulling my shirt up slightly so he could see the anti-possession tattoo in the center of my spine.

"Turns out this isn’t just for demons, works for your mind tricks too. Eric this is my final offer, let us help you or we're gonna handle things our way, and then you'll have a lot more bodies to dispose of. We’ll be in town, it’s your choice." I threatened before turning away from the vampire.

I could tell he didn't take kindly to my threats but he didn't retaliate surprisingly, given his nature.

I could see the relief wash over Dean's face as I returned to his side.

"Looks like we aren't getting his help, let's go." I said knowing full well Eric could still hear me.

Dean tucked his gun away roughly grabbing my hand and pulling me out of the bar.

I could tell by his face that he was trying his best not to explode.

He was irate.

As soon as we were in the impala the floodgates opened and all hell let loose.

"Wow you've done a lot of stupid shit in the past but that has to be the most fucked thing you've ever done, what the hell were you thinking?" Dean growled.

I wasn't sure if it was directed at Sam for suggesting I talk to Eric alone or me for actually doing it.

“Dean come on it’s…” Sam started but Dean quickly cut him off.

“Stay out of this Sam.” Dean growled.

I guess now I knew it was directed at me.

“You can’t be serious right now?” I scoffed at his behavior.

“He could have snapped you like a twig, you gave him every opportunity.” Dean snapped.

I knew this was his way of saying he was worried about me but l didn’t like how he was going about it.

“I can handle myself.” I said with an eye roll.

“I mean what was your plan exactly? Badmouth him until he sinks his fangs in to your neck? You had no plan going up there, that was so irresponsible.” Dean continued.

“Yeah well he didn’t hurt me did he?” I scoffed.

“Your lucky he didn’t, you just act without thinking about the consequences.” He retorted.

“Yeah well sometimes you think too much and don’t act.”

“At least you don’t have to continuously save my ass!” He growled.

“Ugh would you stop treating me like a child!” I said my voice rising along with my anger.

“I will when you stop acting like one!” Dean yelled.

I rolled my eyes again, sinking back in to the seat. I was done talking about this. It was no use anyways.

I knew Eric wouldn’t hurt me.

I don’t know how I knew, I just did. He wouldn’t admit it but he needed our help.

I was extremely thankful to be pulling in to the motel parking lot. I jumped out of the car before Dean could bring it to a complete stop, slamming the door in a fit.

I could hear Dean throwing open his door and quickly striding up to catch me.

“We are not done talking about this.” He growled grabbing my wrist.

“I am.” I seethed snatching my wrist from him.

I walked in to my separate motel room, slamming the door in his face.

God!

Dean didn’t usually yell at me, I had no idea where all this was coming from.

"Fuck!" I screamed, before quickly stripping my clothes wanting to wash away this evening and everything it brought.

I turned on the shower, steam instantly filling the bathroom.

I stepped in, the hot water relaxing my tense muscles.

What the hell was up with Dean?

Why was he acting so, so possessive?

He knew I was strong enough to handle my own, yet he was treating me as if I were some stupid kid walking in to the lions den unprepared.

I knew how to kill vampires, this wasn’t my first rodeo.

I was angrily scrubbing my body and hair, too caught up in my thoughts that I didn’t hear my motel room door opening, or the bathroom door for that matter.

I washed the shampoo from my hair before noticing Dean’s presence. It made me jump but only momentarily. He was standing on the other side of the shower curtain, his shoulders slumped over.

“I said I was done talking about it Dean.” I bit quickly.

I was expecting him to start yelling at me again, tell me how stupid I was being, but Dean didn’t say anything instead just stayed quiet.

"Dean?" I asked softening my tone.

Dean was never quiet.

Only when he was in his head about something.

Like I said we just got each other.

It was a moment before he spoke.

“You have no idea how worried I was for you, fuck y/n why do you care so little about your life when to me it’s everything?” Dean said, his voice being overtaken with emotion.

My breathing stilled at his words. I felt tears gather in the corners of my eyes.

Dean wasn’t the vulnerable type, never admitting how he was truly feeling, but here he was laying it all out.

Before thinking I flung open the shower curtain looking at him. His eyebrows were creased with worry and hurt.

I suddenly felt extremely guilty.

I didn’t want to hurt him.

That was the last thing I wanted to do.

Dean was my person.

I jumped out and flung my arms around him, soaking his t-shirt. He didn't seem to mind much as he wrapped his strong arms around me holding me tightly to his body.

I buried my head in the crook of his neck, allowing a few tears to cascade down my cheeks. His hand found its way to the back of my head stroking my wet hair.

“I’m sorry Dean.” I spoke quietly.

Dean’s hand traveled down to the back of my neck, pulling my head up so he could look in my eyes.

Dean and I didn't need words to convey our feelings.

Our eyes alone did just that.

I could feel the heat spreading to my core as his eyes devoured me hungrily.

Dean and I didn't cross this line often.

In fact only once before.

It was a dangerous line to be flirting with.

But in this moment, I didn't care.

Dean didn't either, for a moment later he was crashing his lips on mine.

His lips had a petal softness to them, but he kissed like a man that had been starved for months.

I balled his t-shirt in my fists pulling him impossibly closer. Dean's hand gripped my neck harder as if I was about to float away and he was the only thing holding me down.

I broke away but only briefly to suck in a harsh breath.

Dean pulled me back in again, devouring my lips.

He kissed me as if I was oxygen and he was dying to breathe.

I couldn't help the breathless moans that fell from my lips as I felt Dean's trapped erection on my already burning center.

I wanted more.

Needed more.

"Dean." I panted, hoping he would catch on.

Dean didn't bother teasing. He picked me up quickly kicking the bathroom door open, before gently placing me on the run down motel bed.

He was quick to dispose of his shirt.

I trailed my eyes down his body.

Dean was the kind of handsome that got into my bones, that spoke to me before he'd even said a word.

I licked my lips as I admired him.

I sat up on the bed, not being able to stop my self from placing my lips on his perfectly chiseled jaw. He let out a guttural sound as my tongue worked down to his neck, kissing and sucking, marking him as mine.

He quickly disposed of his jeans, freeing himself at last. He gently pushed me back down hovering his body over mine.

Dean looked at me as if he applied too much pressure I might break.

He trailed his hand down my body painfully slow, stopping to brush gently over my aching core. I sucked in my bottom lip to try to stop the needy whine that wished to escape but I was too late.

I needed to feel him, all of him.

Dean leaned down once again kissing my lips tenderly.

"I promise." Dean whispered pulling away gently.

I shook my head in confusion.

"Promise?" I breathed out.

"I promise to make up for all the years I was supposed to be kissing you." Dean rasped.

I felt my eyes prickle with tears.

I grabbed his head bringing his lips back to my own.

I don't think I'll ever get over the feeling I get when kissing Dean, it was warm, it was safe, it was everything I needed, because with Dean, sometimes kissing felt like healing.

Dean grabbed his erection, slowly rubbing his tip up and down my folds, torturing me with pleasure.

He grunted pushing himself through my slickness all without breaking our hungry kiss.

Dean thrusted at a tortuously slow pace, hitting my sweet spot with every movement. Dean buried his head into my neck, heavenly groans fell from his lips.

I moaned a little louder with each slow thrust.

I couldn't take anymore, I rolled my hips up meeting his.

Dean pushed himself even deeper, causing a sensual whine out of me.

"So pretty when you're whining for me."

I could barely think straight from the fire burning in my veins. I closed my eyes digging my nails slightly in to his skin.

“Oh fuck Dean right there.” I moaned feeling my orgasm making itself known.

I could feel myself clenching around him causing him to cry out in pleasure.

“Good girl baby, cum for me.” Dean whispered in a husky voice.

His tone and praise alone was enough to have me soaking his length, my walls contracting all around him.

Dean began to thrust harder and faster, chasing his own orgasm. When his rhythm became sloppy I knew he was close.

Dean gave one last deep thrust before I felt white hot spurts of liquid coating my still sensitive walls.

Just when I thought Dean couldn’t get more attractive, here he was looking like a god as he groaned, riding out his orgasm.

I could cum again just from the sight of it.

Dean slowly removed himself, satisfied when his seed spilled out coating my thighs.

"I think you're gonna need another shower." Dean smirked.

Yep.

Dean was back.

I was about to make my usual snarky comment but a loud knocking on the door got my attention.

I thought it might be Sam coming to check on me, he has been on the receiving end of Dean’s wrath more than once.

I threw on a shirt and some sleep shorts before peeling the door open slowly.

I was not prepared to see Eric Northman behind it.

"You know for hunters you really need to cover your tracks better, wasn't all that hard to track you down, not with that sweet aroma you carry around." Eric smirked pompously.

I could hear Dean shuffling as he rushed putting his clothes back on.

He was suddenly at my side ripping the door open and glaring down the viking vampire in front of me.

It was the first time I saw them toe to toe.

Eric was definitely taller but Dean was unfazed by his size.

Dean was nothing to mess with either. He was lethal in his own right, and had more blood on his hands then he liked to think about.

"Now if you're done fucking your play thing, I'd like to talk." Eric said completely ignoring Dean’s threatening demeanor.

I felt the blood rush to my cheeks.

Oh god he heard that?

Of course he did, fucking super hearing ability.

"I think that opportunity has passed, we're no longer interested." Dean growled slamming the door but Eric’s vampire speed won out and he caught it seamlessly.

"If you could do me a favor sweets and calm your guard dog here, I believe you and I can help each other." Eric said once again ignoring Dean completely.

"I thought you said you didn't need or want my help?" I finally spoke, feeling my anger rising again.

"Oh don't be smug, it's humbling enough having to come to a breather for help." Eric said rolling his eyes.

I could feel Dean stiffen beside me.

He didn't trust Eric that much was obvious.

I didn't trust him either.

I was realistic though, and I knew our odds would be better with him on our side instead of in our way.

"Hypothetically speaking of course, let's say I was still interested in helping you, what then?" I inquired.

Dean growled from beside me.

“Excuse us for a moment." Dean said through clenched teeth, shutting the door, this time Eric allowing him to.

Dean sucked in a sharp breath preparing his lecture but I quickly cut him off before he could deliver it.

"Look before you yell, let's be realistic here, I think we're in way over our heads and having Eric on our side instead of in our way is an asset, even if I don't trust him, keep your enemies closer right?"

Dean's eyebrows furrowed knowing he couldn't argue with my logic.

"You were mad before because I didn't have plan, this time I do." I promised.

Dean placed a gentle hand to my cheek pulling my lips to his.

He knew Eric would be listening behind the door.

He wanted to make it known I was his.

I would definitely have to unpack this situation later.

Dean removed his lips resting his forehead on mine.

"Fine we can talk." Dean reluctantly agreed.

I gave him a small smile as I opened the door, seeing Eric standing there looking completely uninterested in Dean's show of affection.

"So then let's talk." I said nodding my head at Eric.

"Just you, no offense but I don’t think your guard dog will fit in with where we’re going, also you might want to shower first, if you’re going to be with me I can’t have you smelling of another man, and one more tip try not to look so much like a hunter, I’ll be back in thirty.” Eric ordered before speeding away.

“Fuck this, no way in hell am I letting you go anywhere alone with him.” Dean said.

“The idea doesn’t thrill me either but I’m just going to need you to trust me.” I said quickly going towards the bathroom.

Dean didn’t say anything instead followed behind me sulking. He shed his clothes stepping in the shower after me.

He huffed pouting as he took his hand washing his seed away from my body. I moaned as his fingers dipped in my folds cleansing me.

“I can trust you if you promise me you won’t do anything reckless, I couldn’t live with myself if you got hurt and I wasn’t there to help.” Dean said.

I quickly turned around facing him.

“I promise you Dean, nothing reckless.” I said standing on my toes to place a soft kiss to his mouth.

I finished washing myself quickly, then stepped out and towel dried myself.

I looked in my suitcase trying to find clothes that didn’t scream hunter. I settled for a sundress, this made me look more innocent, more naive.

Exactly thirty minutes later on the dot their was another harsh knock at the door. I took a deep breath opening it. Eric stood smirking behind it, clearly trying to provoke Dean. He let his eyes drift up and down my form very noticeably.

“If I didn’t know any better I would say you almost look normal.” Eric joked, that ever present cocky smile still on his face.

Dean wrapped a protective arm around me.

“I swear if you fucking hurt her..” Dean started but Eric cut him off.

“Down boy, she’ll be fine, besides I already ate this evening, though I wouldn’t say no to some dessert.” Eric taunted him.

I rolled my eyes at the pair.

I quickly turned around grabbing Deans shirt bringing him in for a feverish kiss.

Dean smirked in to the kiss hearing Eric sigh in annoyance.

I pulled away letting a hand linger on his cheek.

“I’ll be back.” I assured.

I turned towards Eric ignoring the arm he offered me.

“Well after you.” I gestured.

I saw the the expensive bugatti now parked outside my motel room.

A little over the top I thought, although I guess when you’ve been alive for so long your wealth is vast.

Eric smirked at Dean as he opened the passenger door gesturing for me to get in.

I gave Dean one more soft look before climbing in.

Eric zipped around clambering in the drivers seat. He peeled out of the motel at inhuman speed, making me grip the seat.

“So are you going to tell me where we’re going?” I asked annoyed.

“A tribunal meeting.” Eric simply answered.

“A what?”

“You people really don’t know anything do you?” He jabbed.

“Look if that’s how this is going to be you can just take me back.” I said rolling my eyes.

“You know your cute when you pout.” Eric laughed.

I rolled my eyes again ignoring his flirtatious comment. He was trying to get under my skin, and he was doing a damn good job at it.

“Listen just stay close to me, and don’t talk to anyone but me.” Eric said glancing at me.

“Eric..”

“No this is serious okay, for me to keep you safe you have to listen to me.” He said.

I glanced at his eyes, and for a moment just a moment I saw some of what I believed to be sincerity. It made him almost seem…. human.

“Fine.” I grumbled.

He pulled in to a field in the middle of nowhere.

I really wasn’t thrilled with this idea now.

I took a deep breath feeling the silver dagger Dean slipped in to the waistband of my underwear. It wasn’t much but it could help me out, give me some leverage.

Eric got out zipping around to open my door.

I got out of the car looking fully at the scene.

There were a few other vampires there, most looked pretty ancient. It wasn’t their looks per say, but their demeanor, the way they carried themselves.

I saw a few humans too, one vampire was openly feeding on a girls neck. If I had eaten I was sure it would come back up at the sight. The worst part is the girl moaned as if she was enjoying it.

Eric smirked as he wrapped an arm around my waist leading me towards the group of vampires.

"Remember what I said, be a good breather and keep quiet." Eric said.

"Fuck you." I cursed under my breath knowing full well Eric would hear me.

Eric's presence instantly got the attention of a man dressed in an expensive suit.

"Eric welcome, and who is this lovely thing you've brought with you, she smells delectable."

"Easy now magister, she's mine." Eric said.

His?

Oh hell no!

"Yours the fu.." I started but Eric quickly clamped his hand on my mouth.

"My apologies sir, quite the mouth she got on her, though it does come in handy." Eric joked.

I nipped at his hand covering my mouth as if telling him he was really pushing it.

"If you'll excuse us sir.." Eric said leading me away from the man.

As soon as he took his hand off my mouth, I raised my hand to strike him but he quickly caught it.

"Yours? What the fuck was that!? I am not now, nor will I ever be yours!" I growled.

"It's my way of protecting you, it's an unspoken rule for vampires that we can't harm or feed from another vampires claimed human, now that I openly claimed you, nobody can touch you or they have to deal with me."

I was still pissed at him but I shook my head in understanding.

"These guys, they're the authority?"

"Well sort of, we work for them, that guy was the magister, the judge of my kind, if you will. The others are area sheriffs like myself, we keep order in our area, and we're all here to talk about our little problem." Eric explained.

"And the humans are privileged to this information?" I questioned.

"No, you’re here to satiate us, but it doesn't matter what they hear they'll just be glamoured to forget, but since you can't be glamoured you better be good at acting." Eric said.

I nodded my head finally understanding.

I would be the only human to remember this meeting.

He was giving me information, leverage.

Eric was about to say something else when the magister cleared his throat getting the attention of all vampires present.

"Now stay close to me, and for fuck's sake act like you can stand to be near me." Eric whispered once again wrapping a cold arm around my waist.

I knew if Dean were here right now he'd be furious at Eric for even daring to touch me in such an intimate matter.

In fact Dean would probably kill him first and ask questions later.

Eric was right, Dean definitely wouldn't have fit in here.

I didn't fit in here.

I grumbled, leaning in to Eric's side, cozying up to him.

I had to pretend.

It might kill me.

But I had to pretend.

I could feel Eric's stupid smirk without seeing it.

"Stop enjoying this." I growled causing a chuckle to fall from his lips.

"Sheriffs, it's great to see you, unfortunately I wish it could be under better circumstances. You all have been gathered here because as you know your state has managed to gain the attention of the authority, and I can tell you they aren't happy. You were put in a position to keep order, lay low, push the movement along, so please someone tell me why it's a goddamn circus out here?" The guy who I now know as the magister yelled.

I could feel Eric tense beside me, his arm getting a little tighter around me.

I could tell the magister was in a significant position of power even without Eric telling me so.

"Sir it's the newborns, they're insatiable, unsupervised." One vamp spoke up.

"And who's fault is that, isn't it your job to handle problem vampires?"

"You wish us to kill our own’s progeny's?" Another quipped.

"Do you dare defy my order?" The magister threatened.

"No sir."

I was taking in all the new information.

It seemed that new vampires were being made, "progeny's" and being left unsupervised after their creation.

It was not only reckless, it was cruel.

"Well maybe the humans have it coming, all they've ever done is hunt us down and lynch us." A vampire beside us spoke.

I glance at him.

He was tall, not as tall as Eric but tall none the less.

He clearly thought he was holier then thou.

I guess he hadn’t come face to face with hunters yet.

"I mean we do kind of deserve it." Eric spoke, surprising me a great deal.

I didn't think he was capable of any compassion towards what he calls “breathers.”

"Wow I can't believe my ears, Eric Northman, the ruthless viking prince suddenly gets himself a human bitch and now he's mr. mainstream?" The vampire spoke turning and taking a step towards us.

Eric let out a warning growl.

"I would watch your next words sheriff, I’m not known for my patience." Eric said baring his fangs.

His hold on me got tighter, if that were possible, I was already trapped against his body as it was.

I could feel the tensions rising as both vampires hissed at each other.

I took my hand squeezing Eric's.

I was surprised when I felt him calm slightly.

It was a simple gesture that always worked for Dean, and seemingly Eric too.

It was a little way of wordlessly saying “I’m here, I got you.”

"ENOUGH both of you! Eric’s right, we all knew coming out of the coffin there would be risks involved, if you can't keep order the authority will come and eradicate your regions."

Eradicate?

As in kill them all?

I was all for killing vampires, but that seems a little excessive.

I worried for Eric.

Wait.

What the fuck am I saying?

I don't worry about vampires.

Vampires are nothing but killing machines.

They don’t have feelings.

Or do they?

I don’t know what I believed anymore in this moment.

"With all due respect magister this is complete bullshit." the previous vampire spoke again.

I could see the magister getting visibly angry.

"We are apex predators, the top of the food chain, and you expect us to just lay down and take it from a bunch of blood bags?" He continued.

I could feel myself getting heated at his words.

He was the epitome of the vampires we killed.

No regard for human life whatsoever.

"We don’t take it, we learn to control ourselves there’s a difference." The magister corrects.

He was all about pushing the mainstreaming movement along, that much was clear, but he could care less about humans as long as all killings and feedings were done in secrecy and done so as not to draw too much attention.

He was just another two faced authoritarian, pushing something he could care less about.

"You and the authority are out of your goddamn minds if you think..." He started.

In an instant the magister zipped over to him, producing a wooden stake before driving it straight through the vampires heart. The vampire exploded sending guts flying everywhere.

Eric quickly turned us around so I wasn’t hit by the debris but he was.

I let out a shaking breath as blood splattered the side of his face.

I didn’t think I would be getting this close to vampire politics tonight.

I was officially over it.

Eric looked in my eyes as if assuring me everything was alright.

The magister wiped some vampire guts from his suit before turning back to everyone.

“I think we’ve all learned our lesson yes?”

No one dared to speak so the magister continued.

“You,” he said pointing at one vampire, “clean up this mess’ and you,” he said now turning to Eric who was cleaning the blood from his face, “glamor your human and then come with me.”

Eric turned to me giving me a look, guess now it was time to put on an act.

How does one even act glamoured? A mindless zombie I guessed.

He stared at me with that glazed look in his eyes, the same one from the bar. He also had something else in there, but I couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was; mischief maybe?

Next came his enchanting voice.

“y/n.”

“Yes.” I spoke quietly as if I was under his spell.

“Nothing happened here tonight, you don’t remember any other vampires being here, you don’t remember anything that was said, do you understand?” Eric ordered.

“Nothing happened here.” I repeated.

“Good…” Eric smirked pompously. “Now kiss me and wait in the car like the good little breather you are.”

I felt my insides boiling.

What the hell was he doing?

He knew I couldn’t say no to him.

It was either that or blow my cover to the magister.

I trusted my skills but not enough to take out an ancient vampire with a simple silver dagger, not while so many others were around.

I realized I was already taking too much time to think. If I didn’t act soon it was over, I was made.

I glared at Eric with furious eyes before leaning in.

He grabbed the back of my neck joining our lips.

I kissed him back with much reserve but he didn’t seem to notice.

He however kissed me gently to my surprise.

In fact he was kind of good at kissing.

What the fuck?

Shut up brain!

This was a vampire for fucks sake!

I willed the moment to be over but Eric was taking his sweet time tasting my mouth.

As we were kissing I tasted something metallic on my tongue.

I knew that taste.

Blood.

I swear if he bit me, I don’t care who’s watching I’ll kill him.

I was confused when Eric pulled away and it wasn’t my lip that was bleeding but his own.

It was his blood?

I quickly turned around walking back to his car as instructed.

I was trying to soak in all the information.

At least now we knew what we were up against.

A bunch of unsupervised baby vamps.

Great.

Eric came back moments later getting in the car. I held my breath until we were far enough away from the field before speaking my thoughts.

“I don’t understand, why are there unsupervised baby vampires allowed to run amok, they need to be taught, isn’t that a little cruel, illegal?”

“It’s unfortunate not every vampire has such a responsible maker.” Eric answered.

“And your maker?” I wondered.

I heard the vampire call Eric a viking prince, I wondered just how he came to be what he was now.

He hesitated a moment before he spoke.

“Godric, he’s gone, he saved me from dying on a battlefield.”

I scoffed a little catching his attention but kept my comment to myself, further annoying Eric.

“Go ahead, say what you want to say.” Eric pushed.

“I don’t know how he saved you, making you crave blood to survive, making you a slave to the night, making you practically immortal, I mean that has to be really lonely, eventually everyone you know will be gone and then it’ll just be you.” I said glancing at him.

“It’s a good thing I don’t care for mortals then.”

“I don’t believe that.” I quipped.

“And I don’t believe you actually hate vampires, I saw how you reacted when the magister spoke of the authority eradicating our regions.” Eric pushed back.

“About that, can they actually do that?” I asked.

If vampires had enough power to eradicate entire regions I think we had bigger problems to worry about then a bunch of baby vamps.

“Yes, they can and they will if the problem isn’t solved.” Eric said slowly pulling back in the motel parking lot.

“So what do we do about it so that doesn’t happen?” I asked turning my body towards him.

“We?”

“Just shut up, and tell me!” I said rolling my eyes at him again.

“I guess the only thing we can do, go on a hunting trip. If we can’t control them we have to eradicate them.” Eric said.

“Alright we’ll be ready then.”

“You and your dog can meet me at fangtasia tomorrow night, sunset, we’ll formulate a plan from there.” Eric nodded.

“Sunset.” I confirmed turning to get out of the car.

“Oh Eric, one more thing.” I said turning back around.

Before he could realize what was happening I balled my fist, sending it flying in to his nose. I heard a satisfying crunch as it connected.

“ If you ever trick me into kissing you again, I’ll kill you myself. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I smirked getting out of the car.

“You broke my nose!” Eric yelled out the window.

“Eh your a vampire, you’ll heal.” I shrugged, glancing once more at him.

“I know I’m a vampire but it doesn’t make it hurt any less.” He growled pushing his nose back in to position.

“Goodnight Eric.” I called one final time.

Eric rolled his eyes before peeling out of the parking lot, the sound getting Dean’s attention. He flung open the door pulling me to his chest. He inspected my body for any signs of injury but found none.

“Dean it’s okay, I’m okay.” I said placing a hand on his cheek.

I took him inside telling him everything that happened.

Well almost everything.

I left out the kissing part.

It would just further cause problems between the two, and besides I handled it.

He groaned when I told him we’d be seeing Eric tomorrow night.

He didn’t want to work with him but he agreed with me, that if we didn’t take care of this little problem we’d have a much bigger problem on our hands, i.e. an authority of ancient vampires that could eradicate entire populations.

“It’s nearly dawn, we should get some sleep.” Dean said stroking a hand through my hair.

I looked at Dean’s face, he had a slight crease in his forehead that only showed up when he was worrying about something.

“Dean what is it?” I asked.

“Who’s to say we don’t help him and then he turns right around and tries to kills us? I don’t want you caught in the crossfire.” Dean says sincerely.

“I know your worried but I don’t think he’ll try anything, he needs our help, besides he had every opportunity to kill me tonight, but he didn’t. Instead he gave us some pretty valuable information, which I’m suspecting he could get staked for if someone found out.” I said my mind traveling to the blonde haired vampire.

I had no idea why he was on my mind right now.

“Are you concerned for him?” Dean asked a look of jealousy and disgust on his face.

When I didn’t answer immediately, Dean continued.

“He’s a killer y/n, a leech, you can’t seriously be worrying about him?” Dean growled.

“I’m not.” I told a half lie.

“What is it then?” Dean pushed.

“It’s just everything might not be as black and white as we think that’s all.” I said trying to carefully chose my words.

“I mean they drink human blood to survive how is there any grey area in that?” Dean retorted.

“Some of them didn’t ask for this life, you know they thought they were being saved..” I trailed off thinking of the story Eric told me of his creation.

“It doesn’t change what they are.” Dean said.

I shrugged my shoulders. I guess he was right. At the end of the day they would still be feeding on humans to survive.

We were prey to them.

“I think we should get some sleep.” I said leaning up and pecking his lips quickly.

Dean was not satisfied with how we ended things but he didn’t push further to which I was thankful. Instead he pulled me in closer so my head was laying on his chest.

I felt the exhaustion starting to take a toll on my body, and the darkness starting to envelop me.

I reached my hand up to touch Dean but was surprised to feel the space empty.

Suddenly fingers were hooked in to my sleep shorts pulling them slowly down my legs. I groaned as lips kissed tenderly up my thigh, making my core burn with pleasure. I cast my eyes downward, meeting a pair of green ones.

“Dean.” I moaned as his head dipped down, his breath fanning over my center.

I didn’t know how Dean slipped down there without me noticing but right now I didn’t care.

Instead of devouring me like I wanted, his lips trailed back down to my thigh.

I could feel my blood pumping with need and desire.

“Beg me for it.” Dean commanded.

Didn’t need to tell me twice.

“Oh god please Dean.” I begged running my hands through his hair.

Suddenly I felt a sharp pain in my thigh.

I gasped looking down but instead of Dean, Eric was there with extended fangs, licking blood off his lips

What the fuck is going on?

Am I dreaming?

I’ve got to be dreaming.

A million questions surged through my head.

How?

When?

Why?

“Eric?” I blushed trying to hide my body from him.

“The femoral artery, like the jugular if pierced wrong can cause you to bleed out in mere minutes.” Eric said licking my thigh.

I looked down realizing blood was seeping out from too little pin pricks. I could feel my heart start to race but it wasn’t from fear… rather excitement.

What was wrong with me?

Was I turned on by this?

“It is indeed the best place to draw blood, so pleasurable and not just for me.” Eric said dipping his head back down, sinking his fangs in to my thigh.

I threw my head back with a moan as Eric drank my blood. His long fingers trailed up my thigh, dipping in to my folds that were already slick with arousal.

Oh god this was so wrong.

But it felt so good I didn’t want to stop.

But Dean?

Fuck!

As I was about to push Eric away, I felt lips against my neck, a hand trailing down my shirt to play with my hardened nipples.

I sat up a little seeing Dean now behind me.

Okay now I know I am in fact dreaming. These two can’t even be in the same room together, let alone take turns pleasuring me.

Eric removed his fangs and started to devour my core, his tongue working expertly up and down my folds.

“Oh god.” I moaned, biting my lip.

Dean trailed his fingers down further and started rubbing circles on my bundle of nerves, making my body writhe with pleasure.

“Mmm such a good girl, wouldn’t you agree Eric?” Dean whispered with a husky tone that made my legs shake.

"Mmm, the best girl.” Eric said removing his mouth from my folds momentarily before diving back in.

I felt the coil in my stomach winding tighter and tighter, begging to spring free. The sensation of Eric devouring me with his mouth while Dean worked me with his fingers was too much to bare. I was so close and then….

I sprang up, gasping for air.

The room was still dark, however sunlight started filtering through the curtains.

I guessed it was just after sunrise.

I looked to my left seeing Dean sound asleep. Eric was nowhere to be found.

“Of course not dummy, he’s dead during the day” my brain screamed at me.

I wiped the sweat from my forehead trying to calm my racing heart.

Why in the fuck would I dream of Eric pleasuring me?

Dean makes sense but Eric?

Eric?

A thousand year old vampire?

What the fuck was wrong with me!?

The worst part is he bit me, he bit me and I enjoyed it.

I deduced I was in need of some serious therapy and counseling.

I took a few deep breaths before laying back down next to Dean. I tossed and turned for what felt like hours before finally succumbing to pure exhaustion.

I woke up to a hand running through my hair. I was hesitant to open my eyes, my dream still at the forefront of my mind.

I was relieved when all I saw was Dean.

“It’s almost sunset.” Dean said placing a soft kiss to my forehead.

I groaned in response causing Dean to laugh.

“I’m not looking forward to this either.” Dean said getting out of the bed and heading towards the bathroom.

I sat up stretching my limbs. I was dreading having to face Eric after the impure dream I had about him.

I was still struggling to understand why I was dreaming about him in that way. I mean sure he was attractive, but he was a monster and I was the one who hunted him.

I didn’t realize how long I sat there in my head until Dean was coming out of the bathroom freshly showered.

I quickly collected myself so I didn't look like a mess.

Dean could NOT find out about this.

I rushed in to the bathroom turning on the cold water. I splashed my face a couple times trying to calm my shaking hands.

Fuck.

Get it together.

I stepped out getting dressed for the night. Dean was already ready to go, reloading uv bullets in both guns.

“Sam?” I asked lacing my boots.

“He’s keeping the police off our backs for now, he’ll meet up with us later.” Dean said tossing me my weapon.

I grabbed some colloidal sliver as well as a couple silver daggers.

“Alright, let’s do this.” I sighed.

Dean grabbed my hand pulling me to his chest.

“If shit goes down, you get out, and I’ll come find you.” Dean said placing a gentle hand on my cheek.

“You and I both know that isn’t happening, we’re in this together, until the end.” I said looking deeply in his eyes.

Dean leaned down capturing my lips in a passionate kiss.

I wished desperately we could just stay in this moment but that was a fairytale and our lives were anything but. It was more like a constant nightmare if you asked me.

Dean pulled away giving me a silent nod.

It didn’t take us long until we were sat in the fangtasia parking lot.

“If he tries anything, I will kill him.” Dean said pulling the safety off his gun.

“I know you will, you’ve only been chomping at the bullet to since we’ve met him.” I said mimicking his actions.

Dean shrugged knowing I wasn’t wrong. I saw the blonde lady from before opening the door. I guess that was our invitation to go in. I tucked away my gun, climbing out of the impala.

“Oh great they’re back.” The blonde lady spat sarcastically.

“It’s nice to see you again too.” I bit back.

“Pam, play nice now, these humans are here to help us.”

I gulped as soon as I heard his voice.

My mind flooded with the images of him tucked between my legs, my blood dripping off his fangs.

Dean must’ve noticed my unease. He put a hand on the small of my back giving me a reassuring pat.

I pushed past the blonde lady, Pam I now knew was her name, and I walked in to the empty bar. It sure looked a lot different with the lights on. Eric once again was sitting on his ridiculous throne. He smirked at me as soon as our eyes connected.

Dean was quick to catch up with me.

He stood so his shoulder was slightly blocking me from Eric.

“So what’s the plan?” Dean growled.

“Oh no formal introductions, straight to the point huh.” Eric taunted looking at me.

“Eric please, save the jokes, let’s get this over with.” I sighed.

“I for one had a great time last night.” Eric smirked.

I glared at him, silently telling him to shut up.

Dean didn't know about the kiss, and if he found out now, he'd kill Eric and then maybe me.

“Well except for that little part where you broke my nose.” He said.

As he said this the blonde lady flashed her fangs at me. Dean immediately shifted pulling his gun and aiming it at Pam.

“Pam stand down.” Eric commanded.

Pam was protective of him, that was abundantly clear.

I was starting to put the pieces together.

Pam was his progeny.

He created her just as Godric created him.

Dean slowly lowered his gun once there was no threat to me anymore. He gave me a incredulous look as I hadn’t told him that part of the story.

“It looks to me you healed just fine, now please let’s get on with it.” I sassed him.

“As you wish, follow me.” Eric said standing from the throne.

“Where?” Dean quickly ordered.

“What you don’t trust me?” Eric taunted him.

“I don’t trust bloodsuckers no.” Dean retorted.

“Ha, I could snap you in half in just a matter of seconds” Eric threatened.

“I’d really like to see you try, give me a reason to fry you.” Dean growled cocking his gun.

Ugh these two were incorrigible.

“Ok enough of the dick swinging contest are we doing this or not?” I asked rolling my eyes at the men.

I could see Pam for once in agreement with me.

I gestured for Eric to show us what he wanted to. He walked down a hallway leading us to a stairwell.

“Is this your dungeon or something?” I joked.

“Yes.” Eric answered seriously.

Oh you’ve got to be kidding me.

“You first.” Dean growled not trusting Eric to go behind him.

“Guests first, I insist.” Eric said opening the door.

“Seriously?” I groaned, pushing past both men, and starting to walk down the steps.

I heard footsteps following behind me, they weren’t heavy like Dean’s so I knew they were Eric’s. He was close behind me.

I felt a chill run down my spine the closer he got.

“So, tell me y/n have any good dreams lately?” Eric whispered in my ear.

I about lost my footing, as my face went pale.

He knew?

How the fuck did he know that?

I quickly pulled myself together, I wouldn’t let him get under my skin.

“Yes in fact, Dean was in all of them.” I bit back.

“I bet he was.” Eric smirked.

I could hear some low growling sounds as we got to the bottom of the stairs.

He wasn’t kidding it really was a dungeon down here.

I felt Dean once again at my side.

Eric disappeared for a moment pulling a lever.

I heard the growling get louder, a vampire descended from the ceiling suspended by silver chains.

He thrashed around trying to break free, the silver burning his skin as he did so.

“I found this one feeding on a human right outside my bar, he’s new, not yet a month old.” Eric said.

“A newborn, I’m guessing his maker is nowhere to be found.” I said eyeing up the vamp.

He looked weak, I would guess he’d been down here for a few days, starved of blood.”

“Oh on the contraire, his maker is very much around, in fact he’s responsible for the surge of newborns, that’s where we need to go.” Eric said.

“How do you know that?” I asked him.

“We’ve been spending a lot of quality time together lately.” Eric joked.

“Where’s his maker?” Dean asked.

“Only thing I can’t get out of him. What do you think she’s for?” Eric asked nodding at me.

Dean was quick to put an arm out in front of me.

Before Dean could protest Eric spoke.

“Tell me guard dog do you know her blood type?” Eric asked Dean.

“AB Negative.” Dean answered quickly.

I was a little shocked that he knew that, but I guess I had to be given blood a time or two since we started hunting.

“Yes, the rarest of all blood types, a delicious treat for a vampire, a treat that is very very hard to resist.” Eric answered.

Oh great so basically I was crack for vampires.

“I’m not giving any of my blood.” I growled.

“Oh you won’t have to.” Eric said stepping closer to me. “Just your scent alone will drive him mad.” Eric added inhaling.

“Fine.” I said rolling my eyes.

“If it even moves an inch, I’m shooting.” Dean says taking aim at the newborn vampire.

I took a few steps closer to the still thrashing vampire.

Eric was right, as soon as I was within distance, his fangs popped, his neck craned to hiss at me.

“I don’t think you want to do that.” I warned.

He hissed again in response.

“See that gun, it’s loaded with uv administering bullets, it’ll feel like the sun is invading every part of your body, it will be a most unpleasant sensation.” I explained.

Dean aimed the gun a little higher, waiting for the vampire to make a wrong move.

“Don’t make him have to use it, all you have to do is tell us where your maker resides, and all this can go away.”

“Fuck all of you.” The vampire spat.

“Why are you protecting him?” I asked circling him.

“He’s my master.” He answered.

“Well he clearly doesn’t care about you, he left you to fend for yourself.” I pushed.

“He released you?” Eric questioned coming closer to me.

“Yes.” The vampire answered.

“You are no longer his problem then.” Eric said.

“You have no loyalty to him.” I added.

“Shut up all of you please.” The vampire cried out.

Eric and I were trying to break him down, and it was working.

“He wouldn’t care if we killed you right here right now, in fact he wouldn’t even think twice about it.” Eric pushed farther.

“In fact he’ll probably just make another to take your place, it’ll be like you never existed.” I said.

“I think we’ll go ahead and do just that.” Eric said popping out his fangs.

“Alright stop, please I’ll tell you, just don’t kill me”.

Eric gave me a satisfied look before going in the newborn’s face.

“Where is he?” Eric growled.

“He’s got a whole nest next to the old cemetery, he’s stashing humans there to feed us. Please now let me go, I did what you wanted.” He begged.

“You’ve been a great help.” Eric said putting his hand through the newborns chest producing his heart.

I could see betrayal flash on the newborns features as blood seeped from his mouth.

I turned away as Eric crushed his heart in his hand, causing the newborn to explode in to pieces.

“Was that necessary?” I asked kicking a chunk of vampire guts away from me.

“Yes, he broke the law so he must suffer the true death. It was either this or let your boyfriend fry him from the inside, I gave him a quick way out.” Eric said.

I took a deep breath, I needed to get out of here, the smell of vampire guts was starting to make me sick. I ran up the stairs, hearing both men trailing behind me.

“You mortals have such weak stomach’s.” Eric said going behind the bar.

He quickly produced a glass of water for me. I took it gratefully, choosing to ignore his comment.

“I need to go call Sam.” Dean said.

“I’ll be fine, go ahead.��� I nodded.

“It’s not you I don’t trust.” Dean said glaring at Eric.

“If I wanted to kill either of you I would’ve done it by now.” Eric shrugs.

“Yeah well I’m still debating about killing you.” Dean said.

“For once we agree on something.” Eric retorted.

“For the love of god both of you stop acting like children!” I said slamming my hand down on the bar top.

I walked to the other side of the bar taking a seat in an empty booth. I was tired of the back and forth. Dean gave me a apologetic look before stepping out to call Sam.

I rolled my eyes as Eric joined me in the booth.

“What do you want now?” I groaned.

“Quite a temper he’s got on him.” Eric said.

“I can see you got your own guard dog.” I said nodding my head towards Pam who looked like she wanted to rip my head off for even daring to breathe the same air as her maker.

“Yes Pam, she’s my..” He started.

“Your progeny.” I cut him off.

“How did you know that?”

“I’m not completely dim Eric, I put the pieces together. I saw how you looked when talking about your maker, it’s the same way Pam looks at you.” I shrugged.

“Jealous?” Eric smirked.

“Did you save her too?” I asked ignoring his comment.

“Yes in fact I did. I didn’t set out to create Pam, but if I didn’t turn her she was going to die, and Pam had a hard life, I thought she deserved a little good.” Eric spoke tenderly.

“I guess you didn’t leave her at least.” I said.

“I never would, I made her this way, it’s my responsibility to look out for her, teach her, just as Godric did me.” Eric said.

“Hmm so you can insightful, good to know.” I said offering him a nod.

“You never answered my question earlier, any good dreams lately?” Eric smirked.

I rolled my eyes at his teasing.

“I guess you’ll never know.” I shrugged.

“I have a feeling your boyfriend doesn’t know either.” Eric pushed.

“Okay I’m debating on killing you now.” I said annoyed.

“It’s okay if you did dream of me, I mean it is a side effect of taking my blood after all.” Eric said nonchalantly leaning back in the seat.

I spit out the water I was drinking as the words left his lips.

“Wait what?”

I don’t remember taking his blood.

I remembered then the kiss, when I pulled away Eric had blood on his lip.

“You see when we kissed, I accidentally cut my lip on my fang and you drank some of my blood. It was what allowed you to break my nose, it gave you a boost of strength. Unfortunately it does come with a few side effects.” Eric explained.

Accidentally?

I somehow didn’t believe that.

“You mean when you forced me to kiss you.” I growled.

“Ah yes forgot about that little detail.”

“Yeah what else did you forget to tell me?” I asked balling my fists.

“You see now that you have my blood inside you, I’ll be able to locate you quickly, and I can feel the things you feel. In return your innately more attracted to me, dreaming of me. You and I are bonded now.” Eric explained.

I suddenly felt very violated.

“I didn’t want that, I didn’t want any of this.” I bit.

Eric chuckled and leaned in close.

“Oh come on you’re not fooling anyone.” He whispered.

I could feel my heartbeat uptick just from his proximity to me. I couldn’t control it, it was as if it completely shut my brain out and was thinking on its own.

“I don’t want anything to do with you, in fact I can’t wait for this whole thing to be over so I never have to see you again.” I growled.

“I think you’re forgetting I feel what you feel, I know that’s a lie.” Eric said sliding a little closer.

“It’s not.” I defended.

“I know you want me.” Eric said placing one of his large hands on my thigh.

I sucked in a sharp breath trying to calm myself.

“You want me just as much as I want you.” Eric added trailing his hand upwards.

I quickly jumped up causing his hand to fall.

“Sorry you’re dead wrong I love Dean.” I growled walking away from him.

I was relieved when Dean came back. I quickly walked over to him wrapping my arms around him. He was surprised for a minute but hugged me back.

I can’t believe I admitted my love for Dean, to Eric of all people.

I seriously needed some therapy now.

“Sam’s going to meet us there.” Dean said.

I nodded my head.

“Let us get a few things and we’ll meet you there.” I nodded to Eric. 

“No chance, I’m coming with you. I don’t trust you mortals either.” Eric said grabbing his jacket.

I guess that was fair.

“Eric, I’m coming with you.” Pam spoke.

“No Pam, I need you to stay here and handle opening. I’ll be fine don’t worry about me.” Eric said walking over to her and placing a kiss on her forehead.

Pam gave me a look, one that said if he gets hurt you’re dead.

I gave her a silent nod that it would be fine. I wouldn’t let Dean kill him.

I might still kill him, but Dean won’t.

Eric followed us back to the impala.

I opened the trunk where we stored all our weapons, or most of them at least. I grabbed a silencer putting it on the end of my pistol, the last thing we needed was to attract more attention.

I grabbed some silver chains as well as some silver bullets in case we ran out of the uv ones. I grabbed a wooden stake, before turning back around.

“Really?” Eric asked rolling his eyes.

“I would stay out of the crossfire if I was you.” I threatened.

Dean smirked as he shut the trunk.

Eric zipped to the old cemetery while Dean and I drove. I could see headlights at the entrance belonging to Sam.

It was eerily quiet.

Eric led the way as Sam, Dean and I aimed our guns, taking in our surroundings.

We walked a few steps seeing and hearing nothing.

“I don’t think anyone’s here.” Sam said.

Of course as he said that, a newborn came out of the dark and lunged towards my neck.

Eric was faster and caught the newborn by the neck while Dean shot a bullet through it’s chest. It immediately sank to the ground in agonizing pain as the uv bullet pulsed in its chest.

As if on queue we were surrounded by insatiable newborns, all looking for one thing, our blood.

I took a deep breath.

“Dog, keep her close, her smell will drive them mad.” Eric said pushing me closer to Dean.

Dean gave Eric an almost silent thank you.

It was as if they were suddenly given a silent command to attack, the newborns rushed towards us fangs bared. I fired multiple rounds finding a different target each time.

I could feel my ears ringing from the gunshots as well as the wailing of newborns who were being fried by the uv bullets.

I stumbled crashing in to Eric.

He caught me quickly standing me up on my feet.

I ran out of bullets shortly after, having to resort to the stake and silver daggers. I was wrestling with a particularly strong vampire, my silver dagger doing little to deter it’s advances. I lost my footing falling to the ground with the vampire. I held an arm to it’s throat keeping it’s fangs away from my face.

It was getting harder and harder to hold it back. I suddenly felt blood splatter on my face as a wooden stake stuck out of the vampires chest.

“Oh fuck.” I heard the vampire groan before exploding.

Dean quickly picked me up brushing me off.

“Dean watch out.” I called.

A vampire was approaching him quickly.

But this one wasn’t a newborn.

It moved far better, it was more experienced.

It was the maker we had been looking for.

And it was coming straight for Dean.

I didn’t know what I was doing until I was already moving.

I quickly shoved Dean out of harm’s way.

 I felt a hand go around my neck and teeth sink in to my flesh.. and then I felt nothing.

Dean

“Dean watch out.” I heard her voice call.

Before I had time to react I was being shoved to the side. I looked up to see a vampire grab her by the neck and sink his teeth in to her throat.

“No!” I screamed, grabbing my gun and firing six or seven silver bullets in to it’s chest.

Eric noticed the commotion and ran up behind the vampire pulling it’s heart out ultimately ending it.

I quickly ran over as y/n slumped to the ground, her hand going up to try and cauterize her wound. I quickly replaced her hand with my own, putting as much pressure as I could to stop the bleeding. I felt the tears already welling up in my eyes as the blood gushed from her neck despite the pressure I applied.

“Dean.” I heard her gasp, her eyes filling with tears.

I was soon joined by Sam.

“Dean, her jugular is severed, what do we do.” Sam panicked.

I didn’t know what to do.

She was losing too much blood too fast.

I let out a sob running my other hand down her cheek.

“It’s okay baby don’t worry, you’re going to be okay.” I sobbed kissing her forehead.

“Dean it’s okay I’m not afraid.”

How could she say it’s okay.

Nothing is okay!

“It’s not okay, please just hang on.” I cried.

“Dean, I’m in the arms of my first love, I’m with the only man I’ve ever loved, I’m okay.” I could hear her choke barely getting it out.

She loved me?

It was the words I had been longing to hear for years, but not now.

“I love you too, I love you so much which is why you can’t leave me.” I begged.

I looked over seeing Sam now crying too.

I looked back to her face, noticing it go paler and paler.

My hand was doing little to stop the massive blood loss.

Her eyes slowly fluttered shut as she lost consciousness.

She was dying.

My love, my world, dying in my arms.

I couldn’t let that happen.

I wouldn’t.

I gently laid her down, grabbing my gun.

I pointed it at Eric who was standing there just watching with furrowed brows.

He acted like he was hurt by the situation, like he cared about her.

“Change her.” I growled.

“Dean, you can’t.” Sam said as he started standing up.

“Sit the fuck down Sam.” I screamed at him.

I turned back around to Eric who still hasn’t moved.

“I said fucking change her, now.” I hissed.

He made no movements.

I fired a single silver bullet right in to his shoulder making him hiss in pain.

“I’m not asking again fucking do it.” I screamed.

“I don’t think you know what you’re asking for.” Eric said.

“I don’t care, I’m not losing her, do it.” I said.

I wasn’t thinking straight, all I could think about was that I didn’t want to live without her.

“I don’t even know if it’ll work.” Eric growled getting closer.

“Try, you fucking owe us that much.” I growled.

Eric gave me one last look before sinking his fangs in her neck wound, completely draining her of blood.

I sank to my knees as he bit his wrist forcing it in her mouth.

“I need you to start digging a hole big enough for the both of us.” He said once her heartbeat stopped.

“Why?” Sam asked.

“It’s either that or she dies from sunlight exposure.” He growled dripping more blood in to her mouth.

“Sam go.” I growled.

“Dean you can’t be serious with this?” Sam protested.

“Goddamnit Sam go.” I yelled.

He gave me one last look before running off to dig a hole. Eric finally yanked his wrist away going to help Sam dig. I crawled over to her now lifeless body.

“I’m so sorry baby, this is all my fault.” I sobbed on her chest, not caring that I was getting covered in her blood.

I didn’t protect her.

I should’ve protected her.

It should’ve been me.

“Alright move.” Eric growled pushing me off of her.

I grabbed my gun pointing it at him. I wanted nothing more than to kill him right then and there, but if this worked, she would need him.

He lifted her carefully in his arms jumping down in the hole that was dug. He gently laid her down, before laying down himself and cuddling her body to his chest.

I couldn’t stand the sight,

“Now cover us up. No sunlight can seep through or we’ll both die.” He growled.

“How will I know if it worked?” I said utterly defeated.

“If she wakes up tomorrow night, you’ll know.” Eric said.

I grabbed a shovel dumping dirt over them.

I couldn’t stop the tears from falling as I buried her.

Once I was sure she was far enough underground I collapsed as my body racked with sobs.

“Dean what did you do?” Sam questions sitting down beside me.

“I don’t know Sam, I couldn’t let her go.” I cried.

“It would’ve been better than this, Dean she wouldn’t want this.” Sam said.

I felt rage cloud over my eyes. I turned around shoving Sam.

“It wouldn’t have been better how can you say that?” I seethed.

“Dean I loved her too.” He started.

“No you didn’t, not like I did.” I whispered.

“So what you’re just going to wait here until tomorrow night?” He scoffed.

“If I have too.” I snapped.

I didn’t care what it took.

I was going to see her again.

“I’m sorry Dean but I can’t be part of this, I won’t.” Sam said.

I didn’t answer him.

If he didn’t want to be apart of this then he can go.

“Dean?” Sam pushed again as if he was going to change my mind.

When I didn’t answer him for the second time he finally left.

I brought my knees to my chest laying down beside the pile of dirt that contained her. I felt as if I died right along with her.

Reader

Am I dead?

Is this what death is like?

A permanent darkness?

I felt something cold and heavy on my body.

Where was I?

I can’t remember anything.

I felt something stir beside me alerting all of my senses.

I tried to move my hand and realized I was surrounded by dirt.

Was I buried alive?

What was going on?

I was panicking now.

I quickly started digging trying to free myself.

I was suddenly being ripped from the dirt by a strong hand.

Moonlight flooded my eyes as I took a sharp breath in.

It however provided no relief to my burning throat.

“It’s okay, everything is okay.” I quickly flipped around seeing a tall blonde.

I felt my memories come back like a flash flood.

Eric. Dean. Vampires. Death.

I died.

But I was still here.

That’s impossible.

Unless….

“I’m a..” I started too stunned to speak.

“A vampire.” Eric finished.

I looked at him, suddenly feeling a pull towards him, an unexplainable urge to protect and care for him.

I realized then that he was my maker.

He did this to me.

“I don’t understand.” I said grabbing my throat that was still burning.

“I saved you, you were dying and I saved you.” Eric said taking a step closer.

I found that my vampire self didn’t want him to step away, I wanted him to take me in his arms and tell me everything was going to be okay.

“I’m so..”

“Thirsty, I know, I’m going to take care of you.” Eric said.

Thirsty.

For blood.

I craved blood.

It made me sick, but I needed it.

Eric was about to take me away when a voice caught my attention.

“y/n?”

Dean

I laid by the freshly dug grave until I could see the sun starting to set.

If this worked she’d be up soon.

Please god let it work.

I sat up when I heard something stirring.

Eric arose out of the grave, eyes clouding with fury when he saw me standing there.

“You need to leave now.” He growled.

No fucking way.

“I’m not leaving.” I pushed back.

“Look she will be insatiable, and you’re covered in blood, so unless you want her to have your death on her conscience for eternity you’ll leave.” Eric said this time putting his hands on me and shoving me away from the grave.

“It worked?” I asked ignoring his request.

I couldn’t believe it worked.

“I need to see her.” I said, standing my ground.

“I need to feed her, so unless you want to become her meal you’ll leave. This is the last chance I’m offering you!” Eric growled.

I hesitantly backed up.

I didn’t want to torment her new senses.

I sighed before jogging off in to the tree line so I was out of sight.

I watched as Eric stuck his hand in the dirt pulling her out.

She still looked like herself, but everything was more defined now.

I felt my heart break as her eyes looked around terrified.

Oh god..

What did I do?

“It’s okay, everything is okay.” Eric assured her. 

Her face contorted with realization.

“I’m a..”

“A vampire.” Eric confirmed for her.

I could see her heartbreaking for just her face.

She didn’t want this.

I did this.

Oh god.

What did I do?

I felt the tears start to cloud my vision.

I was completely selfish.

Sam was right, she didn’t want this. But I wouldn’t listen.

“I’m going to take care of you.” I heard Eric say as he went to leave with her.

I couldn’t let him.

I stepped out of the tree line.

“y/n?”

She quickly whipped around in my direction. I saw her eyebrows contort in pain as she looked at me. Eric grabbed her hand bringing her to his side.

“It’s okay y/n, come here, I’ll help you.” I said taking a step closer.

She didn’t budge. Instead just stared at me with longing eyes.

I heard Eric chuckle making me growl.

“Remember that part where I said you had no idea what you were asking for?” Eric taunted.

“y/n come here.” I said again choosing to ignore him.

“Sorry, she only listens to me, she calls me daddy now.” Eric jabbed.

No.

This was all wrong.

This isn’t what I wanted.

I felt my hands shaking.

What did I do?

Part Two: Coming Soon!

[corrodedcoffinfest]

Welcome to Corroded Coffin Fest!

This is a fanworks challenge/event that is all about Corroded Coffin. It will take place from July 1st thru July 31st.

Thanks so much for showing interest in this event during this post! If you have friends that you think would like to participate, please considering reblogging this announcement!

The calendar of prompts is located here:

Since there are so many events going on (and we love to see it!) we've decided to set a word count range for this event, so the love can be spread around to more events.

GUIDELINES:

Ideas for works include: fic, art, gifsets, fanvids, moodboards, edits, playlists, or anything else you can think of to celebrate Corroded Coffin!

For fics, there is a word count minimum/maximum of between 300-1000 words per drabble. We'll use wordcounter.net to check the word counts before reblogging, so make sure you stick to that range!

Do one prompt, do them all. Hell, do them all twice! It's totally up to you. You can pick and choose what you're interested in. And we're not going to police how you interpret the prompt. Just use them as a jumping off point to be inspired by the boys of Corroded Coffin, and then share that inspiration with us! (Not everything has to be band related, we encourage you to explore other parts of their lives, too!)

Submissions can absolutely be connected to other prompts from the event, or even past works, but should still be able to stand alone each day.

Every morning a new prompt card will go up, reminding everyone of what that day's prompt will be.

All submissions should include any pairings featured, content rating and any content warnings (CW) or tags that you think are appropriate. Please put the prompt you are fulfilling as well, just to keep things straightforward. A sample could look something like this:

Prompt Day 9: The Hideout, Word Count: 666, Rating: M, Pairing: None, CW: Underage Drinking, Recreational Drug Use, Tags: Corroded Coffin, First Gig, Partying, Eddie, Gareth, Jeff, Freak, The Hideout

Also, please consider putting any explicit material under a read more cut, because anything rated E that's not hidden under a cut will not be reblogged.

For the artists! Your art submission must be posted on the same day as the current prompt in order to be reblogged by this blog. Your piece of art (or other creation) must be Corroded Coffin focused, using any combination of the guys, together or solo. Of course, other characters can be included, too! But you need to have at least one of the CC band members in it for it to count for this event. Thank you!

All ships are welcome, as long as they include at least one member of Corroded Coffin: Eddie, Jeff, Gareth & Freak. (Who I look forward to learning the name of from you all, time and time again!)

Please tag us here @corrodedcoffinfest when you post your work for the day so we can reblog it!

Be respectful of your fellow participants and readers. We're all here to have fun and share the love of all parts of Corroded Coffin.

Definitely feel free to ask me anything if the rules weren't clear in places, or if I straight up forgot something (or if you just have anything else you'd like to ask). You can send an ask/message to this blog or reach out to @thisapplepielife.

Please submit your post by 11:59 PM EDT on the day of the prompt in order to not be missed for reblogging.

 If posting on AO3, please feel free to use the collection associated with this event: Corroded Coffin Fest AO3 Collection after your submission has been reblogged by this account.

Most importantly, have fun! We can't wait to see what Corroded Coffin fanworks come out of this new event!

More info below, including full prompt list with jumping off suggestions, the warm-up rounds for April, May & June, and a spreadsheet you're free to use:

PROMPTS:

JULY 1ST - FIRSTS

First gig, first check, first award, first...anything.

JULY 2ND - IN THE BEGINNING

How did Corroded Coffin come to be?

JULY 3RD - BEST FRIENDS

Who are the best friends in the band in your head? Let's find out.

JULY 4TH - EDDIE

We all know Eddie. Let's hear some more about him today.

JULY 5TH - ON THE ROAD AGAIN

Get them out on the road, in any way you see fit.

JULY 6TH - HEARD IT IN A LOVE SONG

Let's have some romance. Any pairing(s) that tickle your fancy.

JULY 7TH - CELEBRATE GOOD TIMES, C'MON

Let them celebrate! Maybe that's a birthday/holiday/celebration show. Maybe it's a wedding, etc.

JULY 8TH - BAND POLITICS

Fight! Fight! Fight! Not everything goes smoothly all the time.

JULY 9TH - THE HIDEOUT

Catch them there, every Tuesday, playing for five drunks.

JULY 10TH - PRIDE

Let's see them celebrate Pride! Or let's see them be proud, etc.

JULY 11TH - JEFF

Let's spend some time with the guitarist of Corroded Coffin.

JULY 12TH - OW!

Injuries happen. Tell me more.

JULY 13TH - SEX, DRUGS & ROCK N ROLL

Tell us about the seedier parts of being in a band! 18+ for adult content, please!

JULY 14TH - AND THE WINNER IS...

It's time for awards season. Do they win? Lose? Let us know.

JULY 15TH - LET'S TALK ABOUT THAT

Press Tour/Interviews. Sometimes they need to promote themselves.

JULY 16TH - STRUGGLING

They're working their asses off, grinding it out, but they haven't hit the big time yet. Or they're struggling in other ways...

JULY 17TH - "THIS ONE'S FOR YOU"

Dedicate a song to someone special.

JULY 18TH - FREAK (GRANT, FRANK, GOODIE, ETC.)

Whatever name you given him, let's all focus on the bassist of Corroded Coffin.

JULY 19TH - IN THE GARAGE

Get them in the garage. Band practice, fixing the van, etc.

JULY 20TH - UNDER THE COVERS

Let them cover some real songs. Or, you know, get under the covers in another way...

JULY 21ST - HATE THIS TOWN

Hawkins. How was it dragging them down? Or, maybe they hate LA...

JULY 22ND - ALTERNATE UNIVERSE (AU)

Use your imaginations and put them into a whole new world!

JULY 23RD - UP AND COMING

They're finally gaining a little traction. Or maybe they're up...and coming. *wink wink, nudge nudge*

JULY 24TH - BEHIND THE SCENES

What's it take to get this show on the road? Or, what are they really like, off-stage? Let's get a peek behind the curtain.

JULY 25TH - GARETH

Bang them sticks! Let's catch up with the drummer of Corroded Coffin.

JULY 26TH - TOUR DATE

Let's focus on a specific show.

JULY 27TH - YOU'LL BE IN MY HEART

Navigating love while on the road.

JULY 28TH - BACK TO INDIANA

Let's go back to Hawkins and/or Indiana. Send these boys home.

JULY 29TH - BEHIND THE MUSIC

You know there's drama. A story. Probably enough for VH1 to come knocking.

JULY 30TH - FAME & FORTUNE

They've made it big! Now what?

JULY 31ST - YOUR SONG

A Corroded Coffin song? A work inspired by a song? A song that makes you think of Corroded Coffin?

WARM-UP ROUNDS:

Let's get a little practice before the full event in July!

Here's a prompt each month leading up to the event to work out the kinks and get in the rhythm of it all!

APRIL 15TH - TAXED

It's tax day. Do they need to pay their taxes? Is this a write-off? Or, are they just taxed from being on the road? Tax them.

MAY 15TH - GET A JOB

Put 'em to work. First jobs, side hustles, etc. Surely they've had some other jobs besides being in the band. Tell us about them.

JUNE 15TH - BAND ON THE RUN

Are they late for a gig? Running from monsters in the Upside Down? On a tour from hell?

Same guidelines as the full event will apply.

SPREADSHEET:

If you'd like a spreadsheet to help you keep track of the prompts and your progress, here's the one I personally use for other events, and will be using myself for this event. If you'd like to use it yourself, just go to File>Make a Copy and you'll get a version you can edit in your own Google Sheets.

Thanks for showing interest in having a Corroded Coffin event this year! ❤️🦇🖤 - @thisapplepielife (and thanks for the help and adding to the prompt list, @wormdebut!)

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Home Is Where The Heart Is.

Synopsis - They say home is where the heart is. Your heart belongs to four guys you call your best friends. Also known as - four important times the boys told you they loved you.

Pairing - Frankie Morales, Will Miller, Santiago Garcia, Benny Miller x Female Reader.

Warnings - smut. cursing. alcohol consumption.

Age Rating - 18+

Word Count - 5k

Author's Note - is it weird that I have sort of compared each boy to a room in the house? maybe! but we're rolling with it, because it worked in my head. this is the first of a few fics like this, much like Tethered, Time and Tranquility - I have a few different TF boy comparison ideas. love these babies so much. <3

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback!!) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

Masterlist. Inbox.

You follow the laughter floating down the hallway into your backyard. Standing against the doorframe, you watch as the boys double over in amusement while Benny reenacts the time Frankie fell in your pool. Their faces are illuminated by the golden glow of the fairy lights adorning your deck, moonlight shining down.

"And none of you helped me! Hermosa had to come and rescue me! At least I know who loves me the most," Frankie chuckles, tilting back in his chair to catch your eyes.

You make your way over and kiss him on the cheek, standing behind him and wrapping your arms around his neck.

"I don't think there was ever any debating that. You've always been my favourite," you coo, ruffling his hair gently.

"Give us a break," Benny teases. "We all know I'm your favourite, sweetheart."

Santiago scoffs and jabs Ben in the ribs, yelping when the younger man elbows him in retaliation.

"Cariño, put them out of their misery. Tell them I'm your favourite."

You catch eyes with Will, who's grinning at you across the table. He doesn't even have to say anything. He raises his eyebrows and winks at you, tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek. You can't help but smile back.

"I mean, Will is currently very high on the list, because he built this table for me today."

Everyone groans as you and Will laugh, knocking on the table to check his handiwork.

"You did a good job," Frankie praises, kicking at a leg to see if it holds.

"I built your couch!"

"You can't build a couch, Ben."

"He did! It needed assembling!"

Benny blows you a kiss, thanking you for the assist.

"I did most of the painting," Santiago chimes in.

"Until your weak ass knees gave in," Frankie laughs.

Santi shoots daggers at him, both of them chuckling.

"Me and Hermosa tiled her bathroom. That took fucking forever."

"Frankie, I told you that I'd call a guy for that, and you told me you were the guy."

"You can't tell me those tiles aren't gorgeous."

You shrug, squeezing him tight.

"You're right. They are. I admire them everytime I shower."

"Ooo, tell us more," Benny teases, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

"Pervert," you and Will say in unison, both shaking your heads.

You settle into the chair next to Frankie, popping the cap off your beer.

"I honestly don't think I'd have any furniture without you guys. This house wouldn't be a home if it wasn't for you."

All of their attention is on you, focusing as if you're the only girl in the world. You feel like it sometimes, when you're all together.

"I can't believe you've been moved in for an entire year," Santi muses. "Feels like only yesterday we were helping you unpack all those boxes."

"Time flies when you're having fun," you beam at him.

As the evening settles and the sun begins its descent, you start to think about just how many parts of the boys live in your house. The furniture, the paint, the lights. At least one of them helped you with basically every single element. You think of all the memories filled with happiness and laughter that have happened here over the last year, and your eyes well with tears. You meant what you said, earlier. Your house wouldn't be a home without them.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The Living Room. Benny.

You're tangled with Ben on your newly assembled couch, a cheesy romcom acting as background noise. We have to test it out, he'd said. Just in case.

So here you are, nestled into his side, strong arm slung over your shoulder to pull you closer. You sip your drink, paying virtually no mind to the movie. You're making a mental list of all of the things you still need to do for the house - tile the bathroom, buy a lawnmower, paint literally every room. But the couch is a start.

"I can hear the cogs turning in that brain of yours," he laughs, pinching your side. "We're supposed to be relaxing. You know, really getting a feel for the couch."

"Right, right. Sorry," you chuckle, nudging him with your shoulder in retaliation. "Just thinking about all of the shit I've gotta do."

"Hey, we've got plenty of time. And you've got four guys ready to do whatever needs to be done. There's no rush."

Exhaling loudly, you realise he's right. There is no rush. Yes, you may have a never ending list of things you need to get done, but there's no time limit. You can take each job as it comes.

You turn your attention back to the movie, discovering that it's actually half decent. By the time you're an hour into it, you and Benny are laughing along. It's a sweet coming of age story, two teenagers falling in love for the first time.

You watch as the two characters share a kiss, all clumsy hands and unsure touches. You smile, and start to think.

"This bringing back memories, Ben?" you tease.

"Oh yeah. First time I ever made out with a girl, I couldn't get her bra undone. I was trying to give her a hickey at the same time, and I snapped the clasp against her so hard I made her bleed. Safe to say, we didn't make out again."

Both of you are crying with laughter, vibrating the couch with it.

"I can see the image so clearly. Teenage Ben with his frosted tips and his puka shell necklace. Bet you broke some hearts, huh?"

"Shut up," he chuckles. "I got tonnes of girls back then."

"I'm sure you did," you joke, pinching his cheeks.

He pinches your thigh and pulls you closer, settling back into the cushions.

"You know, I've never had one," you say after a while.

"Had what?"

"A hickey."

Ben pulls away and turns to face you, looking at you incredulously.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. Never got one as a teenager. Now I'm a grown ass adult, I always warn my partners not to leave marks. Guess I just missed out on the whole hickey thing."

Ben smiles at you, mischief rife in his eyes.

"You want one?"

You quirk your brow and turn your body towards him, putting some distance between you to look at him properly.

"What game are you playing, Benny Miller?"

He laughs, and the sound makes you smile so wide it's blinding.

"No games, baby."

"No?"

"I believe getting a hickey as a teenager and having to figure out how to cover it up in embarrassment is a rite of passage. And I'm weirdly sad you missed out on it. So, I'm offering to give you that experience."

"Out of the goodness of your heart?"

"Exactly. Because I am a kind, selfless, giving guy."

You pause for a moment, watching his face carefully.

"Okay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you laugh. "Show me what you've got, makeout king."

He chuckles at the nickname, but grabs your thighs to pull you closer. Benny plants a knee between your legs and leans over you, using a strong hand to hold onto your jaw. You tilt your head to the side, and brace yourself for his lips.

Instead, he takes his time. He noses up your neck, and then traces the path with the tip of his tongue. He blows onto your heated skin, making you shiver. Humming at your reaction, he leans in again, and connects his lips to the spot underneath your ear, kissing it softly.

"Benny," you breathe. "Don't tease."

"Whatever you want, baby."

Benny picks a spot on the side of your neck and sucks. When he's satisfied, he grazes his teeth over the mark, and uses his tongue to soothe the sting. Your eyes roll back, and you cant your hips into his knee between your legs.

You both lose yourself in the moment, chests heaving and breath panting. You separate yourselves to look at one another for a moment, neither of you breaking the gaze.

Suddenly, you burst into a fit of laughter, unable to stop it escaping. Within seconds, Benny joins you. Before you know it, you're both crying tears of joy, sides hurting and abs aching.

"Oh shit," you choke out between giggles. "How the fuck am I gonna cover this up?"

"That's half the fun, baby!"

"I hate you," you chuckle, smacking his side. "You're the worst."

"I love you too," he grins. "You're the best."

And when the rest of the guys ask what happened the next day, you and Benny discover that you make good improv partners. No one questions your elaborate story involving the couch and a runaway screwdriver. Benny winks at you cheekily, and you can't help but smile.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The Bathroom. Frankie.

Repeated knocking at your front door breaks you out of your reality TV induced haze. You check your phone for the time. 8:34pm.

You swing it open to be met with the sight of Francisco Morales. He has Ava perched on his hip, fluffy pink backpack held in his other hand.

"Hey, you guys. You okay?"

"Hermosa, I'm so sorry for just dropping in with no warning. I have a favour to ask."

"Anything."

"Can I bathe Ava here? We're having some sort of plumbing emergency in our bathroom, and we can't get a guy out until tomorrow. I want her to have clean hair for when I take her back to her Mom's."

You wink at Ava, who sticks her tongue out at you cheekily. You mimic her and smile, glancing back to her Dad, who looks like the weight of the world is resting on his shoulders.

"Of course you can," you assure, reaching over to grab Ava from Frankie's arms. "Come on, baby girl. Let's get you clean!"

Frankie exhales a sigh of relief, and follows the two of you upstairs, locking the door behind him.

"Frank, did you bring shampoo and stuff, or shall we just use mine?"

He unzips the backpack and pulls out a couple of bottles.

"I have shampoo, and conditioner, but no body wash or anything."

You root around in your cabinet, finding a bottle with a label that contains words like sensitive and hypoallergenic.

"Vanilla and chamomile. Is that satisfactory for you, my princess?" you tease, grinning when Ava beams at you at the nickname.

You turn the water on and start to run the bath, trying to ignore the way you can feel Frankie's eyes on you as you bend over the tub.

"Bubbles, or no bubbles?" you ask, already knowing the answer. "Right. Stupid question."

"These tiles are hideous," Frankie says from behind you.

"Thank you, Frank. Appreciate it," you tease. "I'm gonna call a guy about getting it all retiled."

"What?"

"What?"

"Don't call a guy!"

"Why not?"

"I'll do it."

You look at him in confusion, before realising he's very serious.

"Do you... know how?"

"Hermosa, it's not rocket science. We can figure it out together."

You deliberate for a moment, looking at him carefully.

"Okay. As long as you don't mind?"

"Of course I don't."

You smile at him before leaving and disappearing downstairs for a minute, trusting Frankie to watch the water.

"Where did you go?" he asks on your return.

"I just put a towel in the dryer, so it's warm when she gets out of the tub."

Frankie steps over to you and cradles your face in his hands, leaning forward to press a kiss to your forehead. He's always been good at that - saying so much without saying a word.

"Princesa, you need help?" you ask, laughing as she struggles, head stuck in her shirt.

Soon enough, Ava's sat happily in all the bubbles, splashing around in the warm water. You and Frankie sit on the floor next to the tub, legs tangled and bodies pressed together. You lean in and rest your head on his shoulder as he throws an arm around you.

"Thank you for this. Seriously. I don't know what we'd do without you."

"It's no problem, Frankie. I love seeing her. Wish I saw her more."

"Me too," he says quietly.

You look up at him, and grab his chin so he meets your eyes.

"You're a damn good Dad, Francisco Morales."

He goes to protest, but you cut him off.

"You are. You need to stop being so hard on yourself. You're doing a good job. I mean, look at her. She's happy, she's healthy, she loves you so much. What more could you ask for?"

Frankie stares at you for a moment.

"You're right."

"Can I get that in writing?"

"Shut up," he laughs, dipping his hand into the bath water to splash you. You splash him back, and before you know it, the three of you are completely soaked. Completely happy.

You eventually get around to cleaning Ava's hair, shampooing and conditioning as carefully as you can. She loves the fact she gets to use your body wash, and slathers herself in it, making you both smile.

You wrap her in the dryer warm towel and sit her in your lap on the floor, rocking gently as she snuggles into your chest. Frankie pulls you both against him, wrapping his arms around you tightly. The three of you sit for a while, peaceful and content.

"I know I don't tell you enough," Frankie murmurs. "But I love you."

"You tell me everyday, Frankie."

"I do?"

"You don't always have to say it out loud, but I know. The way you smile at me across a room, the way you always have one eye on me when we're in public, the way you trust me with Ava. You tell me you love me in a million different ways, every single day."

"I love you," he says again, surer this time.

"I love you. Both of you. So much."

When Ava falls asleep in both of your arms, you convince them to stay the night. The next day, she can't stop telling everyone about the best sleepover ever, with her Dad and her best friend.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The Kitchen. Santiago.

You're completely in your own world. An upbeat, catchy melody hums from the radio and radiates around the room as you slide across the tiles in your socks. You grab your mixing bowl from the cabinet, picking up the bottle of vanilla extract too.

Your hips are swaying, head nodding, feet tapping along to the beat. The sunlight is beaming through the kitchen window, keeping the room bright and warm. There's flour covering every possible surface, sugar sprinkled over the counters. An array of bowls, cups and spoons litter the worktops - a visual representation of your efforts. You've barely even began baking, only just having measured your ingredients. You've set yourself up for an entire day of preparation, ready for the exciting occasion.

You're humming away to yourself, completely oblivious, when two hands plant themselves on your hips from behind. You shriek and throw your elbow backwards, connecting with the person's ribs. You spin around to face your attacker, only to be met with the sight of Santiago Garcia hunched over.

"Fuck!" he groans, clutching at his side.

"Shit! Santi, fuck. I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

"Welcome home to me, I guess," he laughs breathlessly.

"Are you okay? Fuck, I'm so sorry, Santi. I thought you were an intruder or something. You're not supposed to be back until tomorrow!"

He smirks slowly, before winking at you.

"Surprise."

You finally calm your rapid heartbeat down enough to register what's happening. You grin at him, before running and jumping into his arms, holding onto him as tight as possible.

"I missed you so much," he breathes into your hair. "Four months is too long."

"I've been counting down the days," you whisper into his neck. "We all have."

He finally puts you down to take a good look at you.

"You look good, cariño. This dress is real pretty."

"Stop that."

"Stop what?"

He knows what.

"Looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"You're just full of questions today, aren't you?"

He laughs, twinkle in his eye. The sun has kissed his skin while he's been away. He looks tanned, glowy, alive.

"Last time you looked at me like that, we ended up naked in your hot tub."

"Good times, huh?"

"I hate you," you chuckle, smacking him on the arm.

Santi looks around, and takes in the scene before him. Ingredients scattered, bowls full, oven preheated.

"What are you making, cariño?"

You survey the kitchen quickly before answering.

"Nothing."

He smiles, Cheshire cat style.

"Nothing? You've measured everything out. The oven is on."

You're trying to figure out a way to cover this up, to make up a lie as fast as possible, but it's no use. He can see right through you. You might as well be transparent when it comes to the boys.

"I'm making you a cake," you mutter quickly under your breath.

"What was that? Hmm?"

You roll your eyes and scoff, but give him what he wants.

"I'm making you a cake."

He looks genuinely surprised, gentle smile gracing his face.

"You are?"

"Yeah. I wanted to do something special for you coming home. Tomorrow."

"Sorry, cariño. I didn't know I was coming back early. Thought I'd make the most of it and surprise you."

"Well, now your surprise cake and your surprise party aren't a surprise anymore."

"There's a party too?"

"Shit."

The two of you laugh as he slings an arm around your shoulder.

"Thank you, cariño. You didn't have to do all this for me."

"I wanted to. I'm so excited that you're back, Santi. There's so much I've missed doing with you."

"I made a list."

"Of?"

"Of things I wanted to do with you when I got back. It's what kept me going - thinking of going to that lunch spot with the sandwiches we like, our annual road trip to Cali. It kept me sane."

You turn to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck. You lean up and press your forehead to his, both of you exhaling. You stay tangled together for a long moment, enjoying each others long awaited company.

"You know what was on the top of my list, though?"

"What?"

"Painting your goddamn kitchen."

You laugh, pulling back to look at him incredulously.

"Are you serious?"

"Deadly. This colour is fucking awful."

"It's not that bad."

"It's terrible."

"Fine, fine! Whatever you want, Santi. You can paint my kitchen if that's what your heart desires."

"It is," he grins. "I can think of nothing I want more. We'll do it this weekend."

"Okay," you smile. "Now, about this cake..."

"Can I help you?"

"I can think of nothing I want more."

"I love you," he tells you, stroking a thumb across your cheekbone.

"I love you too. So much, Santi."

The two of you spend the afternoon baking Santiago's cake, singing and dancing around the kitchen. You turn a blind eye to him licking the spoon and sticking his fingers in the icing. You're just glad to have him back, annoying you again.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The Bedroom. Will.

"Can you pass me that screwdriver please, honey?"

You would, but you can't take your eyes off the man currently kneeling on your bedroom floor. His chest is glistening with sweat, warm in the morning sun. The light illuminates the room in balmy hues of gold, shadows dancing across your faces.

You and Will agreed to dedicate today to building all of your flat pack furniture. You've been sleeping on the floor for weeks, and it's finally taken a toll on your back. So, Will showed up bright and early, ready to tackle your bed, dresser, nightstands, desk, and whatever else presented itself. You were barely awake, still in your pyjamas, sleep heavy in your veins. But the sight of Will, toolbox in hand and smile on his face? That's enough to motivate anyone to assemble furniture all day.

"Honey?"

"Shit, sorry. The green one?"

"Please."

He smirks at you like he's reading your dirty thoughts. He probably is, knowing him. If anyone you knew turned out to be telepathic, it'd be Will. You're convinced he was some sort of psychic in a past life.

"You okay over there?"

"Yeah, I'm good. You need a hand?"

"Come hold this up for me while I screw it in."

You shuffle over to sit next to him, leaning over to hold the piece he's gesturing towards. He's trying desperately not to look down your shirt, and you're trying desperately to ignore the way he smells like heaven.

"C'mere," he murmurs under his breath, scooting backwards so you can get closer to the bed frame. He grabs your hips and pulls you so you're sat between his legs, holding onto the wood steadily. He wraps his arms around you from behind and gets to drilling, placing the screws in perfect rows.

Every now and again, he stops to press a kiss into your hair, or onto your cheek. You smile every single time, heat creeping across your chest. He eventually changes his path, trailing the kisses down onto your neck, shoulders, back. You're breathing so heavily you wonder if you're about to pass out.

"I like this colour," he whispers into your ear.

It takes a moment for your mind to register what he said.

"...Hmm?"

"The colour on your walls. I like it."

"Oh," you murmur. "Santi helped me pick it. He was only gonna do the kitchen, but then we were on a roll, so we ended up painting every room in the house."

He chuckles, tightening his arms around you and encouraging you to relax. You lean back into him, resting your head on his firm shoulder.

"This place is really beautiful, you know," he says lowly. "It's so... you."

"Is that a good thing?"

"The best thing. Beautiful house for a beautiful girl."

"You're a smooth talker, Miller."

"I learned from the best."

The two of you sit intertwined for a while, reveling in the comfort the other person brings. After a while, Will speaks.

"Okay, strong girl, you wanna help me put the mattress onto it?"

You flex your biceps, making you both laugh.

"I mean, I could do it single handedly... but sure, I'll help you."

"That's my girl."

You both make light work of the mattress, picking it up and throwing it onto the frame effortlessly. Will helps you put on your sheets and pillows, standing back to admire his handiwork.

"We did a good job."

"You did a good job, Will. I just sat over there and stared at you the whole time."

"Thought I felt eyes on me," he laughs.

You don't know where it comes from, the sudden honesty. It creeps up your throat out of nowhere, clawing to escape.

"I'm always looking at you."

Will turns to look at you, confusion written across his face.

"No matter where we are, or what we're doing. The most interesting thing in the room is always you."

His features soften, gentle smile tugging at his lips. He strides towards you and cradles your face in his big hands.

"I love you," he tells you so sincerely it makes you want to cry.

"I love you, William Miller. My love for you is just so... overwhelming. Some days I just want to scream it from the rooftops. I don't know what else to do with it."

"Give it to me," he says without missing a beat.

"What?"

"All the love. Don't throw it into the abyss. Give it to me. I want it."

You grin at him, a bright, blinding thing. He reciprocates, before leaning down and smashing his lips to yours. You tangle your fingers into his hair, pulling him impossibly closer. Your knees give out from the sheer love he's kissing you with, both of you tumbling to the floor.

You pull his shirt over his head, exposing his gorgeous, sun soaked skin. He's so broad it makes you clench your thighs together. He tugs your shirt off and throws it across the room, paying no mind to where it lands. The two of you don't separate your lips for more than a second.

He's rutting his hips into yours, the friction making you dizzy. You try and push his jeans down, fingers fumbling with the button. He takes pity on you and shoves them down himself, adding them to the pile of clothes scattered across the room.

Will wastes no time, throwing his boxers behind him and pulling your underwear down your legs. He pushes into you with effortless ease, both of you ready and eager. You unanimously groan in relief, panting rapidly. You claw at his shoulders, leaning up to connect your lips.

"I love you," he whispers against your mouth, hips gliding into yours.

"I love you," you gasp, resting your forehead against his. "I love you I love you I love you."

Will slides a hand down your body to rub quick circles between your legs, dipping his tongue into your mouth as he does it. He's swallowing your moans, licking the whines from your lips. He can't get over how sweet they taste.

"Come for me, honey. Give it to me, good girl. That's it. Atta girl."

You back arches off the floor, nails scratching down his back. Your vision goes white, stars clouding your view. Will groans, deep and low, spilling into you. You both ride out your highs while Will murmurs sweet sentiments into your ear, against your skin, into your mouth.

He collapses onto you, smothering you with his weight. You don't mind. Every part of your body is touching a part of his, and it still isn't close enough. It'll never be close enough. You could sew yourself into his ribcage, and you'd still want to be closer to his heart.

The only sounds that can be heard are two sets of heaving lungs. When you've snapped back to reality, you thread your fingers through his hair, scratching your nails across his scalp and smiling when he leans into your touch.

"Will?"

"Yeah, honey?"

"Why did you just build me a bed, and then fuck me on the floor?"

He takes a moment to register what you've said, before breaking out into contagious laughter. He's vibrating against you, both of you high on each others company.

"I didn't even think," he wheezes. "Fuck, we're idiots."

"You can say that again," you chuckle. "Wouldn't have it any other way."

Will rolls off and lies next to you, linking his fingers with yours.

"You ready to keep building?"

As much as you'd happily stay where you are forever, it would be nice to have actual furniture in your bedroom.

"Let's do it," you say as you sit up.

You scramble around for your clothes, both of you beaming at each other as you get dressed. You walk over and wrap your arms around his neck, looking up at him.

"I can't wait for you to move in."

He grins at you, pecking your lips.

"I can't wait either. Two more months and my lease is up. Then you're stuck with me forever, honey."

"I wouldn't say stuck. More like the luckiest girl in the world."

"Can I get that in writing?"

"Shut up," you laugh, grabbing the toolbox. "Let's build our furniture, shall we?"

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"You've made this place really beautiful, you guys."

"Beautiful house for a beautiful girl," Will grins at you across the table.

"Ugh, I hate when they do that," Benny complains.

"Do what?"

"Look at each other like that. It's like they're communicating through their minds, or something."

"We're silently talking about you, dipshit," Will teases, jabbing his brother in the side.

"Before the Millers kill each other, we bought you a present, hermosa. Think of it as a one year housewarming gift."

Frankie hands you a large rectangular parcel, wrapped carefully. You rip open the paper, discovering a large, ornate picture frame. In it, is your favourite picture in the world.

You and Will's first dance.

Frankie had taken the picture, unbeknownst to the two of you. You're both swaying to the music, arms wrapped around your husband's neck, completely lost in each other. Around you, the lights twinkle as your closest friends and family look on in awe.

"Frankie," you breathe. "Thank you. All of you. I love it so much."

"We thought you could hang it above your fireplace," Santiago offers. "In that big empty space."

"It's perfect," Will agrees.

"It's like the final piece of the puzzle," you whisper. "Now our home feels complete."

You trace your fingers over the frame, overwhelmed with adoration for the four boys staring back at you.

"I love you all," you tell them, glancing around the table. "So much."

"Love you, hermosa."

"Love you too, cariño."

"Love ya, baby!"

"I love you, honey."

The chorus makes you beam so bright, you're convinced your smile can be seen from space.

@kmc1989 @modernperplexity @sia2raw @pimosworld

[magicalbats]

Flesh-Devouring Part 2

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 20,217

Warnings: Afab!reader, gendered language, brat taming, forced submission, corporal punishment, non consensual spanking, thigh grinding, mutual masturbation, belt spanking, some very mild violence (reader is mostly a helpless bystander nvxcnvde), a pinch of angst for spice

A/N: okay, I promise I’ll work on the next kinktober prompt now 🙈 and also we're just gonna' pretend Wriothesley has an actual belt somewhere on his person, I eyeballed the hell out of his official art and started to doubt myself buuuuuut I was already fully committed to the bit so dvdknvgkdngg

⭐

“Good morning, your grace!” 

Looking up from the sheaf of papers in his hand, Wriothesley swivels his head around to watch you disembark from the elevator with a noticeably eager skip in your step. He quirks a brow at it and fully turns to greet you at your approach. “Good morning, little miss. You certainly seem to be in a good mood today.” 

You can’t quite keep the smile off your face as you come to a stop in front of him, practically vibrating in your excitement. “Of course I am! Todays the day I finally get to meet with some of the inmates and get started on our new program, what else would I be?” 

He smiles at that. “While your enthusiasm is quite commendable, I must remind you not to get your hopes up too much. The group that volunteered for this is a — mixed crowd, so to speak. I’m not exactly sure what sort of reaction you’re going to get.” 

Drawing a stilted breath, you square your shoulders and give him a brief nod of understanding. You knew he was just being practical and realistic as always, but you felt good about this. Optimistic. You were positive your efforts would soon pay off in a very real, very tangible way, and at last justify all the grief you’d suffered at his hands just to get here. For weeks now you’d been meeting with him, discussing, planning, organizing and fine tuning a plan of implementation, all while wrestling with your own self control where the duke was concerned. There wasn’t any use denying that you liked kissing him a great deal. In fact, it seemed to be your new favorite activity, amongst other, less wholesome things … 

Even now you could feel the urge to go up on your tiptoes so you could tug him down to your level threatening to overpower your common sense, but there were much more important matters at hand. You’d told yourself this over and over again, repeating it like a mantra to steel your resolve and keep your mind focused on matters of business instead of giving in, and it was going to pay off. Today. Here and now. You could feel it. 

“I understand, your grace. I will make sure to keep my expectations appropriately tempered.” 

Wriothesley looks at you like he doesn’t quite believe that, but he relents without further pressing you on it. His boots sound impossibly heavy on the steel plated flooring as he half turns, motioning you ahead. “Let’s be off then. Did you bring everything you need?” 

“Yes, your grace.” Clutching your worn leather carry case in hand, you fall into step beside him as he leads you down the long winding corridor. 

The Fortress of Meropide is somehow both stuffy and chilly at the same, the air thick but infused with the cool temperature bleeding in off the water that surrounds it. You’d learned your lesson the first time you came here (in more ways than one) and had opted for a light jumper over your blouse to stave off the ever present note of cold which you could take off if you got too warm. That seemed like a not far off possibility when you were internally quaking with nerves, both eager and anxious, but for now at least you just keep your attention on him while he gives you a brief rundown of who was supposedly going to show up for this little meeting he’d arranged for you. 

Sixteen inmates had signed up. Not even half of that number were finished with their sentences, the vast majority still actively serving time, and you can’t help but feel a little disappointed about that. You’d of course hoped to give those who had made the conscious decision to stay at Meropide a chance to reconsider integrating back into overworld society but you try to remind yourself that this was only the first preliminary phase of a much greater project. If things went well today, there would be plenty of time to work with the others. 

“Ah, and before I forget.” He says, sending you a meaningful look. “Someone by the name of George should be in attendance, if he bothers to show up. He’s a little rough around the edges but don’t let what he says get under your skin. He’s had his sentence extended twice now and as I’m sure you can imagine he’s a bit grumpy about that.” 

“Understood.” You give the clutch of your bag a fierce squeeze. “May I ask why?” 

Wriothesley thinks that over for a beat. “The first time was due to excessive fighting outside of the regulated channels. We have a three strikes policy here, as I’ve mentioned before. I suspect he was trying to assert himself as the top dog in his block but he ran into a bit more opposition than he was expecting, so he had to start using his fists instead.” 

“And the other?” 

“He tried to take one of the sponsor representatives hostage and use her as a bargaining chip.” 

Your eyes go big. “Oh.” 

Smiling one of those rare but incredibly flattering genuine smiles, he reaches out to lightly nudge your elbow. “Don’t worry. I’ll be there the whole time to keep everything under control and make sure nobody gets out of hand but the ball will be in your court, little miss. I’m just your guard dog today.” 

You hate the way fluster slowly creeps up your neck but you valiantly stamp it back down as you shyly avert your gaze elsewhere. “Thank you, your grace. I … I really appreciate you doing this for me.” 

“I know you do. But don’t thank me just yet. Wait until after we see what kind of response you get.” 

That gentle warning niggles at the back of your mind like the tickling whisper of sharp claws brushing your skin, and your stomach gives a little flip. You were nervous to meet with them face to face despite being excited to get started. Working in the public affairs office and spending most of your time at a desk didn’t exactly prepare you for hands-on encounters such as this, but between your unfaltering conviction and Wriothesley’s ever present cool demeanor at your side you keep your head held high. 

Up a short flight of metal steps and down another steel plated hall, you find yourself stepping into a small room that, based on the rickety old tables tightly packed into the cramped space, looked like it was perhaps largely used as a card room. You can’t help but feel a dull rush of relief at finding it yet unoccupied by anyone. Unable to fight the urge any longer, you reach out to snag Wriothesley’s sleeve and he sedately turns to look down at you. 

Shuffling closer until you were practically pressed right up against him, you offer him an imploring look as you go up on your toes. “Your grace …?” 

Something distantly sparks in his eyes and, humming softly, he carefully bends down to press his mouth to yours in an altogether chaste kiss. But even for as innocent as it is — not nearly as heated as some of the kisses you’d exchanged with him in recent memory — it still inspires a flood of warmth in you that races down your body. Sighing softly, you lean further into him and give yourself over to the stilted, hard press of his lips on yours. 

It lasts for only a brief moment though, and your lashes flutter against the apples of your cheeks when he pulls back just enough to speak. “Don’t be scared.” He tells you quietly, so gently it makes your heart wrench. 

“I’m not scared, just … nervous, is all. I think.” 

Humming quietly, he gives you another quick, lingering kiss that makes your bottom lip warble against your will. “You’ll do great. I know you will, but even if you should happen to fall I’ll be right there to catch you. Just like always, right?” 

Your face was quickly starting to become unbearably hot. Oh, how you wanted him so badly, even if he was the most confounding, frustrating man you’d ever met. “Will — will you have me later? When we’re done …?” 

Wriothesley goes still, just looking at you for a drawn out moment, but you’re a little too embarrassed to be saying something so shameful out loud to meet his gaze anymore. Flutteringly, your hand comes up to anxiously tug at the fur collar of his coat under the guise of straightening it for him, even though you really wanted to use it to tug him in against you. 

Finally, at length, he draws a carefully tempered breath. “How do you want me to have you, little miss?” 

The violent shudder that abruptly tears through you almost has you going cross eyed. “I - I’m not sure, I just … I feel like such a mess inside and everything is confusing, and I don’t know what it is exactly but I want you to — to - -“ 

“Oh, sweet girl,” He exhales slowly, and you jolt when one of his hands finds your hip. Giving it a tight, possessive squeeze to make you tremble, he drags that oppressive palm further back and around to grab a pinching handful of your ass. “Do you need me to ground you in place? Is that what you’re asking me for? Huh?” 

You sway unsteadily, feeling terribly faint when it seemed as if you were being smothered under his weighty presence. The heavy, rough calloused hand gripping your backside through the seat of your pants, the body heat bleeding off of him in waves to settle into you; the smell of him swarming your senses to settle on the back of your tongue and leave the masculine taste you’d come to recognize solely as the duke’s cloying in your throat. It was all too much. 

Much, much too much. 

Whimpering softly, you force your attention up to look in his face, still hovering mere millimeters from yours even when doing so proves to be quite the struggle. “Yes.” It’s little more than a faint whisper. “I want … I need you to reorient me. It feels like I’m — lost out at sea. I don’t know how else to describe it.” 

With a barely audible, rumbling growl, Wriothesley closes his fingers around the meat of your ass hard enough to make your breath hitch in your chest. “You need your head cleared so you can focus all that energy you have where it belongs. I’ll give you that outlet, as much as you require it. I have no problem giving you a guiding hand, little miss. You know that.” 

Your mouth warbles in a jittery smile, unable to keep it at a bay even when you try very hard to stop it from spreading across your face. You didn’t fully understand it yourself, what you were asking for or what you needed. All you’d seemed to grasp over the short time you’d known him was that Wriothesley made you feel good. Almost inexplicably so. Even when he was being infuriating and condescending towards you, even when he’d give your poor bottom a handful of stinging swats at the first sign of attitude to remind you to behave yourself, it still didn’t detract from this flutter low in your gut. There was something deeply gratifying about being with him like this, in this particular dynamic, and for as little as you know what to make of any of it, he seems to know exactly what it is you instinctively crave from him. Why you keep seeking him out this way. 

The sapphires in his eyes shutter with what you’re starting to recognize as desire in his otherwise implacable facade and he leans in again, issuing an anticipatory breath into the scant space separating you. His mouth finds yours, as sure as any compass points north, drawing a threadbare moan from the depths of your shuddering gut. You lean into him, lips carefully parting to kiss him back, and — the shuffling sound of heavy approaching footsteps echoing off the metal walls has you wrenching back from him so fast your head spins. 

Eyes going impossibly wide, you quickly slap him away in your fluster and rush to extricate yourself from his person. Chuckling softly, as if he wasn’t at all concerned about being caught in such a compromising situation, Wriothesley lets you go, but not without a playful swat to your ass when you move to brush past him. You yelp at the mild sting but keep your attention ahead as you hurry over to deposit your bag on one of the tables so you can dig in it and give your racing heart a chance to calm down. Even now you somehow manage to be surprised at how utterly unapologetic he was about everything! 

Forcing your lungs to expand on a deep, steadying breath, you listen to the approaching shuffle behind you until an unmistakable shift of occupancy in the cramped room indicated that you were no longer alone with the duke. You keep your head down just a moment longer, both to ensure you had your expression under control and to also listen to the way Wriothesley amicably greets the inmates. You’d never gotten to see him interact with them before and, rather than coming off like the strict, hardass warden you’d had a first impression of, he almost seems to talk to them like they were … friends? Or at least on friendly terms with each other. 

Could it really be that you were the only one unlucky (or lucky, depending on how you looked at it) enough to bring out that side of him? But why would that be …? 

Slowly, more people start to drift in and you have to make a concerted effort to shove those thoughts to the back of your mind so you can stay focused on what really matters. You take your time neatly organizing your stacks of papers, the forms you’d carefully composed on the typewriter in the affairs office, and make a concerted effort to greet everyone with a smile when they move away from the duke to find their seats. Some of them are rather friendly when they respond, but others simply look at you without a single word and not so much as a backwards glance. No matter, though. You didn’t exactly come here to make friends. 

All in all, only seven inmates show up. A pair of shady looking brothers, one woman and the rest are men who just disinterestedly eye you up and down with varying levels of annoyance reflecting in their eyes. You can’t quite shake the feeling that they’d expected someone a bit more impressive than the slight, eager-faced woman wearing a jumper and slacks standing before them now, and it probably didn’t help that you looked downright diminutive standing next to Wriothesley either. Oh, well. You were just going to have to try and make the best of it. 

“Hello, everyone,” You chirp, a little higher in pitch than you’d intended thanks to your jittery nerves. “It looks like we won’t be getting anyone else today, so let’s get started. I’m very excited to be working with all of you.”

Resounding, echoing silence and a wall of blank stares. 

You waver slightly, but recover admirably. “I’m from the office of public affairs, and recently I’ve been working with his grace here to come up with programs for the prison that can help or otherwise enrich the lives of the inmates here. I appreciate you taking the time out of your day to come see me, and I hope you’ll feel comfortable enough to speak freely. This preliminary meeting is first and foremost going to function as a feeler so we can get an idea of what sort of activities you'd like to see offered at the prison in the future.” 

More silence. More staring. 

You can feel your face starting to grow warm even though you’ve also broken out into a cold sweat, and you flounder for something else to say. Far be it that you’d expected them to jump for joy and lift you in the air over their heads in celebration or anything as preposterous as that, but you had anticipated at least some kind of response. What were you supposed to do when they wouldn’t even speak so much as a single word to you? It’s not like you could get anything of worth out of this if you were the only one talking. 

Suddenly, Wriothesley shifts beside you and the soft creak of his boots makes your pulse nervously jump. “I expect all of you to show our guest some respect today. I'm not sure why you would sign up for this if you had no intention of participating, so let’s get it in gear. If you have something to say, now is your chance to say it.” 

The brothers sitting nearest to you bend their heads close and exchange a quick, muffled conversation between themselves, but you’re a little too rattled by the tone of Wriothesley’s voice to make out what they’re saying. Ah, so it wasn’t just you then. Good to know. 

“What sort of activities are we talking here?” One of the men in the rear suddenly speaks up, snapping your attention back into the present. 

“O - oh, yes. We were thinking things like trade skills and daily lifestyle necessities that could give you a better sense of independence while you’re here. Things like sewing or cooking, or - -“

“Why would we need any of that?” The only other woman in the room chimes in. “Meropide works just fine as is and the system already in place provides us with all of that.”

“Well, yes, but - -“ 

“Yeah, what do I need to know sewing for when I could just as easily pass it off to someone who already knows how to do it?” One of the brothers, the larger and seemingly more cantankerous of the two, adds on, making you pull your mouth into a firm line. 

“That’s exactly why.” You assert in an equally firm voice. “The prison’s internal functionality works like a well oiled machine, doesn’t it? Why want for anything else when everything is already right where it needs to be. Just like cogs, everyone fits into their role and they fit it well. You all keep Meropide running as it should, there’s no doubt about that. But each and every one of you has a life beyond the role you take on here. You aren’t just cogs, and you aren’t just part of the greater machine. I want to give you a chance to be independent of that clockwork, even if it’s only for an hour or two each day, and remind you that there’s still something beyond these tin walls.”

You draw a steadying breath, carefully taking in the faces sitting before you. It looked like a few of them were starting to come around, or were at least curious enough to actually hear you out now, and that bolsters your courage by some margin. You could do this. You would. 

“I know how easy it is to get comfortable with the lifestyle here. His grace has taken the time to explain to me in great detail the ins and outs of the prison, how everyone lives on a schedule, what freedoms you’re allotted and what has restricted access. I’m aware that there is a great deal of self governing here in the fortress, which is precisely why I want to give you all an opportunity to deviate from that routine. It might be fun, right? Having a little bit of your old life back?” 

A few looks are exchanged between some of the inmates, a soft murmur rising up, and your heartbeat starts to quicken. Next to you, Wriothesley snorts a quiet laugh before moving back to lean against the wall, leaving you feeling strangely alone and exposed standing there by yourself. You shoot him a quick, harried glance over your shoulder but he just crosses his arms over his chest and nudges his chin at the small congregation. When you turn back around, you’re more than a little surprised to find the other woman leaning towards you in obvious interest.  

“I always wanted to be a seamstress some day.” She abruptly announces, startling you slightly. “My mother taught me when I was younger, but I never got a chance to really hone the skill. Is that really something you could arrange?” 

You swallow your nerves, hearing Wriothesley’s reminder not to get your hopes up in the back of your mind, but it was so hard not to when she was looking at you like that. You wanted to help her. More than anything else, you just wanted to give them something more to live for. 

“I believe we can. His grace and I have already reached out to a few businesses, and a few of them have expressed willingness to volunteer their services to the prison. I’m sure if everything goes well and word of mouth starts to spread, we could convince others to do the same as well.” 

“I did always want to be a chef.” The larger brother admits somewhat sheepishly, and you smile. You couldn’t help it. 

This was really working. 

It doesn’t take long to have a full dialogue going after that. Even with the one or two stragglers still wary and uncertain about introducing any real changes to the system the overall reception seems to be resoundingly positive. You talk with them, discussing what they’d like to do, what they’d like to potentially see implemented, and through it all Wriothesley just hangs back against the wall, watching over everything like a silent sentry just at your back. He even stays true to his word and lets you be in charge even when tempers seem to flare up in disagreement every so often instead of snatching the reins from you at the first sign of trouble. All it takes is a sharp look from him or a low word of warning, and everyone grudgingly settles back down, which was not something you’d expected to relate so much with them about but you do. It almost feels like a strange sense of solidarity in a way, and you were immensely glad to have him on your side like this. 

Everything goes so well, in fact, that by the time a real problem raises its head, you almost overlook it completely. The man in the far back corner hadn’t said much at all over the course of the last hour and some change, but you’d felt his burning gaze on you the whole time. He appeared to be the most opposed to the program you’d presented to the group, but you hadn’t been able to squeeze the reason out of him yet which is why you eventually defer to your hand typed forms. You’d thought it would be a good idea to have them put their thoughts down in writing in case they felt too shy to say it out loud, and you hoped your careful planning would pay off in this. 

You’re in the process of handing out the papers to everyone along with the pencils you’d brought along, slowly making your way over to him last, and he tips his head back as if in challenge at your approach. You had a sneaking suspicion who he was, of course, but you still offer him a cheerful smile as you move closer. 

“I know you haven’t said much today, but I hope you’ll share any thoughts you have on the form. It’s really helpful to have different perspectives on things like this.” You tell him, holding out the sheet. 

“Can’t write.” He rumbles, making your hand falter. 

“Oh.” You hadn’t even considered that being a possibility. “I - I’m sorry. Maybe we could see about starting up classes so you can - -“

“Don’t want em’” 

You blink at him owlishly, trying to make sense of his surly attitude, but Wriothesley calls over from the other side of the room before you can think of something to say. “Watch yourself, George. I’m not going to give you another warning.” 

Ah. So your suspicions were correct. 

You start to pull back, decidedly unnerved by the way he clearly wants nothing at all to do with you, but then you see the look that flashes across his eyes. Like a street hardened dog that was ready to bite in retaliation. You almost hate yourself for it, but your heart irreparably softens and you turn your head to send Wriothesley a reassuring look. “It’s alright, your grace. I don’t mind.” 

He begins to open his mouth to say something but you whip your head back around, speaking before he can further insert himself into the conversation. 

“Please don’t worry about it, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. I know not all of us have been given the same kind of opportunities in life. Where are you from, George?” 

The grizzled man sends you a slow look, the muscles in his jaw working with what you think is probably irritation, but you refuse to back down or give up on him. He was still a person deserving of respect and dignity no matter how much he might hate you. 

“Fleuve Cendre.” He says at length, and you feel a distant twang of understanding in the back of your mind. The underground sewer systems in the Court of Fontaine were not always the best place to grow up so it made sense, in a way. 

“I see. Well, if you’re at all interested I can make every effort to arrange for someone to come teach you how to write, or maybe I could even do it myself. Does that sound like a good idea?” 

He suddenly leans forward in his chair, getting right in your face, and it takes everything you have not to go scuttling back though you do give a startled jerk in surprise. “Not a chance! I don’t want your stinking charity, lady!” He practically spits at you, vitriolic and full of malice. 

“Charity?” You incredulously echo him, but he reaches out to viciously grab your wrist before you can think of anything else to say. 

“That’s right! You think I need you looking down on me or something? How about I tell you exactly where you can shove it instead!” 

You open your mouth to say — what, you don’t know, but a shift of motion in your peripheral stops you in your tracks. Snapping your head up, you’re not the least bit surprised to find Wriothesley quickly closing the distance with long, purposeful strides, but it still horrifies you and your heart promptly jackhammers straight up into your throat. 

“Wait!” You shriek, holding your uncaptured arm out as if to stop him. Like you even could. He’s like a solid wall moving towards you and you could already see how this was going to play out, your eyes going round as saucers seconds before a violent wrench on your arm takes you right off your feet. 

In a sudden rush of movement that you can’t even begin to process or comprehend, you abruptly find yourself pinned to the front of George who’s shot up out of his seat. Wriothesley comes to an immediate halt, just short of being within arms reach, and you stare up at him in unseeing disbelief as George shuffles back to press himself into the corner, using you like a shield. You’re distantly aware of an eruption of chaos in the rest of the room, likely a result of everyone rushing to get out of the way, chairs loudly scraping and clattering against the floor, but you feel strangely numb to it all. 

The only thing you can manage to think at that moment is that you were going to be in so much trouble once everything was said and done. 

“Don’t touch me, you bastard aristocrat!” 

“Wha — h - hold on a minute!” You squawk, feet kicking uselessly at the floor in a blind attempt to find some traction. It’s no use though, and your shoes just slip and slide against the papers you’d dropped in the shuffle. 

“I thought we already went over this, George. You know taking hostages isn’t going to get you anywhere except straight into solitary.” Wriothesley intones, and the surprisingly calm, leveled quality of his voice surprises you slightly, prompting you to bring your head back up. But the look you find in his face, the icy heat curling in his eyes, is anything but tranquil, and your stomach twists in dread. 

You’d never seen him look like that before … like he could really kill someone. 

“I don’t want to hear it!” George snaps, nervously clutching you against him — as if you were going to stop anything! “I’ve had enough of this place, and I’ve had enough of all of you! Always looking down on me like I’m less than dirt!” 

“No one is looking down on you.” Wriothesley says, clearly trying to reason with him. “Just calm down and let her go. I know you’re having a hard time adjusting, and I’m sure having your sentence extended didn’t help with that, but this is only going to make things worse for you in the long run. You can’t bargain your way out of this.” 

“Maybe so, but I could kill her!” 

“You what!” You shriek, nails sinking into the arm pinned across your front, but they both summarily ignore you. 

“That’d show you not to mess with me!” George continues on. “I’m serious, you know! I’ll do it!” 

“And why would you go and do a stupid thing like that?” Wriothesley shoots right back. “If you’re hoping to spend the rest of your life in Meropide you don’t have to do this to accomplish that. You’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like.” 

“Dammit, I want out of here! I can’t stand this place! No sun, no fresh air, no sky! It feels like I’m going crazy down here!” 

“Then let her go. You still have a chance to return to the surface someday and you’ll get to see the sky as much as you want then, but that’s not going to happen if you keep this up. If you extend your sentence much further, you’re just going to seal your own fate. Permanently.” 

That actually seems to give him pause, and you hold your breath in anticipation of the pin dropping even when your chest strains and aches in protest. You almost didn’t dare to hope that he would actually listen to reason when you were viscerally aware of all the impotent rage and unrealized frustration coursing through his body, making him shake against you. It didn’t appear to be a bluff, at least not where you were standing. You think he really could kill you if pushed far enough, but … slowly, his hold on you eventually starts to relax. 

“I don’t want to be trapped under the ocean for the rest of my life …” He murmurs, a brief glimpse of cognizance returning to him after that manic flash. 

“Then hand the young lady over to me and let’s be done with it. I think this has gone on long enough, George.” 

Carefully reaching out for you, Wriothesley takes a step forward. His ability to stay cool and collected even in a situation like this surprises you a great deal, of course, but you find some amount of comfort in his unflappable demeanor. It helps you stay calm, in as much as you’re able to at least, and a dull wave of relief washes over you when George reluctantly pushes you away from himself, shoving you straight into Wriothesley’s waiting arm. 

You almost don’t believe it as his hand grabs around your waist and tightly gathers you up against him, angling you further from the inmate. It felt like you were dreaming. Numb to everything that had happened over the last few inexplicably short moments, you turn in his hold just in time to watch Wriothesley snag George’s wrist before he can pull it back all the way. 

And just like that, he snaps the bone with one solid twist. 

The sickening crack! that rings out makes your stomach lurch up into your throat. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Slamming Wriothesley’s office door open hard enough to make it bang against the interior wall, you storm inside so mad you could just scream! 

He comes in behind you at a leisurely pace just a moment later, taking his time to close and lock it, but you’re a little too caught up in the absolutely blinding surge of anger you’re trying to wrestle with to question it. Seething viciously, you start to pace the perimeter of the room. It’s all you can think to do. You wanted to scream at him, kick him, slap him, spit at him! What was wrong with this man that he would ever think that kind of violence was okay? 

“Are you alright?” He eventually asks you, just standing there in the doorway watching you stomp around his office as if it were a perfectly normal sight to see. That evenly tempered, almost blase tone of his voice just makes you see red though, and you finally round on him with a wordless shriek. 

“Why did you do that to him?” 

“He was dangerous.” Wriothesley says it like it should have been obvious. “I think he made that quite clear, don’t you?” 

“It doesn’t matter! He’d already let me go, you didn’t need to hurt him like that! It was just excessive at that point, you damn brute!” 

“That doesn’t mean he couldn't still hurt you. You’re not stupid, little miss. I know you’re aware of just how differently that could have played out if he hadn’t listened to me, and I wasn’t about to risk him changing his mind and having the means to lash out. You’re acting like I killed the poor guy.” 

You couldn’t seem to process his logic and, with no other choice, you return to your fitful pacing. “I don’t understand you. It doesn’t even make any sense. You say you care about your inmates but then you turn around and do something like that?” 

“I care about you too.” 

Stopping dead in your tracks, you slowly turn to look back at him again. The chill that creeps over you is suffocating, threatening to choke you up on the spot. “No. Do not do that. Not right now!” 

“But it’s true.” 

“I don’t care if it’s true!” You shout, impulsively closing the distance so you can jab your finger into the center of his chest. “You broke that man’s wrist, your grace! That was uncalled for! If you cared about him, or the others, or me you wouldn’t have done something so — so unnecessarily violent! He was just … he was just scared, is all. I think.” 

Wriothesley reaches up to carefully take your hand off him and you flinch at the contact but still let him do it because … because you don’t know why. You’re well aware you should be yanking out of his hold like he’d scalded you, skin crawling at just the touch of those rough worn fingers, but you can’t quite bring yourself to do that right now. Not when it felt like you were moments away from shattering to pieces right there in his office. 

“You think?” 

“I don’t know. Not really, but … he could have hurt me if he wanted to, right? But he didn’t. He only used me like a shield because you were coming, and he panicked. I can’t really blame him for that. I’d be scared too.” 

“I bet.” He murmurs, lifting your hand to press a kiss to the backs of your loosely curled knuckles. Grimacing at the gesture, unable to reconcile it in your mind — this soft version of the duke and the brutal prison warden — and you quickly look away. “I’m sorry you’re unhappy with how I handled the situation. I probably did frighten you, and you have my sincerest apologies for that as well, little miss. But you have to understand that I was protecting you.”

“I didn’t ask to be protected!” You seethe. “Least of all like that!” 

“Be that as it may, I still did what needed to be done. I already told you once, didn’t I? I’m your guard dog. You were in danger and I acted accordingly. It’s not fair of you to be so upset with me when I was only doing my job.” 

“But there must have been another way - -“

“There wasn’t. Believing any different is just naive and childish. You need to let go of this little fantasy you have that everything can be solved peacefully if you’re just nice enough. That’s not how the real world works.” 

You jerk your attention up with a low snarl, but he just looks at you with the same unreadable expression as always. He wasn’t the least bit sorry, nor did he feel any real regret for what he’d done. Not only that but he would have done it again without a second's hesitation. You could see it in his face, clear as day. He may as well have been saying it out loud for as little he tries to hide it. 

“It doesn’t work with violence either.” You finally rattle out, shaking in his hold. 

“I’d say my methods are a bit more effective than yours. You’re safe, aren’t you? If anything, you should be thanking me.” 

Your pulse spikes as you wrench your hand free and slap him as hard as you can, popping him right across the mouth. Wriothesley doesn’t even flinch and that just makes you angrier. Going up on the tips of your toes to get as close to him as you’re able to, you hiss at him with every bit of vitriol you can muster. “Is that thanks enough for you, your grace?” 

Terse silence descends over the room, interspersed only by your heavy breathing. At length, he finally draws a short, clipped breath. 

“I’m going to give you one chance and one chance only to apologize for doing that. I do hope you make the right decision.”

Veins turning icy, you bring your hands up to shove at his chest and push yourself away. “You wouldn’t dare. Not right now. Not when I’m so mad at you I could just - -“

He’s on you in an instant. 

For someone so big he certainly moves quick, and you barely have enough time to suck in a ragged, gasping breath of air as he roughly grabs under your arms and hauls you right up off your feet. The sudden rush of movement makes you nauseous, your stomach flipping end over end. Throwing your head back, you suck in a mouthful of air to scream. 

Wriothesley abruptly drops you back down to the floor before you can follow through and the sudden impact makes sharp, splintering pain race up your legs. That split second hesitation on your part is all he needs to get a hand over your mouth and your eyes go big in wild terror as he all but drags you by the back of your jumper towards the chaise lounge against the far wall. You wrench against his hold like a trapped animal, desperate and mindless as you shriek behind his palm, but the sound comes out muffled. Distant. There’s nothing at all you can do to stop it as he pulls you over and plops down on the cushions before yanking you down to kneel between his feet. 

You wince at the way your knees slam against the unforgiving ground but you don’t get a chance to fully process the hurt. He bends over you and reaches back to grab the back of your pants, using them to yank you up and brace you over his thigh. His hand stays locked around your mouth though, making it hard to breathe when you were sucking in quick, panicked gasps, one right after another as you frantically try to shove at him. 

His hand abruptly cracks across your ass with enough force to leave you seeing stars, and you wordlessly shriek into his palm. Winded and lurching, you instinctively try to angle away from him but the way he’s got you trapped between his legs makes it impossible to get very far. He hits you again, right on the mark, and hot tears immediately rush up to flood your eyes. Wailing in pain and impotent frustration now, you blindly reach up to shove at his arm. 

Wriothesley’s fingers just tighten around the lower half of your face though, securing his hold on you, while the other hand continues to rain down on your bottom in quick, blistering succession. Even through your pants it makes your toes curl achingly tight as you writhe there on the floor, rocking against his leg with each punishing blow. 

You couldn’t believe him, doing this to you in a situation like this! It was one thing when you were being bratty or stubborn, or hardheaded, and you’d even come to rather enjoy those intimate sessions with him in which he’d gradually break you down piece by piece before building you back up into a whole, complete person again. It was strangely relaxing, comforting even. Therapeutic. But this was something else entirely. You were mad for a good reason. You’d hit him for a good reason! It wasn’t fair that he could spank your ass red and raw, but you couldn’t even slap him once without incurring his wrath. 

So caught up in the tumultuous surge of emotions assaulting you all at once, you almost don’t realize when the tears start tracking down your face. They burn against your heated skin and pool in the seam where his hand is sealed over your face from the nose down, gathering there before eventually dribbling over his blunt knuckles. He has to feel it, has to know you’re crying, practically sobbing, but still he doesn’t stop. He just keeps spanking you, again and again, again, until the throbbing pain scorching across your defenseless backside seems to reach incomprehensible levels that have you struggling just to think through it. 

And you try to, desperate to cling to your anger and your fear, the betrayal you’d felt when he broke that poor man’s wrist right in front of your very eyes with hardly any effort at all to show for it. You hadn’t thought him capable. Even now when he was lighting your ass up it seemed like an entirely inconceivable notion for him to be capable of that level of cruelty. But it’s next to impossible to hold onto any of those thoughts or feelings when you were so swept up in the pulsing thrum of hurt he’s inflicting on you and slowly, ever so slowly, your mind starts to go blank. 

Evidently feeling you go lax against his knee in acceptance, Wriothesley’s voice starts to drift over you and it seamlessly penetrates the fog hanging over your head to dig straight into your brain. “I’m not sure who you think you are,” whap, whap, whap, whap, “But I have to say,” whap, whap, whap, whap, “I’m actually rather impressed you had the guts to do that,” whap, whap, whap, whap “I suppose that’s why I like you so much though,” whap, whap, whap, whap, “You're so damn bullheaded you just don’t know when to quit.” 

Groaning deliriously into the meat of his hand, you mechanically bring your hand down to clutch his pant leg in a death grip while the other blindly stretches back as if to protect yourself from his strikes. He pauses above you as your trembling fingers creep across your bottom, drawing a clipped, mildly annoyed breath. 

“Move your hand.” 

You wail something that might have been a ‘no!’, incomprehensibly muffled, and he clicks his tongue at the petulance. 

“Don’t test my patience with you any further, little girl. You have no idea just how much I can really make it hurt if you want to be cute.” 

Noising a sound of surprised confusion, you hastily retract your hand in favor of shoving it up against his stomach and pushing at him with renewed determination, but he doesn’t even seem to notice. Leaning forward, he reaches down the front of your body to fumble with the buttons on your pants. You squeal a muffled protest and try to angle away again to no avail. It takes him a prolonged moment to get them with the use of only one hand, but eventually he has your slacks undone and he starts to roughly shove them down your quaking thighs. 

“You know,” He says almost conversationally, as calm as ever while your internal panic was just ratcheting higher and higher. “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea, so let me explain something to you. There’s a right way and a wrong way to go about things, and somehow you always seem to consistently pick the wrong choice. I don’t mind so much that you’re upset with me. I still don’t think that was very fair of you, but you’re entitled to your own opinion. I’m certainly not trying to take that away from you.”

He’s finally got your pants bunched around your knees but, rather than spanking you over your panties next, he instead starts to yank those down too. A violent shudder tears through you at the implication, the suggestion, your blood running so hot for him it has you swaying there on the floor even as you give your head a weak shake. If he was skipping the usual buildup then he must have been rather upset with you indeed. 

“But as always you get too carried away. You won’t stop until you push me enough to end up over my knee, getting your butt spanked like a child.” He swats your bare ass for emphasis, making you shriek and sob at the pulsing sting as much as the resulting jiggle it causes. “Do you have anything to say for yourself? Huh?” 

You nod your head frantically, noising behind his hand, and Wriothesley gives your face a dull squeeze of warning. 

“I’m going to take my hand away but I promise if you scream you’re going to find yourself getting hit with something much worse than a hairbrush, do you understand me?”  

Another nod, even more wild than the last. 

Slowly, his fingers loosen and then tentatively fall away, leaving you to gasp wretchedly at the flood of fresh air. You slump against him and try to catch your breath, wet little hiccups making your back bow. “I … I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have — shouldn’t have hit you!”

“I’d say that’s an understatement.” 

Forcibly pulling yourself up even though it hurts to do so, you twist on your knees to peer up at him. Your lower lip promptly wobbles when you see the hard way he’s looking at you but you just sniffle and reach up to wipe at your tear stained face. “You made me so mad! And you never take me seriously! I tell you something and it seems like you always just brush me off!” 

Wriothesley watches you shake and heave for a drawn out moment before sedately slouching down, elbows shifting forward to brace against his knees so he can lean over you. The gesture makes you feel so incredibly small and insignificant, a borderline hysterical sob bursting out of your mouth which you quickly cover with your hand. You screw your eyes shut, trying to calm down, but he just hovers over you like that in complete and utter silence until the shudders wracking through you get too uncontrollable and you start to sway dizzily on the floor. 

His nearest hand finds your back and smooths over it in comforting circles, wrinkling your jumper in the process. Sucking in a thin, gasping breath, you instinctively rock forward as if to heave but all you do is cough like some sad, pathetic broken little thing. 

“Calm down,” He murmurs, giving your trembling shoulders a firm pat. “You’re going to make yourself sick carrying on like that. Will you listen to me?” 

Sniveling, you blink through the thick sheen of tears making your vision swim and nod your head with a faint whimper. His hand stills on your back, keeping you in place as he leans further down to your level and tips his head so he can see your face. 

“I wasn’t brushing you off. I understand why that upset you and I’m nothing if not sympathetic. Really, I am. If you want the honest truth of it, I regretted it almost as soon as I did it. I’ll have to apologize to George later and have a real long talk with him about what happened, but I’m not going to apologize for protecting you. You’re under my charge regardless of if we’re in the city or your house, but especially when you’re here. If something happened to you on my watch, that would be a resounding failure on my part. Can you understand that much, at least?” 

You hesitate and then nod your head again, not quite trusting yourself enough to speak yet. Wriothesley gives you an approving squeeze and another idle pat that makes you whimper softly. His hand was so big it felt like it was taking up almost the whole of your back … 

“I didn’t mean to scare you … you know that, right?” 

“Y - yes …” 

“Good. Because that I will apologize for. It was unnecessary. I should have completely removed you from the situation first before acting but he just had me so mad, I wasn’t thinking straight, and … honestly, I probably owe you an apology for that too I had some reservations about letting him come to the meeting of course, given his track record, but I thought maybe it would help him adjust a little better if he had something from the overworld to keep him busy. Preoccupied.” 

Gingerly, you shift on your knees so you’re knelt directly under him rather than braced up against his leg, and you lift your hands to hesitantly slide them across his strong jawline. Wriothesley let’s you do it, much to your thrumming relief, and you carefully tip his face towards you until just a scant breath separates his nose from yours. 

“What’s going to happen to him now?” 

He just looks at you, and your face slowly starts to crumple. 

“Please don’t let him get into trouble.” You plead, unable to bear the thought of his sentence being extended because of you. “It was just a mistake and I wasn’t hurt. He didn’t do anything wrong, your grace! Not really. Please, please don’t punish him.” 

Stiffly, he sighs out through his nose. “And there you go being naive again. I’m afraid there’s not much I can do to protect him at this point. He’s sealed his own fate.”

“But that’s … that’s terrible! If I hadn’t been there — if you hadn’t let me come here that never would have even happened! I’m the one at fault here, aren’t I? I’ll take the punishment in his stead! That would be fine, right?” 

“Lovely girl - -“ 

Wriothesley reaches out with his other hand to cup your face and you try to pull away, a fresh wave of tears springing up in your eyes, but he holds you fast. Tipping his head, he seals his mouth over yours and swallows down the muffled wail you let out. Even when the rolling beads of moisture start to track down your damp face, he just kisses you and kisses you until you finally start to stir underneath him some indeterminable amount of time later. 

You have no idea how long you’ve been sitting there on the floor but your legs are numb and prickly when you finally move, shifting forward to lean into him. Your breaths are still a little ragged through your nose but you start to kiss him back, tentatively slow at first and then with growing confidence. Growing hunger. The emptiness inside you is quickly filling up with a white hot, molten need, and you groan thickly into his mouth when you feel your pussy give a muted throb of interest. It matches the ever present sting across your ass, in a way, and you feel both in stunning high definition as you carefully raise up to meet him. 

Gradually easing back when you find your balance and sit up straight, Wriothesley brings his hands around to cup your ribcage. He squeezes, rucking up your jumper and blouse in the process but, as always, he doesn’t try to relieve you of it. That he was still willing to go about this on your terms, at your pace, fills your chest with a strange helium feeling, and you try to follow after him when he eventually pulls back all the way, whining low in your throat at the loss. 

“Come here, pretty girl.” He murmurs, tugging you up to stand and you do so with a great deal of haste even when your sore legs threaten to give out under you. Bracing a hand on his broad shoulder to steady yourself, you carefully step out of your sagging pants and underwear when he stoops down to pull them over your feet. 

Carelessly tossing your clothes aside, he grabs around your middle again and easily tugs you into his lap. Your heart pounds a wild beat inside your chest when you realize he’s centering you over his leg, and you quickly scramble to get into position. There’s no denying the excitement you feel searing your veins now, the speed at which you’d come to love this particular activity surprising even you. It felt like you were irreversibly addicted to it, and you moan very softly when your bare cunt presses down into his thigh. Pelvis tipping upward, you steal a quick glance down at yourself, still amazed at how broad and thick his leg looks under you. It’s not exactly hard to imagine something else forcing your thighs into a wide spread around him but that still scares a little more than you were willing to admit. 

Gently pulling you forward so that your cunt rocks down to settle squarely against his pant leg, Wriothesley gathers you right up against his chest and bends his head to yours again. You moan into the searing hot kiss and bring your hands up to clutch at him, the toes of your shoes bracing on the floor to give yourself leverage as you settle into a slow, mind numbing pace with him. 

It truly feels like your brain is melting when the stilted friction on your pussy soon makes you tremble and shake for him, panting heavily into his mouth. You’re distantly aware of the stiff tension in his body but Wriothesley just lets you find your pleasure on him without trying to take advantage of your muddied, intoxicated state. His hands roam over your body in a continuous caress, pinching, squeezing, kneading with rough calloused fingers, but he doesn’t wander to your chest or between your legs. He’d only touched you there once, back in that cramped little alley, but thinking back on it when you were moving with him like this … maybe you should invite him to touch you there again? It would probably feel good, and grinding yourself on his leg was such a slow, tortuous process. 

Or maybe you could try touching him? 

Turning your head to suck in a much needed lungful of fresh air, you take a moment to steady your nerves. You’d never crossed this line before, never been brave enough to take the plunge but, oh, you were so curious and your pussy positively clenches at the thought of feeling him under your palm. You wanted to touch him. You needed to. 

“Y - your grace …”

“What is it, pretty girl? What do you need?” He breathes into the scant pace separating you from him, head tipped back to look at your from this slightly elevated position. 

An intense shudder works through you at the thought of actually doing it, of actually saying the words, and you loose a keening mewl as you stubbornly turn your head to look elsewhere. You couldn’t look at him and say it, you just couldn’t! 

“Can … ahhn, would it be permissible for me to, um — t - touch you as well?” 

His thick fingers give a muted little jolt of surprise where they’re squeezing around your waist, and you tightly screw your eyes shut when he leans in to kiss the side of your neck. “Oh, little miss. You don’t have to ask. You can touch me as much as you want.” 

Trembling there on his lap, you hesitate to do it but finally gather enough courage to drag your hand down off his shoulder. Shyly watching the slow descent of it down his broad barrel chest, over his stomach, all the way down to the center of his lap. You give a tiny little jerk when you see the stiff outline pressing up against the interior, the motion of your hips inelegantly stuttering as you take in the shape of it, the size. It was indeed quite large, your heart nearly giving out entirely in your overwhelmed horror, but … but like this it wasn’t quite so bad. Not as scary as if you were perhaps looking at it straight on. 

Timidly cautious, you press your fingers over the outline and Wriothesley breathes out a thick, heavy sound that is suspiciously reminiscent of a growl. It seems to vibrate through you, pulling a quiet whimper out of your throat, but you force yourself to stay focused. Your curiosity was a little too compelling to get sidetracked now, and even your mindless rutting against him slows to a complete standstill while you feel along the length of him, just familiarizing yourself with the press of it against your hand. Even through his slacks it seems heavy and it’s so incredibly warm that you feel a dull, sympathetic tremor deep inside your cunt. 

Evidently realizing just how distracted you were, Wriothesley pulls back from your neck enough to look down at himself as well. “Is it so fascinating?” 

“A little bit …”

He laughs, sounding mildly strained. “If you’re curious I’ll teach you about it, but I won’t make you do anything you don’t feel comfortable with. In this, at least, I’ll play by your rules.” 

And he’d done such a good job respecting your boundaries thus far … perhaps it was alright to test the waters some. To give in to this primal urge coursing through your system, making you feel indescribably hot and mindless. 

“Would it really fit inside me?” 

The hushed noise he makes sounds so wounded it actually startles your attention up, and you take in his pained expression with great big eyes. 

“W - what? What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing, nothing. Please don’t start getting defensive, now of all times.” Grunting, Wriothesley grabs under your arms as he shifts back further against the lounge so he can rather gingerly recline back, pulling you right along with him. The careful motion stretches you out across his body to rest against his chest, prompting you to readjust the way you're straddling his thigh to keep your thrumming cunt pressed up tight against it. Letting out a shuddering exhale, he shifts underneath you just so before tipping his face down again. “If you say things like that you’re going to make this go crazy, and I’m not so sure you’re ready for that yet. Try rubbing it, like this.” 

You can’t quite stop the squeak of surprise that bursts out of you when he reaches over to grab your stilled hand. Redirecting you to the center of the bulge, he manually squeezes your trembling fingers around him and your skin positively crawls with an eruption of goosebumps when you feel it pulse against your palm. Wide eyed and quaking, you slowly bring your gaze back down to watch him guide your hand up along the rigid length and then back down again. You’d never before seen anything quite like it, but there was a very real, very primitive part of your brain that abruptly clicks on at the sight of it. 

“Will it hurt?”

“No.” He grunts, still dragging your hand up and down, up and down the length of him. “It feels good. Like when you rub that cute pussy all over my leg. You can squeeze it, if you want.” 

Experimentally, you do just that and the responding twitch of Wriothesley’s cock has your cunt repeatedly clamping down on nothing, a harried, deeply frazzled whine rising in you. It was like you were cumming, but not really. You felt close, though. As if just touching him like this, feeling the hot, pulsing need of him in the palm of your hand was stoking your own fire. Building your own pleasure up into something that was very nearly palpable. 

More confident this time, you give him another squeeze, and he makes a rumbling, needy sound in the back of his throat. Consumed with your own wanton need, you turn your head to look at him again and a distant thrill of surprise rushes through you when you find those deep sapphires watching you. Not your hand on him, but you. 

“Am I really making you feel good, your grace?” 

“Very much so.” 

Smiling, you lean up to press your mouth to his. He watches you do it, accepts your kiss, and a stilted puff of air rattles out of him to dance over your lips. You’ve never seen him hold himself quite so stiffly before but he starts to kiss you back just a heartbeat later, slowly at first and then with more demanding force behind the motion. Just like every other time he pulls you into his pace with ease, soon dominating the exchange while his hand continues to stroke yours over his trapped cock. It doesn’t take long for you to start feeling impatient like this, indescribably needy, and you wriggle yourself down on his leg in search of more friction. Wriothesley gladly obliges you, curling his leg up a little higher to press more firmly into your cunt to make you keen at the sensation. 

As you start to ride him again, the hand that had remained carefully on your back this entire time starts to drag lower, tracing the curve of your waist and further still to smooth over your reddened bottom. You suck in a sharp breath at the sting but it just seems to make your pussy clench and drool even more obscenely. Rearing back against his hand, you give his length another tight squeeze to pull a low groan out of him. 

“You are a real menace, pretty girl.” He softly chides you, pulling back just enough to look in your face. “For as prim and proper as you like to act, you’re certainly an insatiable little thing.”

You start to apologize for it, but then think better of it. “Do you like it, your grace?” 

“More than I’d like to admit.” 

Your breath catches at that and you lurch on top of him when a warning tremor tears through your shuddering body. “Will … will you bounce your leg against me?” 

“Of course.” Eyelids drooping to attractive halfmast, Wriothesley presses his forehead against yours and tenderly nudges at your nose. “Shall I spank you while I do it? Something tells me you’d like that an awful lot.” 

“Ooh … yes, your grace, please spank me.” 

Another rumbling groan rises in him, eyes drifting shut as if in great pleasure. You don’t get a chance to linger on how positively devastating he looks like that because he presses his thigh up into you, sending you lurching with a faltering, deeply wounded sound. The motion of his leg jostles you slightly, prompting you to clutch at him all the more fervently — one latched around his cock and the other clinging to his neck — and you toss your head back with a high pitched squeal when he suddenly swats your ass without warning. You waver, hesitate for only a blink of the eye, and then you’re driving your cunt down to meet him with fast mounting urgency. 

“Oohh, gods —“

Swat! Across the other cheek to make the meaty swell bounce. 

A deeply flustered sound punches its way out of your mouth, hips swiveling desperately. “Ahhn, ahh! Y - your grace! Nggnh!” 

Swat! The first cheek again, this time with a possessive squeeze afterward that makes your toes curl. 

“I’d say I could never get tired of watching you bounce that pretty pussy on my leg, but I’d hate to discourage you from wanting to try anything else.” 

Your tense fingers impulsively squeeze down on his cock, making his chest hitch, and you seethe through your teeth at the quickly cresting waves of ecstasy washing over you. You were close, so close. 

“Please —“ Swat! Swat! First one cheek and then the next, in rapid succession. “Ooh! God! I - I want it, your grace! I want it!” 

Swat!  

“What do you want, lovely girl?” Wriothesley grunts, his own voice faltering now. 

“I - I want this!” You give his length a desperate squeeze, so lightheaded and dizzy you barely even know what you’re saying anymore. 

Swat! 

“It’s already yours, sweetheart. Whenever you’re ready for it, you’ll have it.”

The thought alone of taking him deep inside your body makes every single muscle in your shuddering frame lock up, and you lurch to a sudden standstill on top of him. Your mouth drops open as if to scream but nothing comes out when he just keeps bouncing his leg on your drooling cunt, quicker now. A little harder. You sway unsteadily as your thighs begin to shake uncontrollably around him, chest heaving with the gasps you frantically try to suck in but you can’t quite seem to get enough air. It felt like you were smothering under the intense pressure, hanging right on the precipice. 

Swat! 

“Cum for me, cum all over my leg and let me see that pretty face you make.” He practically growls, grabbing a tight, pinching handful of your ass to really drive the sting home. 

It’s that sharp, toe curling throb of pain that tips you over, and you cum with a gutted lurch. Wheezing, you arch against him so hard your spine aches in protest but you can’t stop it. Your hips judder wildly and your knees nearly give out from how hard it slams into you all at once, but he clutches you tight in his arms while you spasm and writhe, squealing in mindless delight. It’s all you can do just to keep your voice down, painfully aware that the two of you were not in the privacy of your flat, but you manage, somehow, to get through it without shrieking at the top of your lungs. 

You’re so exhausted and drained by the time the tremors finally ebb and fade that you collapse on top of him with a deeply frazzled groan. Giving your bottom one final, lingering squeeze, Wriothesley drags his hand back up to rub across your back and a faint shudder ripples through you when you feel him bend close to place a brief kiss to the top of your head. 

It was … really nice, actually, sharing such a quiet, intimate moment with him. It wouldn’t be hard to get used to it. In fact, you dully realize, you kind of already were. 

“You’re such a good girl for me sometimes.” He murmurs into your hair, his voice warm with praise and affection alike. “It just makes me wonder why you can’t be so good all the time.” 

“That would get boring.” You dazedly slur, making him chuckle. 

“That’s true. There’s no fun in it without a little power struggle first.” 

You hum a noncommittal sound, already half dozed off where you’re spread out on top of him when a muted twitch under your loosely curled palm makes you jolt. Blearily lifting your head from his chest, you glance down to find him still rock hard in his pants and your brows quickly draw together in confusion. 

“You didn’t - -“

“Don’t worry about it. It’ll go away.”

“But - -“ 

“Hush. Just do as I say for once and let it go.” Reaching up to palm the back of your head, he forces your cheek back down to his chest and holds you there even when you weakly try to struggle out from under it. “You really aren’t making this easy on me, you know that? Saying all that nonsense and now this. It’s nothing for you to be concerned about, little miss. Not yet.” 

Your mouth pulls in a pout even though he can’t see it. “Will you teach me more later?” It’s little more than a mouse squeak when you were so tired, so exhausted after everything that had transpired today. 

Wriothesley seems to think on that for a moment before softly pressing another kiss to the crown of your head. “I’ll teach you everything in due time. You just need to be patient. I don’t want you to get so caught up in the moment that you rush into something only to regret it later. As I said before, I’m a guarddog. I'm not interested in biting the hand holding my leash.” 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You aren’t sure when, exactly, you fell asleep, but you wake up on the lounge some time later, finding yourself blinking up at the ceiling of his office in a bit of a daze. You’re a little disoriented at first and then you remember where you were. Everything that had happened. The meeting with the inmates. That horrible incident with George. The sound slap you’d given Wriothesley right across his stupid smug mouth. The way you’d crawled into his lap and … 

You bolt upright with a soul sucking gasp. Your instinctive panic is immediately interrupted, however, when you realize his coat is now pooled in your lap, and you blink down at it with owlish surprise. He’d given you his jacket while you slept? 

“Ah, you’re finally awake. I was wondering how long you’d be out for.” 

Startling, you twist around on the lounge to look over at the desk where you find Wriothesley reading over a small stack of paperwork in his hand while the other lifts a steaming cup of tea up to his mouth. You could smell it from where you were sitting, the rich aroma drawing you a little further out of your half asleep stupor and a bit more into reality. Archons, you felt like you were dying of thirst. 

“You wouldn't happen to have an extra cup for me, would you?” 

“Of course I do. Don’t be silly.” Setting his own back down after taking a sip, he sedately glances over at you from across the room. “I even grabbed some sandwiches and cookies for you from the cafeteria. I figured you’d be hungry when you woke up.” 

You immediately realize that that was an understatement. You weren’t just hungry, you were famished! 

But when you move to get up, pulling his coat off your lap, you abruptly come to a screeching halt. Eyes widening to the approximate size of dinner plates, you stare down at your bare legs in abject disbelief. “Where are my pants?” 

“Don’t sound so alarmed. I put them somewhere safe.” 

“Well, I’d like to have them back!” You snap, shooting daggers over at him. 

Humming as if in thought, Wriothesley drops the paperwork on top of the desk and reclines back into his chair. “I don’t think so. Not just yet anyway. I’m not quite through with you yet.” 

A shudder races up your stiffening spine, and you nervously gather his heavy jacket close to your chest, clutching at it. “W - what does that mean? I thought you said you’d let me decide when I was ready?” 

He barks a quick laugh. “I don’t mean that. I’m talking about your punishment from earlier. We got a little sidetracked, didn’t we?” 

“Oh.” Heaving a long suffering sigh, you roll your eyes and move to stand up. Keeping his coat held to your front, you slowly shuffle over to the desk to stand in front of it. “Is that really necessary? I understand why you had to do it, even if I don’t agree with your methods.”

Idly tapping his finger on the sturdy wood, he just silently studies you for a long moment. “It’s not exactly about agreeing with me.” He says at length. “I’m still waiting on an apology, for starters.” 

You promptly shrink in on yourself. “You hit me all the time …” 

“No, what I do is spank your bratty little bottom to sort you out. I don’t hit you across the face, and I never would unless you asked me to.” 

“Why would I - -“

“Do not try to change the subject. I told you once before that I’m not so easily distracted, didn’t I?” 

He tips his head to one side as if to further drive his point home, and you feel your cheeks start to warm. “You’re like a dog with a bone.” 

“Ah, so you have been paying attention then. Good. I know firsthand just how smart you really are so I do expect you to start figuring things out, the more time we spend together. And I do hope that you’ll continue to share more with me.” 

You hesitate at the first inkling that something was not quite right here. He was talking about more than just the slap, wasn’t he? But what else could there be that he wanted to talk about? 

“I do enjoy spending time with his grace,” You say slowly, warily. “Even if he does make me feel uniquely harassed half of the time. And I’m sorry for hitting you. You’re right that there’s a difference between the two. I tried to hurt you out of anger, while you do it to —“ 

Wriothesley chuckles when you search for the word only to come up empty handed, the smile tugging at his mouth equally roguish and charming. “To correct you. I can’t deny that you can be a little frustrating sometimes, but I’m sure the same can be said of me. In fact, I know it can. But I don’t hit you in anger. Not when I’m nearly double your size and weight. To allow my self control to slip even slightly would be … reckless indeed, because I could seriously hurt you. I’m always careful to make sure I’m fully aware of what I’m doing and how hard I’m doing it before I ever put my hands on you, little miss. I hope you know that.” 

Your back straightens when it suddenly hits you. That’s what he was worried about? 

“Are you afraid I won’t want to see you anymore after the way you … broke George’s wrist earlier?” 

A long stretch of quiet settles over the office, perfectly still and perfectly quiet. 

“A little.” He says at last. “I couldn’t exactly blame you if that was the decision you came to, but I’d still be a bit — disappointed to lose you. A lot, actually. I enjoy our time together too.” 

You swallow. Hard. “Your grace, I … I won’t deny that you scared me earlier, but it’s not like it was the first time. You’ve made me nervous and frightened, and happy, and sad, and so incredibly confused I could just tear my own hair out sometimes, but — I was more frightened for George than myself, if I’m being honest. I was scared you were going to hurt him.” 

“And then I did.” He says simply, and you nod. 

“Yes. Frankly, I was horrified. That’s why I got so mad at you. I never thought you’d actually be capable of something like that, and I guess I didn’t really know how to react. But you’ve never made me feel like I was truly in danger. I’ve never worried about you breaking my arm, or snapping me in half even though I’m sure you easily could. I’m not scared of you, your grace. I just … I don’t want to see you hurt anyone else, least of all because of me.” 

He lets that settle for a drawn out beat, clearly turning everything over in his head, before decisively leaning forward to grab up the teapot sitting on a tray at the corner of the desk. “Well, I can’t exactly promise you that. Should the need ever arise again, I won’t hesitate to protect you. Especially if it’s one of my inmates trying to cause you harm. But with that being said,” He starts to pour out a second cup, also taken off the tray. Your eyes voraciously wander over to the little plate covered with a tin lid, knowing there were promised sandwiches and cookies hiding underneath, and your stomach churns in hunger. “I solemnly swear that from here on out I will do everything in my power to avoid it ever coming to that. If we can stop it from reaching that point then surely both of us will be satisfied. Does that sound like a reasonable compromise to you?” 

“Yes, your grace.” 

“Excellent. Then come sit on my lap and help yourself to some food and tea. I’m sure you’re starving.” 

For once you only feel slightly hesitant to heed his command without needing to be told twice, and you eagerly shuffle around the desk to join him. You’re able to hide the nudity of your lower half behind his coat which you keep tucked around your waist even as you get settled on his legs. It was a seat you were quickly (perhaps even embarrassingly so) getting used to, and the thick arm that snakes around your middle to secure you in place was likewise becoming something comfortably familiar as well. 

The first thing you reach for is the plate, stretching across the desk to pull it closer so you can peel away the lid and find out what’s inside. A handful of neatly sliced sandwiches of a few different varieties greets you, as well as a small pile of assorted biscuits. You don’t hesitate to snag one up and pop it into your mouth, humming in delight at the taste. Chuckling softly, Wriothesley gives you a brief squeeze around the middle as his other hand slides over to pick up the abandoned stack of papers again. 

“Are you aware just how adorable you can be at times?” 

Humming in agreement, you covetously go for a sandwich next. “His grace flatters me.”

“Brat.” Giving your tummy an affectionate pinch, he turns his attention to the papers. “Another question, if you would be kind enough to humor me. Are you aware that you’ve earned yourself a few fans here in the prison?” 

You freeze in place with the dainty little triangle lifted half of the way to your waiting mouth. “I beg your pardon?” 

“Belle, the woman at the meeting earlier, slipped this note into my mailbox some time ago. She apologizes for what happened with George, and she wishes you a speedy recovery with hopes that you’ll return soon to start your sewing classes. You’re welcome to read it for yourself if you’d like.” 

Slowly, you lower the sandwich and reach out for the paper. You’re more than a little surprised to find it says exactly what he’s relayed to you. “Wha — but I don’t understand?” Dropping the sandwich altogether now, you numbly flip to the next page only to find a second letter written in two different but equally terrible sets of handwriting. Those brothers. 

“Don’t pay them much mind.” He murmurs as you scan over the, frankly, perplexing note. “They’re trouble, but mostly harmless. I won’t go so far as to say they mean well, but …” 

Thoroughly perplexed, you flip to the final page. This one is rather neat and tidy, and relievingly concise, but you can’t quite place who it would have come from. All it says is that they hoped you wouldn’t be scared off by what happened, and that they looked forward to the program being a resounding success. It was of course very flattering but rather unexpected. A bit confounding, if you were being honest. 

“Who wrote this one?” 

“His name is Gaspard. You probably didn’t notice, but he was making puppy dog eyes at you the whole time.”

Flustered heat promptly crawls up your neck to settle deep in your cheeks. “Has anyone ever told you that your sense of humor leaves much to be desired, your grace?” 

“Oh, I’m actually being quite serious. I thought for sure if I was going to have to pry someone off you it was going to be him.” 

Another teasing pinch at your waist accompanies that and you sigh out through your nose, trying very hard not to let his foolishness distract you. “May I ask what he’s serving time for? This handwriting looks very well practiced, and his spelling is perfect.”

With a quiet hum, Wriothesley leans to the side to brace his chin in the palm of his hand. “He’s in for embezzlement.” 

“Embezzlement!” You squawk, beyond horrified. “B - b - but if it’s the man I’m thinking of, he was so polite and quiet! I thought he was just shy so I didn’t want to draw too much attention to him!” 

“Those are the ones you have to watch out for the most.” He laughs. “You’ll learn that in due time. The ones like George are mostly all bark and no bite, unless you back them into a corner. Gaspard’s type is way more dangerous because you can never be quite sure what they’re thinking.” 

More than just a bit ruffled, you defensively clutch the small stack of letters to your chest. “So then I suppose that would put you in the latter category?” 

“Hm … I suppose it would.” 

With a click of your tongue, you set the papers aside and primly return to your sandwich. “Regardless, I think it’s clear how we should proceed. We need to get a seamstress out to the prison as soon as possible for Belle, and I’m sure we can find a willing chef for those two troublemakers as well.” You pause with the little triangle almost up to your mouth again, hesitating a moment before slowly lowering it once more. “That is — if you’d still like to work with me going forward. I’m sure you probably have some reservations after what happened today, but I promise I’ll be more cautious next time and - -“ 

“Hush. I’m not going to take it away from you like a toy you’re not allowed to play with anymore. You’ll still have your little program and I’ll still work with you to help you implement it. You’ll just have to be a bit more closely supervised with it going forward.” 

“… you are truly detestable sometimes.” 

“So I’ve heard.” 

Wriothesley thankfully lets you eat in peace after that, and your stomach is quite glad for it. You happily scarf down two sandwiches and another cookie to go with your cup of tea, but you quickly begin to feel full. Eventually, you find yourself leaning back against his chest with your head resting along his shoulder, and you just quietly watch him work through a different stack of papers, this one much more formidable than your measly pile. You were going to cherish them forever though, even had half a mind to go out and have them framed immediately, but that seemed a little excessive, even for you. 

The intimate atmosphere and the close proximity with him almost has you dozing again, but the large hand idly rubbing over your tummy keeps you more or less grounded in reality, you sigh, very softly, when he eventually gives you an attention grabbing pinch some indeterminable amount of time later. 

“You’re not falling asleep on me again, are you?” 

“No, your grace. I am only resting.” 

“Good.” He says rather amicably, setting the sheet in his hand down. “Because there’s still the matter of your punishment to go over.” 

Groaning, you let your head loll back against his shoulder to look up at the ceiling. “You really never let anything go, do you?” 

“It would be remiss of me if I did. More importantly though, I wanted to show you something. Do you remember what I said earlier, about getting spanked with something much worse than a hairbrush?” 

You immediately lurch on top of him, skin crawling at just the thought as you try to jump up off his lap and escape, but Wriothesley just tightens his arm around you to keep you pinned even when you inelegantly flail. “Wait — that’s not fair, your grace, I — ow!” 

The hard slam of your knee against his desk has you whimpering in pain, and he quickly takes advantage of that stunned moment to haul you back and secure you more firmly in place. “That’s what you get for jumping to conclusions. Let that be a lesson to you.” Sighing, he presses his mouth to the top of your head in a lingering kiss while you try to shake out the hurt from your leg. “Troublesome girl.”

“I don’t want to hear that from you right now!” You snip, still rubbing at your bruised knee. “And what were you even talking about? I don’t think I deserve to be struck with a stick or a measuring rod, or — or - -“

“You don’t, you’re right about that. But I want to show you what comes after the hairbrush, if you’ll let me. I’d like to think having that knowledge in the back of your mind might give you enough incentive to make better decisions in the future, but given how hard headed you are … maybe it won’t.” 

Huffing, you petulantly cross your arms. “You only want to show me?” You didn’t trust it at all. Not one bit. 

“I planned to actually strike you with it, of course. Otherwise it would just be an empty threat and you’d have no baseline to gauge how far you’re willing to go just to throw a fit over something. But how about this? I’ll make you a deal. You like when I do that, don’t you?” 

You were loath to admit it out loud but you did indeed, and your pussy slowly clenches with interest. Damn him straight to the abyss and back. “I’m listening.” 

“Good girl. I figured you would be.” Another kiss pressed to the top of your head, his breath displacing some of the flyaways there. “You get to choose then. Would you like me to round off your punishment with my hand and twenty strokes of the hairbrush, or would you prefer to take six from the mystery implement?” 

Twisting around in his hold, you look up at him in abject shock. “Only six?” 

“Only six.” He confirms. 

“And you won’t tell me what it is first? Is it really that bad?”

“No, and no. It’s just a different kind of pain, is all. Something you aren’t used to. I strongly suspect if I told you beforehand, you’d be too frightened to take it on and would instead gladly subject your poor bottom to a much worse fate than it needs to suffer.” Drawing a stilted breath, Wriothesley slips one of his hands under the jacket to caress along your bare thigh, warming the skin under his palm. “As far as I’m concerned, you’ve already been appropriately corrected. There’s no need to actually take you over my knee unless you leave me with no other choice. The second option is preferable for both of us, first and foremost because I intend for it to be a warning more than anything. The choice is yours though, little miss. I am but at your beck and call.” 

You snort at that and pin him with a wry look. “Sure. I might believe that when pigs fly.” With a shake of your head, you turn back around so you can slump against him, listlessly picking at the fur trim on his jacket in your lap while you think it over. One was obviously the better sounding choice but … didn’t that mean it was a trap? 

Big, burly arms squeezing around you, Wriothesley bends close to kiss your temple, your cheek, down to your neck. They’re soft and fleeting, decidedly, chaste, and yet they still make your pulse start to thrum a little faster. You really were regrettably weak for him. It just wasn’t fair.  

“May I add an extra term onto our deal?” 

“Let’s hear it.” 

“If I choose the second option, will … will you play with me afterward?” 

He seems to hesitate against you, no doubt catching onto your meaning. “I was planning on doing that anyway. I always make sure you get rewarded at the end, don’t I?” A lingering kiss pressed into your temple. 

You were really starting to become hot and flustered again, and it shows in the way your voice strains slightly. “I don’t mean like that. I — I think I want you to touch me, your grace.” 

This time he really does go still. A long beat of quiet punctuates the moment, and then he shifts against you, speaking across the side of your face. “Where do you want me to touch you, pretty girl? Between your legs?” 

Just hearing him say it makes you shudder from your head straight down to your toes, and you fitfully twist on his lap so you can tip your head back to look at him. “Everywhere, sir. Between my legs and — my chest too. If you want.” 

“Of course I want to, silly thing.” Breathing out a rather terse exhale, he tips his head to kiss your mouth but it is regretfully short lived, and you whine softly when he retreats again. “I need you to clarify something for me first though, so I know exactly what it is you’re comfortable with. Do you want to get completely undressed for me or would you rather I touch you through your shirt?” 

“O - oh.” You hadn’t thought about it that far, and you shyly avert your gaze. Although you did want to feel his hands on your breasts, the thought of being completely nude with him was a daunting one indeed. It was silly, of course, but that seemed like something of a big step and a potentially awkward one at that. “I … I don’t know if I’m ready to get naked yet so — through my shirt?” 

“Through your shirt it is.” He agrees, pressing his mouth to your cheek in a hard, reassuring kiss. It makes you squirm, just a little bit, how willing he is to humor you in this way, but you think that it probably means more to you than you even fully realize. “You’re a good girl, you know that?” He murmurs against your skin. “I’m so proud of you for being honest with me. I know that’s not always easy for you to do.” 

“Enough already.” You huff in embarrassed fluster, making him chuckle. 

“Don’t start getting cranky. I don’t want to have to really spank you if I don’t have to.” Finally, he pulls all the way back to give you some space, patting your leg under the jacket. “Alright. Stand up and put your hands on the desk for me. We’ll do this standing up.” 

Suddenly confused, you hesitate just a moment before rocking forward with no shortage of hesitation. He didn’t often strike you while standing. Usually only when he was made to grab you to stop you from scuttling away and a chair or other wasn’t readily available … 

You try not to think about that too hard though as you find your feet with his coat somewhat awkwardly clutched to your front still. He reaches around to take it from you and you reluctantly let it go, shivering when it falls away to leave you bared from the waist down. Shuffling forward a step, you then reach out and slowly place your hands palm down on the desk while he stands up behind you, pushing the chair further back to allow for some space. 

Wriothesley presses up close behind you then, making a fresh shudder work down your spine as he leans over you to gently reposition your palms a little further apart. He reaches down to take your waist next so he can carefully bend you forward with your legs squared, nice and firmly rooted. You aren’t quite sure what to make of it all but his hands feel decidedly nice on you, and you just sigh very softly when he moves back. The following moment or two of rustling further leaves you stumped, especially when you catch a soft metallic click on the air, and you have to try very hard not to turn around and look. He seemed quite sure whatever it was would startle you a great deal but … 

When he eventually comes up beside you again, you turn your head to look at the hand he holds out towards you. Your brows make a prompt, very expeditious trip up to your hairline. 

“Wha — y - your belt, sir?” You warble out on a squeak, genuinely flabbergasted by this revelation. 

He chuckles faintly, snapping your wide eyed attention up at him so fast it nearly makes your head spin. “That look on your face is exactly why I didn’t tell you outright but it sounds worse than it actually is. At least the way I’m going to do it is.” 

“W - which would be?” You ask, nervously glancing at the folded over strip of leather with a great deal of fast mounting horror. 

“We’ll start off slow and work our way up in intensity, but even by the end I won’t be using too much force. My goal isn’t to actually hurt you, just teach you. See, the thing about this is it covers a wider area. I can strike you across both cheeks in one swing, and the relative flexibility of the leather means it carries a sharper sting with it as well. I don’t think it’ll take much to have you dancing on your toes, so I probably won’t even end up using a fraction of my strength when all is said and done. Does all of that sound agreeable to you, little miss?” 

You work to swallow down your nerves and almost choke on it. “I … I suppose so. But — if I really can’t take it, will you stop?” 

“Of course I will. I have no interest in brutalizing you or anything of the sort. That being said though I’m confident that you’ll do just fine. Who knows? You might even enjoy it.” 

A wholly mirthless laugh punches out of your throat. “I’m really not sure about that, your grace.” 

“Then let’s find out.” 

Transfixed, you follow the motion of the folded over belt when he lifts it in one hand and then slaps it down into the waiting palm of the other. You startle at the loud, meaty whap! and suddenly your blood turns to ice. You can feel yourself slipping under alarmingly fast, whatever the incomprehensible shroud was that blanketed your mind every time you ended up in these situations with him, but you had a feeling it wasn’t going to do much to shield you from the full brunt of it in this particular instance. 

Trying very hard not to shake when he steps behind you, you tip your face down to stare blankly down at the desk. The tension thrumming through your body is thick enough to suffocate and nauseatingly cloying. Just thinking about him hitting you with that was enough to make you sick … 

“Oh, and just a word of advice.” He tacks on, standing about a step behind you by the sound of it. “Try to breathe through it as much as you can. That will help more than anything else.” 

“… yes, sir.” 

“Good girl.” 

His fingertips brush across your ass then, and you jolt so hard you almost come right up off the floor. Wriothesley just takes a moment to coo at you though, chiding you softly for being so jumpy, but it was a little hard not to be! You felt like you were going to vibrate right out of existence, and the heavy weight of nervous anticipation was not making it any better. You’re such a mess of nerves and sharp adrenaline that you barely even notice the way your skin prickles under his hand, still hot to the touch and tender from your earlier spanking, and you wince slightly as he rubs over your bottom. It seems like a cruel thing to do, getting you sensitized and warmed up for his belt like this. 

“I’m going to start.” He finally warns you as his hand retreats, and you immediately brace for the deafening crack and the splintering pain to go with it. 

To your flinching surprise, however, the belt just lightly swats across your bottom with a soft little pap! and you absolutely hate the way you still violently lurch, having expected much worse. Your cheeks immediately flood with heat as he laughs softly behind you at the big reaction. 

“I told you we’d work our way up. That’s one. Count for me, pretty girl.” 

You obediently open your mouth but you only make it so far as drawing a breath to respond when the belt slaps across your ass, a little harder this time. You notice the sting he’d mentioned immediately, as well as the insidious reach it has across the swell of both cheeks, but all it does is make you rock forward on your toes a bit. You’d never admit it out loud to him, but he was right. This wasn’t as bad as you’d thought it would be. 

And that was precisely why you didn’t trust it. 

“… two, sir.” 

“Good girl. Your bottom looks mighty cute like this, by the way. I think I could get used to seeing you bent over my desk.” 

You clench your teeth, half in annoyance and half to brace for the next hit. If they kept steadily increasing like that … 

Whap! 

This one subtly jerks you forward with the impact and you wheeze over the desk, trying and failing to process just how sharp the sting really is. It leaves you dizzy, a bit stunned in the aftermath as prickling fire welts up over the swell of your bottom. It has your toes curling in their shoes, skin crawling with needle pinpricks as you work to steady yourself. Okay, that was marginally worse than his hand but still not quite as bad as the hairbrush. 

“Ooh … three, sir …” 

“You’re doing very well so far. What do you think of it?” 

You weren’t entirely sure you were properly equipped to answer that question at the moment, but after a short beat of consideration you finally say, “I see what you meant. It’s a different kind of pain, but it’s not terrible.” 

“It could be.” 

You snort. “I bet it could.”

Wriothesley shifts behind you making you instinctively brace for the next hit, but it never comes. Instead, he speaks again after a drawn out pause. “Do you really trust me not to get carried with it, and to know your pain threshold better than you do?” 

That seemed like an odd question to ask after all this time, but you decide you can humor it as you readjust your feet with a quick shuffle. “I do, your grace. You push me sometimes but you’ve never actually crossed that line. Until you do, I trust you.” 

“That’s very generous of you.” He murmurs, a note of humor in his voice now. “Incidentally, I think you should know that I trust you as well. I suppose that makes us even.” 

A dull trickle of surprise washes over you, but before you can fully process what he’d said the next strike comes with a considerably louder crack and it startles an ‘oh!’ out of you. Rocking forward on your toes, seething, you gingerly shift your weight from one side to the other but it does absolutely nothing to dispel the throbbing strip across your backside. It really was insidious how it could catch the meatiest parts of your ass in a single blow, and you carefully try to stretch it out with a dramatic curve of your spine. 

“That’s quite a show you're putting on for me right now, pretty girl.” Wriothesley drawls in a low tone that sounds like silk in your pounding ears. “Are you sure you don’t want to take your top off? I’m already seeing quite a lot …” 

Whimpering faintly, you shyly squeeze your thighs together and straighten slightly. “Don’t be a pig …” 

“My apologies. It’s so easy to forget my manners when you’re presenting such a cute pussy to me like that. I’ll be sure to mind myself.” 

“Ooh … will you touch it, your grace?” 

“Yes. Gladly. But only after we’re done.” He says. Then, much more softly, “It will be a reward for the both of us.” 

You draw a steadying breath and force your constricting lungs to expand with it as you carefully resume the position he’d put you in, or something close to it. “Four, sir.” 

“Good girl.” 

This time you know the swing is coming because you can hear the displacement in the air, and it seems to catch you in a particularly vulnerable spot, because you dance up on your toes with a frazzled yelp. The sting of unshed tears in your eyes quickly joins the splintering sensation across your decidedly sore bottom, and you sniffle rather sadly at the hurt. You understood now why he’d set the count to six, and you were immensely glad for it. 

“F - five, sir …” 

Wriothesley’s hand abruptly finds your shuddering back and you jolt before stiffly relaxing into his touch. Gently, reassuringly, he drags that massive palm across you in slow, coaxing circles. “There, you’re almost done. I’ll let you decide when you’re ready for the last stroke.” 

You can’t decide if that makes it better or worse, but you take a moment to collect yourself, just taking slow, deep breaths, just like he’d said to. It does help, a little bit, but the searing line across your ass is very hard to ignore. You were undoubtedly scared of what was coming and, yet, his steady presence at your side was a comforting one. You could do this. You knew you could. Not for him, but because of him. 

Gingerly easing your body out of its defensive hunch, you carefully move back into position again.  “I’m ready, sir.” 

Your first sign that this was going to be awful is the fact that Wriothesley keeps his hand braced against your middle back and just shifts to the side. Your second is the sharp sound of it cutting through the air. 

Whap! 

Pain explodes across your entire body unlike ever before. You lurch with a wounded, faltering animal sound, unable to even scream, it was that bad! Your knees instantly turn knobbly and you practically collapse with a strained, gasping sob, but he’s right there to catch you. So lost in the swimming daze of blind agony, you barely register him holding you around the waist to keep you upright and somewhat steady, but the soft press of his mouth against your shoulder somehow still manages to catch your attention. It pulls you back into the physical world, bit by bit, at a sluggish pace, and the sound of his crooning voice soon penetrates the numbing fog to mist over you. 

“— such a good girl, I’m so proud of you for taking that so well. You didn’t even scream, and I thought for sure you would on the last one. Do you have any idea how much strength that took? You’re such a precious thing.” 

Groaning dizzily, you slowly start to straighten up under his helpful guidance, and you don’t protest when he gently steers you back towards the chair with a hiccuping mewl. You’re glad for it, in fact. You just wanted to crawl into his lap and cling to him for the rest of the day. Night? You weren’t even sure what time it was. How long had you fallen asleep for? 

You feel well and truly delirious as he sits down and gets situated behind you before reaching back up to tug you into his lap, and you viciously seethe the moment your throbbing ass brushes his pants. Making a valiant effort to arch up off him and escape the pressure, you openly sob when he just pulls you right down. You writhe at the pain, twisting in his arms but then — you abruptly realize where his hands are headed. 

Choking on a stuttering gasp, you tip your tear stained face down with a confused little whimper to watch his palms drag up the front of your body, further rucking and irreparably wrinkling your jumper in the process. They smooth over the curve of your breasts and then pause to give them a savory squeeze, and you shudder intensely at the sensation. You’d never been touched like this before. Not by anyone, and it surprises you how sensitive your chest is under the weight of his hands. Your nipples immediately spring up even under your clothes, and you fitfully turn your head to rest across his shoulder with a half strangled wail. 

“These feel so good in my hands, pretty girl. Is this what you wanted me to do? Hm?” 

Screwing your eyes shut against the onslaught of so many sensations all at once — the pain and the pleasure so horribly intermingled that you could hardly tell them apart anymore — you offer a quick, jerky nod. “Mhm!” 

Wriothesley breathes out a terse sigh against the side of your head and nuzzles further into you while his hands keep fondling your breasts. “Good. They seem sensitive. There are a lot of fun things we could do with that information, you know. I have a few — toys you might be interested in later. Do you like having your pretty tits played with? You certainly look like you do …” 

Whining low in your throat, you shudderingly arch to shove your chest further out, and he takes advantage of that to squish them up and together. A deeply frazzled moan rattles out of you when he jostles them for a brief moment before letting them go so that they bounce back into place. He groans, very softly, as he quickly cups around the swell of them again, just holding them in his palms for a moment while he bends close to kiss you. 

You’re sinking alarmingly fast, much too fast to make any sense of it, and you clutch at his shirt in a fitful, twisting death grip. He doesn’t even seem to notice, just hungrily kissing you for a tortuously long stretch before eventually pulling back with a stilted exhale. Meaningfully, he sends his gaze lower and you follow his lead, slowly looking down at yourself just to find your tits straining up even through two shirts and a brassier. You issue a low, wounded sound, watching through the impossibly heavy fall of your lashes as he brings his hands up to delicately pluck at the stiffened buds. That alone is almost too much, both the sensation and the visual, but he really starts to tug on them. 

“You like that, do you?” He chuckles at all your sensitive quivering. “I’m sure you’ve noticed I’m more of an ass man myself, but these are nice too. Very nice, indeed. They fit so nicely in my hands, almost like they were made for them. And your nipples … oh, sweet girl, are you going to cum just from having me play with them?” 

That didn’t seem to be as much of a preposterous suggestion as you would have otherwise thought when you were currently wrestling with the thrumming tension that spikes through your body. You’d never felt quite so hot or overly sensitive, and you keen at the growing need threatening to swallow you whole. 

Evidently catching on, Wriothesley drags one of his hands down across your front, over your belly and straight down to dip between your trembling thighs. You feel him experimentally touch over your slit for a brief moment, familiarizing himself with it, before pressing his fingers into meaty lips to spread them. You rock violently in his hold and instinctively curl your legs out wide even when they weakly twitch in the air, keeping them spread for him. You’re not sure what you were expecting in your punch drunk state of mind, but it shocks a flustered yelp out of you when he slips in to tease over your clit. It has you twitching, twisting and writhing against him for everything you’re worth. The calloused pad on the tip seems to catch at soft flesh even with the excessive slick coating you and he tauntingly nudges at the delicate little pleasure button, just drawing it back and forth, up and down for a moment, before starting to press down more firmly. You promptly go cross eyed, lurching in his lap with a gutted moan. 

The direct contact felt so good … so good you could hardly even stand it, and it brings fresh tears to your eyes. You liked rubbing yourself on his thighs. Thought you’d liked that the most and that you couldn’t like anything else better — but this was overwhelming your already cotton stuffed head alarmingly quick, and the way he continues to pluck at one of your nipples did not seem to be helping you in the slightest. You were going to vibrate right off him if he kept that up! 

“Y - your grace! Ooohhnnggh!” 

“Do you enjoy that, little miss? Hm?” He nuzzles against the side of your head, pressing idle kisses to your temple again. 

“Ahhnn … yes! I do, your grace! I - I feel like I’m gonna’ — oohh!”

With a soft chuckle that makes his chest vibrate against your back, Wriothesley reaches across to the other breast to give it a savory, pinching knead. Fitful and needy, you impulsively reach down with trembling hands to grab the hem of your jumper so you can yank it up to bunch under your chin. He obliges you by grabbing at your tit again, through just the thin layer of your blouse now, and you somehow manage to shake even harder when he digs his fingers in to tug at the brassier underneath. It’s hard to do indirectly like this and he jostles you slightly with the effort, but you still feel the exact moment your stiff teat slips out of the top of the cup and you just shake even harder. 

“I bet you do. Such a sensitive little girl you are …” Pulling in a carefully tempered breath, he abandons that tit much to your blubbering disappointment and reaches over to do the same to the other. Pinching through fabric to grab at the lacy material underneath and nudge it down enough to leave both nipples cutting up directly into the fabric of your shirt. You writhe on top of him with a back bowing shudder and blindly grab at him, his arms, his shirt, the now rumpled collar of his button up, whining a low plea. “Hush. I’ve got you. Bring your hands up for me and wrap them around my neck. Think you can do that for me?” 

Offering a stilted nod, you do as he’d asked without question or even much thought to the matter. Later you might wonder why you’re so obedient and pliable with him like this, but in the heat of the moment you find nothing but pleasure, and deep satisfaction at the rumbling noise of approval he gives you when your arms stretch up to curl over his shoulders in a loose hold. The position proves a bit awkward when you can’t get a very good grip on him, but the reason for it quickly makes itself known. Your tits lift under your shirt with the upward motion to jut further out, and his blocky hand quickly descends upon one, pinching the tightly coiled teat to leave you moaning in equal parts distress and delight. 

“Ooh, isn’t that a lovely sound? You really are going to be the death of me … let me show you something nice now. You’ll like it, I promise.” 

The blocky fingers on your clit slowly retreat and you hiss at the loss only to choke on it a heartbeat later when he firmly presses them over your slit. He gives them a sedate rub and your pelvis involuntarily jumps, pressing up into them with a juddering twitch, eager for more. Desperate for it. 

“There, now move with me, pretty girl. Just like you do when you’re grinding this sweet pussy on my leg … that’s it, move your hips. Back and forth. Just follow the motion of my hand — see, you’ve got it. Keep going and don’t stop until you’re shaking for me.”

You suck in a thick, heavy gasp as you bring your swimming attention back down to look at the way you’re spread open on top of him. The wide stretch of your legs is shameful and a little embarrassing even now, but your cunt looks so small and dainty rubbing against his big hand while your thighs quack around it and you can’t quite bring yourself to care about it right now. Wheezing, you rock your pelvis up to follow the friction of his rough fingers before swiveling back and — you outright choke when your sore ass grinds down on him in the process. The faintly raised welts seem to crawl and sting with renewed fervor at the brush of his pants, the hard press of his cock digging up into you in search of the hot, wet warmth between your legs. Your pussy squeezes wildly at the sharp pain, drools yet more sticky slick to coat you in an obscene amount of liquid arousal, and you quickly do it again. Up against the firm pressure of his hand and then back again to rub your sore bottom on him. 

It doesn’t take long for you to start quaking in earnest like this and you cling to him desperately as the tension in your body rapidly swells, threatening to bowl you right over if you weren’t careful. But as always Wriothesley’s hold on you is absolute, and you’re free to shake and twist as wildly as you want without having to worry about falling. The hand on your chest alternates between your breasts, squeezing, pinching, tugging at your nipples, each in turn, to leave them feeling raw and sensitized through your shirt while the other keeps guiding your pelvis through the stuttering motion. Maintaining it becomes more difficult with the steady locking of your muscles as warning tremors wrack through you, but he remains an ever steady presence around you and it’s so easy to get lost and swept up in his pace. 

Your cunt tilts up against his hand and then your ass nudges back to make dull throbs of pain erupt across your bottom. 

Up against his hand with a sticky glide that does absolutely nothing to stop his rough skin from dragging against petal soft folds, then back to feel the weight of him digging into sore flesh that burns at the friction against his slacks. 

Up against his hand, back against his cock. 

His hand, his cock. 

Wriothesley’s hand and Wriothesley’s cock. 

The coil snaps. Just like that. 

Throwing your head back against his shoulder, you wail through your soul shattering release as quietly as you can manage. You seethe, you hiss, you groan, low and faltering. You squeal and you wheeze, bucking uncontrollably with a frantic desperation that he takes in stride. His hold on you doesn’t falter, and he neither grunts or flinches even when you spasm on top of him without heed. He’s like a solid wall underneath you, and he pets you through it all until you finally, at last, start to come down from it some moments later one jagged piece of you at a time. 

Going boneless with a haggard noise of deep sated pleasure, you just lay there for a long while and let him caress over you to leave pleasantly warm tingles in the wake of his hands. It’s comfortable like that, there with him. Sitting in the stillness of his office in the buzzing afterglow of release, simply listening to each other's heartbeats for a long time. He was right to say this was something he could get used to, because you could too. 

And strangely enough that thought doesn’t frighten you half as much as it probably would have at one time. 

“You’re a very good girl for me, you know that?” Wriothesley says at last, finally interrupting the quiet. 

Snuggling deeper into his body with a content little sigh, you tip your head back to look up at him from just a scant few millimeters away. “You’re very good to me as well, you’re grace. T - … thank you for that.” 

A slow smile tugs at his mouth to accompany the almost wry quirk of his brow. “Oh, am I now? Well, you’re very welcome, of course, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t half expect a different sentiment.”

You frown at that, unable to stop it. “You are easily the most frustrating, blockheaded man I have ever met, and I won’t deny that, but you — you’re kind to me, aren’t you? In your own strange way.” 

“I try to be.” He relents, his gaze drifting lower to fix upon your mouth. You can tell he’s thinking about kissing you again by the way his eyelids droop to attractive halfmast, but you reach up to cup the strong ridge of his jaw before he can follow through on it. 

“Can I … be kind to you as well, sir?” You give your butt a pointed little wiggle down onto the hard length straining under you, and his brows draw together as if in great discomfort. 

“As much as I would like that,” He intones rather thinly. “And for as much as I am tempted, I would rather teach you about that somewhere a bit more appropriate than in my office. At your home. In the comfort of your own bed, if you would permit it, sounds ideal to me.” 

You hesitate to respond just a moment too long, still a little overwhelmed at the thought of sharing your bed with him despite the eager thrum you feel at the suggestion, and he takes the chance to gather you against him in a tight squeeze. 

“There isn’t any rush, sweet girl. Whenever you’re ready, you will have me. I just want to ensure you receive the care and attention you deserve first and foremost, and I also want you to feel safe. Your bedroom will represent that final boundary and when you’re prepared to invite me into your life like that, that is when I will take you. That sounds fair enough, doesn’t it?” 

You want to tell him you are ready, that you want him now, you’re sure of it. Your body and mind alike both seem to crave the intimacy of skin on skin contact with him, while your heart … 

Oh, you simply couldn’t think about that right now. 

“Yes, your grace.” You murmur instead of any number of other things you could have said to him, wanted to say to him. Needed to say. “That sounds fair.” 

“Good.” Wriothesley gives you a reassuring pinch to make you squirm slightly in his arms. “Then I think with that settled it’s about time you and I considered making things somewhat official. Do you think you can stand to be seen with me in public in a non professional capacity for an hour or two?”

Going still against him, you frantically try to parse what he’s asking, what he’s getting at. Make it official? “What do you mean, my lord? I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” 

“I’d like to take you out to dinner, little miss. On a date.” 

Your face instantly lights up like a firework. A date? With the Duke of Meropide himself? 

Oh, but you suddenly felt terribly faint. 

“I … I think I’d like that, your grace. Thank you.” 

“Wonderful. Then that is what we will do.”

⭐

Crossposted: here

[triplesilverstar]

Desperation

Rating: 18+

Pairing: Vash X afab!Reader

CW: P in V sex, fingerings, desperate, clothed sex, naked, intimate, heart felt, pining, making out, hand job, groping, angst, very heavy angst at the end.

Word count: Roughly 2K

A/N: So... the lovely Helixel drew something and shared it in a discord we're both in yesterday. And it left my hot and bothered with no other thoughts for the rest of my day. So when I was done work I needed to sit down and write those damn thoughts that the art put in my head. The link to said art is below the break and trust me, it is delicious and I hope it eats your brain like it did mine.

Here's the link and now on with the one shot/blurb

It made his heart thunder in his chest, the muscle beating hard enough he was certain he’d have scars along the inside of his ribs to match the hardened flesh outside. Turning almost in slow motion and seeing you there, unable to make out anything outside of your form with the light illuminated your form. A few short steps before his feet and hammering the ground in his desperation to reach you.

Hearing your laughter reach his ears as his arms encased you while his lips slotted over yours. The sensation of your nimble fingers trailing up his chest and slipping over his shoulders to push his jacket away, his hands pulling away from you just long enough to let the sleeves drop away. Your lips taste like heaven, a sense of peace washing over him as your lips provide a gentle resistance to his insistence.

Like a man lost in the desert for weeks coming across a lush oasis and taking that first long drink. Almost drowning in his desperation to enjoy the feeling of your clothed body leaning into his, the small little mewls you let out while his tongue slid along your lower lip.

All the while his hands glide along your sides, taking note of the curve of your waist, the heat of your skin warming the cool metal of his prosthetic as it rests against your bare hip. A soft giggle, like a feather teasing his nose as your lips part and he rushes past them, groaning at the taste of you heavy on his tongue. He could remain wrapped in your embrace for the rest of his life, swallowed whole by the fire you ignite in his soul.

Yet while he revels in the heady luxury that is your tongue against his, he doesn’t miss your fingers tugging on the fabric of his shirt. Your own desperation for him is clear as the neck of his shirt grows tighter in your insistence trying to pull it up and away from his skin. Pulled taunt between both of your bodies as neither of you moves away, the smallest gap would be too much.

At least until he needs air, a long clear line of salvia connecting your lips before his shirt is gone. His hands dropping to undo the snap of your belt, the shifting of your hips allowing the thick material of your pants dropping to the ground. Groaning at the vision of you in your leotard, his blue eyes focused on one spot, the darkening space between your thighs before the smell of your arousal hits him like a train wreck. His knees trembling, and not just because your fingers are on his belt making quick work of loosening it and your hand slipping down the waistband of his pants to grip his warm cock. The rough pads, the only ones he wants wrapped around his shaft, his hips jerking involuntarily.

Two can play at that game, his flesh hand pushing the bottom of your leotard away and tracing the outside of your dripping flesh with his metal fingers. The nodes provide sensation in the tips making him groan at the heat of your sex, the amount of liquid pouring from deep inside of you making him dizzy. Or was it the pumping of your hand around his twitching cock?

His fingers start to rub harder and harder along your slit and he can hear your breathing change, the tempo of your inhales rising to match the movement of his index and middle fingers.

As if you don’t want to be outdone, your hand is twisting around his flesh tighter and his balls throbbing in tandem. Taking a long inhale before smirking against the side of your mouth, shoving both of his fingers deep inside your walls and as you gasp at the intrusion he catches your mouth, his tongue plunging into the wet cavern in time to his hand thrusting up into your core.

Gripping your asscheek and keeping the fabric away, wishing he had taken the time to fully remove the damn thing so he could feel more of your warming skin under his palm. As his tongue sweeps inside of your mouth he can feel your orgasm growing closer adding a third finger and increasing the speed of his fingers before curling them against that spot inside of you that makes you quake in his hold.

Your grip on his dick loosening as you shake against him, letting out a whimper that sends a line of lightning tingling along his spine down to his balls. As you relax, your plush breasts still trapped in the tight fabric against his body he smirks as his eyes open. Taking in your slack jaw and barely open orbs that make his heart stutter, the adoration he sees in them almost painful.

How can someone like you see something in him to cause you to smile at him like he’s your whole world?

The throbbing of his cock pulling him from his own melancholy, pulling his fingers from your core with a wet slurp as your juices pour down his hand. Lifting it to his lips while gazing into your eyes before spreading them, your clear slick forming strands along the V they form. Sticking out his tongue and making a show of cleaning the proof of your release from his digits.

From the moment it touches his tongue he hums. You’re the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted, a nectar he could slurp from your core until you're whimpering that it’s too much covered in sweat and shaking from his tender ministrations.

As you let out another mewl against him and shiver coming back to your senses his flesh hand slides along the fabric of your leotard before finding the snaps holding it in place. A few quick movements as he tosses you in the air, a symphony of squeals ringing around you before you land on the bed buck naked.

He doesn’t waste any time chasing after you as you bounce his pants and underwear gone grabbing both of your hands in his prosthetic and placing it above your head, stopping you from trying to hide from his wandering eyes.

Licking his lips as he drinks in your form committing every scar to memory, the curve of your breast and waist. Shuddering as his flesh hand cups your jaw, a quick kiss pressed to your lips before trailing his fingertips along your throat. Your heartbeat pounding in time to his, strong and steady as he enjoys the feeling of your skin under his.

Moving lower until he can cup one of your breasts. Sending you a wink and lowering his head to suck at the mound, humming as your back arches pushing more of your chest into his open mouth. He can feel your nipple pebbling, the tip of his tongue starting to circle the hardening flesh while his flesh hand kneads the other.

Taking his time as your body keeps arching and falling against him while his cock throbs against your thigh smearing pre-cum along the skin in erratic waves. Knowing you could struggle against his hold and break free if you wanted, instead caught up in the same flames of desire as he is. Both of you are prisoners to your lust for one another, and when he pulls away with a pop you sigh while the damp skin puckers as the cold air hits your skin.

Leaning upwards to catch your mouth as both of you battle for dominance in the kiss, adjust your lower body so the head of his cock is teasing along your folds. Your slick coating his length as it slides along the lips of your pussy, the pressure delectable over your clit and he can feel the throbbing of the bundle of nerves against his sensitive skin.

Releasing his grip on your wrist and pushing himself upwards so his chest is hovering over yours, a few beads of sweat falling from his body softly to yours. He shivers as your fingers follow the line of sinew making up the muscles of his forearm and the smooth metal shaped like a bone, up past his elbows and careful of the translation to ravaged flesh before gripping his shoulders.

Sharing a look of want before you give him a curt nod, one of your smaller hands reach down to pump his cock before aligning his tip with your dripping opening. Serving as a guide as he slowly sinks into you welcoming heat, the muscles of your inner walls parting for his length easily. Your core knows every vein along his shaft, as if you’ve adjusted to just his shape and he knows he’s in heaven as he pierces you until he’s as deep as he can go.

Lowering his forehead to yours but keeping the bulk of his weight off you while you adjust to his size. Your hand cupping his jaw with your thumb brushing his cheekbone, a soft laugh from you has your walls gripping him even tighter. A long exhale before you nod once more and grip his shoulders again, a sign he can move as freely as he wants.

Pulling his hips backwards until only his tip is encased in your walls taking a moment to enjoy the look of serenity on your face, suddenly snapping his hips to drive himself back to his base in one fluid motion. A tiny gasp from you, and he sets his pace well aware you can the pistoning of his body inside of you as your back arches in pleasure. Blinking the sweat from his eyes and groaning when you move your legs to wrap around his hips, allowing him to hammer deeper inside of you.

One of your hands moving to grip the back of his neck while the other slides along the meat of his upper back, your quivering core sucking him in as if you’ll never let him go. Grinning as he lowers his body down so as he thrusts part of his pelvis is brushing your clit, the sound of wet skin punctuated by breathy moans as you both chase your high.

He can feel his orgasm growing as you bury your face against his chest while your fingers press harder against the nape of his neck as your walls clamp down on his shaft. Pumping his hips faster and riding out your second release as he chases his own, panting and whining while you try to milk him for all he’s worth. Moments from spilling his hot seed in your welcoming walls.

Only to wake up just before he can tip over that precipice, sitting up suddenly with a hand over his scarred chest and a phantom pain where his missing arm should be.

The tears start to pour from his eyes as his mind wakes up and he remembers.

Remembers those final hours in JuLai, telling you to run and take Meryl with you while he fought his brother trying to keep the cube that even now he doesn’t remember how he created it.

Remembers seeing your retreating form as Wolfwood grabbed Meryl.

Remembers blowing up the city, and you with it.

His Mayfly.

The first person to not pull away from him. To hold him close as he broke down, to love him after learning he wasn’t human. And he was the reason he would never hold you like he had in his dream ever again. The tiny voice at the back of his mind saying he needed to keep believing you were alive and looking for him. Except it was easier to wallow in his own self imposed exile.

All the while you sat up in a dingy hotel room, trying to figure out why after a year you still couldn’t find him, the infamous Humanoid Typhoon. Vash the Stampede. Your missing lover.

I said it was angst heavy. Enjoy the brain rot 😘

[prettygirl-gabi]

Home

---

---

Rating: General Audiences

Warning: Fluff, Mutual Pining

Category:F/M

Fandom:

Relationships:!idol Woozi x !f plus-size baker Reader

Summary: You're the embodiment of home to the grumpiest man you know, but why?

Trope: hates everyone but you

---

Hiiiii everyone who is reading! Welcome to the seventh installment of my new mini series called "Oi! Not this again!" They do not have to be read together or in order! I hope you all enjoy!

---

---

It's funny how love finds its way into the most unexpected corners of our lives, like flour dust settling into every crease on a well-loved baking sheet.

Take Woozi, for example. Known for his grumpy demeanor and an attitude that screams "leave me alone," especially when he's in the zone creating music. He’s not someone you'd think would charm many hearts, especially not someone like me, a plus-size girl who loves the warmth of an oven and the sight of a perfectly risen cake. But for some reason, he'd always hated everyone—except me.

From the first time we met, I sensed a different kind of vibe from him. As if behind those narrow, focused eyes, behind the slightly upturned lips that hardly ever smile, there was something just for me. Of course, I'd never admit that out loud. What if I was wrong? What if those stolen glances and the occasional shared joke were just figments of my hopeful imagination?

But today was different. Today, I was going to test this theory. Today, I invited Woozi over to bake with me.

The doorbell rings, cutting through the sweet aroma of vanilla and cinnamon already filling my kitchen. I wipe my hands on my apron, a silly one with a cartoon cat saying, "Bake the world a better place," and answer the door. There he stands, looking unusually casual in jeans and a hoodie, balancing a box of strawberries and a quart of cream in the crook of his elbow.

"Hey, you managed to survive my complicated directions," I tease, stepping aside to let him in.

"I have a GPS, Y/N. It's not 1970," he retorts with a small, almost imperceptible smirk. It's moments like these that fuel my suspicion that beneath that tough exterior, there lies a heart that beats just a bit faster for me.

We find ourselves in my cozy kitchen, the counter already laden with ingredients and bowls. It’s a modest space, but it’s the heart of my home, adorned with hanging copper pots, whimsical mugs, and a couple of photos pinned to a corkboard.

"So, what's the plan, Master Baker?" Woozi asks, placing the strawberries and cream next to the other ingredients.

"You, my dear sous-chef, are going to help me make strawberry shortcake," I say, handing him an apron that reads, "Mr. Good Lookin' is Cookin'."

"Seriously?" He snorts, holding the apron at arm's length. "You're ridiculous, Y/N."

"But you love it," I challenge, raising an eyebrow. To my surprise, he ties the apron around his waist without another word.

We start mixing the ingredients, working a studio," I say, as I knead the dough.

"I can bake, I just choose not to," he replies, focused on slicing the strawberries. His fingers work deftly, and I can’t help but admire their grace. "Why do you think I agreed to come here?"

"Because I'm amazing company and you were dying to spend some quality time with me," I joke, though I hope some part of it rings true.

"Ha, you wish gum drop. I just had today off." He said with a wink before shaking his head. "No I actually wanting to hang out wthyou seriously, and free food." He says with the most sincere tone in his voice.

It’s not long before the conversation mellows into a comfortable silence, the only sounds being the clink of bowls, the hum of the refrigerator, and the occasional bubbling laugh when flour puffs out too forcefully from the bag.

As we're readying the dough for the oven, I find my eyes wandering over to him more than I intend. There's a delicate smudge of flour adorning his cheek, and I can't resist.

"Hey, Jihoon," I call out, a devilish grin playing on my lips. As he turns, I swipe a fingerful of flour across his nose.

He freezes, blinking rapidly before staring down at me, speechless. I burst into laughter, but it’s short-lived as he dips his own fingers into the flour bag.

"Oh, it's on," he declares, before flicking a generous pinch of flour back at me. It catches in my hair and eyelashes, sending me into another fit of giggles.

We’re immersed in a full-blown flour fight within seconds, laughter echoing off the kitchen walls. He’s surprisingly quick, dodging and weaving with the agility of someone much nimbler. But I hold my own, scattering handfuls of flour at him, my cheeks burning from too much laughter.

Our cat-and-mouse game eventually leads to us standing face-to-face, breathing heavily, both coated in a fine layer of white. His eyes are softer than I’ve ever seen, a hint of playful mischief lingering in those normally serious depths.

"Truce?" I whisper, holding up my hands.

"Truce," he nods, but neither of us moves away. Instead, he reaches up, his thumb gently brushing flour off my cheek. The touch, though small, sends an electric shock straight to my heart.

"There's something I’ve wanted to ask you," he says softly, his thumb lingering on my skin.

My heart skips. "What’s that?"

"Why is it," he begins, his voice barely a murmur, "that out of all the annoying people in the world, I don’t hate you, hmm?"

I laugh softly, though the weight of his words trembles through me. "Maybe because I'm not annoying?"

"No," he shakes his head, taking a step closer. "It's because you’re the only one who makes me feel... home. Like this kitchen. Warm, inviting, and...not alone."

My breath hitches at his confession, my own feelings bubbling to the surface. "Jihoon... you too. You’re the only one I feel genuinely comfortable with."

For a moment, time suspends itself, the only witnesses to our silent heartbeats being the butter-drenched dough and sliced strawberries waiting nearby.

Then, as if connecting the dots of a long-unread map, Woozi leans in, his lips brushing mine softly. It’s brief, almost hesitant, but it speaks volumes of unspoken emotions. When he pulls away, his eyes search mine for any sign of regret, but all he finds is a reflection of his own longing.

"Thanks for the flour fight," he gently pulls away resting his forehead against mine and whispers, a genuine smile breaking his usually stoic face. "And the baking."

"Anytime," I reply, my heart glowing brighter than the kitchen lights. "Welcome home, Woozi."

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

‐Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-Gabi✨️🎀

Dividers : by ioveartfilm

[something-tofightfor]

On Deck Part 4: Starting Line-Up

Pairing: Jack Daniels x Female Reader Baseball AU

Word Count: 10,185

Rating: M - language, some mentions of past sexual situations, pining (but is it mutual?)

Summary: In the days following Jack's first visit to your place, you're forced to think through just about every possible future scenario. And when he makes an offer you're not expecting, you start to believe that there might be just a little more to it than sex for him.

Author’s notes: 

I absolutely love this chapter. If you skip ahead to the end, there's a picture included to describe the type of view Reader has. I know not everyone is familiar with baseball stadiums and the opportunities they offer for seating, but I also don't want to ruin it too early.

This chapter ALSO features Jack wearing the uniform in this artwork - and is the entire reason this AU was started.

(On Deck universe masterlist for all the extras!)

While there are a lot of baseball references within this story, you only need to know the basics to enjoy it and understand what's going on - we're not getting overly technical here.

As always, if you have any questions or comments, please feel free to reach out.

The starting line-up is the official list of players who participate from the beginning of the game onward. This may change throughout the season, as players leave due to or return from an injury. Starters are usually the team's best players at their respective positions, and as a result, being a starter often comes with notoriety A spot in the starting line-up is hard-earned. 

You didn’t hear from Jack the following day, but you didn’t expect to. 

Not because you thought he’d used you, but because you knew how busy he’d be between driving to meet with the team in Louisville and then heading back to The Cavalry and playing in that night’s game. 

All day, though, you thought about him - and about the previous day… and night.

Your experience with Jack was different than those you’d read about online, or heard about at games. He’d treated you as an equal, giving you a legitimate explanation as to why he did and didn’t do or want certain things in bed. He hadn’t flaunted his status or reputation throughout the night, and his interaction with the girl at the ice cream parlor proved that Jack was focused on giving kids a good experience when they met him no matter where he was. It’s not just when he’s in uniform. 

You opted to work instead of taking the day off like you’d planned, and he was on your mind as you did so. The memory of his voice rasping in your ear and the feeling of his mouth on your bare skin sent shivers through you while you were poring over spreadsheets and drafting emails, and it made the day go much faster. By the time you were done for the night, you were almost vibrating, the truth of what had happened settling in. 

You’d slept with Jack Daniels. 

You’d met him for something he’d clarified wasn’t a date, and invited him back to your place without a second thought. He’d been nothing but kind to you, and you hadn’t felt that he thought less of you for being so forward. There was a small part of you that wondered if he thought you were easy. But he’s known for being a flirt. He’s been with a lot of people throughout his career, and … 

There was no way to know for sure what was going to happen until you heard from Jack again. You’d need to see how he acted the next time you spoke before you could assume anything - though with Jack, you figured it wasn’t safe to assume at all. 

You wanted to tell Erin what had happened. You wanted her to know everything, because in reality, it was thanks to Caleb that you were even in the position to meet Jack in the first place. But it felt wrong to talk about the not-date, and even more wrong to kiss and tell… so you held off.

And when you woke up on Tuesday morning to a text message from Jack, you were glad that you’d kept quiet. 

Check my Instagram. 

Before even sitting up, you did, groaning at the sight of his newest picture - a promotional shot for that weekend’s games, featuring a close up of his nickname on the back of a bright yellow jersey, the tip of his black bat’s barrel visible where it rested on his shoulder.

When do I get to see the whole thing? 

You double tapped the picture after replying, and didn’t expect a response. But Jack started typing back immediately, his message a completely unexpected one. 

Friday, if you come to the game. 

“Is that an invitation?” Blinking at your phone, you chewed on your lower lip. It seemed like it. It seemed like Jack was making good on his promise that you’d see each other again because he wanted to. But this time, it wasn’t to meet for ice cream. Instead, it was a personal invitation to his first game back with The Statesman. 

This weekend has been sold out for weeks, Jack. I’ll need to find a ticket, but I’ll see what I can do. 

You didn’t have a chance to open a search for tickets before your phone was ringing, Jack’s name on the screen. What the fuck? Why is he calling me? Taking a few seconds to compose yourself, you took a deep breath before answering. “Hello?” 

“‘Morning, sunshine.” He laughed and then scoffed. “That was real cheesy, right?”

“A little.” But you were laughing, too. “You’re up early.” 

“Have to stay on schedule during the season.” He paused and cleared his throat. “And I’ve got some packing to do before I come back to Louisville.” So he’s cleared. “I’ll be back for Friday night for sure.” 

“That’s great, Jack.” You rubbed at your eye with one hand. “Bet you’re happy.”

“I am. I miss my bed.” You didn’t know how to answer him, but he spoke again before the silence stretched for too long. “And about a ticket … I can get you in on Friday.” What? “Actually…” He trailed off, and a few seconds later, Jack sighed. “Do you think your friend and her brother would want to come with you?”

“I can see. I’m not sure. It’s a Friday night, so she’s probably going to be with her boyfriend, but -”

“Invite him too.” Jack said your name. “Give me a couple hours, and I’ll let you know for sure, but four of you shouldn’t be a problem.” 

“You don’t have to do that, Jack.” Sitting up straight, you held your phone tightly with one hand. “It’s -”

“I know.” You could tell that he was smiling, and when Jack spoke again, you heard the laughter in his voice. “I want to.” You didn’t argue, lifting your free hand and biting down on one knuckle. I want you to, too. “I know you’ve gotta work today, but can I call you back later? I need to make sure I’ve got tickets, and -”

“Of course. I’ve got a meeting at 11:30, but aside from that, I’ll be able to answer all day.” 

You hung up soon after that, Jack telling you to have a good morning and you repeating the same back to him. But you didn’t get out of bed right away, instead lowering your phone and staring at the ceiling in shock. What the fuck did I get myself into? 

— 

He called back a little after 1 PM, his cheerful voice loud in your ear. “Tickets are yours. All you’ll have to do is go to Will Call and give ‘em your name and they’ll be able to help you.” 

“Four of them?” He confirmed. “Thank you, Jack. I wasn’t… I didn’t think you’d…” 

“Well I did. And you’re welcome. I hardly ever ask for anything, and the ticket lady the players talk to loves me, so this was easy.” But the confirmation that you had tickets raised an issue for you - and it required you to explain it to Jack. 

“Erin’s going to ask how I got them.” Leaning back in your chair, you stared up at the ceiling. “And I don’t want to lie to her.” 

“So don’t.” His tone was matter of fact, Jack’s next words shocking you. “Tell her I got them for you.” But that will bring up what happened the other day. “Didn’t you tell her you were goin’ out with me last weekend?”

“No. I didn’t tell anyone.” He was silent in response, which surprised you a little. Why is that a shock to him? Did he really think I’d tell people? “That’s not my style, Jack.” 

“I appreciate that, darlin’.” It made you smile again, especially with the way his voice dropped as he spoke the word. “But you tell her whatever you need to. You don’t need to keep me a secret.” 

“I don’t think I need to tell her everything to offer her tickets to a game, but I’ll keep that in mind.” He laughed at you, the sound turning into a groan - and you savored the sound of it, biting your lip before you continued. “I’ll let you know for sure after I talk to her, but I’ll definitely be there on Friday even if they’re not.” 

“Good. That’s real good.” Jack cleared his throat. “I’m gettin’ ready to go to the stadium now, so if I don’t answer, that’s why.” He doesn’t need to explain himself to me. I don’t… why is he doing this? “Talk to you soon?”

“Sure.” Your smile widened, and when the two of you hung up a few seconds later, you tossed your phone down onto your desk. Shit. 

Things were escalating quickly, thanks to Jack taking the initiative - and it stunned you. He hadn’t mentioned seeing you again, though, which gave you pause. But he’s going to be busy before Friday, and then he’s got games all weekend, so there might not be time. Maybe that’s why he didn’t suggest it.

A quick check of the schedule told you that the team was leaving for a short road trip on Sunday afternoon, which meant that he’d be on the go almost immediately. So it makes sense. I’ll just see him from the seats. 

It was somewhat disappointing, there was no way around it. But the fact that he’d invited you in the first place cheered you up enough that you reached for your phone again, opening your messages with Erin. 

Hey, got something to ask you. Call me when you’re done with work? 

— 

Her phone call came just after 5 that day, Erin’s greeting friendly but curious before she jumped right in. “You usually don’t ask to ask me things. Why today?” 

“What are you doing Friday?” Tilting your head back, you closed your eyes and enjoyed the heat of the sun on your face. “Friday night, I mean. After work?” 

“Troy and I were going to go to dinner, but that’s about it.” Perfect. “Why? What are you doing on Friday?” 

“Do you want to go to the Statesman game?” You paused, opening your eyes and looking out at your yard. “You and Troy and Caleb?” She was quiet for a few seconds and you were too, waiting. “I’ve got four tickets, and -”

“Isn’t it Players Weekend? I thought it was sold out. Caleb’s been talking about it for like a month.” 

“It is. And yeah, it’s sold out. But I was offered tickets. Free tickets.” 

“From where?” There it is. “Did they reach out because they saw your post about Caleb and Jack?” You thought of Jack’s words - of him telling you to tell Erin, of his assurances that it was alright for you to talk about knowing him. I’m still not going to tell her everything, but … 

“No. It wasn’t the team, Erin. It was Jack.” You heard her intake of breath, but before she could say anything, you continued. “He messaged me after he saw it the other day, and we ended up going out on Sunday night for -”

“You what?!” She screeched the words in your ear and then laughed. “Shut the fuck up.” 

“We went and got ice cream. He was up here to work out with the team and to take pictures for next weekend, and had no plans, so…” 

“So you went out with him. Fuck me, that’s wild. I told you making that post was worth it. So you went out on a date and then he offered you tickets for another game? Why four? Why not just -”

“I’m not sure.” Standing, you stepped out onto the grass, the blades of it cool against your feet. “But he called me this morning and suggested it. He specifically mentioned you and Caleb, but I have no idea where the tickets are, so I can’t promise anything.” 

“He called you? He must like you.” She laughed, the sound turning into a hum. “What else happened Sunday aside from the ice cream?” She was teasing you - and there was no concrete reason for you to answer her, but you did anyway. 

“He came back here for a little while.” Curling your toes, you let out a long sigh. “He didn’t stay the night, though. So -”

“Good for you.” She said your name, waiting until you were quiet to say anything else. “And now he’s offering you tickets. You definitely made an impression.” Your mind wandered back to the time you’d spent with him - to the way his mouth felt as it met yours and the way his hands skated over your skin as they explored your body. He definitely left an impression on me. “I don’t think we should tell Caleb where the tickets are coming from, because he’ll never let you hear the end of it.” She hummed, the woman clearly thinking on her end of the line. “But we’ll go on Friday. It sounds fun.”

“We can take one car. I’ll pick you up.” Walking back to your patio, you paused at the edge of it. “And … Erin? Maybe don’t tell Troy either. Jack said that I could tell you that they’re from him, but I don’t … I don’t know what’s going on, so -”

“My lips are sealed.” She laughed again. “I do have one question, though.” I can already tell this is going to be a doozy. “What’s he like? He handsy? Does he talk a lot? How does he kiss?”

“He’s … thorough.” Your cheeks heated as you spoke, your fingers curling around your phone. Very thorough. “And I would very much like to kiss him again.” A lot. Erin snorted at your reply, muttering the words I knew it under her breath. “He’s nice, Erin. Confident and a little cocky, but not insufferable about it. A little girl interrupted us while we were eating, and he didn’t get mad. He took a couple minutes to talk to her about baseball, and it was just …a relief, I guess? I don’t know. I’m glad he’s not an asshole.” 

“I am too. That would be really disappointing.” It would. “But I’m going to drive home now. Work kicked my ass today, and I need to eat.” She let you know that she’d get ahold of you after she talked to Troy and Caleb, and then you hung up, deciding to go back inside so that you could start dinner, too. 

While you cooked, you sent a message to Jack, giving him an update. You kept it simple, giving yourself no time to overthink your words. 

Erin’s in. Looks like it’ll be all four of us Friday. 

You figured he wouldn’t reply, but your phone vibrated a few minutes later with his answer. 

Real happy to hear that. It’s gonna be a good game. 

You thought that was it, but moments later another message came through - and there was a picture attached to it. Second to last time I’m putting on this uniform.

It was slightly blurry and off-center, but it was of Jack. He was dressed in his uniform and missing his hat, the grin on his face wide. You looked closer, seeing that he was standing in front of his locker, and realized that he’d likely taken the photo only moments before sending it. That means it was for me, and… “Shit.” 

If he’d sent you a photo, that meant he was probably waiting for a reply. You didn’t keep him waiting, sending back a winking emoji along with the text: Looking good, Jack - DAMN. But I think I prefer your other uniform. 

It was just flirty enough to let him know you appreciated it, and not over the top the point he’d think you were being clingy. But after a few minutes, you saw that the message had been delivered - and unread … which meant he’d see it after the game. And that means I have a few hours to relax. 

But you didn’t relax. Instead, you ate dinner on the couch and tried not to think too hard about the Friday night game. 

— 

You were a few minutes early to Erin’s on Friday, and Caleb was already waiting in the front yard when you pulled up. 

You heard him yelling for Erin and Troy, even with the windows shut. By the time he was reaching for the door handle, you were laughing, head tilted down and one palm flat against your forehead. “Hey, Caleb. Let me guess… you’re excited.” 

“Of course I am.” He settled into the back seat, buckling in. “Aren’t you? Won’t be as cool as what happened the last game, but my mom gave me money to buy a new jersey.” Well, for me, it’s even more cool, but you don’t know that.

“Oh yeah?” You caught his eye in the rearview mirror, grinning. “Whose are you gonna get?” The look on his face was answer enough, just like you’d assumed. “Jack, then. Hopefully they have one in your size.” 

Erin and Troy approached the car, the woman letting him pass her so that he could sit in the back with Caleb while she took her place next to you. But it was him that spoke first, greeting you and reaching forward to squeeze your shoulder before he was fully situated. “Thank you for driving. And thanks for the tickets.” 

“Yeah, thank you!” Caleb joined in, nodding enthusiastically. “Mom also said we’re supposed to -”

“My mother,” Erin interjected, reaching for the volume knob to twist the radio’s sound lower. “She said we’re supposed to buy you dinner tonight, as a thank you.” 

“It’s not necessary.” Heading down the street, you shrugged. “It’s not like I paid for these tickets, so if we split parking, it’s even.” 

“Still.” She elbowed you. “We’re going to buy you dinner and maybe a drink or two.” I might need those.

The four of you made small talk on the drive downtown, though the closer you got to the stadium, the quieter you got while they kept things going. Why am I nervous? It’s not like I’m going to run into him. 

But there was a chance you’d see him, and that Jack would see you. It seemed inevitable that Caleb would want to go back down closer to the field in an attempt to meet the man a second time. And if that happened, you couldn’t just hang back with Erin, letting Troy sit with the boy. No. I’d have to go, otherwise it looks like I’m avoiding him after he did something nice for us today. 

You were early enough that there was still available parking in the attached garage, and before you could do anything about it, Troy stuck his hand out the window, debit card held firmly between his fingers. 

Erin laughed about it as you pulled away to park, but all you managed was a tiny smile and quiet thank you before slipping into a space. Here goes nothing. 

The four of you joined the slow trickle of other fans heading toward the elevators. After getting on, Caleb inserted himself between Erin and Troy while you leaned against the far wall, chewing on your lower lip. 

“We have to go to Will Call first.” You looked at the preteen, raising a brow. “We can’t just run to get in line like last time.” 

He grumbled back that he knew, and you laughed, your mood lightening considerably. And as your group exited the elevator and turned toward where the ticketing windows were, you stayed that way. Troy offered to wait with Caleb so you weren’t all crowding the line, and you agreed, thankful for a few minutes of time alone with your friend. 

“He’s going to want to go and meet the players.” She spoke quietly, leaning closer to you. “What happens when you see -”

“Nothing.” You shrugged, taking a breath. “Or, nothing weird, I hope. He seems like the kind of guy that wouldn’t make a big deal of what happened.” 

“What about you?” You stepped forward, only a few people between you and the windows. “Can you be cool about it?”

“I’d hope so.” You looked over at her, grinning. “It wasn’t awkward when he left, so I think I did pretty well there.” She didn’t say anything else until it was your turn, Erin stepping forward with you and waiting to see what you’d say. “Hi. I’m supposed to have some tickets waiting for me. I think I’m on a list?” 

The man behind the glass nodded. “I’ll need to see your ID.” Reaching into your bag, you pulled your wallet out and then handed the thin card over, sliding it through the opening. He took it and started typing, his eyes on the computer screen in front of him. “Oh.” He hummed, tipping his head to the side, and then reached for the phone beside the device. “Hey, we need to send someone from SL down to ticketing to pick up a group.” 

You glanced over at Erin, confused, but her expression was the same as yours. SL? What’s that? Turning your head, you looked over at Caleb and Troy, the little boy seated on a stone wall while he looked up to talk to the man. Why do we need to be picked up? The sound of your name got your attention, and you looked back at the window, sucking in a breath. “Yeah? Sorry. I -”

“If you and your group will step off to the side by the door,” he pointed, still smiling. “Someone will be down in a few minutes to escort you in.” He slid your ID back to you. “Have a good night.” You thanked him, somewhat dazed, and turned toward the door, Erin close behind you. 

“We didn’t get tickets? What happens now? What did -” 

“Fuck if I know, Erin. I have no idea what’s going on.” She waved her brother and fiance over, the two of them meeting you moments later. 

“What’s going on? Where are the tickets?” Troy looked between you, frowning. “Do we need to -”

“Someone’s coming to get us.” You stuffed your hands into the pockets of your shorts. “I know nothing else.” Jack had seemed certain that he had tickets available for you, so you weren’t worried about getting into the stadium, but as to whatever else happened, you were clueless. Maybe it’s one of the lower sections. Maybe it’s the club section and we need wristbands or something. 

No one had anything else to say, and by the time the door opened a minute or so later, you were even more confused. But the woman - who introduced herself as Mary - put you at ease. “Welcome to Players Weekend.” She opened the door fully, greeting you by name. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to your seats for the game.” Sneaking a look at your friends after you thanked her, you caught Erin’s eye, the woman’s gleaming with intrigue. “It’s a little busy tonight, so make sure you stay close.” 

You did - following Mary as she led you down a short hallway and then through another set of doors and onto the lower concourse. You felt better one you were inside with the crowd, the thought that since you were in the stadium, that was all that mattered crossing your mind. 

But your thoughts blanked as she led the four of you toward a third set of doors and used a badge hanging from her belt to unlock them. “Where are we going?” Caleb broke the silence, the boy pushing forward to stand next to you. “I’ve never been in here before.” 

“This is the entrance to the dugout suites.” Mary looked down at him, her smile gentle. “Not many people have been in them before.” The dugout suites? Freezing at her words, your mouth dropped open. Jack, what did you do? “Come on. Yours is one of the cozier ones, but it’s one of my personal favorites.” A fucking suite? 

You walked down another hallway, the space curving to follow the shape of the stadium, and you realized that you were heading toward the Statesman’s dugout. Your head whipped to the side and you saw that Troy had put that together, too, his eyes wide and his grin threatening to split his face. “A suite? Right by where the players are?” Caleb was next to Mary, the boy’s voice loud. “Why are we -” 

“I don’t know.” She stopped in front of a door that had the words CHAMPAGNE LOUNGE engraved onto a golden plaque next to the team’s logo before reaching for the keycard again “But I do know that you’re going to have an amazing time.” She swiped the card and the light turned green. “Go ahead. Open the door.” Caleb looked back at you and you nodded, lips pressed together in a thin line. 

He opened the door and cautiously peeked inside, but as soon as he saw something, he darted in, leaving the rest of you standing in the hallway. Erin called after him, rushing forward and following him inside, but Mary only laughed, pushing the door all the way open and gesturing for you to follow. 

“The view is incredible, I don’t blame him for being excited.” 

She wasn’t lying. The entire back wall of the suite was windows so that the field stretched out in front of you, a cluster of seats on a small porch visible through the tinted glass. Caleb was busy pulling the door open to get to where they were, but you stopped just inside of the room, shaking your head. “This is too much, I just …” 

“My advice?” Mary looked at you, raising her eyebrow. “Enjoy it.” I will, but… “This is the Champagne Lounge.” 

“As in the team owner?” Troy stepped forward, arms crossed. “That Champagne?”

“Yes.” Mary nodded, giving you a wink. “He chose the decor, so that’s not on us, but …” You really looked around for the first time and had to bite back a laugh at the way it was decorated. I mean it makes sense, but … 

Everything was rustic and warm, the countertops and table surfaces made from gleaming wood. The floor looked a little rougher and worn, and you saw a few small area rugs scattered throughout the space, which made it more inviting. “You have a full menu available to you.” She moved toward the counter, picking up a small binder. “There are snacks and drinks along the back wall,” she pointed with one hand, flipping the pages open. “Left fridge is water and soda. The other is filled with beer, and there are a couple bottles of the Statesman/Whiskey collaboration for you to use.” He shield the binder up. “But if you want other kinds of mixed drinks, they’re all in here and you can order them to be delivered. Same with the food options.”

“How much -”

“Everything is complimentary.” Her smile was soft. “You’ll have an attendant that will come and check on you once I’ve let them know you’re in here, and they’ll be available whenever you need them through the tablet on the counter. But anything in this menu is fair game.” 

It made your head spin. You’d assumed that you’d have tickets somewhere decent - maybe in the lower level - but hadn’t ever even dreamed that Jack would get you a suite, much less Champ’s suite. 

“There’s also something for you in that box over there.” Mary gestured toward a white, rectangular box that was sitting on a small side table. What the hell is that? “There’s a bathroom back here,” she pointed at the side wall, and then put her hand on her hip. “The door does lock if you go out into the hallway, so once all of you leave the suite, you can’t get back in.” 

“Ok.” You nodded, blinking slowly. “It’s taking me a little while to catch up. This is … I wasn’t expecting these seats, and …” She laughed, asking if there was anything else you needed, and when you said no, she turned away and headed for the door, letting you know that someone else would be in a few minutes later. 

And once she was gone, you finally exhaled, covering your face with both hands. “You must have done something right. This is fucking insane!” Erin put her hands on your shoulders, saying your name. “How did -”

“I don’t know.” Biting your lip, you shook your head rapidly. “I have no fucking idea, this is …” 

“Are you guys coming out here?” Caleb poked his head in, his eyes bulging. “You can see the whole place. We’re right next to the dugout. I can see the steps where the players walk out onto the field!” Troy took a few steps forward and Erin followed, looking back at you. 

“Give me a second.” You could tell she was worried, but she still went, leaving you alone in the interior of the suite. After spinning slowly around to take everything in, you reached for your phone, fingers shaking as you opened your text with Jack. The last message was from him, sent hours earlier - and telling you to enjoy the game. 

You didn’t know what to think. You wanted to let him know you were grateful, but didn’t trust your voice not to waver in a voice message. So you settled for raising the device and taking a selfie, the suite and field visible behind you. 

This is too much, Jack. But thank you. I don’t even know what else to say. 

He was likely getting ready in the locker room - and you didn’t know if he’d even see the message before taking the field. But he’ll see it later. And he’ll see what time I sent it. You were just getting ready to put your phone away and join your friends when a message popped up on the screen. 

You’re welcome. But where’s your jersey? 

“What jersey?” You hadn’t ever told him that you owned one, but when your eyes flicked over to the white box again, your stomach dropped. He didn’t. Leaving your phone on the counter, you approached the box, dimly aware of the sounds of your friends talking through the open door. Using both hands, you lifted the lid, swearing as the contents came into view. “Jesus, Jack. What the fuck.” 

There was a note sitting atop the bright yellow fabric, and with unsteady hands you reached for it, heart pounding while you read the words. 

(Note text: Couldn’t start the game dirty. Thought you might want this though. JD)

You lifted it out of the box, holding it up in front of you. Immediately, your eyes were drawn to a black smudge on one shoulder, and you laughed as you realized what it was from. He’s worn this. 

It was the jersey he’d worn in the promo shots, and the smudge was from the bat where it had rested on his shoulder. And I get to keep it? 

Before you could second guess yourself, you pulled the jersey on over the clothing you wore, leaving it unbuttoned. Shivering at the thought that the last person to have worn it was him, you leaned back over and grabbed your phone before heading outside. 

Erin’s eyes widened at the sight of you, and Troy also looked surprised, but after a swift shake of the head from your friend, he stayed quiet. Please do. I don’t want to talk about this right now. 

Caleb was standing on one of the seats, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the ledge in front of him. Instead of saying anything to your friends, you focused on him, calling out his name. “We got a pretty good view, hmm?”

“Yeah. The on deck circle is right there. Theres a net in the way, but it doesn’t matter. We’ll get to watch everyone while they wait to hit.” What? You crossed the small space and stood next to him, also resting your elbows on the ledge. “Do you think I can take pictures of the batters?”

“I don’t see why not.” You eyed the ground in front of you, the Statesman logo almost mocking you. It’s so close. He’s going to be right there before he bats. “Just make sure the flash is off. I feel like it would be pretty distracting otherwise.” He agreed with you, nodding. 

“Hey, take a picture of us.” Erin leaned forward, holding her phone out. “We’ll send it to my mom.” You did as she asked, taking a few of the three of them standing in front of the netting. It was only then that Caleb saw what you were wearing, the boy asking you question after question that you answered with partial truths. 

You didn’t want to lie to him, but knew Erin was right; telling Caleb that you and Jack were in contact wasn’t a good idea. Not yet. Not until I know more about what this is. But seeing your jersey brought up the fact that if you couldn’t get back into the suite after leaving, there was no way for Caleb to get his. 

He was disappointed until the suite attendant appeared a few minutes later to take your food order - and then asked if there was anything else she could do for you. “Is there any way he could go and buy a jersey? We didn’t know we’d be in a suite, so we didn’t stop on the way, and he’s -”

“Of course.” She looked down at Caleb, grinning. “I can take you, or one of the adults here can come with us.” She pointed. “There’s a team shop right above where we are.”

‘I’ll go with you, buddy.” Troy stepped forward, reaching out to ruffle Caleb’s hair. “Might want to get one of my own.” He looked over at you and winked, and it took everything in you not to groan. Smooth, Troy. 

They left you and Erin moments later, and as soon as the door shut behind them, she whirled to face you, her eyes wide. 

“We’re in the owner’s suite. He gave you the fucking jersey he wore to do promo shots for this weekend.” She scoffed, raising her voice. “Fuck, that’s probably the first Statesman uniform he’s had on since he got hurt, and now it’s yours.” She paused, gesturing toward the field. “You must have been amazing in bed, because -”

“Erin.” Holding both hands up, you shook your head. “I’m just as confused as you are. He said he wanted to see me again, but when he asked about tickets for this weekend, he didn’t mention anything after, just… this.” You used one hand to indicate the suite you were in. “And by this I mean tickets. I had no idea it was going to be a suite. It’s too much.” 

“Maybe he’s hoping for a really nice ‘thank you’ blowj-”

“I don’t think so.” You cut her off, sinking into one of the chairs and crossing your arms. “I asked if I could the other night, and he said no, because we didn’t know each other well enough. And I don’t think that’s changed.” 

You didn’t want to admit that the same thought had crossed your mind - that Jack was being so generous because he expected something in return. But he didn’t hesitate to ask for things in bed. If it happens again, he’d just tell me what he wanted so that I could either say yes or no. 

“You’re joking.” She sat next to you, crossing her legs and leaning closer. I’m not. “Did … did you even have sex? Because if you didn’t, and he’s doing this? Then -”

“We did.” It was a relief to admit it, even though you hated the idea of spreading personal details. “And it was good, Erin. Like, really fucking good. But there’s no way it was this good, especially for him. You’ve seen the same things online that I have about him. No one’s ever … people would talk about him doing this for them. And no one has.”

“So maybe they lied.” She shrugged. “Maybe they said he wasn’t attentive or interested in more than one night because it was their way of dealing with the fact that he never called them again.” She bit her lip. “Maybe it was them wanting to get the last word in and make it harder for him to do the same in the future.” She reached out, taking your hand and squeezing it. “And maybe the ones that he did this stuff for, if he has in the past? Maybe they respected him enough to keep it quiet.” 

She’s probably right. You swallowed hard, turning your head to look through the netting and at the field. For everyone that had said something negative about their experience with Jack online, there had to be others with good experiences that had kept their mouths shut. And I’m one of those. “What would I do without you?” Squeezing her hand before you let go, you stood again and went back inside of the suite, Erin following closely. “Want a drink? We can open these bottles of Statesman, according to Mary.” 

She did - and by the time Caleb, Troy and the attendant came back a little while later, the two of you were laughing over your drinks, a few of the bags of snacks open on the table between you. Both guys had bought jerseys - Caleb’s was a smaller version of yours, while Troy was wearing one of the Statesman home blues, Jack’s last name and number on the back. 

The food arrived shortly after, and once each of you had made a plate, you headed back outside to sit in the seats and watch the on-field activity, Caleb narrating around mouthfuls of chicken tenders and french fries. 

You relaxed the longer you sat with your friends, and by the time the players started to come onto the field for warm-ups, you’d talked yourself into a state of calm. 

Sort of. 

You were fine until Jack took the field, a chorus of cheers coming from further down the third base line - the same as it had been when you and Caleb had seen him the previous week. Erin shot you a look but you ignored it, instead watching as he began his stretches, the same dark-haired woman supervising each movement. 

He looked good, and even though it had only been a little over a week since you’d seen him play, you could tell that he was stronger, too. “He looks better, right Caleb?” You nudged the boy, smiling at him. “Less hesitation when he -”

“He’s really stretching out those calves, hmm?” Erin cleared her throat. “He’s very flexible.” You glared at her and she wrinkled her nose and winked, but didn’t say anything else, even as Troy snorted into his drink. She’s not wrong, though. 

“Sorry we won’t get to meet the players today, kiddo.” Leaning forward, you propped your elbow up on the ledge in front of you before resting your chin on your hand. “I know how much you wanted to do that.”

“Are you kidding?” He turned to look at you, rolling his eyes. “This is way better. We get to see everyone up close.” You agreed - and so did Troy, and for the next few minutes, the four of you watched the players in silence, though your attention was specifically on Jack and his trainer. 

When he stepped out of view to talk to fans in the stands, you decided to go back inside and make yourself a second drink - the last one you were planning on having, since you had to drive home. Once it was mixed you lifted the cup to your lips, your other hand on the bottle. Just enjoy tonight. It doesn’t have to be more than this. You swiped your thumb slowly over where his signature was etched into the glass and took a deep breath before turning to head back outside. 

But when you reached the door, you paused, sucking in a breath at the sight of Jack crouched down in front of the netting and talking to Caleb, Erin and Troy. He must have caught your movement in his peripheral, because he looked up and nodded, his grin widening. “There she is.” 

“Hello, Whiskey.” You raised your glass, giving him a genuine smile, even as your heart pounded. “Welcome back to Louisville.” 

“It’s good to be here.” His lips twitched, one hand lifting to pull his hat off before he repositioned it on his head, never breaking eye contact. “You got the good seats tonight.” 

“We do. The good liquor, too.” That got a laugh out of him, Jack rising to his feet and straightening his shoulders as you brought the drink to your lips. 

“Enjoy yourselves. I’ve gotta get goin’.” He turned away and paused, putting a hand on his hip before he spun back to face all of you. What are you going to say, Jack? “Nice jersey, by the way.” You nearly choked on the liquid in your mouth at his words, and if Jack’s quiet laugh was any indication, he was very aware of it. You jackass. 

You caught his wink and then he did disappear, heading down the stairs and into the dugout. Ok, that could have gone worse. It could have gone better, too, but at least you hadn’t made a fool of yourself in front of him - which was the important thing.

The sound of Caleb talking about how Jack remembered him faded as you went back inside, setting your drink down on the counter and then gripping the edge of it, head lowered. The hard part’s over. He saw me and he knows I’m here, and he saw me in the - 

“He likes you.” Troy was right behind you, and even though you jumped at the sound of his voice, you recovered quickly, spinning to look at him. What? “He walked over and immediately said hi to Caleb, but he looked around and he seemed disappointed. And then you came outside and his mood changed.” Troy’s smile widened, and he stuck his tongue into his cheek briefly before saying anything else. “And if he looked for you, that means he knew you were going to be here, and -”

Shit. Is it that obvious? “I’m not going to confirm or deny a goddamn thing.”

“You just did.” Troy laughed, reaching out with one hand to squeeze your arm. “Good for you, though. He seems like fun.” You have no idea. “We should go back out there. The game’s going to start.” 

Wordlessly, you followed Troy back out and into the seating area - just as the request to rise for the National Anthem blared out through the loudspeakers.

— 

By the sixth inning, you weren’t worried about what was going on between you and Jack anymore. Instead, you were upset, because The Statesman were losing. 

It was no fault of Jack’s, though - he’d gotten a single and walked in his two at bats, the crowd giving him a standing ovation each time he headed to home plate. He’d also made a few really good plays at third - one of them throwing out someone at home as the other team tried to bunt in a run. 

The rest of the team was the problem, with errors made in the outfield, a dropped ball by the shortstop and three really bad pitches that had resulted in six total runs scored. There was still time for a comeback, and even though chances were growing slimmer by the minute, a three run deficit wasn’t too much to overcome. 

When Jack took his place in the on-deck circle, there were two men on and only one out. You stayed in the position that you’d been in for most of the game - arms crossed and elbows resting on the wall in front of you, leaning as close to the action as you could get. 

Watching him up close was special, and you’d snapped a few pictures in his earlier at bats of him bending over and adding the weights to the bat before he swung, as well as of him with it perched on his shoulder and in motion. It wasn’t just Jack that you photographed, but you paid more attention to him than the others. 

You were so close that you could hear the players grunting and groaning as they took their practice swings, as well as some of the things they yelled back to the other players in the dugout and on the field, and Jack was vocal. It didn’t surprise you after the time you’d spent with him, but if you’d said that the way he was on-field and with his teammates and the ump crew wasn’t a turn on, it would have been a lie. 

Because if the fans got into the game, Jack was on another level. 

He paused in his swings to watch the at bat in front of him, and after one particularly bad call, you heard his disdain for the ump - the man’s shout of “That wasn’t a damn strike even in a little league game!” clearly audible, as was the way he ducked his head toward the ground and kicked the dirt in a side-to-side motion with one cleat while he repeated the word “bullshit” under his breath. 

During a visit to the mound by the catcher, Jack looked over at where you were, locking eyes with you and rolling his, mouthing the word “bullshit” again. You laughed in return, mouthing the words I know, before shaking your head. It was easier than you’d thought it would be to interact with him, and part of you wondered if it was because it was pointed but not personal, and that he wasn’t hiding his actions.

The entire stadium groaned when the batter popped out and the runners couldn’t advance, but those groans turned into cheers when Jack’s walk up music started, and your breath caught in your throat again when he looked over at your suite before he headed to the plate, smirking and giving you a quick wink. 

“He changed his song!” Erin leaned over, elbowing you a few times. “This is my favorite one!” It was yours, too - and you’d always thought that it was a little inappropriate for an MLB stadium filled with kids - but that day, you didn’t care. 

He strutted toward the batter’s box as Pony blared through the speakers, and you didn’t look away for a second. And neither did any of the other women in this stadium if those cheers are anything to go by. 

He stepped into the box and then got ready, kicking at the dirt and using one hand to tug on the front of his jersey, making sure that the chain he wore was resting flush against his chest, and not on top of the material. He took a few practice swings and then tapped the bat against the plate, releasing a breath and nodding before settling the lumber back on his shoulder. 

“C’mon Jack!” You yelled the words and smacked your palm on the wall a few times, shaking your head. “Bring ‘em home!” Erin laughed next to you, but she also cheered, and then Caleb joined in, the three of you going silent just before the pitcher set and threw. 

It was a ball - so far inside that it almost hit Jack, but he stayed in place, cocking his head to the side as he lifted the bat and took another swing before settling it back in place. 

The crowd was loud - roaring out his name when Jack swung at the next pitch and made contact. The noise increased until it hooked foul, everyone wincing and groaning. He didn’t even run, though. He knew it wasn’t fair. Jack adjusted his gloves and then stepped back into the box, getting situated just in time for another pitch - that one ball two. 

“A single scores one.” Troy reached up, linking his fingers through the netting as he leaned closer. “A double will score both, and -” Jack swung and missed, and you lowered your head, swearing. Fuck. “Come on Daniels!” Troy let go of the fence and clapped his hands. “Just wait for your pitch!” 

He didn’t swing the next time and as the count ran full, the atmosphere in the stadium changed considerably. If no one scores here, the game’s over. It was a nervous energy that coursed through you, but when you looked back at Jack, you saw that he was still calm, his grip on the bat handle loose as he stepped out of the batter’s box and looked around the stadium. 

“He’s going to strike out.” Troy sat back, shaking his head. “This pitcher’s been too good today.” 

“No, he’s not.” Caleb scowled at the man, phone in hand. “He’s going to get a hit.” He jumped up and down a few times. “He has to.” 

“Whatever happens, it needs to happen now because I feel sick to my stomach.” You mumbled the words, lowering your head and groaning. “Come on, Jack.” You wet your lips and looked back at him, watching as he rocked back and forth, awaiting the pitch. 

You knew as soon as he swung that bat that he’d make contact - and when, moments later, the crack of the connection reached your ears, you knew it was gone. And so did Jack, the man keeping his eye on the ball as he headed to first, and then throwing both hands up into the air and cheering as he rounded the base.

“Fuck yeah, Jack!” You jumped up and down and then turned to hug Erin, the woman squealing in your ear before she let go and reached for Troy, who was shaking Caleb back and forth in celebration, the boy yelling in excitement. 

You focused back on the field - where the two men that had been on base were waiting at home plate for Jack. When he rounded 3rd, you cheered louder, clapping your hands and yelling out his name. There was little chance that he could hear you over the others in the stadium, and when he got to home and stomped on the base, the other two engulfing him in celebration and knocking his hat off, you wished that you’d had your camera out - and had gotten the moment on video. 

The three of them headed back in your direction, Jack at the center of the group, and even though it was fast, you didn’t miss his glance at your suite, or the tiny nod and smirk he gave you when you grinned up at him, biting down on the inside of your lip. Oh, shit. 

“That was awesome!” Caleb’s voice broke the moment, and when you looked over, you saw that he was following the three men with his phone. “And I got it all on video!” He lowered the device and then beamed up at you and his sister. “If I send it to you, will you post it?”

“That’s a long video to post, buddy.” Troy settled back into his seat, scrubbing a hand over his face as the next batter swung and missed. “But it’s really cool that you got it all.” He looked sad but agreed, and when Caleb looked at you again, you raised a brow. 

“You can still send it to me if you want, though. I’d love to watch it.” And to see if he got that smirk in there, because… damn. 

He told you he would once you were out of the stadium, and then Caleb tucked his phone away and returned his attention to the field, where the batter had just struck out, ending the inning. But they’re tied now, and that’s all that matters.  

For the next two and a half innings, neither team scored, which meant that it all came down to the bottom of the ninth. Jack was due to bat third, which meant you’d get to see him once more that night. And that might be it for a while. 

You’d taken advantage of the suite during the game, getting more to eat and drink, ordering ice cream sundaes that were delivered by your attendant, and watching a few at bats on the TV mounted to one wall instead of live in front of you. It was an experience that you’d never forget, and you’d heard your friends say the same throughout the night. 

Neither Erin or Troy had said anything about Jack’s wink or the nod, but you knew that they’d seen both. She wouldn’t spill your secrets to him, but you knew he’d likely ask, and part of you wondered what would happen if things continued between you and Jack, even on just a friendly basis. I’d have to tell them then.

The attendant told you that both bottles of Statesman were yours to take, and so between the 8th and 9th innings, you’d packed them up into the provided boxes and then tucked them into a bag that she’d left for you, along with the partially eaten candy and popcorn - figuring that they were just going to toss it anyway if you left it behind. 

And when the Statesman came up to bat for the final time, you rushed back out into the seats, standing between Erin and the left wall of the suite and drumming your fingers nervously against the concrete. 

That time, Jack paid no attention to the crowds while he waited to hit, instead crossing his legs at the ankle and leaning against the end of his bat, eyes on his teammate. “Just get on base.” You whispered the words, looking toward home. “Give Jack a chance.” 

The game meant very little in the grand scheme of things. 

The Statesman weren’t close to leading in the standings, and it would have taken a lot to get them to a contending position for the playoffs. But you still wanted them to win, if for no other reason than to top off Jack’s return. He did his part, though. He tied it up. 

And the man at the plate did his part, too, knocking a single between second and third, which meant that Jack got to the plate with one on and nobody out, his walk up song back to the one he’d used for his first two at bats. 

Caleb was nearly vibrating with excitement, his phone out and aimed at Jack once more - and you decided to do the same. Fuck it, you thought, pressing the record button. I’m just a fan right now. He took the first pitch - a called strike - and you watched him shake his head in disagreement, though he didn’t argue for too long. 

The second pitch slipped from the pitcher’s hand and veered downward, and even though Jack moved quickly, he couldn’t get out of the way. It hit the ankle guard he wore and bounced away, and for a few horrifying seconds, you worried that his return to the team would be short lived. 

The entire stadium booed, but the sound turned to a cheer when Jack bent over and pulled the protection off, tossing it to the side along with his batting helmet, and jogged to first. His trainer was close behind, the woman’s arms crossed over her chest as she assessed his condition and finally gave him the go-ahead to stay in. 

The game continued once she’d jogged back across the field and into the dugout, and you - along with thousands of others - watched anxiously, waiting. 

You didn’t have long to wait. On the third pitch of the at bat, he blooped a hit into shallow right, the ball hitting the ground and then skipping through the legs of the outfielder. 

The entire stadium roared, and the four of you did, too, cheering and clapping as the winning run crossed the plate. Erin wrapped you in her arms in celebration, but you kept your eyes on the field. I don’t want to miss this. Jack didn’t even finish rounding the bases and instead cut across the infield and headed for home, both arms out in front of him as he clapped and cheered. 

He’d lost his hat again as he hurried in, and by the time he was hugging his teammate, all of them jumping up and down, his hair had curled over his forehead - one lock hanging between his eyes. He got swallowed up in the crowd of people and you turned away, pulling free from Erin’s hold. 

“Hell yeah!” Troy pumped his fist in the air. “What a win.” It took a few seconds, but all of you managed to calm down and look back at the field, watching as the teams did their congratulatory handshakes and then broke for the dugouts and locker rooms. 

Jack got pulled for an interview, but you could barely see it, and so the four of you began to pack up, heading back inside after one final look at the field. The attendant was back, and she asked if you wanted a group photo before you left - something that Caleb agreed to for all of you. 

But once those were taken on all four phones, you had no reason to stay in the suite. She led you back down the hallway and to the main concourse, thanking you for coming and telling you to have a safe drive home before saying goodbye.

It was strange to be around so many people again after having no crowd to deal with for the entire night, but the mood was cheerful, and that hadn’t changed after walking back to the car and putting everything you carried into the trunk. 

You hoped you wouldn’t have to sit in traffic for very long. Because you’d gotten to the game so early and were on one of the lower garage floors, you got your wish. Only ten minutes later, you were out of the garage and on your way home. Caleb and Troy were having an intense conversation in the back seat, and Erin was leaning against her window, head propped up on one hand. 

“That was really cool.” You nodded, keeping your eyes on the road. “Make sure you thank the person that got those tickets for us.” You knew what she was doing - but refused to take the bait. “Or I can, if -”

“I’ll text when I get home.” You narrowed your eyes and looked over at her. “I promise.” You heard Troy snort in the back seat, but Erin thankfully didn’t say anything else. 

Caleb was the first one out of the car as soon as you parked, the boy yelling a ‘thank you’ at you before he sprinted toward the front door, bursting to tell his parents about the game. Troy and Erin hung back, and you were surprised to hear him speak first, after leaning forward to slot himself between the seats. 

“That was really fucking cool. Please, make sure you tell Jack that we appreciated tonight.” You assured him you would, and when Erin reached over to squeeze your knee, you cleared your throat. 

“Thank both of you for being … discreet.” Shrugging, you gripped the wheel with both hands. “I don’t want to make too much of -” You were cut off when your phone rang, and thanks to the fact that it was connected to your car via Bluetooth, they were both able to see exactly who was calling: Jack. “Not a word from either of you.” 

Erin laughed, but as you reached for the screen to answer the phone, she opened the door and got out, Troy not far behind. Your finger hovered for a second and then you answered, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. “Hey, Jack.” 

“I’m not interruptin’, am I?” 

“No, I just dropped everyone off, and I’m getting ready to go home.” Backing out of the driveway, you turned in the direction of your place. “What are -”

“Come over.” You sucked in a breath, looking away from the road and toward the display. What? “I mean, if you’re not busy, and want to, you can come over tonight. You should come over.”

“I don’t know where you live.” You glanced down, realizing that you were still wearing your clothes from the game. “And I need to go home and change, I’m -”

“You still wearin’ my jersey?” Confirming that you were, you were relieved to hear his groan, Jack’s continued words spoken in a much softer tone than he’d been using before. “Then you definitely don’t need to go home. I’d sure like to see you in that without a net between us.” 

You stopped at a light, pressing your fingertips to your mouth and thinking. You wanted to see him again. You wanted to spend more time with him. And if he’d called you immediately after arriving home from a walk off win, he obviously wanted to spend more time with you, too. Fuck it. Why not? 

“Alright, Jack. Send me your address and I’ll be there soon.” 

—

Sample dugout suite view:

Alternate Players Weekend photo (thank you @stealyourblorbos):

[dreamingofep]

Sinned Awakening pt. 30 🩸

An AU Elvis fic

(Vampire!Elvis/ Vampire Austin! Elvis x reader)

Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Prompt: Getting promoted to be Elvis full time housekeeper, you realize the man holds secrets beyond belief and your undeniable attraction makes you tear the unknown. [Fem!Reader]

TW: Cussing, tension, mentions of killing, ANGST, mentions of blood/ gore!!!

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 7.7k

A/N: 😮‍💨 Well, we're almost to the end! One last chapter for these two. My heart is so attached to these two, I'll never not love this story🥺 I hope you enjoy this part too! It was a monster to write and hope it was well worth the wait!🩸

If you'd like to start from the beginning, start here or Ao3! hope you enjoy and message and comment what you think.

A reminder, this is Vampire!Elvis so there is going to be mentions of blood/gore from here on out. If that's not your thing, sorry but it's needed for the story. 🩸

You didn’t leave the bedroom for the rest of the night. Raphael didn’t bother you thankfully and you focused on calming yourself down. You took a long bath and you couldn’t help but stare at your scars. They were blistering and gruesome. You run your fingertips along them, feeling each bump and groove. You wish they would go away already.

Your heart couldn’t help but ache for Elvis. You didn’t even get to say goodbye. That human part of you felt sorry for him and how he hasn’t had it easy in his life. And now, it got even harder for him with you leaving him suddenly. You had to stay strong and not go back to him. That pain in your heart only grew when you thought of him. Like something was ripped out of you when you decided to leave Elvis. 

The longer you sat here, the longer you felt the pain. If you took your mind off of it, it was less excruciating but it still lingered. You didn’t understand why there was this phantom pain inside. You’ve never heard of anything like this and you wondered if Raphael would know what would cause such a feeling. 

It wasn’t until mid-afternoon the next day did you decided to emerge from your bedroom. Raphael was downstairs at the dining room table, reading a newspaper with a smug look on his face and sipping out of a coffee mug. He hears you walk in and smiles at you.

“Hi sweetheart, how are we doing today?” He asks, gesturing to sit next to him. 

“I’m fine,” you say shortly, not liking the pet name. It felt gross coming from him. 

“You must be starved, let me get you something to drink.” He says with a snap of his fingers. One of his housekeepers scrambles to his side with a cup in her hand. She exposes her wrist to him and holds it out in front of her. 

You exchange a nervous glance at her and look back at Raphael. 

“Did you want to drink from her or did you want to have it in a cup?” He asks deviously. 

You were nervous. The idea of biting another human to feed scared you and you weren't sure how to do that without hurting her. 

“Just in the cup is fine,” you say softly. 

“Fine, as you wish,” he says grabbing her wrist quickly. His fangs descend and he bites her on the inside of her wrist. She gasps out in pain, trying to stay as quiet as possible. 

He takes his fangs out and holds her wrist over the cup, letting her blood seep out into it. The smell of her blood was appeasing and you watched as every drop fell into the cup. It dawns on you that you really were hungry but were too busy to focus on such matters. He licks at her wound and hands you the cup. 

“That’ll be all, you can go,” he directs the housekeeper. 

She holds her wrist as she walks away to the other side of the house. 

You look inside the mug and inhale the delicious scent. 

You glance over at Raphael watching you intently. 

“Go ahead, drink,” he tells you.  

You raise the cup to your lips and drink slowly. The taste of her blood was satisfying. Your fangs descended the more you drank and your thirst began to rise. You gulp at the last few drops in it and lick your lips at the last remnants of blood. 

You look back at Raphael and he watches you, inspecting your face closely. 

“Was that good enough for you darling?” He asks. 

You stay quiet and nod your head. There was so much awkward tension in the room you didn’t exactly know what to do or say. This was the same man who abducted you and tried to turn you. He needed to earn your trust. It wasn’t going to be easy. He quickly finishes what’s in his cup and sets it down. 

“We can have some more later. Don’t want you starving,” he chuckles. “I’m happy you’re here. You are just what I needed in my life,” he tells you. “We should go out, just the two of us.” His eyes trail down your body, taking his sweet time then darting his focus back to your face. 

Everything about his gaze makes you feel on edge. Not in a good way. You wanted to flee but it wasn’t time yet. You didn’t want to get on his bad side. 

“Why don’t we throw a party? I’ve always loved parties. And in a house like this? It would be absolutely amazing,” you relish in the idea. 

He contemplates the idea a bit, “That could be lovely. I could have some people come in a decorate,” he adds. “Who do you want to invite?” 

“No one in particular. There’s already a lot of us in this house. Just have everyone take the night off, and celebrate your new life,” you try to encourage. 

He grins and nods his head in agreement, “I think they would love that. And so would I. How are you so,” he pauses to find the right word, “virtuous.”

“No, no. I am just trying to be kind. A thank you for letting me stay here while I figure out things,” you tell him. 

“Wonderful. I’ll have people start working on this. I’m sure they were busy planning our other venture,” he snickers. You don’t know what he’s referencing and look at him a bit confused. 

“What was the other venture?” You ask carefully. 

“We planned to go to Elvis, attack him, and deal with our unfinished business, then figure out what to do with you,” he says coldly. “But we don’t need to do that anymore. You’re here now. He doesn’t love you.”

Rip. Another tear. 

You both sit there in uncomfortable silence, not exactly sure what to say to all that. He was going to try and attack Elvis. Very soon it seems. Maybe you saved him in a way with how you decided to leave. Maybe he can have a happy life still. Even if that meant you weren’t in his life. 

You watch as Raphael adjusts his silk scarf around his neck and you see the scarring on it. It had gruesome black and red scars. It looked like it was sloppily stitched up and not healing well. 

You reach out to move his scarf up higher, inspecting the wound further. 

“How did they… how did they fix you?” You ask gently. You move his scarf back gently to where it was and wait for his response patiently. 

“It wasn’t easy,” he chuckles amused, “it took a lot of people to save me and a lot of blood. That bastard cut my head right off. But he doesn’t know how to finish the job.” He grumbles. 

“They did some surgery, trying to piece me back together. Then they had IVs of blood in me, trying to revitalize me. It took a while but it finally worked. Do you know what brought me back though? What made me the strongest?” He asks slyly. 

“No, I don’t,” you say softly. 

“You, you brought me back,” he grins. 

“I don’t understand,” you say a bit confused. 

“That night I bit you and caused more trouble than you should have, you bled a lot. I’m shocked you survived it all. The floor was covered in your blood. That sweet, decadent blood of yours. One of my men gathered some of it off the floor and fed it to me. That’s what made me feel the strongest,” he explains. 

A chill runs through you and you feel your heart gallop. You don’t say anything, not sure how to respond to something like that. It terrified you that you were the one who brought him back after all of that. 

“Oh, I see.” You squeak out nervously.

“You don’t need to feel sorry for me, I’ve never felt better now. I just need more blood than normal. I need to stay strong,” he explains.

You lower your gaze and try not to get too nervous. He looked at you with a hunger in his eye. You knew what he was going to ask and it scared you. You were at this exact seat when he asked you to let him feed from you. You weren’t sure if it would hurt as much as it did last time but you didn’t want to find out.

He gently grabs your wrist and inspects the scar on it. His thumb rubs it and you want to recoil from him, too afraid he’s going to inflict more pain on you.

“Can I feed from you again?” He asks darkly. Your heart flutters uncontrollably, not wanting to give in to him.

No, no, no, your brain screams.

“I- umm, I don’t want to be in pain,” you say weakly.

“It shouldn’t hurt anymore, you’re a vampire. Elvis never fed from you once you were turned?” He asks confused.

Your brain scrambles to remember if Elvis wanted to feed from you. Everything was so murky. All you can remember is his hungry eyes when he looked at you. You assumed he wanted to feed from you but never asked.

“Oh, no, he never did. He never asked, not once I was turned,” you explain.

“Hmm… that’s a shame, honey, He has no idea what he’s missing out on,” he says slyly. “So… may I take a bite?” He asks again.

Fear paralyzes you and you can’t move. Your eyes pleaded for him to show you mercy but you can tell he isn’t paying attention to you. He has one focus and it's to have your blood.

“Please be gentle,” you say weakly.

He pulls your wrist closer to his mouth and sinks his teeth into you. It wasn’t as painful as you last remembered but it was still uncomfortable. You assumed it was because he was biting directly on the scar he left behind. He contently drinks your blood, breathing in slowly, taking in your scent with each swallow. 

The longer he had his fangs in you, the more your body felt sick. Like it was rejecting him being this close to you. You start to panic a little with this feeling starting to overwhelm you. You push his head away from you and grab your wrist away from him.

“Stop, you’re hurting me,” you cry.

He looks at you wide-eyed, not exactly sure what you’re talking about. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and looks at you trembling there.

“Hmm, strange… you taste very different. I wonder why that is…” he trails off.

You stand up quickly, needing to get away from him. “Can I please be excused,” you say abruptly. 

“Yes, that’s fine. I have to go and take care of some things at the club anyway. Are you going to stay here or do you want to come with me?” He asks shortly.

You nod your head no and keep holding your wrist. 

“No that’s alright, I’ll stay here,” you tell him with a weak smile. He buys it as a genuine gesture and smiles at you too. 

“I’ll see you later if things don’t get too busy,” he says before walking away. 

You look over at the clock on the wall and see it is almost three. You didn’t have the faintest idea how long he’d be at the club so you had to wait and see when he’d come back. 

Before leaving the dining room, your eye sees the headline of today’s newspaper Raphael was reading. 

Elvis Surprise Concert at Sahara Tahoe Hotel

Something about it makes your heart sink. He didn’t care you were gone. He wasn’t looking for you. He just went back to his usual concert routine. You wished you could explain to him how you felt, and give yourself some closure. As much as you knew you needed to be here, everything inside of you was calling out to be with Elvis. You don’t exactly understand why the pull is so strong to him but it always was. From your first day on the job, you were unnaturally attracted to him, wanting all of his attention on you and only you. 

You try to snap yourself out of the fairytale. It's not going to happen. You can’t be with Elvis anymore. You have to let that part of your life go and start a new one.

*

Raphael stayed out later and left you in this huge house by yourself. You didn’t confine yourself to your bedroom like last night, you wanted to see what else this house has in it. 

There has to be at least fifteen bedrooms which you found a bit comical for a vampire to have since you don’t sleep. Each bedroom had a different theme. Not one looked alike and you found it very odd. You remembered the room you stayed in last time. You don’t go in there, too many bad memories were in that bedroom. 

As you keep walking through the house, you stumble upon a study. It made you stop in your tracks because there were books from floor to ceiling. You found it incredible. You tread quietly into the room. It shouldn’t be a problem if you were in there, the door was left wide open. 

You start scanning through each shelf, finding the classics and ones you’ve never heard of. This was heaven to you. Books have always been your favorite escape. But with how busy your life had gotten, you didn’t have much time to read or go to a bookstore looking for something new to read. 

Now your life looked very different and you never slept, making you restless with your wandering thoughts. You walk in further into the room and pause at the large oak desk. There were newspaper clippings spread out all over the desk, all with very random stories from different newspaper organizations. You sift through the clipping and realize they all have one thing in common. 

Elvis. 

Each and every article talked about something Elvis did. A record he broke or some gossip that was spreading about him with some girl. Raphael saved every mention of him like he was gathering evidence for his crimes. All of this made you feel so uneasy. He hated Elvis on an unprecedented scale so much that he was archiving every last thing he did. Whether it was good or bad, Raphael kept those clippings. Your stomach drops when you see another article on the table. 

It was a picture of you and Elvis leaving the courthouse after getting married. There in red ink, he crossed out both of your faces in the picture and wrote ‘mine’ next to your face. You quickly cover up the photo with other clippings and back away from the desk. You shouldn’t be here, Raphael cannot be trusted. He wanted to sabotage everything you had. 

But you try to think logically for a second, trying to calm yourself down. If that’s how Raphael felt about you now, he wouldn’t have let you stay in his house right? This newspaper article was from weeks ago when you two first got married. A lot had changed in the next few weeks following that day. You barely remember Elvis biting you, and then everything else in between was a blur until you got here. Maybe since Raphael found out that Elvis’ feelings toward you have changed, he feels different about you too? That the hatred he had for Elvis dissipated since you no longer associated yourself with him? That’s the scenario you were hoping for. If not, you were going to have a bigger issue on your hands. 

“Look what the cat dragged in,” a male’s voice suddenly says by the doorway. You snap your head in that direction and freeze. 

Daniel stares at you with cold, dark eyes. He was the last person you wanted to see. Especially after what he did to you that horrific night. 

“What do you want,” you hiss. 

He takes slow, heavy steps walking into the room, looking at you with a curiosity. 

“Is it true? Did Elvis turn you?” He says coldly. 

“Yes, he did,” you say shortly. 

“And where is he now?” He chuckles. 

Your patience was running thin. You were not expecting to see him ever again. He looked gaunt and sickly, worse than the last time you saw him. His eyes were this deep red color and the veins underneath his eyes were prominent. 

“I don’t know. I left him. It’s better that way,” you tell him. 

“Such a shame. I was really hoping you both would make it. Since you were ‘Chosen’ and everything,” he jests.

Another stab to the heart. 

You were so sure you and Elvis were meant for each other. It felt like you were dying when you thought about the happy life you could have had with him. You both were so sure that you were meant for each other. 

You press your lips together and try not to lash out at him. That’s what he wants, a reaction from you. 

“Sometimes things don’t work out,” you snap. He takes another step closer to you, furrowing his eyebrows as he looks at your face. 

“What happened to you? You look so… different. Your whole energy is different than before,” he says. 

You don’t understand what he’s getting at and don’t want to be in his presence any longer. 

“Just stay away from me,” you say walking out. 

“I’m surprised Raphael is even allowing you to stay here. Especially after Elvis tried to kill him and you stabbed him in the neck,” he says snarkily. 

“Yeah and it seems Elvis missed giving you a piece of his mind when he was here last,” you snap. 

He chuckles to himself and ignores your spiteful words. 

“I’d be careful if I were you. You get on Raphael’s bad side, that’s it for you,” he tells you. 

“Yes I know, I saw the newspaper with my picture surrounded by red ink,” you hiss.

“I guess he’s throwing a party for you too? What did you have to do to get on his good side so soon? Oh wait, I forgot, you like to be on your back,” he snickers. 

You snap and lunge at him, going directly for his throat. Your hand wraps around his neck and you throw him to the ground. Your fangs descend and an immense amount of anger flows out of you. 

“Say that one more time! I fucking dare you!” You hiss in his face. His eyes are blown wide, terrified by your presence. He gasps for air and claws at your wrist. 

“Y-you-… your eyes-,” he gasps. 

You don’t understand what he’s talking about and want him out of your sight now. 

“If you ever think of saying such things to me again, I will have no problem ending you,” you growl. 

You let go of him and back away, the anger radiating off of you in waves. He scrambles to get up and rubs his neck where there is a red imprint of your hand. There is real fear in his eyes when he looks at you. For the first time, you feel like you have the upper hand in a situation with vampires. Maybe you are stronger than you realize…

You smirk at him, trembling like a child when he looks at you. 

“Get out of my face,” you hiss. He doesn’t need to be told twice. He quickly rushes out and you can hear him run down the stairs. 

You couldn’t be in this room anymore and needed to be alone. You quickly rush to the other side of the house and lock the bedroom door. God, Daniel got under your skin more than you thought. He’s turned into more of a heartless idiot than before. Becoming a vampire has only made him a lonely, hollow shell of a man. It was such a low comment he made and it pissed you off he had the gall to make it in the first place. 

The comment he made about your eyes was strange to you. The fear he had when he looked at you… you’ve never seen anyone give you a look like that. You walk over to the bathroom and just about jump out of your skin when you see your eyes in the mirror. 

Bright golden eyes stare back at you. 

They were brilliant and captivating. There was a glow to you when your eyes were like this. Soft and effortless. But if you were upset like you just were, you could see how they could look terrifying. Like you were on fire from within. 

*

You didn’t leave the bedroom for the rest of the night. You couldn’t stand the idea of running into Daniel again. It still ticked you off that he could be so awful to you. You watched the sun come up through the curtains and let the light come into the room. You didn’t care how it stung your skin, you just wanted to see how the sun rays shone so beautifully in the room. A distraction. Anything to keep you from thinking about Elvis or Daniel or Raphael or any other man who has brought an unlimited amount of sorrow into your life.

Evening fell and there was a lot of commotion downstairs. Probably people coming in to decorate and set up for the party. You were not in the mood for a party anymore. With more solidifying evidence, you didn’t want to be around Raphael knowing he thought about killing you not too long ago. The idea of being near Daniel again might just make you snap into a fit of rage making it ugly for everyone near. 

A quiet knock at the door snaps you out of your dark thoughts. You go to answer the door and one of his men is standing there with boxes in his hand. He doesn’t look at you, he has his head bowed and with white boxes out in from of him. The boxes were wrapped with red bows with a smaller one on top of the longer box underneath. 

“The party starts in two hours. Raphael wants you to wear something nice,” he says handing you the boxes. He leaves without saying anything else to you. 

You close the door again and set the boxes on the bed. You unfurl the intricate bows and open them to see what’s inside. The large box had a black, satin dress with a low v-neck cut. There was lace trim on the bottom as well as the v-neck trim. The smaller box was a pair of black heels much too tall for your liking. 

This party was a bad idea. Everything about it made you feel on edge. The least you could do was show up though. You didn’t need to stay down there all night. 

You get ready slowly, finding some makeup in the bathroom and a curling iron in the bathroom drawers. You didn’t plan on wowing anyone, you just wanted to feel a bit normal. 

As more time went on, the house was starting to become more lively. The hum of people from downstairs was ringing in your ears and you tried to block it out. It was so hard to focus and down out the noise. Before you get dressed, you glance at your golden eyes again. A bit of panic sets in. You don’t want Raphael to see them like this. You don’t know what the slightest thing could tick him off. 

You do everything in your power to make them go back to your normal eye color. You close your eyes, breathing deeply and focusing on how you want them to look. It was so hard to do with how loud the house was and how your nerves were getting the best of you. 

Opening your eyes again, you glance at yourself in the mirror and thankfully see your normal, human-like eye color. You let out a sigh of relief. One less question to be asked if Daniel decided to tell him about what he saw. 

You go to put your dress on, some sheer thigh-high stockings, followed by the heels and you take a look at yourself in the full-length mirror. Your reflection makes you freeze. The dress was scandalous and revealing. The v cut freely showed your bite marks so openly. The one on your neck and the other one on your breast. You hated to see your skin like this. The dress was simple with its form-fitting design at your torso and more loose and flowy starting at your hips and working its way down to your ankles. You put your hair on the left side of your neck, hoping to conceal most of the scars. 

You look over at the clock and know you need to get downstairs sooner rather than later. You know Raphael will send someone up here to come and get you. The amount of voices you heard downstairs made you incredibly nervous. You assumed they were mostly vampires… dangerous ones most likely…

You go to the bed and lift the mattress, uncovering the dagger you hid there. You feel like you should have this tonight, just to be safe. Being in a house full of vampires that you don’t know could be perilous. The new information you found out about Raphael’s previous intentions with you also made you nervous. You were scared he was going to snap back to that type of thinking. You lift up your dress on your left side and place the dagger in the elastic of your stocking. The wood burned your skin a bit but you had to suck it up for a while. You couldn’t be unprotected here. 

You summon up the courage to head downstairs. Clinging to the handrail, you hope to God you don’t fall down the stairs walking in these heels. You stand on the first landing of the stairs, thankful you’ve almost made it, then look up becoming paralyzed with fear. 

Dozens of people had their eyes on you and the entire house becomes as silent as a tomb. Every single person’s eyes were red when they looked at you. Starving and dying. 

You couldn't be here much longer. The longer you stayed, the more Raphael would just use you for his enjoyment. 

“Why don’t you come down here darling,” Raphael’s voice booms over the sea of people. 

You tread carefully, taking each step carefully, and look at these terrifying vampires. They start to part the crowd for you, making a clear path for you to walk in. The click of your heels is the only sound that you can hear. Everyone is standing perfectly still, watching your every move. You almost reach the living room when you stop again. 

Raphael was sitting in a chair by the fireplace, feeding off a girl that was sitting on his lap. She was struggling in pain, clinging onto him for dear life. His eyes flash up at you, red and dangerous. He takes his teeth out of her and pulls her off of him. One of the men next to him grabs her and takes her away. 

Raphael motions for you to come closer. Everything inside you told you to keep your distance, but his terrifying eyes are making you do the opposite. 

You stand in front of him as he looks at you, inspecting every last detail of your outfit. 

“Just stunning,” he mumbles. He stands up from the chair and slyly smiles. 

“Why don’t you show everyone the whole dress though,” he taunts. You don’t understand what he’s talking about as he brushes back your hair off your chest and shoulder. You instantly shudder, watching how he looks at your gruesome scars. He quickly turns you around to the sea of people behind you. 

You hear a few gasps and watch how most of the people look away from you. You wanted to die right here and now. You understand now why he chose this dress for you; it was to put you on display. To show everyone what he had done to you. 

“What is wrong with her?”

“Why does she look like that?”

“Disgusting.”

All these murmuring voices were blaring like sirens in your ears. You shrug Raphael’s hands off of you and turn back around. 

“I am not going to stand here and be gawked at,” you snap. 

“Oh, please they’re not that bad,” he huffs.

“Do you forget I can hear every single word they’re saying!” you say raising your voice a bit. 

“Don’t be upset. You’re being ridiculous,” he sighs. 

You grumble quietly to yourself and quickly get away from him before smacking him in the face. You make a beeline for the back door and need to breathe. Being in that house made you have cabin fever and a breath of fresh air is exactly what you needed. 

You go out the back door and are taken aback by how beautiful the backyard is. There were so many flowers and rose bushes spanning acres. It looked like a botanical garden rather than a backyard. Dark red roses were everywhere and their scent filled your senses. It was intoxicating. 

You go deeper into the garden, finding a bench through the arches of ivy. The air was so quiet, just the sound of the wind ruffling the leaves. You could barely hear the roar of the party inside. You see Raphael coming toward you, taking his time to get to you. 

He sits on the bench next to you, not saying anything right away. You cover your neck and chest with your hair again, not wanting another unwanted gaze. 

“You look so beautiful,” he says low. 

You don’t react, not wanting his praise. 

“Why won’t you look at me?!” He snaps, grabbing your face in his hand. 

“Because I have nothing to say to you! Not when you treat me like some prize!” You scowl. 

“Was this to make me look like a fool?! Invite all these people to show me off like a circus animal?” You hiss. 

“No, not exactly. I threw a party like you said you wanted!” He says shortly. 

“And you had to dress me like this? To show me off like this??” You say through your teeth, motioning to your exposed scars. 

He stays silent and gets up, putting his hands on his hips as he walks a few feet away. 

“Tell me something. Were you this difficult when you were with Elvis?” He grumbles. 

“Yep. Sure was,” you spat. 

“Well, that won’t work with me. So you better fix your attitude before I make you,” he growls. Too much anger flooded your senses to care about his threat. For the first time being here, you weren’t scared of him. You had a feeling you had the upper hand here. 

He continues, “I heard you had a little run-in with Daniel yesterday?” He says. 

“Yeah, you can call it that,” you say annoyed. 

He hums to himself, gathering his thoughts, “he said you pinned him to the ground and… that your eyes… your eyes were golden?” He says accusingly. “Is that true?”

You scoff at him, “No of course not. I don’t know what he was saying. You really should teach him to feed properly or he might not be able to function much longer,” you snicker. 

“I’ve never heard of anyone’s eyes turning that color… that’s something out of legends…” he says quietly. 

“Daniel is a damn liar and you know that, so I don’t know why you are believing anything he’s saying,” you snap. 

He doesn’t say anything, just inspects you like a two-headed animal. You can feel where his focus is. He won’t stop looking at the scars he made. You feel disgusted and want him to stop. 

“Why did you bite me like this? What gave you the right?” You scowl.

He chuckles to himself and shakes his head. 

“Because I could.” He says shortly. 

“No, what was the reason! I want to hear it come from your mouth,” you hiss. 

“Because I wanted to take you away from Elvis. I didn’t want him to have you. And I knew if he saw my bite on your body, he would absolutely hate it and not want you anymore,” he says coldly. 

“You’re fucking cruel. Why would do something like that to him! Most importantly, me? Elvis never did anything to you,” you say weakly. 

“He is ungrateful! I gave him the best gift on this planet and he never once thanked me for it! I sent him a letter once he got back to the States and he never bothered to contact me. I had to watch him cause havoc everywhere he went. Making a spectacle of himself all because he’s Elvis Presley.”

“And then he comes into my city, causing chaos every time he’s here. Drinking the blood banks dry and not being considerate of the rest of us. When I turned him, I didn’t expect him to come back to the States and still be so popular. And each year that passes, he only gets more attention and more popular. It had to stop. As I suspected, he got lonely and depressed being on top all of the time with no one to love. No one could satisfy him. ”

He turns around to face you again, anger creeping in his eyes, “then you came around. You ruined it all. You made him whole again.”

He sits back down next to you, grabbing your shoulders, “What did he see in you?” He says, compelling you for the truth. 

You wanted to resist him, he didn’t deserve to hear any of it but you can’t hold back from speaking the truth. 

“I-I- I don’t know. I don’t know what he saw. I truly don’t know what it was,” you try to get out. 

“I don’t believe you,” he growls, “what did you do to make him look at you differently?” He compels. 

“Nothing! I don’t do anything to him. It was just-,” You stop in your tracks. You couldn’t get it out. The words you wanted to say shouldn’t be muttered. 

“Tell me!” he snaps. 

You feel tears well in your eyes, anger and frustration fuel you and you can’t even look at him. The power he has over you is willing you to tell him the truth whether you want to or not. 

“I wanted him! I was so attracted to him the first time I saw him! I couldn’t denounce the attraction. We were like two magnets. We couldn’t help it. It was a force of nature pulling us together. It was something bigger than us that made us be together,” you confess. 

He looks at you disgusted and gets up once again, turning your back to you. 

“Unbelievable…” he sighs.

You tremble with anger, your breathing ragged and shallow when you look at Raphael. 

Your ears faintly hear some commotion happen inside the house. Loud footsteps were stomping throughout the house like people were running away from something. You look back at Raphael and he doesn’t seem to pay attention to any of it. He’s too distracted with you. 

With his back turned, you scrunch up your dress on your left side, slowly pulling the dagger out from your stocking. Holding it behind your back, you wait for the right moment. 

You try to draw him near again, “So you bit me like this for revenge?! You had to do it so viciously!? Why not just kill me? You could have saved yourself all this trouble!” You yell standing up, gripping onto the dagger tighter. You conceal it in the material of your dress, making it unseen to him. 

He turns back to look at you, a dark look clouding his eyes as he goes to stand closer to you. “That would be too easy. I wanted to leave my mark on you for life. No human or vampire would want you with those scars,” he snickers, pulling you in by the neck, “except me. You’re mine. I will never let you go,” he growls. 

His fangs are inches away from your face and you start to boil over with anger. 

You push at his chest as hard as you can, making him falter. “You damned me,” you say through your teeth. “You ruined my life. You took Elvis away from me! That man loved me I know it! My heart aches for him still! It feels like I'm dying when I think of him!” You scream in his face. 

He freezes and backs up a bit to look at you. Horror washes over his face and he looks more pale than before. 

“Your-, oh my God your eyes,” he stutters. You could feel how they shifted, how the golden hue was burning into his dead eyes. “You were right… you both were Chosen for one another… That's why you taste so different...”

Elvis.

Oh God, you needed him. 

Your heart felt so weak without him

You didn’t care if he didn’t love you. You just wanted to be next to him.

To look at those beautiful eyes.

To tell him you wanted him again.

The pull to be with Elvis was excruciating, you couldn’t stand to be around Raphael another second. 

“You took away the other half of my soul! How fucking dare you!” You scream. 

He pauses suddenly, smirking at you and chuckling to himself softly. 

“Hmm, is it true? That you both were connected? You feel each other's pain, and if you die, he does too?” He asks darkly. 

You freeze, you don’t know the answer to that and you sure as hell don’t want to find out. 

“I-I don’t know…” you tremble.

“Well, I’m going to find out.” He growls. 

He smirks and grabs you suddenly, holding a fist full of your hair, and exposes your neck to him. You yell out in pain as you feel his teeth sink into your flesh. He was vicious and cruel with how he was biting you. How he dragged his teeth along your neck, raking his sharp fangs down before he fully bites down. 

He greedily drank your blood, holding you as close as he could to try to restrain you. Your mind is terrified of what will happen if he doesn’t stop. It’s time. You have to end this right here and now. You claw at his bicep and muster all the strength you have to move out of his grasp.

You take the dagger and plunge it into his back, piercing it through his heart. He groans in agony, staring at you wide-eyed. You let go of the handle and look down to see the tip of the dagger coming out of his chest, inches away from yours. 

He gasps for breath, “No… no… what have you done,” he cries.

“Finishing what I started,” you growl.

“You… you fucking bitch,” he wheezes, “you’re done.”

He groans loudly and puts his hands on your arms, pulling you in swiftly and piercing the rest of the dagger into the right side of your ribs. You let out a scream, the wood burning like a hot branding iron. You gasp for breath too as you feel blood start to trickle out of you. 

You put your hand back on the dagger’s handle and pull it out of you both with a grunt. You both fall to the ground, groaning in agony. You roll to your side, clutching your wounded ribs. Your fingertips graze the wound and you cry out. You haven’t felt such pain before. It only grew with every little movement you made. Each breath felt agonizing too. Each one was harder to do and you started to cough up blood.

Shit. This isn’t good. He stabbed my lung…

You look over to see Raphael wallowing on the floor, clutching to his chest.

“Y/n!” A voice calls out for you. A dark shadow comes running to you. Your vision is blurry and each blink only makes it worse. The shadow finally gets close to you and your nose picks up his scent.

Oh, you could have recognized that beautiful scent anywhere.

Elvis, your love.

He lays you down on your back, fear encapsulating his eyes as he looks over your trembling body.

“Baby, oh baby. Please, look at me,” he cries. You look into those beautiful eyes, the ones that can make you melt without even trying.

“Elvis,” you whimper, clutching onto his arm.

Raphael groans loudly and grabs at Elvis’ ankle tightly, the sound of his bone-crunching underneath his grasp. Elvis hisses and breaks free from his grasp. He pins Raphael back to the ground and punches him in the face. 

“Did you think you were going to win? Did you think she was yours?!” Elvis growls in his face.

All Raphael could do was groan and gasp for breath. He puts his hand around Elvis’ throat and starts to squeeze it tightly. Elvis grunts in frustration and tries to break free. Raphael was still a lot stronger than he anticipated. 

You had to finish this, you had to help Elvis end this all.

You cry out in pain and summon all the strength you have left, holding onto the dagger tightly and weakly standing up. Your feet stumble each step and you struggle for breath. You get right next to Raphael and kneel down, lifting the dagger and plunging it into his heart. He cries out in pain, letting go of Elvis, and coughs up blood.

You drag the dagger downwards, cutting out his heart with the only strength you had left. Your head throbs with pain and you can’t hold onto the dagger anymore. Elvis takes the dagger from you and finishes the job. Your body gives out, too weak to even kneel here. You collapse on the ground, unable to hold on any longer.

You feel Elvis hold your body in his arms, trembling as he looks over your weak state.

“No, no honey, please. You’re okay, it's going to be okay,” he says panicked, caressing your face tenderly.

You try to speak but it hurts so much, that each breath becomes harder to do. You just clutch onto his arms tighter, needing to keep yourself tied to him. Your eyes look up to the sky and see a blanket of stars. Being so far away from the city, they lit up the night sky so vividly. They shone so bright and twinkled each time you blinked. You wished you could dance among them, fly as high as you can, and dance around them. You’d take Elvis with you, of course, you couldn’t imagine going anywhere without him. You needed him forever.

“Baby,” Elvis says frantically, snapping you out of your daydream. You look back at him, his cheeks full of tears rolling down them.

“Honey I need to bite you. I need to heal you,” he trembles.

Oh, does he love me enough to save me? Oh…

You nod yes and roll your head to the side to expose your neck. You can feel his hands shake when he glides them up your body and places one on the back of your head and one underneath your back. He pulls you in close, placing a kiss on your neck before taking a bite. You gasp out, the pain of the bite all too much. He clutches onto your body tight, trying to soothe you through this. You can’t keep your eyes open very much, all you can hear is Elvis’ content sighs as he drinks your blood.

He drinks from you for some time but then that’s when you feel it; his venom entering your bloodstream. You groan in agony, feeling it burn like wildfire inside you. He finally takes his fangs out of you, gasping for breath. Your eyes flutter to try to look at him.

“Honey, h-honey, I-I-I need you to bite me now. Come on you can do it,” he encourages. His voice was beyond scared, it was terrified. You don’t respond to his plea, you are too weak to move or even try to have your fangs descend. Your breathing felt shallow and your body trembled. You open your eyes to see Elvis again. That beautiful face looked down on you. You will never forget that perfect face for as long as you live. Or maybe even beyond that.

He lightly shakes you, pleading for you to respond to him.

“Baby, please,” he cries, “I need you. I need you so much. I can’t lose you.” He begs.

He bites the inside of his wrist and brings it to your mouth.

“Drink honey,” he pleads.

His scent hits you like a freight train and a frenzy forms inside you. Your hunger grows and lick at his wrist. The most heavenly taste coats your tongue and you swallow it contently. You want more and bite at his wrist, sucking more of his blood. Your strength began to rise, and the pain from the bites were slowly going away. 

You take your mouth off his wrist and groan, your head pounding away.

“Oh honey, you did so good. You’re going to be okay. You’re okay,” he reassures over and over.

He kisses your forehead, holding you to his chest. You felt warm, comforted, and safe. A sharp pain spreads through your neck and makes you gasp. You curl your body into a ball and try to get closer to him. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to block out the pain. You see twinkling stars behind your eyelids, making you feel weightless. Pure joy and peace are felt when you see these stars and feel the warmth of Elvis’ body against yours. 

You let the stars dance around you, taking your pain away, and feel nothing.

*

*

*

Tagging:

@burninlovebutler

@neptuneismysister @velvetelvis @ccab @presleyenterprise @theresalwaysep

@prompted-wordsmith @sillybookmarks @dkayfixates @ellie-24 @rktismylife-blog

@myradiaz @tacozebra051

@thatbanditqueen

@18|kpeters @flwrs4aust @emma181873

@austinswhitewolf @eliseinmemphis

@everythingelvispresley @chasingwildflowers @idontwanttoputanything. @ohjustpeachy_

@elvisalltheway101 @austinsmutler @kingdomforapony.

@generoustreemystic @claire-elvisgirl

@ashtag6887 @burnthheparaphilia @richardslady121

@jaqueline19997

@returntopresley. @iloveelvis @rimartin11@that-hotdog.

@louisejoy86 @misspresley @cattcb @annapresley8

@arrolyn1114 @raginginkedslut @epthedream69

@mh777ep1938

@50sexyshadesfashionista

@oldhOllywOod @hooked-on-elvis @livelovedilfs @sloppiest-of-jos

[ladykissingfish]

Itachi: Sasuke, are you ready to get going? We don't have a lot of time before you have to go to Kakashi-sensei, and if you want me to practice that technique with you then -- Mikoto: Sasuke's already left, dear. Itachi: What?? *glances at his watch* It's barely 5am! I thought I'd have to drag him out of bed. Why is he gone already? Don't tell me Kakashi is actually having them train this early? Mikoto: I don't think so, but ... well ... he mentioned something about meeting Naruto for breakfast. Itachi: Naruto? That blonde kid on his team? The one he complains about all the time?? Mikoto: That's the one. I think it's cute. I remember YOUR first love; remember that cute little girl who used to give you her dango? I -- Itachi: FIRST LOVE? Are you saying that Sasuke likes this boy or something? Mikoto: I believe so. Itachi: But has he ever said this to you? Mikoto: He doesn't have to, dear. A mother just knows. I mean, look -- *points at the sink* See that mess? He was standing in here for half an hour trying to make "the perfect pancakes" to take to his little friend. That doesn't sound like love to you? Itachi: But ... but Sasuke ... my sweet little baby brother ... Mikoto: He's not a baby anymore, dear. He's eleven, almost twelve. He's growing up, just like you. *chuckles* With as handsome as my boys are, it won't be long before I get to be called "grandma", eh? Mikoto: At any rate, please don't embarrass your brother with this, dear A boy's first love can be an emotional thing, and I don't — *Mikoto looks up; Itachi has disappeared* *a bit later* Naruto: Um ... Sasuke, this may sound paranoid, but, do you get the feeling that ... we're being watched? Sasuke: Watched? Who would be watching us? Naruto: I don't know, I just get the feeling of eyes on me, dattebayo. Heh, I'm probably just tired. *in the trees* Random Anbu 1: Itachi, are you sure this is part of our mission for today? Itachi, masked: Yes. Random Anbu 2: But they're just two kids eating some food ... and isn't one of them your brother?! Itachi: It's the blonde we're more focused on. Watch closely for any suspicious movements, like hugging, or hand-holding, or kissing. Random Anbu 1: And if we see these things? Are we supposed to attack, or -- ? Itachi, voice deepening: Then you leave him to ME. Anbus 1 and 2:

[beardedmrbean]

Kamala Harris appeared to struggle to explain her economic policies and how she will get them through Congress in an interview with CBS' 60 Minutes. 

The Vice President's full interview will air at 8pm ET Monday as part of an election special, showing her repeatedly asked about her plans for the economy.

'My plan is about saying that when you invest in small businesses, you invest in the middle class, and you strengthen America's economy. Small businesses are part of the backbone of America's economy,' she said. 

But when CBS' Bill Whitaker continued to grill her what her plan does and how she would pay for it, Harris didn't offer any specifics, just staying she knew lawmakers agreed with her. 

'I'm going to make sure that the richest among us who can afford it, pay their fair share in taxes. It is not right that teachers and nurses and firefighters are paying a higher tax rate than billionaires and the biggest corporations. And I plan on making that fair,' she said. 

'But we're dealing with the real world here,' Whitaker told her, asking her how she would get it approved by Congress. 

'You know, when you talk quietly with a lot of folks in Congress, they know exactly what I'm talking about, because their constituents know exactly what I'm talking about. Their constituents are those firefighters and teachers and nurses,' Harris replies.

The Democratic presidential nominee released part of her economic plan last week. It focuses on lowering middle-class taxes, cutting food and grocery costs, and lowering prescription drug prices. 

She also talks about creating an 'opportunity economy' for Americans to buy their first home or start a business. 

Voters rate the economy as one of their top issues for the 2024 presidential election. Harris is seeking to distance herself from President Joe Biden, who receives low marks from voters on his handling of the economy.

Biden was hammered for high inflation during his tenure, which led to a spike in prices in groceries, gas and rent. 

'While real gross domestic product growth slowed in the first quarter of this year, growth rebounded to a strong 3.0% in the second quarter. All available evidence suggests policymakers may have managed to bring inflation under control without causing a recession,' analysts wrote.

Harris sat down with 60 Minutes for a pre-election special that will air on Monday night. CBS released some early excerpts of the interview, which will also address the war in the Middle East. 

The news program also asked to interview Donald Trump as part of their special. The former president agreed and then backed out, saying he felt 60 Minutes owed him an apology for some of its previous reporting on him.

Trump appeared to be referring to his last interview with program, which took place in 2020 while he was president. He walked out on correspondent Lesley Stahl.

'They came to me and would like me to do an interview, but first I want to get an apology, because the last time I did an interview with them, if you remember, they challenged me on the computer,' Trump said last week. 

'They said the 'laptop from hell' was from Russia, and I said it wasn't from Russia. It was from Hunter, and I never got an apology, so I'm sort of waiting. I'd love to do '60 Minutes.' I do everything.' 

Harris, meanwhile, is on an interview blitz in the final days of the election.

In addition to appearing on 60 Minutes, she also taped an interview with the popular Call Her Daddy podcast, which has a target audience of young women.

On Tuesday, Harris will be live on ABC's The View, visit The Howard Stern Show, and appear with Stephen Colbert on CBS's The Late Show.

On Thursday, she will participate in a Univision town hall.

Many of the interviews are considered 'friendly' territory for the candidate. Trump employs a similar strategy, often appearing on Fox News.   _________________________

[bravetimetravellingaussie]

And it feels like home

Chapter 4

Summary: Wade and Peter have a chat

Warnings: not even any bad language in this one, possible spoilers for no way home though

By the time they reached the roof, Peter's chest was heaving. It felt like he was trying to catch his breath while a waterfall was plummeting down on him.

Deadpool was saying something. Everything was drowned out by the thundering noise inside Peter's head.

"Petey!" Deadpool held Peter by the shoulders and shook him slightly.

Peter looked up at him and saw concern in the creases of his face.

"Petey, you need to try breathe, okay? It's safe to take your mask off up here if you want."

Peter walked over to the edge of the roof and stood there. His breathing calmed a little. Everything was a mess, but if there's one thing that remained, it's that Peter was good at his job.

Deadpool barely had a chance to react before he was dangling off the edge of the roof by a thread.

"I. Want. Answers." Peter let the thread drop a little and deadpool let out a small scream.

"Petey, you've got this all wrong kid, I'm on your side! Well, okay, maybe you wouldn't really agree with my methods, what with me being an r-rated hero slash antihero, but I'm one of the good guys! I'm not planning on telling anyone who you are. I mean the whole, me knowing who you are thing, I see now that that's a bit of an invasion of your privacy, although no invasion of privacy was needed for me to know, you know I just know things sometimes that others don't. You know in the comics we're a lot alike, you also speak to the guys on the other side of the screen, but the MCU decided to make you a bit less comic-booky, I don't know why really, but hey if you want I can tell you who I am, I'll answer any questions you have you don't need to dangle me off a building. I will say if you drop me you should probably get out of here though, my boyfriend wouldn't hurt a kid but he gets scary when he's angry. I'm Wade Winston Wilson by the way, quick story of my life: I was military, then mercenary, then very sketchy science experiment, and now I'm trying my best to be a hero."

"How do I know I can trust you?"

Wade hesitated. Even as he dangled so many stories above the ground, somehow he still looked more concerned for Peter than he did for himself.

"The answer is you can't trust me. You can't trust anyone right now. But everyone needs people. Door's always open."

Peter felt that awful tearing inside, the need to keep everyone at arms length battling it out with the desire to let someone, anyone, get close.

Peter sighed and started pulling Wade up onto the roof.

"You won't regret this, Petey."

"No, I won't." Peter shot webs at Wade till he was certain he wouldn't be able to get away.

"The offer still stands! Indefinitely!"

Jumping from one roof to the next, Peter slowly made his way to his old high school. He could manage without his webs but it was slow going. Everything was buzzing before but now he couldn't find the energy within to care. There was a rather dark and morbid part of Peter that wondered whether he was glad or not that the man couldn't be killed. Glad. He was glad. Peter focused on that thought.

As the world darkened for him, he found his thoughts sometimes darkened too. But maybe that was a part of growing up. Maybe it was a part of what it meant to be a hero, to keep going and keep helping and keep trying even when everything around you and inside you was dark.

Lost in thought, Peter managed to find his way without even noticing he had reached his destination.

Every time he came here was the same, pain and joy and sorrow and wonder all mushed together in a messy package. Part of him wanted to close this door forever. But another part relished these moments. Memories are fallible, and especially hard to trust when there is no one alive to share them with. Coming back here made him feel a little more sane. It was comforting, to know without a doubt that it was all here, that it was all real, just as it had been. The place he lived now was a hollow box, but this was home. Eerily empty but warmed by the phantoms of memory.

Peter made his way to the science lab and got to work.

[runariya]

Drive to Survive (JJK) • Chapter 5 “High Expectations”

pairing: F1driver!Jungkook x female race engineer!reader genre: colleagues2L, formula1!AU, racing!AU, drama, kind of fantasy/cyborg!AU fic rating: 18+, MDNI warnings: denial, mean media, more conflicts, irritating Jungkook, angry Jungkook, anger issues, Mingyu is sus, physical fighting, a lot of cursing word count: ~ 6.670

🎵 BLACKPINK - Playing with Fire 🎵

a/n: This work is purely fictional. All characters and events are entirely imaginary and do not reflect reality. Content errors related to the sport of Formula 1 are not excluded. Please do not use this story as your own. No translations are allowed without permission. Thank you for understanding! 💕

01 • 02 • 03 • 04 • series masterlist • 06

The backdrop of Monaco's glitz and glamour is overshadowed by a cloud of frustration and disappointment that hangs heavily in the air of Mercedes. The race had been going well, with Jungkook holding onto the lead for most of the last part of the race. But everything changed in the final moments. Mingyu had snatched victory from the jaws of defeat, overtaking Jungkook just before the finish line. 

Jungkook sits at the table of the debrief, still in his racing suit, his face thundering with frustration. You’re seated beside him, clearly uncomfortable, knowing that you are both about to face the brunt of Toto’s anger. 

Toto stands at the head of the table, his expression a storm of barely controlled fury. "Alright, let's get straight to the point," Toto begins, his voice sharp and unforgiving. "What happened out there today was unacceptable."

Jungkook shifts in his seat, looking down at his hands. His knuckles are white from clenching them so tightly. You know as well as he what's coming and brace yourself for it.

"Jungkook," Toto continues, "you had the race in the bag. P1 was yours. But in the final lap, you let Mingyu slip past you. How did this happen?"

Jungkook takes a deep breath, struggling to find the words. "I... I lost focus for a moment. Mingyu saw an opportunity and took it. I didn't react quickly enough."

Toto's eyes narrow, you’re sure you heard a snort coming from George. "Lost focus? This is not a game, Jungkook. You can't afford to lose focus for even a second. We have worked too hard to let this slip away."

He turns his attention to you, and you try to stay calm under Toto's intense gaze, supporting Jungkook's excuse while keeping your suspicions about Mingyu hidden. "And you. What were you doing during all of this? Your job is to keep Jungkook informed and focused. How did you let this happen?"

You take a deep breath. "I was giving him the necessary updates, but... there was a moment of distraction."

Toto's voice rises. "A moment of distraction? We're here to win championships, not to entertain distractions. And what was that I heard during the race? Did Jungkook call you 'babe'? During a race?"

There are some giggles and hushed conversations heard in the room. Jungkook's face flushes with embarrassment, and he opens his mouth to defend himself, but Toto doesn't give him a chance.

"This is exactly the problem," Toto snaps. "Personal relationships have no place on the track. You need to focus on your job, Jungkook. You need to focus on winning. And you," he points a finger at you, "need to keep him focused. I don't care if you're best friends or dating. When you're on that track, it's all about the race. Nothing else matters."

The room is silent, the weight of Toto's words hanging heavily over everyone. You feel the sting of the reprimand keenly. You know Toto is right.

"I'm sorry," Jungkook finally says, his voice low. "It won't happen again."

"It better not," Toto replies, his tone still harsh but with a hint of resignation. "We're in a fight for the championship, and every point counts. We can't afford any more mistakes like this."

He looks around the room, his eyes meeting each team member's gaze in turn. "We are Mercedes. We are the best team on the grid, and we will not let this defeat us. We will learn from it, and we will come back stronger. Is that understood?"

A chorus of affirmative responses echoes through the room. The team knows that Toto is right. You have to pull together and focus if you want to reclaim Jungkook’s position at the top.

The debrief continues with a detailed analysis of the race. The team goes over every aspect, from strategy to pit stops, looking for areas to improve. Jungkook and you listen intently, taking notes and absorbing the feedback. You know that you have to do better, and you’re determined to make sure that this kind of mistake doesn't happen again. And with the heavy weight of your phone in your pocket, you know you’ll succeed. 

As the meeting wraps up, Toto takes a moment to address Jungkook and you privately. His tone is softer now, though still serious, it still doesn’t lessen your fear of being scolded again. 

"I know this is tough," he says, looking at both of you. "But you are both talented and capable. That's why you're here. I need you to put this behind you and focus on the next race. We can still win this championship, but we have to be at our best. No more distractions, understood?"

Jungkook nods. "Understood, boss. We'll make it right."

You also nod, feeling a new determination to let Jungkook calling you babe slide. "We'll be better prepared next time."

Toto gives you a nod of approval before he leaves you both alone. "Good. Now go get some rest. We'll regroup tomorrow and start preparing for the next race."

Just as you’re about to leave the room after Toto, Jungkook stops you by your wrist. His grip is firm, urgent even, but at the same time soft as his thumb caresses your wrist twice.

“Listen, about what I’ve said…”

You cut him off, Toto’s words still ringing in your ears. “You’re good. You heard him, let’s put this behind us and focus on the next race.”

You maintain eye contact, trying to decipher the emotions swirling inside Jungkook’s eyes, but the scolding from Toto is too fresh and present in your mind to really get a read on him. Jungkook reluctantly nods and slowly lets your wrist go as his hand lowers to his side. Your wrist feels empty without his touch, and you try to suppress the urge to reach out to him, unable to handle the sadness in his eyes. So you do the only thing you’re capable of at the moment—you turn around and leave.

Monday’s morning sun peaking through the windows of your office at Brackley warms your frozen self, a welcome comfort after the rain that drenched you on your walk here. Now, seated at your desk, you stare at your computer screen with a growing sense of dread. One headline after another flashes before your eyes, each one more invasive than the last, letting you forget the jet lag from yesterday’s flight. 

"Is Jungkook's New Flame His Race Engineer?"

"Exclusive: Jungkook Spotted Carrying Drunk Engineer to Hotel!"

"Racing Scandal: Jungkook Caught in Heated Moment with Taehyung"

You scroll further, your heart sinking with every new piece of gossip. The pictures are there too, clear as day. Jungkook carrying you to the hotel, his arm under your legs, your head resting against his chest. Another image shows him dragging you away from Taehyung, his face a mix of anger and protectiveness. The sight of these private moments splashed across news sites and social media makes your stomach churn with embarrassment.

You feel a flush of shame creep up your neck, a burning sensation that spreads to your cheeks. How did it get this far? You’ve always prided yourself on your professionalism and dedication to your dream job. You've spent years working tirelessly, building your career in a field dominated by men, earning respect through sheer hard work and unwavering work ethics. Yet, here you are, the center of a tabloid spectacle, your professional reputation hanging by a thread.

As you sit there, helplessness starts to give way to anger. Anger at the invasion of your privacy, at the way your personal life has been twisted into fodder for gossip. But most of all, anger at Jungkook. How could he let this happen? Why did he have to get involved in these public displays that were bound to attract attention? Your resolve hardens, and you decide that things need to change. You need to maintain a professional distance from him, this time for real.

A sharp knock on your door pulls you out of your thoughts. Joongki and Jungkook enter your office, their expressions a mix of concern and determination. 

"Hey," Joongki starts, his voice gentle. "Jungkook here told me you wanted to talk to us both."

You nod, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. "Yes, we do. I have something important to disclose." You glance at Jungkook, your anger still simmering beneath the surface. "Mingyu has metal parts on his neck and thigh."

Joongki’s eyes widen in surprise. "Metal parts? What do you mean?"

You turn your computer screen around, showing the pictures you took of Mingyu's racing gear, explaining your solo mission last weekend. "I found these modifications on his gear. They're not standard issue, and I suspect they might be affecting his performance."

Jungkook steps forward, his brow furrowed with concern. "We need to talk to Toto about this. If Mingyu's using illegal modifications, it could change everything."

You shake your head firmly. "No, not yet. We need more evidence before we bring this up to Toto. I need your help, Joongki, to analyse the telemetry data regarding Mingyu's heart rate. Please don’t ask me how I got my hands on them. But I would appreciate it if we could look for any anomalies that might indicate he's using some kind of enhancement."

Joongki nods, his expression serious. "I can help with that. We'll need to go through the data meticulously."

Jungkook looks frustrated, but he doesn’t argue. "Alright, but we need to move quickly. The longer we wait, the more races he could win unfairly."

You nod in agreement, your resolve strengthening. "We will. But we need to do this right. We need to be thorough and have undeniable proof before we make any accusations. There’s enough drama as it is.“

As Joongki and Jungkook leave your office, you let yourself slump further into your chair. Your anger at Jungkook still simmers, but now it’s focused into getting Mingyu, even if it’s only temporarily. You will get to the bottom of this, and you will protect your team’s integrity. And most importantly, you will maintain your professional distance from Jungkook, no matter how difficult it might be.

The rest of Monday and all of Tuesday were consumed with denying interview requests from various tabloids. Toto urged you, Jungkook, and the rest of the team to ignore the rumours and stay focused on the championship. Determined to heed his advice, you spent the last two days immersing yourself in your work, avoiding any moments alone with Jungkook unless they were race-related, and only speaking to him in professional settings.

It's Wednesday afternoon, and you're holed up in your office yet again, eyes glued to the computer screen as you analyse the latest data on Jungkook's performance. The numbers and graphs blur slightly as your thoughts wander back to the headlines and the images that have haunted you for days. You take a deep breath and try to focus, but it’s fruitless. 

Giving yourself a short break, you think back to your school years, a time when fitting in seemed like an insurmountable challenge. The boys back then showed little interest in you, if at all. A handful might have paid attention for a couple of weeks, but it never lasted. You were always different, and it was clear they couldn't quite understand you. Everyone around you insisted that a girl who wore skirts and dresses couldn’t possibly be into Formula 1, much less the engineering aspect of it. They never believed you. You were either too girly or too smart in their eyes, never fitting into the neat little boxes they tried to put you in.

When you went to college, you faced the same skeptical attitudes. Some men showed interest, but by then you had learned to protect your boundaries fiercely. You wouldn't break your rules for anyone, determined to stay true to yourself and your passion. It was a hard-earned lesson: to guard your dreams and your heart equally, not letting anyone diminish what you knew you were capable of. 

Now, working for Jungkook, everything feels different and infinitely more complicated. His charisma is undeniable, a magnetic force that draws you in effortlessly. He's easygoing and fun to be around, which lures out a playful side of you that you couldn’t show when you were younger. With him, you let your guard down in ways you never thought you would. It’s dangerous because you’ve found yourself enjoying his company too much, and it’s affecting your focus. 

Younger you would be disappointed, seeing how your ultimate dream of being a race engineer in Formula 1 has taken a backseat. You worked so hard to get here, to prove everyone wrong, and now you feel it slipping away because of Jungkook’s influence. You remember Toto’s words clearly: you’re supposed to keep Jungkook focused. This is not a game; it's the road to success, the path to a championship win. But how can you keep him focused when every time you're near him, both of your focuses shift only to each other?

It's a horrible realisation. You know Toto is right. There is so much at stake, and losing focus now could cost you everything you've worked for. The road to the championship win requires absolute dedication and unwavering commitment, and any distraction could be disastrous. You try to steel yourself, reminding yourself of the sacrifices you've made and the dreams you've held onto for so long. But Jungkook’s presence makes it all so complicated. You know you have to find a way to regain control, to put your dreams back in the forefront where they belong. This isn't just about your career; it's about proving to yourself and everyone else that you belong here, that you can be both a skirt-wearing girl and a brilliant engineer.

You resolve to tighten your boundaries once more, to not let Jungkook’s charm derail your ambitions. The stakes are too high, and you owe it to your younger self to stay true to the path you’ve carved out against all odds. You can’t afford to lose sight of your goal now.

The door to your office creaks open, and you stiffen, sensing his presence before you even look up.

“Hey,” Jungkook’s voice is soft, almost tentative and you wonder if your thoughts summoned him. “Got a minute?”

You keep your eyes on the screen, pretending to be engrossed in the data. “I’m busy, Jungkook. What do you need?”

He steps closer, his shadow falling over your desk. “You’ve been avoiding me for three days now. What’s going on?”

“Nothing’s going on,” you reply curtly, still not looking at him. “Can we talk about the throttle position? My data shows your strength lessened during the Monaco race. I think we might need to adjust it before we leave for São Paulo tomorrow.”

Jungkook sighs in frustration. “Can we not do this right now? I’m trying to talk to you.”

You finally look up, meeting his eyes with a steely gaze, hoping the sadness is well hidden. “I am doing my job, Jungkook. If you have a problem with that, maybe you should take it up with someone else.”

He crosses his arms, his jaw clenched. “Why are you acting like this? We were fine before. What changed?”

You stand up, pushing your chair back with more force than necessary. “What changed? Are you serious? Have you seen the headlines? Do you have any idea what this is doing to my career?”

Jungkook’s expression softens slightly, but he doesn’t back down. “I didn’t mean for any of that to happen. You know that. But avoiding me isn’t solving anything.”

“I’m not avoiding you,” you snap. “I’m trying to stay professional. Something you clearly don’t understand.”

His eyes flash with hurt, but he keeps his voice steady. “But this isn’t just about professionalism, is it?”

You glare at him, refusing to back down. “What else would it be about, Jungkook? All I’ve ever wanted is to do my job well. To be respected for my work and as a person. And now all anyone sees is this…this scandal.” You gesture to your screen, your face not able to hide the deep sadness and helplessness anymore. 

He takes a step closer, his frustration bubbling over. “I didn’t ask for this either! But you’re shutting me out completely. How is that fair?”

“Fair?” you laugh bitterly. “You think this is about fairness? I’m trying to protect my self, Jungkook. Something you don’t have to worry about.”

Jungkook’s eyes narrow. “And what about us? What about the friendship we’ve built? Does that mean nothing to you?”

You hesitate, the words catching in your throat. “Of course it means something. But right now, it’s not my priority.”

“Then what is?” he demands, his voice rising. “What do I have to do to meet your standards?”

The question hangs in the air, and you feel a shockwave of realisation hit you. You’ve been so focused on maintaining your professionalism, on protecting your career, that you’ve overlooked how much this is affecting him too. The intensity of his question, the raw vulnerability in his eyes, leaves you speechless. 

Jungkook takes a step back, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I just…I don’t know what you want from me. I’m trying my best here.”

You swallow hard, your resolve wavering. “I want… I need you to understand that this is my dream job, Jungkook. I’ve worked so hard to get here, and I can’t let anything jeopardise that. Not even…not even you.”

His shoulders slump slightly, the fight draining out of him as you see him swallow dry. “O…okay. But I need us to be okay.”

You look at him, really look at him, and see the toll this is taking on him as well. The tension in his shoulders, the weariness in his eyes. You’ve been so wrapped up in your own fears and frustrations that you’ve failed to see his struggles. And even though this should only affect you professionally so Jungkook can do his best on the track, it stings your heart violently. 

Taking a deep breath, you overpower the urge to step closer to him. “Jungkook, we’re okay. Just…I don’t know…just let us keep our distance when it’s off work.” 

He looks at you, but you can't bear to meet his gaze any longer. Instead, you sit down and stare intently at your screen, trying to ignore the weight of his presence. His voice, barely more than a whisper, reaches your ears. "Okay."

And this time, it's him who leaves.

It’s Thursday as São Paulo gears up for the race weekend. The teams barely had a week to prepare between races, and the stress is written on all faces. 

You find yourself in Joongki’s hotel room, barely landed two hours ago and seated on a plush chair near the window. Jungkook leans against the wall, arms crossed, his face unreadable since your fallout. Joongki sits at the small desk, spread out papers and maps of the track still lying around from the briefing he had with George, but the real discussion is far more covert.

“We need to talk about our next steps regarding Mingyu,” Joongki begins, his voice low and deliberate. “We can’t afford to let him get away with whatever he’s doing. If he wins again, it’ll just raise more questions from Toto you can’t answer.”

You nod, feeling the weight of the task ahead. “I agree, but I won’t get close to him again. Last time was too risky, and I don’t want to leave myself vulnerable like that ever again.”

Joongki sighs, rubbing his temple as you see Jungkook tense up in your peripheral. “I understand, but we need evidence. Without it, we’re just speculating.”

“There has to be another way,” you insist, your voice firmer than you expected. “I’ve already compromised myself once for this job. I won’t throw my dignity away like this again. Ever.”

Jungkook shifts uncomfortably, the memory of that night still fresh in both your minds. He stays silent, but you see the regret in his eyes. He doesn’t argue, just nods in agreement.

Joongki looks between the two of you, sensing the tension. “Alright, let’s brainstorm alternatives. What if we involve Taehyung? He’s got connections and might be able to help us get the data we need.”

You think for a moment, considering the idea. “What kind of data are we talking about? Heart rate was useful, but we need more to expose Mingyu if he’s using some kind of technology to enhance his performance.”

“Three key data types come to mind,” Joongki says, leaning forward, counting on his fingers. “First, we need detailed telemetry data, specifically focusing on his muscle activity and reflex times. If there’s something unnatural there, it’ll show.”

“Agreed,” you say, making a mental note. “What else?”

“Second, we should look at his G-force data during the race,” Joongki continues. “If he’s able to withstand higher G-forces than a normal human, that’s a big red flag.”

“Right, and the third?” Jungkook asks, finally speaking up.

Joongki nods. “We need to analyse his neural response times. If his nerves from his brain to his body are reacting faster than humanly possible, we’ll have our answer.”

You lean back, considering the plan. “It’s risky, but if we can get Taehyung on board, it might just work.”

Jungkook nods, his expression serious. “I’ll talk to him. He trusts me, and he knows what’s at stake.”

“Good,” Joongki says, his tone decisive. “We need to move quickly. The race is in a few days, and we can’t afford any mistakes.”

You all agree, and as you leave Joongki’s room, Jungkook catches your arm, his eyes searching yours.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “For everything. I didn’t realise how much this was affecting you.”

You give him a small, tired smile. “It’s okay. Let’s move on, hm?”

“Right,” he agrees, his grip tightening briefly before he lets go. “We’ll get through this. I promise.”

You both part ways, the weight of the mission pressing down on you. There’s so much at stake, but for now, you focus on the task at hand. It’s time to prepare for the race and gather the evidence you need to uncover the truth.

The next morning, you sit beside Jungkook, this time at his hotel room which is conveniently beside yours. He reaches out to Taehyung, explaining the situation in hushed tones over the phone. Taehyung listens intently, and after a few moments of silence, he agrees to help. You arrange to meet him later that evening after the training is completed, away from prying eyes.

As you walk later that day through the bustling paddock, you can’t shake the feeling of eyes on you. The rumours, the headlines, they all swirl in your mind, but you push them aside. Focus. This is bigger than any scandal. 

That evening, you, Jungkook, and Joongki meet Taehyung in a discreet location off the track. The ambiance of this small bar is casual, but the conversation is anything but.

“I’m in,” Taehyung says, his tone serious. “I’ve got a few contacts who can help us get the telemetry data. Muscle activity, G-force, neural response times—consider it done.”

You exhale in relief. “Thank you, Taehyung. We couldn’t do this without you.”

“Just make sure this doesn’t blow up in our faces,” he warns, though his eyes are filled with determination. “We’re playing a dangerous game.”

“We know,” Jungkook replies, his voice steady. “But we don’t have a choice. If Mingyu is cheating, we need to prove it.”

With Taehyung’s help, the plan is set into motion. Your nerves flare up with every step you take towards the truth about Mingyu. The anticipation is overwhelming, and your thoughts race uncontrollably, like a storm brewing just beneath the surface. 

Additionally to that, every encounter with Jungkook is a test of your resolve. His sad eyes haunt you, reflecting a pain you can almost reach out and touch. It's getting harder to maintain your distance, especially when you see the shadow that has fallen over him. The spark of his playfulness, once so vibrant, has dimmed not only with you but with every member of the team. The laughter and mischief that used to light up your days are now replaced with a heavy silence, and it's something that breaks your heart every time you witness it.

Yet, despite the ache in your chest, you can't let yourself waver. This path, as painful as it is, still seems like the right one. It's better this way, you remind yourself, even as doubt tries to creep in. Sacrifices must be made, and perhaps, in the long run, this will lead to something better for both of you. But the weight of this choice, the cost of maintaining this distance, is a burden you carry alone. And every time you see Jungkook's sad eyes, you're reminded of the price you're both paying.

The pit wall at the São Paulo Grand Prix, the 21st race of the season, stretches before you as the Autódromo José Carlos Pace is alive this Sunday morning with the roar of engines and the fervour of fans. Sheltered from the sun, you communicate with Jungkook through the radio with your heart pounding in sync with Jungkook’s heartbeat on one of your screens. 

"You're doing great, Jungkook. Just keep your focus," you say, watching the telemetry on your screen. Jungkook, in his Mercedes, is in a fierce battle for the lead with Mingyu. The two have been neck and neck for the past ten laps, exchanging positions with each daring overtake and defensive manoeuvre. The Interlagos circuit is testing both drivers to their limits.

Halfway through the race, you spot something unusual. „Animal before you.“ You say hurriedly to Jungkook.

„Got it.“ Jungkook confirms while you lean slightly to Joongki to catch his attention.

“Joongki, look at this,” you pointing to a screen where the live TV broadcast of the race shows a particular scene on loop. “It’s not normal. No one can react that quickly.”

On TV, the scene captured shows as Mingyu approaches a tight turn on the circuit just before Jungkook. Out of nowhere, a capybara wanders onto the track. In a move that seems to defy human capabilities, Mingyu swerves with uncanny precision, narrowly avoiding the animal without losing control or speed. 

Joongki frowns, nodding in agreement. “You’re right. This could be the public attention we need.”

You hum in agreement and get back to monitoring Jungkook, your eyes flicking between the screens. The tension is overwhelming, every second feeling like an eternity.

Lap after lap, Jungkook and Mingyu push each other harder. You keep a close eye on the data, ready to advise Jungkook on the best strategies. "Remember, save your tyres for the final push. We still have a few laps to go."

As the race enters its final laps, the tension mounts. Jungkook is still in second, right on Mingyu's tail. "He's slowing down in the corners. You can take him on the straight," you suggest, knowing the DRS zones can provide the advantage Jungkook needs now that he’s a breath away from Mingyu.

The final lap begins. "This is it, Jungkook. Just stay calm and wait for the right moment," you urge. But you can sense his frustration growing. He's been so close to victory the last races, and this race is no different.

"I'm going for it," Jungkook responds, his voice edged with determination. 

"Jungkook, wait! Not yet, there's—" but before you can finish, you see him dive down the inside into Turn 4. 

Mingyu defends aggressively, leaving just enough space for Jungkook's car. It's a risky move, and you know it. "Jungkook, back off! There's not enough room!" you shout into the radio, but he doesn't listen. 

He overestimates his grip and underestimates the corner's complexity. The front of his car touches Mingyu's rear wheel. Time slows as you watch both cars lose control, skidding off the track and into the barriers. The impact is hard, and debris scatters across the runoff area.

"Jungkook! Are you okay?" you call out, heart pounding out of your chest.

A moment later, his voice comes through, shaken but unhurt. "I'm fine... I'm sorry."

With both Jungkook and Mingyu out of the race, the lead now falls to George. A small drop of bitterness rises in your throat. With shaking hands, you pull off your headset and place it aside. You grab your head, elbows on the table, struggling to process the crash and its consequences, ignoring the cameras pointing at you.

It doesn’t take long for the race to finish, and soon the two wrecked cars are being brought into their respective paddocks, with Jungkook and Mingyu walking closely behind of each car. The high sun illuminates the scene, and the media swarms like bees, eager to capture every moment of the aftermath. Both drivers have barely had time to process what happened, their adrenaline still coursing through their veins.

You keep your distance, avoiding more drama than necessary. You can see the anger etched on Jungkook’s face, and you know Mingyu isn't far behind, his own fury likely brewing. The clash on the track has set the stage for an inevitable confrontation.

The moment Mingyu steps into the paddock, his eyes lock onto Jungkook. There's a brief silence, heavy with tension, before Mingyu strides forward, closing the distance between them. 

"What the hell were you thinking?" Mingyu shouts, his voice cutting through the noise of the crowd. "You just had to push it, didn't you?"

Jungkook's jaw tightens, and he takes a step forward. "I was going for the win, just like you were! It's racing, not a damn parade!"

The media's cameras and microphones are thrust closer, capturing every word. You  take one step towards them, wanting to intervene, but stop. The two drivers are already too far gone. 

"Racing? That wasn't racing, that was reckless! You ruined both our cars!" Mingyu's face is flushed with anger. "Do you even care about the consequences? Or is it all just about you?"

Jungkook's eyes flash with rage. "You think you're the only one who wanted to win? I had every right to go for that gap!"

Mingyu scoffs, his tone dripping with disdain. "Right, idiot. And look where it got us. Out of the race, both of us, because you couldn't stand me being a better driver than you."

The tension escalates, and the crowd around them grows larger. Members of their respective teams are inching closer, ready to intervene if things get out of hand. You stay in near proximity, knowing your presence might help calm Jungkook, but it also makes you a target.

Mingyu steps even closer, invading Jungkook's space. "You know what? Maybe it's your team that's the problem. Clearly, they don't teach you patience or strategy over there," he says, casting a pointed look in your direction.

Jungkook's fists clench at his sides. "Don't you dare talk about my team like that. We race hard, and we race fair. Unlike some people."

Mingyu smirks, his eyes gleaming with malice. "Oh, right. Your race engineer, the one who can't even control her own driver. Pathetic."

The insult directed at you is the final straw. Jungkook's face contorts with fury, and before you or anyone can react, he lunges at Mingyu. They collide, fists swinging and shouts echoing through the paddock. The media captures every second, the flashes of cameras creating a strobe effect around the struggling drivers.

You want to scream for Jungkook to stop, to tell him it's not worth it, but you know you have to keep your distance to avoid escalating the situation. Both men are significantly taller and stronger than you, making it impossible to intervene either verbally or physically.

Mingyu lands a punch on Jungkook's side, and Jungkook retaliates with a jab to Mingyu's jaw. The scuffle intensifies, their movements full of aggression and frustration. The crowd's noise crescendos, a mix of gasps, cheers, and shouts. 

Members of both teams finally manage to break through the throng of media. They grab hold of their respective drivers, trying to separate them. It takes several men from each team to pull the enraged drivers apart.

"Let me go!" Jungkook yells, struggling against the strong arms holding him back. His eyes are locked on Mingyu, who is being restrained by his own team, his face red and his breath heavy.

"Calm down, Jungkook," you say, finally having the courage to step in front of him after more team members are involved. "This isn't the way to handle it."

Jungkook's chest heaves with exertion, but he finally stops struggling. His gaze shifts to you, his expression a mix of anger and regret. "He insulted you," he says, his voice still thick with emotion.

You nod, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I know. But this isn't how we respond. We handle it on the track, next time."

Mingyu, now somewhat calmer but still glaring daggers at Jungkook, spits out a final taunt. "Next time, try not to crash into the competition if you want to win."

Jungkook's muscles tense again, but you tighten your grip on his shoulder. "Enough, Jungkook. Let's go."

Reluctantly, he lets his team guide him away from the scene. The media continues to buzz, already crafting headlines for the next day’s news. As you walk away, you hear the murmurs and whispers of the onlookers, the fallout from this incident just beginning.

Back in the relative quiet of the backroom of the Mercedes garage, Jungkook finally allows himself to collapse into a chair, his head in his hands. "I messed up," he mutters, his voice barely audible.

You sit down next to him and run soothing circles on his sweaty back, the tension of the past hours starting to drain from your own body. "Yep," you plop the ‘p’, sighing as you rub his back, “but right now, let's focus on what we can control. We'll get through this."

He looks up at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of anger and apology. Just as he opens his mouth to speak, the door slams open. 

The moment Toto steps into the room, the air seems to crackle with tension. His eyes blaze with fury, and you can feel the temperature drop as he marches towards you and Jungkook. Your hand, which had been offering a fracture of comfort to Jungkook, withdraws instinctively as if burned. Jungkook, too, sits up straighter, his posture rigid, preparing for the wave of wrath that’s about to break.

“What the fuck were you thinking out there?” Toto’s voice is a low, dangerous growl, but it cuts through the room like a knife. He looks directly at Jungkook, his eyes sharp and unforgiving. “I’ve told you time and time again to listen to your fucking team, to your fucking race engineer. We have strategies for a fucking reason!”

Jungkook’s jaw tightens, and you can see the battle raging within him. He wants to defend himself, to explain, but he knows better than to interrupt Toto when he’s like this.

“You had no business making that move,” Toto continues, his voice rising. “You were warned. And what do you do? You ignore it, you crash, and you take out Mingyu as well! For fuck’s sake! Do you have any idea what you’ve done, Jungkook?”

Jungkook’s eyes flicker with a mixture of guilt and defiance. “I thought I could take him,” he says, his voice steady but strained. “I saw a gap and—”

Toto cuts him off with a sharp gesture. “You saw a gap that didn’t exist! You let your ego get the better of you. This isn’t about you; this is about the team. We win together, we lose together. But today, you cost us millions! The fucking car is a wreckage!”

You can feel Toto’s gaze shift to you, and though his anger isn’t as fierce as it is for Jungkook, you know you’re not off the hook. “And you,” he says, pointing a finger in your direction. “Why didn’t you make him stop? You’re his race engineer. It’s your job to keep him in check.”

You open your mouth to respond, to explain that you did try, that you warned Jungkook, but the words die in your throat under Toto’s intense stare. “I did try, Toto. He... he wouldn’t listen,” you manage to say regardless, your voice barely above a whisper.

Toto’s eyes narrow, but he doesn’t press further. Instead, he turns back to Jungkook, his anger morphing into a deeper, more personal disappointment. “You are our golden boy, Jungkook. You have the talent, the skill, the potential to be the best. We’ve given you every opportunity, every resource. And you repay us by throwing it all away? By starting a god damn fight in the paddock?”

Jungkook flinches as if struck. The fight with Mingyu is still fresh in everyone’s mind, the footage likely already spreading across social media, casting a shadow over the team’s reputation. “He insulted our team,” Jungkook mutters, but there’s no conviction in his voice now, only regret.

“And you think that justifies physical violence?” Toto’s tone is incredulous, again rising in volume. “This isn’t some fucking street brawl; this is Formula 1. You have to be better than that. You have to show restraint, control.”

Jungkook lowers his head, and says quietly. “I’m sorry.”

There’s a moment of silence, heavy and oppressive. Then, Toto sighs, the anger in his eyes dimming slightly, replaced by a weary frustration. “You let your team down. You did. But you’re also one of the best drivers we’ve ever had. That’s why that’s even worse.”

He steps closer, his voice softening just a fraction. “You have special privileges because you’ve earned them, because you usually win us races and championships. But those privileges come with responsibility. You have to be a leader, an example for the team. Not a liability.”

Jungkook nods, swallowing hard. “I understand. I’ll do better. I promise.”

Toto nods, accepting the apology but not yet ready to forgive. “You’d better. We’re running out of races, and this championship is slipping away. We need you at your best, not just on the track, but off it as well.”

He turns to you again, his expression still stern but not as harsh. “And you. Make sure he listens next time. If he doesn’t, find a way to make him. We can’t afford another day like today.”

You nod quickly, relief mixing with the residual tension. “I will, boss.”

Toto takes a deep breath, then lets it out slowly, trying to release some of the pent-up frustration. “All right. Both of you, get some rest. We’ll debrief tomorrow at the headquarters. And Jungkook,” he adds, his tone softening slightly, “take some time to cool down. We need you focused, not fired up. Fucking hell, I’m off doing damage control with the FIA. So pray you won’t be banned from the next race!”

As Toto leaves the room, the door closing with a heavy thud, you and Jungkook are left in the silence. Jungkook leans back in his chair, closing his eyes and exhaling deeply. The weight of the day’s events is clearly bearing down on him.

You sit beside him, the anger and fear from earlier now replaced by a shared sense of resolve. “We’ll get through this,” you say quietly, massaging your temples. “Just a little more time and we’ll have enough evidence.”

Jungkook opens his eyes, meeting your gaze. “Thanks,” he says, his voice dripping with emotions you refuse to place. “For everything.”

You nod, offering a small, reassuring smile.

The two of you sit in silence for a while, the enormity of the day slowly sinking in. It isn’t much but the company you offer each other suffices.

01 • 02 • 03 • 04 • series masterlist • 06

a/n 2: lmk what you think in any way you like! please send me a message, ask or comment if you would like to be tagged for upcoming chapters 💕 also - character asks and drabble requests are open

Like what you read? Check out my other work here!

taglist: @jksusawife

[queermentaldisaster]

Little Lion Man but 09 and 22 Ghoap.

The first half is MacTavish.

Weep for yourself, my man, you'll never be what is in your heart. Weep, little lion man, you're not as brave as you were at the start. Rate yourself and rake yourself, take all the courage you have left, and waste it on fixing all the problems that you made in your own head. But it was not your fault but mine, and it was your heart on the line. I really fucked it up this time, didn't I, my dear? Didn't I, my...

MacTavish was so caught up in idolizing Price and wanting to be like him, that he lost two of his closest comrades (but we're focusing on Riley here) so he 'fucked it up this time', and all he could do was hope that next time, he did better.

The next half is Ghost.

Tremble for yourself, my man, you know that you have seen this all before. Tremble, little lion man, you'll never settle any of your scores. Your grace is wasted in your face, your boldness stands alone among the wreck. Now learn from your mother or else spend your days biting your own neck. But it was not your fault but mine, and it was your heart on the line. I really fucked it up this time, didn't I, my dear?

For the sake of this, I'm gonna go with 'Ghost remembered everything from 09.' He'd seen the separation happen before, and knew they were doomed to never have a happy ending. But he blames himself for Soap's death, even though it wasn't his fault.

The final half is both of them singing. Part one is MacTavish, part two is Ghost.

But it was not your fault but mine, and it was your heart on the line. I really fucked it up this time, didn't I, my dear? But it was not your fault but mine, and it was your heart on the line. I really fucked it up this time, didn't I, my dear?

And then they sing the last line together.

“Didn't I, my dear?”

[transparencyboo]

Rating every side of this food grater, let's go!

A reliable and classic side with a lot of space to work with. Feels like picking Mario in Mario Kart. Perhaps makes the pieces a little bit too small, but you will need that every now and again. 8/10

Absolute clown side. What is even going on here? Maybe that little teeny tiny upper part would come in handy if I ever happened to cook together with a mouse, but otherwise it feels more like space filler. But moreover, what's with the cheese slicer part? This might just be my scandinavian showing, but I have never ever seen anyone use this. Like, do you move the entire cheese against the slicer or the whole grater against the cheese? Befuddling contraption that adds to the filler feeling of this entire side. Oh well, at least the double feature aspect is a bit cute, so we'll give it a 6/10.

Ah, now we're talking. What a perfect work of handicraft! Simple, yet elegant. Easy to use, gets the job done quick, and rewards the user with big chunks. Never fails to make me excited. Absolutely exquisite. One for the ages. A solid 10/10.

Not sure what's up with this side, to be honest. It's like the first side but with sharp crude bullet holes. Feels bad to even touch passively. Can only imagine this would be used as some horrific kind of torture device. I do not like this one at all. Honestly, I'm kinda scared of it and wish it would go away. 0/10

Overall, I think Nintendo did a good job with this one, but maybe in the future they might consider trimming down the fat and make it a bit more focused. Perhaps bring back some classic characters like the potato peeler? We've been waiting a while now for a grater 2, or even a pro grater. I think there is yet greatness to be found in its untapped potential. If nothing else, maybe we could expect to see improvements through DLC?

My final score is a strong 7/10.

[incessanttranquility]

Gehenna's First Ever Cook-Off! The Finals! (Part 4)

—

LTD!MC : Hello everyone and welcome back to our cook-off! This will be our finals as our contestants will be cooking dinner for our two judges, everyone, brace yourselves as this cook-off gets pretty tense! Who will be the champion of this cook-off? We shall find out as the cook-off begins once again! Starting now!

—

Team Solomon :

OM!Solomon : Looks delicious as usual :D *Cooking pot is literally steaming black smoke.*

WHB!Solomon : :o looks appetizing :3

OM!Solomon : Thank you, and now it's done! <D

WHB!Solomon : Yay! :] I'll go get a plate :D

*Dish definitely looks... delicious! Totally doesn't look like a frozen soup but the soup is a black substance with octopus legs and chicken feet sticking out of it!*

OM!Solomon : It looks very nice :D I'll just add a pinch of salt and put it in the oven for 10 minutes :3

—

Team Cats and Tea :

*WHB!Satan and OM!Satan is arguing about who will be baking a strawberry pie, Sitri is just doing his own thing, focusing because he wants to win, obviously.*

WHB!Satan : Give me that whisk, NOW.

OM!Satan : There is no fucking way in hell I'm giving this to YOU.

WHB!Satan : As if you can even make a perfect strawberry pie.

OM!Satan : Pfft, hahaha! You're saying that as if you can do that as well, you can't even make a fucking pancake!

WHB!Satan : What the fuck did you just say?!

OM!Satan : I said that you can't even make a fucking pancake, are you fucking deaf or what?!

WHB!Satan : Grr... *crunches teeth as he tackles OM!Satan, they just continue to argue while Sitri just cooks curry, not even giving a shit because all that he cares about is winning, he totally wasn't giving glares at Minhyeok for a moment and then focusing back onto his cooking after that! totally!*

—

Team Best friends :

Minhyeok : Hm, seems that the soup is now ready, Ppyong, I'll help you cook the chicken.

Ppyong : Alright, aye!

Minhyeok : There, while we wait for the chicken to cook, we'll make cherry and pumpkin pie, some iced tea would probably go with it as well, I'll think about that later, but for now, let's make cherry pie first.

Ppyong : Sure, aye! :D

—

Team Mammon :

OM!Mammon : ...Gold, again..? Really?

WHB!Mammon : Yes, except it's cupcakes and ice cream :D

OM!Mammon : Alright but, uh... can we at least cook somethin' that doesn't involve gold...?

WHB!Mammon : Sure :D

OM!Mammon : Alrighty! I'll cook noodles!

WHB!Mammon : Okay :3

—

Team Envy :

OM!Leviathan : ..You've been doing this for 6 hours now...

WHB!Leviathan : *Literally just glaring at him.*

OM!Leviathan : ...I'm making pizza.. can you please at least help...?

WHB!Leviathan : ...Fine.

OM!Leviathan : Finally...

—

LTD!MC : Times up! Contestants, please present your dish.

Sitri : Here you go.

LTD!MC : ...Uh, what the hell happened to those two?

Sitri : They kept on arguing, and both of them ended up getting covered in patches.

LTD!MC : ...Oh, uh, well then, let's move on!

WHB!MC : Pretty good honestly, the curry kind of lacks a little flavor but still good.

OM!MC : As for the pumpkin pie, the taste is... something else, at least it isn't on Solomon's level...

LTD!MC : Alright judges, what would you rate this dish?

WHB!MC : We're gonna give it an 8

LTD!MC : Great, that brings to the total of 22. next contestants, please.

—

Minhyeok : We both got pretty tired making the pie crust, but it's worth it, here you guys go ^^

WHB!MC : Another full-course meal, I love my wife so much.

OM!MC : My taste buds got cured after tasting Minhyeok's pumpkin pie. *Nom.*

LTD!MC : ...Judges, what would you rate this full-course meal?

WHB!MC : 10, obviously.

LTD!MC : Great, that brings to the total of 25, next contestants please.

—

OM!Solomon : Here's our dish :D *Octopus arm is literally sticking out of the soup.*

WHB!MC : I wasn't prepared for this moment.

OM!MC : ... *Faints.*

WHB!MC : Nope, I'm definitely not gonna eat this.

LTD!MC : ...Alright, judges, what would you rate this.. dish..?

WHB!MC : I don't want to make both of them sad so we're gonna give them an 8.

LTD!MC : Alright, that gives them to the total of 16, Next contestants, please. (Note : they got 16 because in part 2, they got an 8 as well, I just forgot to write it because part 3.2 was rushed)

—

WHB!Mammon : Here :D

OM!MC : Gold Ice Cream is yummy, honestly. As for the curry, it lacks some flavor, but it's okay.

OM!Mammon : Hell yeah! I knew ya would like my cookin'!

WHB!MC : *Lick lick.* Delicious, would eat again honestly.

LTD!MC : Alright judges, what would you rate this dish?

WHB!MC : A 9/10.

LTD!MC : Great, that brings to the total of 18, last contestants, please present your dish.

—

WHB!Leviathan : Here.

OM!MC : Mm, tastes really good honestly, but not Minhyeok level, still, it's good.

WHB!MC : I want another slice. *Nom.*

LTD!MC : Alright judges, what would you rate this dish?

WHB!MC : A 10/10. *Nom.*

LTD!MC : Great! That brings to the total of 19, Team Best friends are the winners!

Ppyong : Uwahhh!!! I'm so so happy!!

Minhyeok : Me too, even though I wasn't expecting this, I'm still happy about this ^^

Sitri : WHY YOU— *Got so mad that he started running up to Minhyeok, Satan followed because he also got jealous.*

Minhyeok : E-eh?! What did I do wrong?! *Starts running away.*

LTD!MC : ...Well then, before our cook-off finishes, let us receive messages from our guests one last time!

—

TWST!Yuu : HELL YEAH MINHYEOK WON WOOHOO

Malleus : I'd say that his cooking does look flavorsome and appetizing, Child of Man, would you like me to cook something for you as well?

TWST!Yuu : Awww, sure! Why not?

Malleus : Thank you Child of Man, we'll do it later, I'll walk you to Diasomnia once I ease up.

MM!MC : I knew it, Minhyeok was going to win.

WHB!Beelzebub : The two got way too jealous of him! Hahahaha!

Bael : Now that the cook-off is finished, are you gonna go to work now?

WHB!Beelzebub : Aww man, c'mon now... I still wanna wander around!

Bael : ..You've already left your post for a week now.

WHB!Beelzebub : ...Fine..

LTD!MC : Aaaand that is all for our cook-off! Thanks to the guests for coming here to watch this spectacular Cook-Off! Who knows? Maybe we'll host another one? But once again, thank you everyone for enjoying our Cook-off! I am your host, and goodbye! See y'all soon!

—

Note : WOOHOO I AM FINALLY FINISHED BABY, I might make another one but with the Tartaros demons, so stay tuned :3 It won't be posted here though, It'll be posted on my account @luochaarchivist because I'm abandoning this account, just go follow me there if y'all want to :3

Anyways gonna go tag moot @takitafulily