#they love to stick this guy in front of a camera in a ruffled shirt and tell him to look sad/miserable/pathetic/lonely/wretched/etc

[boltlightning]

jack davenport as lieutenant ralph clarke the incredible journey of mary bryant (2005–2007)

[traveler-at-heart]

Hey, Romanoff!

Requested by @nooneno - Avengers are heroes, but also celebrities. Natasha hates this, especially the paparazzi that follow the team around. Then, she meets you. Enemies to lovers.

Her day got off to a wrong start.

“Hey, Romanoff”

Natasha knows that voice.

She hates that voice.

“You’re looking good” you insist, snapping a couple of pictures as the redhead keeps walking away from you. “Come on, turn around, show off your new hairstyle”

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” she speaks, still not facing you.

“This is kind of my job, Natasha” you chuckle and she fights the urge to take your camera and throw it across the street. 

Unfortunately, ever since Bucky broke one with his hands, all of the Avengers are on the spotlight.

Stupid paparazzi.

“Hey, these are good images. Ugh, except this one, you look like Ronald McDonald here”

“Excuse me?” the Russian stops, finally turning around.

“Gotcha” you say, finally getting an image of her face. You cackle when Natasha realizes what you’ve done. 

Pleased with your pictures, you stop chasing after her. Your eyes linger on that last shot.

Natasha Romanoff may be a stuck up bitch, but she’s a very beautiful one.

“Have a nice day” you say and are met with the somewhat familiar view of her middle finger raised at you. “Beautiful! My editor’s gonna love this”

-

It’s just like every other day at the office. The rest of the team is sitting around at what your boss calls “the pit”.

“Morning, Tom-Tom” you greet, placing a latte in front of your coworker and friend. He smiles up at you and you ruffle his hair.

“Someone’s in a good mood. Did you spot your favorite celebrity?”

“Yeah, she got a haircut. It’s ridiculous how good she looks with anything” you take a seat next to him, sipping your hot cocoa.

“I’ll tell you what’s ridiculous; you won’t admit you have a crush on her, Flash”

“Shut it. I can’t believe that stupid nickname stuck around”

“You like that too” he teases and turns back to Eddie, making his typical entrance wearing jeans and a blue t-shirt.

“Morning, my despicable minions. Did you do your morning rounds? Who got the finger today?”

“I did!” you shout, proudly. “Romanoff”

“Holy shit, Flash! You win!” 

“I know! It was awesome”

Eddie high fives you, because he loves to piss off Earth’s mightiest heroes. Something about his penthouse being destroyed during the battle of New York.

The rest of the meeting goes by as usual, commenting on the pictures and articles that will be going up in the following days. You’re the only girl in the team, but it’s actually nice and comfortable. 

The guys go out of their way to take care of you, but it’s not like you need it. You’ve been out on your own since you can remember.

“Don’t forget that the Stark gala is two days from now. Tom and Andrew, you will be on duty”

“Actually…” Tom begins to speak but you interrupt him.

“I wanted to see if we can swap. You know, with Romanoff hating me and everything, I might get you some good pictures” 

“Yeah, awesome. Whatever” Eddie says.

“What was that for? You know it’s my wife’s birthday” Tom nudges your side.

“Yeah and you know how weird he gets when people remind him you have lives outside of this shitty job. That way he won’t snap at you”

“Aw, it’s so nice you don’t have a life to piss him off” 

“Don’t make me take back my offer, jerk”

-

Out of all the Avengers, Tony’s the nicest one to your lot. He always sticks around for a couple of pictures, making a cheeky comment and saying something silly as he walks away. 

Steve is the nicest, obviously, but you can tell the attention makes him fidget. A polite smile is all you get before he goes inside Stark Tower.

Colonel Rhodes seems very pleased with the attention, but you roll your eyes. After taking pictures of some random people that insist they’re tabloid worthy -no, they’re not- Natasha finally arrives.

As usual, she ignores everyone. 

“Hey, Romanoff” you wolf-whistle and she turns to you, a murder glare in her eyes. It’s all you need to get a decent photo, the rest of the people scrambling to get her attention.

“Nice” Andrew comments, looking over your shoulder. He’s the most experienced member of the team, and basically acts like your paparazzi-dad.

Less and less people walk through the main door and at this time, most photographers leave the place.

“You gonna stick around, kiddo?” Andrew checks as you sit by the back door.

“Yeah, maybe catch them smoking something crazy” you smile and he fist bumps you.

“Don’t stay too late, ok?”

“Yes, sir”

Your patience is rewarded fifteen minutes later, as Natasha walks out, a blonde woman following her.

“Romanoff” you shout again. The blonde turns around, smiling. You notice she’s younger than Natasha and when she speaks she has a thick Russian accent.

“Hi, there” she waves at you.

“Yelena, what the hell are you doing?” Natasha hisses, trying to drag the woman away from you.

“Greeting your friend, she called your name” the blonde explains, walking back to you.

“She’s not my friend, she’s with the tabloids” 

“Like the paparazzi? That’s so cool. I want to pose” Yelena shows around her outfit and you go along, snapping a couple of pictures.

“Yeah, the camera loves you! You’re so much better than Natasha” the redhead growls at your words. “Hey, come on. I’m just complimenting your date, don’t get jealous”

“Oh, no” Yelena laughs. “She’s my sister, not my date”

“Stop telling her stuff, she’s gonna post it everywhere and people will know who you are” 

“Wow, hey” you put the camera down, changing your demeanor. “I don’t want to risk her life. Here, I’ll delete the pictures. And I promise I won’t tell people you have a sister, ok?”

“No, I want to see the picturesss!” Yelena pleads, giving her sister some serious puppy eyes.

“Well, you could give me your number and I’ll send them to you?” you offer with a sly smile. You flirt your way out of every situation and to get exclusive information about the people you follow.

Why should this be any different now?

The blonde turns to her sister and speaks in Russian. Natasha rolls her eyes, but nods.

“Here” Yelena pulls a pen out of her coat, taking your arm and scribbling her number. “See you around…”

“Y/N or Flash, whatever you like”

“Flash” Yelena nods and winks at you.

For the first time since you’ve met her, Natasha looks back at you and she doesn’t seem annoyed at all.

That’s definitely new.

-

Days like these are your favorite. You’re sitting by your desk, next to the open window. It’s hard to explain, but the smell of the air reminds you of the rain; judging by the cloudy sky, it’s going to be pouring in a few hours.

You sip your cup of cocoa and sigh at the sweet taste of the drink. 

“Ha, this one definitely goes to the folder” you drag an image, pleased with yourself. 

The meme contest is coming up and you’re determined to win; you’ll give yourself an extra pat on the back if it’s with an image of Natasha doing a weird face or something.

So far, you have pictures from Barton, Tony Stark and some other celebrities that you find everytime you walk around the exclusive sites in New York City.

“One of Barnes, just for the fun of it” you mutter, browsing through your hard drive. Unfortunately, Bucky always looks the same -his face sporting a combination of a frown and a glare- so there’s not much you can do there.

Something else quickly catches your eye, though. You have pictures from Barnes in five different locations and every time, there’s a man following him. It’s hard to see his face, but he’s almost always taking pictures with a cheap camera.

“Huh” you sigh, saving all the pictures you can find of the mystery man in a separate folder. Then you go through every Avengers picture you have and the same thing happens. 

Someone seems to be following them, acting as paparazzi to go unnoticed.

Or maybe you’re just paranoid.

Either way, you’d rather be safe than sorry. You grab the drive, knowing there’s a good chance Natasha won’t want to speak to you. 

There’s even a better chance she’ll kick your ass.

-

It’s been two hours since you arrived at the SHIELD building. Apparently, you’re not even allowed to wait in the lobby without clearance so you’re forced to stand outside, your back to the wall and the front of your shirt soaked by the rain.

The rain is so dense you almost miss the two figures that leave a black car and run to one of the doors.

“Hey, wait” you run to them. Natasha stops so abruptly, you end up crashing against her back. “Go away” 

“I need to speak to you”

“Flash! What’s wrong?” Yelena says, pushing you to the lobby. “You’re all wet, come in, before you get sick”

“What do you want?” Natasha eyes you curiously, noticing your soaked clothes.

“There’s something you need to see. Someone’s been following the Avengers”

“Yeah, right” she rolls her eyes.

“Please” you hand over the drive, not interested in arguing with her. The only thing you can do is warn her. 

“Fine” she takes it and you nod, eager to go back to your place and take a shower.

“Wait! We’ll give you some dry clothes while we check this out. Then you’ll tell us everything you know” 

“Ok” you sigh, relieved at the idea of getting warm again.

-

“Do you think she’s telling the truth?” Steve says, looking at the security camera as you wait around the interrogation room.

“I’m not sure. She doesn’t have any reason to lie about this. But she’s also extremely annoying”

“I’ve rarely seen you this annoyed at someone” Steve comments. “Why does she bother you so much?”

“Because she likes her” Yelena says behind them and Steve smiles, while Natasha turns to glare at her sister. “Oops, I didn’t mean to say that out loud. But come on, sestra, don’t be mad. You know it’s true”

“Let’s go, Rogers” Natasha rolls her eyes. As soon as she enters the room, your eyes meet hers and she quickly avoids your stare. 

You take it as a sign that she’s still unhappy with your presence.

“Hi, Y/N” Steve greets you, sitting in front of you.

“Cap. Did you check the pictures? Am I crazy? Under arrest for wasting your time?”

“No, we think you’re right” Steve says. “You’re sure you’ve never seen any of the men in the pictures before?”

“Yes. I know everyone that works for the tabloids, even freelancers. The cameras they’re using seem super cheap; I doubt they’re getting decent images. It’s like… they’re props to play the part, if it makes sense?” 

“We can’t do anything about it, though. It’s not illegal to be in the streets pretending to be photographing someone” Natasha speaks to no one in particular.

“Let’s run some of the images through facial recognition”

“I can keep an eye out. If I see them again, I’ll try to get better pictures and send them to you” you offer.

“No” Natasha interjects. Right, of course she’d never work with you. “If you see them again, call me” 

“Oh, is that how you’re finally asking for my number?” you wiggle your eyebrows and she grumbles.

“I just don’t want you to do anything stupid. We have the upper hand and I’d like to keep it that way” 

“Whatever you say, Romanoff” 

Steve is trying to hide his smile at the exchange but you can see the amusement in his eyes. 

By the time you get back to your apartment, all you want to do is sleep.

“Do not disturb” you complain when your phone pings.

Natasha: Remember to call me when you see them

Y/N: Who’s this?

Natasha: You’re not funny. And you left your drive here.

Y/N: Don’t open the meme folder.

Natasha: I’ll give you 20 dollars if you submit that last picture of Clint

Y/N: Deal

You smile at the screen of your phone. Who knew that Romanoff had it in her to be a joker. 

-

You keep an eye out, but the team seems to be limiting their public outings while they figure out who’s watching them. Instead of going after the Avengers, you spend a couple of afternoons at the set of an upcoming show to “leak” the pictures and make the fans curious about the show.

Then, a quick tour around 30 Rock to photograph the stars arriving at the various talk shows hosted in the building.

When you finally get home, you heat some leftovers and wait for the microwave to ping while you stare out the window.

“Holy shit!” you launch yourself to the floor, crawling to your room. Without missing a beat, you pull out the camera and start taking pictures of a group of men, carrying something in a warehouse that’s been abandoned since you moved here.

They are the same men that have been following the Avengers.

“Pick up, pick up, pick up” you mutter with urgency as you try to reach Natasha.

“Where are you?”

“My place”

“Then why are you calling me?”

“Oh, I just wanted to hear your voice, Romanoff. Come on! I can see them from my window, they’re carrying something inside a warehouse”

“Send me the coordinates”

“Do I look like Google Maps, Natasha?”

“You know what I mean”

“Then ask for the address like a normal person”

“Shut up”

She hangs up and you keep peering out the window. You knew this place was a shithole but if it’s being used to hide criminals you really gotta move.

“Where are they?” Natasha walks past you, looking out the window. Most of the men are gone now, but there’s still a black USV outside. “License plates”

“Yeah” you grab your camera, trying to adjust the settings in the dark. You barely manage to take a picture before they drive away.

“I’m gonna need to use your computer to send this to Steve” she looks around and for the first time, you’re aware that Natasha Romanoff, the woman you antagonize almost on a daily basis, is standing in the middle of your apartment.

She looks a little out of place, but it’s not an unpleasant sight.

“What?” she snaps when you stare but the moment is gone, so you roll your eyes and point at her shoes.

“Mud. All over my floor”

“Sorry, I wasn’t aware you live in Buckingham Palace, princess”

“Just take the memory card and go”

“I’m not leaving” Natasha shakes her head, walking back to the kitchen.

“Excuse me?” you follow her around, whisper yelling, scared that the bad guys have super hearing.

“They could be back at any minute” she explains and you roll your eyes.

“Then I’ll send you pictures”

“You’re a civilian”

“And you’re a pain in the ass”

“It’s not up for discussion, Y/N'' she says and you know there’s really no point in arguing with her. So you cross your arms in front of you, anxious at the idea of spending hours alone with a woman that hates your guts.

“Here’s the computer. I’m taking a shower” you finally concede, walking away.

“Good, you stink” Natasha says, opening your laptop and only God knows how she manages to get your password on the first try.

“You’re such an ass” 

-

By the time you’re done with your very long, very cold shower, you’ve lost your appetite, so you get a twinkie and walk back to your room. Natasha is sitting by the window, at an angle where she can see everything that happens on the street without getting caught.

“Nothing?” you say, your mouth full of bread.

“You’re going to rot your insides if you keep eating that”

“Come on, don’t knock it till you try it” you lean forward, offering the last bite of the twinkie. Natasha actually opens her mouth and lets you feed her. There’s something hypnotic about the way she holds your stare.

“It’s gross” she protests.

“Spitters are quitters”

You can allow a lot of things, but she absolutely will not waste the last bite of a twinkie, which is arguably the best.

“You’re even more gross”

“Sing it” you agree, leaning back in your bed. “You’re gonna sit there all night?”

“That’s what one does in a stake out”

“Ok, I’ll take the next shift. Wake me up when it’s my turn” you rest on your side. Natasha is amazed at how quickly you fall asleep, completely unfazed by her presence.

You’re either incredibly stupid, or you trust her completely.

She kinda wishes it’s the latter.

But a second later, you laugh in your sleep and mutter.

“I’m the Twin-Kween”

So, maybe you’re just really dumb.

-

It’s 4 AM when you stirr awake. Miss I-can-do-this-all-night is all but snoring in her chair by the window.

“Hey, get some sleep” you guide her to the bed and to your surprise, Natasha barely resists.

“Your coffee sucks”

“It’s decaf. Now, rest. I’ll let you know if anything happens”

Of course, it’s all quiet and as the sun rises, it’s even less likely that the criminals across the street will do anything too suspicious.

The view from the kitchen window is decent enough, so you start cooking breakfast for two. Pancakes and bacon will have to do for today.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” you grimace as Natasha walks out of the room, her nose scrunching up adorably as she yawns.

Wait, no. It’s just a yawn. Nothing cute about it. Stop.

“It’s ok. I’m a light sleeper”

“Well, then. Breakfast will be ready soon” you promise.

“I don’t suppose you have a very strong cup of coffee”

“Sorry, it makes me all jittery. I can go get you some. Or offer you orange juice”

“Juice is fine, thanks” she looks around. “This smells great”

“What, no fancy chef at your fancy tower?” you flip a pancake and serve two in a plate. After setting some bacon on the side, you stretch your arm towards her. She looks like she’s about to say something else, but an incoming facetime call interrupts her.

“Ana Banana” you greet, leaning your phone against the sink. A child screams on the other side, and you quickly realize Ana’s phone is held hostage by her children. “Hey, bug, put mama on the line, will ya?”

“Children, stop it” she says, finally snatching the phone. “Hey, sis”

“Another manic day?”

“Yeah, you could say that. You ok? How’s your shitty job?”

“Same as usual” you shrug your shoulders, aware that Natasha is listening to everything.

“Well, I guess it’s not so bad if you get to see your celebrity crush, right?”

Well, shit.

You almost knock the pan as you try to hide your blush.

“Ana, you can’t say stuff like that. They’re super paranoid and probably listening to this. I mean, my phone is probably bugged or some shit”

Natasha is smirking.

“Is your boss still a jerk, though?”

“Is the Pope Catholic?”

“Fair enough”

“Listen, I got like a million errands. But is Jack ok? You need anything?”

“He’s getting better. Doctor Ray is a lot more optimistic after the last surgery. That check you sent really helped get the insurance off our backs. Thank you”

“Thank the hot redhead that gives me the finger every other day. That’s why I still have a job” you say, uncomfortable with Ana’s emotional speech. Natasha chuckles.

“Well, if I ever meet her, I’ll tell her she better be nice to my sister” a crash and some loud cry interrupt her.

“Go” you wave goodbye and the call ends.

Now you regret it, because there’s a silence hanging in the air as you finish with your pancakes.

“Sisters can be a pain” Natasha spares you the embarrassment and you nod.

“Yeah. I mean, we’re not sisters. We grew up together in a foster home, but still. She’s the closest thing I have to family, I guess”

“I’m sorry” you shrug your shoulders and keep eating, hoping she won’t ask anything else. But of course, it’s in her nature to know more. “Is your boss really an asshole?”

“Depends on the day. Most times he’s chill. And he likes my work, so I’m rarely in his path. But I do hate how he’s with the rest of the team. They’re nice people, even when you all hate our kind”

“That’s not exactly fair” her voice softens and your defenses immediately drop.

“Listen, I do it for the money. I was working as a freelance for a magazine, but then Ana’s kid got sick and I felt like I could do more, help her out and her husband. If I get to piss you off, that’s just a bonus”

“Jerk” Natasha says, but her tone lacks any malice.

It’s nice to talk to someone. You’ve never told anyone all of this. There’s a certain peace, knowing someone can understand your life hasn’t always been easy.

Eddie calls a minute later, ruining your mood.

“Where are they?” he barks and you don’t need to put him on speaker for Natasha to hear.

“Who?”

“Who, who? What are you? A fucking owl? The fucking Avengers, Flash! We haven’t posted anything about them in almost a week”

“They might be on a mission, you know that, Eddie”

“I only keep you around because you give me good content. Get off your fucking ass and find me something, hot stuff”

“Lovely” you say as he hangs up and Natasha stands up, kicking the chair. “What?”

“I’m gonna kill him”

“Hey, wow, slow down. He’s all talk and definitely not worth it”

“I’d still like to kill him”

“If it makes you feel better, you kind of destroyed his penthouse in the battle of New York”

Natasha ponders for a second, clearly unsatisfied.

“Let me make a call. I think I can get him off your back”

“Are you calling to have him killed?” you say nervously, but she walks away with a mischievous glint in her green eyes.

The girl’s got some serious power, because an hour later you meet with the Winter Soldier and snap some “candid” pictures of him working out. 

It’s a bit scary and he looks bored most of the time but when you tell him that’s enough and he can go, he actually smiles.

“Oh, tell Romanoff that if she’s done playing house, we might have a lead”

“I will” you blush as he gives you a once over and walks away.

Eddie is giddy like a schoolgirl the minute you step into his office.

“What do you think it’s a good headline?”

“How about Winter just got hot - Barnes shows off his muscles in outdoor workout”

“You’re a genius!” 

His moodswing practically gives you whiplash. This morning he was ready to kick your ass to the curb. But, since Natasha gave you enough to keep him off your back, you leave the office early and stop by the grocery store. 

“I’m home” you announce.

That’s weird. You’ve never lived with anyone, so you never speak when you get to your apartment.

But there she is. Smiling.

“Uh… hi. I thought we could have some pasta tonight” you busy yourself with the things you need, keeping those weird thoughts away.

“Did Barnes behave?” she asks in a tone that makes it very clear the Winter Soldier will get his ass kicked if Natasha doesn’t like the answer.

“He was really nice. Insisted I call him Bucky and all”

“Well, he’s single, in case you’re interested”

Natasha seems actually… disappointed with the idea? You gotta eat something fast, because at this point you’re delusional.

“Cheer up” you get close to her, your fingers tilting her head up. “You’re about to have the best meal of your life”

“Am I?” she holds your stare and all you can do is nod. The redhead is nice enough to offer to help, but you honestly don’t know how to cook with someone all over your kitchen, so she goes back to spying on the criminals.

“Food’s ready!”

“Smells good”

“Told ya” you pour two glasses of wine and mentally pat yourself in the back, because the pasta tastes delicious.

“Where did you learn to cook like that?”

“Before I was a professional stalker, I worked at a family restaurant. The Nonna taught me how to cook. Why? Want some lessons?”

“I can hold my own” 

“I’ll have to find out sometime, won’t I?” you snort as you remember Bucky’s words. “Oh, by the way, Barnes said you’re playing house and that they have a lead”

“He’s an ass and I already spoke to Steve. Seems like a group with biochemical weapons” she says it so casually while you almost choke on your fork full of pasta.

There are criminals with biohazard material across from your place.

“I really gotta move out” you mumble, annoyed. Stupid gentrification and crime.

“What’s with all the dog pictures?” she interrupts the silence after a beat. 

“What’s with snooping around in my files?” you snark back and she actually looks embarrassed.

“Maybe you should password protect them”

“Would that have stopped you?” 

“No”

You both laugh at that. After taking a sip of wine, you answer her. Why not? If she wants to know, you’ll tell her. Setting your fork down, you look at Natasha and speak.

“I’d love to be a pet photographer. Like, professional, holy crap, that dog is the cutest shit you’ve ever seen kind of thing”

“Ok. What’s with the stare?”

“Waiting for you to laugh at me”

“I won’t. It’s kind of cute”

“Thanks”

Thanks? What are you, twelve?

“I would have liked to be a ballet teacher” Natasha blurts out and you beam. Yeah, you could totally see it, especially with how graceful and beautiful she is.

“So, if you saw all those dog pics you also saw that picture, right?”

It’s probably the best picture you’ve ever taken and it happened by complete accident. During an afternoon walk, you spotted Natasha. Her hair was down, except for a small braid to the side. She was wearing a yellow cardigan and black pants.

As she approached the cafe, a little girl pointed excitedly at her. Next thing you knew, the redhead kneeled to speak to the child, who was wearing a Black Widow shirt. That’s why she was so happy, she was meeting her hero.

“Why didn’t you publish it?”

“I’d like the world to see it. See how important you are to little girls that want to save the world. But not from some tabloid that posts clickbait. You know?”

Natasha stares at you, but doesn’t speak, and neither do you. There’s something she’s trying to understand, and she’s the only one that can get there. So you let her be.

Until her phone rings and she excuses herself.

Barnes is right, you’re playing house with an Avenger and it’s ridiculous. Once Natasha leaves and goes back to hating you, the fall is gonna hurt like a motherfucker.

“I’ll be right back” Natasha walks out in a rush, going for the door.

“Wow, hey, where are you going?”

“Stark disabled their cameras and they’re distracting them. I have a couple of minutes to break in”

“I’m coming with you”

“Absolutely not” she halts and you almost crash against her. 

“You’re not going alone, Natasha” you sprint past her, going down the steps at full speed.

“How are you so fast?” she says, going after you.

“I have to chase super soldiers for a living, remember?”

“Here” Natasha pushes you to the side, picking the lock and opening the door to the warehouse. “I’ll look around. Take some pictures and make sure no one’s coming”

You nod, pulling out your phone. There are vials with some red liquid and a lot of guns. Your hand trembles as you browse through some folders and manage to photograph the files. There’s one with Natasha’s name on it, so you scan through the words, trying to remember as much as you can. 

“We gotta go” the redhead drags you away, going through a side door. 

“Wait, Nat, we have to go back. There’s a file with your name on it” 

“It’s ok, they’ll be here any minute”

You cross the street and as you’re reaching the entrance of your building, the black SUV pulls up.

“Shit” Natasha hisses, holding on tighter to your hand. It’s clear you won’t make it inside without being spotted. 

“Do you trust me?” you ask, pulling Natasha back to you. She doesn’t have time to answer, as you press your lips against hers. You make sure her back is to the street, so the men only see your face.

They linger for a minute or two, so Natasha’s mouth stays on yours and at some time, one of you deepens the kiss. Your hands rake through her hair and she sighs against your lips.

“I…” you stutter when she pulls apart, certain that you’re about to pass out.

“Come on, let’s get inside”

To your surprise, Iron Man and Captain America are waiting in your kitchen.

“Do you people ever knock?” you feel irritated at the intrusion, secretly hoping it would be just you and Natasha, to talk about whatever the hell that was.

Unless there’s nothing to talk about.

“Here” Natasha hands Stark one of the vials. “I think I know what it is. Chemical subjugation”

“But mass produced” Steve completes. 

“We think they were following us to see who would be more vulnerable” Tony completes. “They’ll probably want to control us to hurt people”

“Turn the public against you” it finally clicks, and you look at Natasha. She reaches for your hand, a comforting touch. “Are they going after you?”

“Maybe. It is something out of the Red Room, after all” you shudder, looking down. “Hey, it’s fine. I’ll be fine”

“We have an idea. But we’ll need your help” Steve looks at you. 

“Like hell” Natasha stands in front of you.

“Let him speak at least” you nudge her and she sighs. Tony and Steve share an amused look before going to you. 

“We have enough to go seize the place, but we’d like to set up a little trap in case one of them escapes. Romanoff is the bait” Tony explains.

“Bait? Seriously? And you’re ok with this?” you turn to Natasha and she shrugs her shoulders.

“That’s the job. If we don’t stop them now, they’ll hurt a lot of people”

“So, what am I supposed to do?” you cross your arms, anxious.

“Natasha will be out on the street, nothing too big because we don’t want people getting hurt. You can be there and be her eyes; if you see someone suspicious, she’ll take care of it”

“Ok” you say.

“You don’t have to” Natasha steps forward.

“Yes, I do” you squeeze her hand and smile.

“Well, unless you want to gaze into each other’s eyes all night, we have some planning to do” Stark interrupts.

“I’ll see you tomorrow” Natasha hangs by the door a second later and you nod.

As she leaves your apartment, you’re scared about how lonely it feels without her.

-

“You’re being too obvious” a raspy voice says to your ear. It’s like she’s standing right next to you.

“I’m not” you grumble, fidgeting with the comm stuck to your ear.

“It’s ok. It will be over soon” Natasha promises through the ear piece.

And then what? You’ll go back to chasing her on the streets, saying dumb shit just to piss her off?

God, that’s so depressing.

“I’m on my way to the door” Natasha’s warning snaps you back to the present, so you walk to the entrance of the building and act as if it’s just another day following an Avenger.

“Hey, Romanoff!” you shout, but this time she turns around, smiling at you.

Fuck, she’s beautiful.

Double fuck, you’re in love with her.

“Did you do anything fun these past few days? The public missed you” you say, snapping a couple of pictures. More people join, calling for her and she looks around, trying to figure out if they pose a threat.

“They’re all good” you say in a low voice, confirming you recognise them. Natasha nods almost imperceptibly and keeps walking. 

“Take some pictures, Y/N” she reminds you, so you lift the camera and look through the viewfinder. Just as she’s about to reach the crosswalk, you see the black SUV driving down the road.

“Shit. Everyone down, come on, walk away!” you warn the crowd, only a handful of them reacting in time. Natasha is focused on pushing them off the street, her back to the criminals racing to get her.

“Natasha!” you run to her, pushing her to the side as a man opens the passenger door, a gun in hand.

The only thing you remember is pushing her, then a blast and screams.

“Shit, Steve, Sam! I need back up here” Natasha requests, kneeling next to you. As you turn around, you find a pool of blood, coming out of your stomach.

“Well, that’s gonna leave a stain”

“Shit” Natasha drags you to the alley. Sam Wilson flies and lands in front of you, shielding you with his suit. “You idiot, why did you do that?”

“Come on Tasha, it’s not like anybody is going to miss me. You save the world every day” you land on your back, vaguely aware that you’re dying.

“Your sister…”

“Ana has like fifty kids. She’ll be fine” you laugh, but then start coughing, feeling the taste of blood in your mouth. “Shit, that can’t be good, huh?”

“Shh, try to stay calm, help is coming” she pleads, one of her hands applying pressure to your wound and the other caressing your cheek.

“It’s ok, I’m not scared. You’re right here with me”

“I’m not leaving. And hey, don’t tell anyone, but I think I’d really miss you too” she tries to smile and you chuckle.

“Liar” 

Your eyes are closing.

“You can be annoying and all, but I really think I would. So please, please stay with me?” her voice is breaking. You don’t want to make Natasha sad.

She deserves to be happy.

“I always thought your eyes were so beautiful. I’m really glad they’re the last thing…”

“No, no, please, stay awake”

But you can’t do as she asks.

-

If this is heaven, then the whole idea is a rip off. As you open your eyes, there’s an IV stuck to your arm, a blinding light and a pressure on your side.

“Hey, Romanoff” you say as your eyes adjust to the light. The woman is asleep next to your bed, her hand resting on yours.

“You’re up” she smiles and you nod.

“I’m awake. I wouldn’t say I’m up just yet” you try to take a deep breath but it hurts. “Ouch. How long was I out?”

“20 hours, give or take. You’re on a lot of painkillers right now”

“Got anything stronger? Like death?” you mumble.

“Don’t joke with that” she asks, helping you up. 

“Are you ok, though?” your thumb runs across her temple, where she’s sporting a little bruise.

“Just scared that you’d die on me” she leans against your touch.

“Yeah, but if you think about it, no paparazzi would ever follow you again. They’d be too scared to go next”

“I don’t want us to go back to that” 

“Good thing I’m quitting, then” you smile and her eyes widen.

“Really?”

“I thought about it before, but this is all the proof I need that I want to do something I actually like”

“I support that one hundred percent” Natasha leans her forehead against yours.

“You’re gonna miss me, Romanoff?” 

“Not one bit” she doesn’t give you time to feel hurt, as she leans forward and captures your lips in a tender kiss. “Because I plan on taking you out and being around for a long time. If you’ll have me”

“Yes, I’ll have all of you, Nat” you smile against her lips.

-

“Hey, Romanoff”

Natasha knows that voice. It’s from the person she loves most.

The redhead turns around, and sees you carrying two cones of ice cream. You hand over one and she kisses your cheek.

“Picture time” you announce, pulling out your phone to get a selfie. “Looking good” 

You lean forward, capturing her lips in a kiss that tastes like chocolate. 

Now she likes it when you take pictures of her, because they’re moments she wants to keep forever.

[sugar-petals]

♡ måneskin scenario: getting to know ethan 

↳ NOTE. by popular demand and because i’m entirely enthralled by the phenomenon that is ethan torchio myself, here we go givin’ the gorgeous drummer some love.

word count. 5.5k

TAGS. no warnings all fluff, fem!oc, slice of life, photographer!reader, first date-ish, shy flirting, ot4 is part of the plot, ethan being sexy in heels

Jacob had enough of that twilight bullshit and joined a glam rock band. At least that’s what you thought seeing Ethan around for the first time. Setting up the kit, carrying his whiny band members around, fixing his ruffle shirt, chugging some water: Big gig tonight, extra long setlist. Five minutes later, complaining about his brocade shoes being hard to kick the bass drum with. Even later, silently nodding along to an impassioned Damiano speech crafted to boost the morale, and posing for your camera in his silver jumpsuit. Friendly to approach all the way, but without initiating stable eye contact even once.

One thing’s for sure. As your favorite professor said back at university: Someone may be photogenic and unearthly as hell in terms of looks, and even be intimidating — but also so damn shy, you won’t see their eyes a single time. „Gotta work with it and not against. Then it gets interesting“. In essence, the takeaway from that course. Which does come in handy now. Ethan seems like the kind of guy you really have to get into for a more intimate-feeling picture.

Sure, many people in front of your camera have all kinds of introverted personalities anyway, wearing sunglasses in particular. So much about eye contact in the first place. And the aesthetic is priority, not studying character. Although you really are a fan of that, it’s a huge part of photography if anything. Alas, you’re here to „capture nothing more but the spirit of italo-rock, the attitude, the hedonism!“ (the exact words of your boss) for a music magazine after all. Really, nothing more? You paid attention to how he worded it. Fair enough. Rock spirit, that’s all, the exciting parts.

Ethan surely has it. Drumming on everything he can find during rehearsal breaks („music is everywhere“) with his sticks, even Thomas’ amplifier. He’s actually dorkier than you thought, less composed when he’s in his element. First impressions do deceive. The hair’s hard to miss, too. It’s the central motif that attracts you. You may or may not have taken over 50 shots of it just because. Ethan is a bad bitch and he better know. You climb around the venue to get any salient angle of Måneskin you can think of. Even from all the way back, last row. You don’t want to annoy them being all up in their face constantly. You’re hired to get all the good shots, they’ve been a band for seven years already, professionals in the making. Doesn’t mean you have to stand below the edge of the stage and never change position.

Even from back there, the silver reflects beautifully at the back of the stage. The fashion’s all designer and it shows, but Ethan couldn’t look bad in any of the shots even if he tried or wore the plainest black suit (hell, that would be just as beautiful in fact). Just how long is that hair anyway. All the way down to the solar plexus, must be 24 inches or more. 25, even. Many rockers would wear it that way, but Ethan seems particularly interesting with how he touches it, how he behaves with it. There we go again with the character study, you can’t help wondering.

But really. It’s any photographer’s dream when someone moves their hair around so damn naturally. Gives a great variety to how it frames and shades the face. You like to play with light all the time. And hey, why ask for eye contact when he does even better posing in other ways. The body, too, Ethan’s posture is great. Victoria and Thomas often bend to really get into their power chords, Damiano frequently hunches forward for a belt. But Ethan’s throned at his kit like some royals taught him to be a good boy. Back straighter than a pole, how the hell.

No glance in your direction still, even if you return from your last row spot to move around on stage with the camera. Which gives the band a motivation boost and chances to try out gestures up close, too, so even better. Hey, maybe it doesn’t annoy them. You can actually get used to it, this way of photographing them is all dynamic. Nearing the end of the first rehearsal, you’re all busy maneuvering between Thomas and Damiano to get a nice semi-profile from Ethan’s left side. Gotta work with it not against, you chant to yourself as a mantra, and it seems easier to stick to than you thought.

How glossy all that hair is commands all the attention of your shutter release in and of itself. That he takes good care of it and has been growing it since forever shows a dedicated guy. It’s actually quite wavy. The band arrived in the pouring rain and Ethan’s curly strands at the crown and nape of the head were definitely showing — super cute. An army of stylists took on the resulting humidity frizz. They whipped out the straightening iron and protective spray, and even now before the big performance, Ethan brushes his hair out in front of you, and sweeps it around with his fingers anyway. You take pictures of the bits you find most candid, and decide to rather perfect single shots instead of making several in a row. The more you photograph him, the more you want to discover his essence in one picture. His sheer presence almost begs for it, it’s ridiculous.

Victoria on the other hand has no problems with rapid-fire releases and comes close to your lens to pull funny faces. She’s got some of the coolest poses you’ve ever seen with her bass, and hops around the stage like a bunny to the beat. Thomas is a virtuoso and pro who keeps on doing what he does when you make him pose, and Damiano can flirt with any camera ever. He even lowers his red leather jacket off his collar bones for you to have a great shot. He’s promising and most definitely a born divo, your boss will be happy with those pictures most definitely.

Then again. Behind that supposed hedonism is so much hard work and thought. Damiano even gives you ideas for angles during the second rehearsal. „Hm, maybe stand on the amplifier?“ Eagle perspective, not a bad idea at all. After trying out said suggestions with the help of triggered stage security making sure you don’t fall off the construction („eh, Damiano always suggests the most reckless things to staff, don’t mind him“), you find yourself concentrating on what goes on at the back of the stage all over again.

Ethan is busy practicing a new solo which has you curious about whether it’s for an upcoming album. Though again — the shoes cause trouble. Ethan complains again, the music stops. That could very well be the reason why he seems so preoccupied today, or is it? The manager tells the stylist, and the stylist hurries, voilà, Ethan has a new pair of shoes brought in. Ones with a thicker sole, bit of a chunky heel, and laced up rather than being slippers, a drummer’s worst nightmare as you have learned today.

You wait until he changed. Then snap some more pictures how he continues practicing calmly, and the sound did improve since he can kick the bass drum better now. Now you position yourself across the stage all over, in the empty audience ranks. Ethan is the most radiant and confident when you just take a step back. But well, he still sweeps his hair around a whole lot and looks even more tense-looking than Damiano who’s doing vocal warmups and jumping jacks, „Come on guys, come on, we’re starting in 30 minutes!“.

You can tell he does it more often when he’s nervous. And that means he does it very often. People would probably assume it’s vanity, or the fact that the hair gets in the way. You can see that for him it’s a place of distraction, maybe safety. A gesture like an anchor. He’s used to it being long just like his eye shadow being dark and smoky all day. He knows the drums by heart, if it falls in his face no need to shake it away. And besides. The strands reach below his shoulder blades, it stays down his back if he doesn’t move around too much. He could easily tie it up as well. All those things go through your mind without you even knowing why.

To switch things up a little, you photograph Thomas fooling around with Victoria at the snack bar, stuffing fries up their noses, and already see the lighting technicians do their final check. Some of them you know briefly, you made shots at this venue before, last year for a Shakespeare theatre play. You did some freelance work in the scene, but now you’re put to the test for more involved jobs. Hard to complain though, Måneskin are amazing in front of the camera. If Damiano is not the ideal Hamlet, you don’t know anymore.

Something new happens all the time, the expressions are priceless. Ethan’s in particular, when he does his wide-eyed surprise faces learning that there’s actually healthy food at the snack bar. „Vitamins, how nice.“ — Thomas, pokerfaced, reacts with eating a mayonnaise-dripping sandwich. Ethan, unfazed. Headed straight to the fruits. You’ve never seen a tall silver glitter tower like him walking around biting a bright red apple. Well, you can take Jacob out of twilight, but not the twilight out of Jacob. Snap, another picture. Clash of words, that’s a nice theme.

The concert of this evening seems particularly energetic and leaves your camera roll with some brilliant, tweet-worthy material. Damiano covered in confetti, eyeliner running. Victoria on the shoulders of Ethan while he’s playing her bass.  Thomas, stagediving. Fans waving banners and chanting along to Seven Nation Army. Your ears are ringing when the light technicians close down the stage two hours later. Thomas really played his soul out with the solos, and your feet seem to vibrate. That’s your body thinking Victoria’s bass is still playing, but the magazine is very happy with how the pictures turned out after you send the whole batch to them as soon as you can.

Little to no retouching, zooming, or cropping necessary. Ethan is just perfect as he is, you feel like you captured him well. After swiping through the gallery on your tablet, you think Victoria has some great ant’s eye perspective shots as well. Those go right on your own blog, she’s just amazing. The magazine has an enthusiastic article typed out already. Damiano’s mid-air split on beat for the final song makes the cover story on Monday, and Måneskin’s manager comes back to you a week later. „What would you think about doing some behind the scenes stuff for us? We’re planning a music video!“

And that’s how you end up in a Sicilian restaurant with Måneskin and crew a week later, stuffed with Calzone and mind filled with Damiano’s inspiring words (and the occasional catchy freestyle rap). The MV is as good as finished. Thomas had shown you around the mansion they were shooting at, and you could convince a taciturn  Ethan to walk between the marble statues and boxwood trees in the garden. With his black cape on, a rhinestone choker, and the low-cut lacey blouse that the MV director was obsessed with as well, asking you to focus on it. Your best shot even ends up in the thumbnail of the Youtube video without you even expecting it would.

All the garden pictures turned out mindblowing. If not iconic, the best project you had so far. Gets to show you the best things are often improvised. Ethan, stoic as always, sat at the base of armor-clad Emperor Augustus twisting into the blue sky in a large gesture. The marble was a perfect contrast. Ethan ate a ripe pear from a tree, even that was aesthetically pleasing, then leaned against a hunting Apollo, and you also framed him from the back next to Aphrodite and Cesar. He put on his sunglasses underneath Achilles, and knelt at the feet of a Pietà replica. Marvelous panorama shots, with him the shining center. Well, we know since Queen that the drummer is the unrealistically pretty one.

The whole picture series is blowing up on your blog for the whole afternoon. „Count Dracula on a stroll in Versailles — eugh, begone sunlight!“ is what a comment neatly sums it up as. People seem to especially like the shot where Ethan playfully put his cape over Pallas Athena’s spear with a blurry Thomas having a laughing fit in the background. Well, even Count Drac gets photobombed sometimes. Your phone buzzes with notifications every other minute, you do notice it against your thigh. But the insalata of the restaurant is good and the night is young. Victoria and the manager tell old stories of Thomas snapping a guitar string while he was trying to serenade a highschool crush. Ethan scolds them for making fun of it.

Damiano gets drunk and dances on the table, the MV director discusses new ideas, some walk-in fans take pictures. The temperature is still unbearable. You order a dessert to share with Victoria and Ethan. A large tiramisu that the waiter cuts in three pieces, and it’s truly delectable. The chocolate, so crunchy, melty. The cream, fluffy and cool, making for a funny white beard that makes Ethan look like an arctic scientist returning from an expedition.

Of course, you take pictures, all the food is documented. As are late night restaurant shots with Damiano’s heels peaking into the frame when you photograph the band’s friendship bracelets, hand-made by Victoria on a tour bus last year. Damiano’s back down on the table soon, singing, while Ethan creates a beat with two forks. Thomas also agrees to take your camera for a while so you’d be in the frame for a change, too.

You pose for a group picture, or rather a group hug, and being in the middle …Ethan’s arm wraps around your shoulder loosely, hair dangling into his face, but also brushing yours. He focuses on the camera, facing away from you. The schooled eye could catch you breaking a sweat in the resulting photo. Ironically, the tiramisu doesn’t cool you down the way you thought. Thomas is too busy trying to figure out your camera dials and yelling „hey eyebrow king, smile!“ at Ethan.

A round of even more gelato goes down in spoons and spoons. The band members eat like they ran a marathon. Ethan clinches a third round because he can, unhealthy be damned, he needs some sugar and refreshment. And it’s true the MV shooting was strenuous in the heat, and had lots of intense performing parts. Even an invisible rope suspension were Thomas would descend from a ceiling during the chorus with little cherub wings attached to his back because why not. If the manager agreed to recreate this on tour some day, the pictures would be amazing.

You can’t help but think what kind of special effect would suit Ethan the most, and you come to the conclusion that a bridge lift would be the coolest thing ever. A rising part of the stage letting him emerge like an elevator from the underground.  Maybe using smoke machines, too. The idea twirls around in your mind so intensely, Damiano asks if you’re wasted. You’re always getting carried away with all kinds of fantasies like that for over a week now. A dreamy photographer? Not unusual, but it’s seriously distracting you from the present moment.

The crew slowly heads home, and the band decides (translation: Victoria’s mood is) to head to the movies. Just when the waiter arrives with the bill, Damiano spills panna cotta all over Ethan by accident. So bad he’s all sticky from the shoulders down, making Ethan opt for the hotel instead. Besides, he’s been drumming his soul out, sleep is so needed now. Since the group is already gone and there’s still a forgotten cymbal left to carry back to the equipment bus by the hotel, you help Ethan maneuver it around. The heat is making either of you sweat, even with the full dark of the night coming up.

The gaffer lady you’re sharing a hotel room with is already fast asleep. Damn it. You want to cut a video and make screenshots with the laptop being decently bright. And with some volume if possible, you don’t find headphones in the darkness of the room. Ethan clears the desk in his own room for you after removing his make-up. He looks so young and beautiful and tired.

You type and drag and double click yourself through the video and do some last blog updates to deal with all the notifications. Ethan lends you some headphones, but you only keep them on one ear. The humming is too nice to ignore. Nor do you know what to even expect. The bathroom door is open, Ethan is topless washing the lace blouse by hand. Only wearing bellbottom pants and his lace choker — nothing else. He’s fully immersed in his task. He even adds some other shirts and silk scarves into the soap water along the way while he’s at it.

You’ve never seen someone do their own laundry so systematically. Ethan looks like Prince Caspian at the sink, wielding the almond soap bar like his weapon of choice against the enemies of Narnia (the devious panna cotta that’s still sticking to everything). He might be all mysterious, but he’s well able to curse all kinds of things. You tease Ethan for dropping his gentlemanly behavior for a stain of dessert. Ethan insists you sound like Thomas trying to test him with his slick comebacks, which makes you laugh. The blog has calmed down a little and your eyes hurt from editing, so you call it a day and send one last e-mail.

Ethan is drowning in bubbles at this point. The whole room smells like fabric softener. He thanks you for helping him carry around the equipment earlier. In return, you say grazie for him being your perfect muse in the garden today. Philosopher he is, Ethan remarks how Måneskin is usually the one searching for muses, now he ended up one himself — „Maybe not a bad thing, eh. Become the thing you want or something.“ That’s way too deep for a summer night in Sicily, and both of you need a huge portion of sleep. Tomorrow, lots of schedule. You do find yourself wanting to help lick that dessert off his chest. No way you’d tell him.

Ethan waddles off to shower after a crooked, reserved smile for a good night departure. When you close the door to your room and start brushing your teeth, the other members’ voices emerge in the hotel corridor — they’ve returned from the movies. Damiano is even more wasted than before and audibly sings. „You’ve looked at the photographer lady in a certain way earlier, huh. I saw, I saw!“ Victoria does a loud ‚shh‘ noise, and the stoic reply is a simple „Sleep, Damiano, you’ve had too much.“ Thomas giggles, and four doors click shut. Damiano’s singing is now muffled for two minutes until it’s silent. How the fuck can you even sleep after hearing that.

You assumed that Ethan would treat you differently the next morning, in whatever shape or form. But he doesn’t. The greeting is short as it would always be, and he informs you that he did manage to wash out the sugary clay from his clothes as he puts it. Damiano says nothing, adjusts his rings. Thomas randomly pulls zippers at his packed-up equipment. Victoria headed to the car already. Downtown to a studio it goes. The group gets styled to perfection, twenty minutes later they make a reaction video to the newly released MV teaser. Ethan talks about enjoying the sculptures in the garden.

Three hours down the line, you shoot some promotional pictures of them at a pool. Thomas has the time of his life perfecting his diving board skills, and Damiano creates the musical background, singing and prancing. The aerials would make literal perfect editorial-in-VOGUE material. In the meantime, Victoria dozes in the sun. Ethan dives. Sometimes just sitting at the bottom of the pool, othertimes swimming back and forth. The art director suggests you to go into the water, too. He’s right, the perspective works out well this way.

You’re basically standing in there with your flowy pantalon pants and camisole, using a waterproof camera. Your bikini is back at the hotel. It doesn’t matter, everything will dry quickly, the others went in the pool with clothes as well. And you’re all too wrapped up in your passion in the first place. You marvel at how fun the whole scenery looks through your lens. Their outfits are cropped and luminous, today’s color is bright red. You order the lighting assistant back and forth, get some more great Thomas frames where he tosses around a volleyball that the manager brought along. Less rock than usual, but it works. Måneskin at a pool in Sicily.

Damiano splashes water around like crazy. Victoria joins the fun as well, splashing right back. It’s infernal. Well, those are going to be dynamic pictures, you think, and the cameraman never dies, so. Ethan resurfaces every other minute, wiping the chlorine from his eyes. He slicks his hair back with both hands, looking down his body learning how his shirt has become completely transparent. He covers his chest with his hair, quickly, then submerges again. It’s strange. Being topless is usually no big deal in Måneskin.

Almost 12 o’clock. Thomas and Damiano wander off to work on some lyrics, probably the title that the drum solo is part of. All top secret. Victoria returns to her sun lounger, checking her phone. The crew heads for lunch, but you stay in the water, gladly you put sunscreen on earlier. You ask Ethan to try some seated or floating poses at the bottom of the pool that you saw him practice earlier. „No worries, keep your eyes closed.“

What unfolds before you is the most beautiful thing. Ethan’s shirt fans out like a red jellyfish underwater, playing around his body. His figure is just enviable. He gets the hang of it and knows quite how to move. Or rather, to remain stable when the pose is perfect. Hands above his head, horizontal, or seated, only one foot  lightly sweeping over the pool floor, or on one knee, as if he proposed.

Raising his arms helps him sink down and settle, as if he immersed himself in deep meditation. Although the purpose of meditating is to be present, isn’t it. And that’s what he feels like. Ethan would normally switch on autopilot for most of his public interactions, now he’s alive and fully in the concentrated movements of the photoshoot. So much about improvising all over again. The hair creates the most incredible shapes like a black, wide brushstroke, clearly outlined. Thank god you have the waterproof camera. These are moments you’ll never forget.

Your blog notifications keep on bleeping throughout the afternoon. The promotional pictures are a hit. Måneskin’s manager is basically waving five new contracts in front of your face at dinner, but you’re kind of spaced out again. The cozy, rose-ranked atmosphere of the street café you went to is inspiring, and the members dressed up in the most fancy suitwear. Men in Black? Måneskin in Black. It’s almost as if fate read your mind. Ethan is looking at you very intently from across the table when the minestrone is served.

Pasta shells, parsley, vegetables and basil leaves. The scent surrounds the entire table. Damiano, in serious mode tonight, is too busy finding new rhymes and an alternative chorus with Thomas who wildly brainstorms. Victoria drinks, loudly chats with the gaffer lady that you share a room with, and they use a leaf of a palm tree pot plant to tickle Damiano. Thomas plays the acoustic guitar. Ethan and you end up smiling briefly at another. „Bon apetit,“ you say. It’s almost 34° celsius. That’s going to be an entire pile of cheesecake gelato tonight.

Five signed contracts later and halfway through a hefty caprese cake, the title song is finished. An ode to Marlena, fierce like the Mediterranean sea. The piece certainly sounds exactly like this place. Strangers listen to Damiano performing bits and pieces, but you decide to disperse when too many cellphones come out. Damiano wants to go to a bar, Thomas and Victoria carry home their guitars, or to the hotel to be exact, and bags of newly shopped vintage clothes. You ask Ethan if there are any cinemas around the area. „We missed out last time, remember.“

The Palazzo Theater is a small and hidden insider tip far from the main street with its busy beach tourists. Under bulbous metal balconies and peach-colored facades, a small entrance with lanterns on each side guides you inward. Ethan almost hits his head, it’s so low. He’s wearing glossy red bottoms under his suit pants, you’re out and about with a 6’2 giant after all — a statue by himself. A small man with a pipe sells you cheap tickets for a Mads Mikkelsen movie and lemonade, Ethan picks up an XXXL caramel popcorn bucket. You think he’s flexing, but you get a sudden heureka by looking at it twice.

Unlike the S, M, and L bags, it’s thick cardboard and drum-shaped. Oh my god, obviously. Which fine percussionist could ever resist such temptation striped in red and white, the sound deep and dull? It makes you smile how Ethan pursues his instrument even when he seemingly doesn’t, it really has to be a hobby at heart. That’s how a job becomes a profession, and a profession a vocation, your uni professor’s other favorite words all over again. The latter’s words have gotten you far so you again trust the insight that came to you through that quote.

Seeing Ethan standing there, you can almost see the childlike joy at imagining it being empty and ready to get turned around. A tuxedo Italian with Louboutin heels and a ginormous popcorn drum, half past eleven somewhere in Palermo: Ingenious combination, you snap a picture. Ethan makes a cute face, posing like a pinup of the 50s. Who knows how many vintage store posters he’s seen during tours, he must have picked it up there. And— Is he blushing? Must be the dim lights in here.

Off you go to the auditorium. Ethan, who balance the popcorn with all care in the world like it’s his baby, walks the aisle slower than you. The slim steps don’t have any floor lighting. Not very heel-friendly, but since it’s not a huge budget theater and few people dare spike heels on those cobblestones outside anyway, the stairs shall be forgiven. You take out your phone and offer your arm. For every gentleman it takes a gentlewoman, duh. Like rock’n’roll and the camera staff, chivalry (or shevalry as Damiano calls it when Vic holds the door open) never dies. He mumbles a thanks, you climb upward to the fourth-last row, Ethan holds on tight.

No ankles twisted and not one popcorn spilled, you get seated on red velvet. The chairs are dated, but nevertheless ultra comfortable. Nobody else is here. The adverts roll, Ethan cracks open the lemonade bottle caps with his chunky golden lighter because he can. You toast to Mads Mikkelsen’s bone structure and good minestrone, Måneskin’s finished title track, the promo pics, and the discovery of Ethan’s favorite new drum. A whopping five things to toast about? The night’s going to be great.

Damiano catwalking across the screen, wearing a Versace skirt in the middle of otherwise-boring commercials does shake you up. He was picked as a testimonial recently. Though, your pulse is high enough. Ethan’s hair is brushing against your shoulders, not to mention his goddamn massive arms. He can’t get out a single word either for the entirety of the ads, avoiding eye contact all over again. Just how much suspense can starting to eat the first popcorn have. Well, you pick two  from the very top and start munching.

Mads does a great job opening the movie as one would expect, but you just can’t concentrate. Instead, you stress-eat popcorn. Which makes Ethan do the same thing, at least he’s somewhat fixated on the screen. After the first ten minutes, he shakes his head. „That makes no sense at all,“ he clears his throat. „Yeah, yeah it  clearly doesn’t,“ you agree, basically on Torchio-autopilot yourself for the lack of a better reply. You were too busy figuring out the components of his aftershave rather than the thin plot. Shifting in your seat, chugging lemonade…

The air conditioning is scarce, but at least the screen is quite large and proper. You try to focus on the cinematography and do small talk about it. If there’s something you can comment on without having followed the string of action, it’s at least this.  You might be nervous, but you’re still a photographer. „Um, isn’t this chainmail nice in the closeup?“ — „Hm, I guess it works. We should ask Damiano to request something like this from Versace.“ — „Medieval Måneskin Rockers?“ — „Something like that.“ — „Hilarious.“

By the twenty-minute mark, the popcorn drum is almost empty. Gladly, that stuff just shrinks to bits in the stomach. The lemonade just has to galvanize it. You might be able to distract yourself with the camera shots and the last caramel chunks, but that doesn’t change Ethan’s long legs and Acqua di Parma perfume next to you. Yep, you finally figured out what it was, it wasn’t the aftershave. And well. Ethan smells like hotel soap from Milano to Napoli and back.

That scent basically dominates all the others besides a hint of cigar and basil and citrus-y deodorant mixed with runny sweat. God fuck, you can barely stand it. And the almond scent. You take a chance to at least jokingly point it out to him. The random movie flashback sequence is boring — and just as nonsensical as before, no offense to Mads though, he’s just walking around in chain mail — enough to deviate from whatever choppy convo you had going on before.

„I actually washed it twice,“ Ethan pulls off the silky scarf that functions as his current tie, and you recognize it. „The strawberry sauce was hard, but the cranberries… God no, I’ll never go near pana cotta again. Nothing against cream desserts.“ You take the scarf, smell it. Did he literally just hand it to you? Figures, he’s sweating bullets, too. And oh shit, he hasn’t talked that much all evening.

You slowly shift from bodies turned to the screen to facing each other. So up close, so up front, only God can help you know. His eyes are dark and reflective of the film’s flickering lights and changing scenes. You wish you could photograph them on sight. It would be as glimmering as your view from the hotel room, overwatching the unobstructed stars of the Mediterranean bay down the boulevard.

But it’s like you’re stuck in your position this way, feverishly thinking about a reply. What to pick up on, what to pick up on. You think about today, the evening where you edited things in his room. „Uh well, drop your laundry in the pool next time,“ you laugh, more than tentative, with your fingers randomly curling around the scarf. „The chlorine stuff will do the job for you. It’s so aggressive, it bleached by pants one shade lighter.“

Saved. Smooth transaction. Phew. „Oh, the pool was horrible. Not the photos, I mean… I don’t know how you can poison water that way.“ — „I know right? It’s still in my nose. But yeah, was a good idea with the underwater thing. The photos turned out really well.“ — „I really haven’t done something like that before but I guess it turned out hm, nice?“ — „Come on! Nice is understated. Are you fishing for compliments?“ — „No no, by all means!“ — „The one kneeling. It’s my favorite. I don’t even know what to do with all these pictures.“

„I don’t know. Maybe keep them?“ — „Keep… for what?“ — „It’s a separate series, right. The art director didn’t request it. Maybe they can be used for something later on during promotions.“ — „Yeah. We’re always a little extracurricular,“ you laugh again, tense in your voice, and empty your lemonade completely. „This, too,“ Ethan points at the theatre in general. „You’re good to talk to. The better version of alone time.“ — „Thank you. You’re great to go out with. I… really like it.“ Beautiful nature scenes show on screen, but they’re nothing but a blur. You take Ethan’s hands in the dark and smile. „Maybe we should do it more often.“

masterlist | bookmark/read it on ao3

© submissive-bangtan 2017-2021. all rights reserved. do not repost or translate. all depictions fictional.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

curtain call, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader

summary: You know that TikTok trend where girls would drop their towels in front of their gamer boyfriends? As expected, Min Yoongi didn’t until he was informed by his six troublemaking friends. In this case, his girlfriend was the pro streamer and he was the guy in the towel... so what’s the result?

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, tiny bit of crack; sexually explicit thoughts; smut (fem reader, handjob, cowgirl); very fluffy; non-idol!AU - established relationship, music producer!Yoongi x LoL streamer!reader

-

“Hahaha, oh my god, chat, did you see that? He bounced so many times from the CC, he literally went sky, holy shit!”

Min Yoongi opened the front door of his apartment to the jovial, laughing voice of his girlfriend. He shut the door, smiling to himself. Her streaming room was in the extra bedroom. The door was open, and he could see the bright RGB lights of her computer tower reflecting off the walls. He took off his black coat, placing it on the hanger in the hall closet.

“Stop cursing because it’s not ladylike?” He heard her scoff. “No, fuck you.”

Yoongi smirked. That’s my girl.

He pulled out his phone from his pocket, scrolling through social media. His friends always told him to reply to their posts, but Yoongi was a lurker. The only reason he even had any social media was because his friends set it up for him. He literally only followed six people – his six friends. Everyone else he just stalked from memory, even his own girlfriend. Mostly because he didn’t want random people following him for no reason, because they most certainly would with how popular she was.

When she had asked him what he thought of her full-time video game streaming, Yoongi told her to go for it. She had been obsessed with League of Legends for over nine years, even before she met him. At their first date, she first question was if he knew what League of Legends was.

“Uh… I got to Gold in season 2?”

Later, she told him his answer had seriously tilted her and she even considered not going on a second date.

“But you did. Because of this face.”

She had laughed and nodded.

She had been playing solo queue for a long time. When she finally started streaming her games, her channel grew slowly. She would immediately start playing after she got home from work. Hours and hours, growing a fanbase. Yoongi later learned she was startlingly good – “I was Master for a long time, got Grandmaster this season” – and when she asked him if she could quit her job, he pointed to her bank statements.

“Do you even need to ask? You might make more than me at one point and I’m Big Hit’s top music producer.”

And she did end up making more than him, at least some months, because the team that picked her up as a content creator this year was none other than T1, the most beloved (and hated) organization in Korea. Had she ever met Faker? No, but it was cool to say she was under the same umbrella as him.

Yoongi rounded the corner, knocking his knuckles on the doorframe.

“Hey.”

-

You looked up from your game, grinning. Twitch chat had just said some dumb shit, but your eyes were on Min Yoongi now. The love of your life, standing in the doorframe, looking amused at your antics and dressed sharply in a white dress shirt and black slacks with a matching black tie. Very different to your black T1 hoodie and sweats.

“Whoa, fancy, fancy,” you teased, eyes going back to the game. You pushed back one of your headset’s earcups to hear him better. You clicked rapidly, autoattacking the towers swiftly. You were about to win after a hectic Baron fight. “Why are you dressed like that, Yoongi?”

Your chat was exploding with cat emojis. They had only seen Yoongi a few times and someone had compared him to a cat once. It stuck and now every time Yoongi spoke, your chat was spammed with cats. You even had a custom white cat emote made with Yoongi’s signature black hair.

Yoongi appeared next to you on the cam, only his slacks and bottom of his shirt visible next to you. He patted your head.

“Meeting today,” he said simply in his lovely deep voice. The chat was exploding due to Yoongi’s appearance. Everyone was thirsty for him. You couldn’t blame them. You too. “Looks like T1 Curtain Call is kicking ass.”

You fired the last shot at the Nexus, earning fifty gold. Was it necessary since that was the end of the game? Absolutely not, but it gave you bragging rights. You sat back, smirking. You were in your promos to Challenger, the highest rank in the ladder. It would be really exciting if you could make it to Challenger this season.

You turned to Yoongi as you honored your support Nami. “Chat wants you to say hi.”

Yoongi stuck his large hand out in front of the camera and waved it once. “Hey everyone.”

You chuckled as Yoongi retreated his hand. You clicked on the stats for the chat to read before reentering the lobby. T1 Curtain Call. That was your in-game name, or IGN. It was named after your favorite champion, Jhin, the Virtuoso, mercenary gunman with a sniper ultimate and an obsession with the number four. Your IGN was Jhin’s ultimate ability name. You were an attack-damage carry main, also known as ADC.

You felt Yoongi ruffle your hair, messing it up under your headset.

“Going to take a shower before making dinner. Bye, chat.”

Yoongi stuck his hand in the screen again, right in front of your face.

You leaned forward to read the chat as you queued up. It was going to be a long queue, so you answered questions in the meantime.

“Ask Yoongi to play with you?” You chuckled. “Trust me guys, I’ve tried, even if it was just normals. He’s confused as shit.”

-

Yoongi worked the shampoo in his hair, feeling the hot water hit his back. Before getting into the shower, Yoongi had gotten multiple texts from the group chat. Normally he would ignore them, because he always ignored the group chat. This time, however, he saw his girlfriend’s name pop up in the texts, along with his name with multiple exclamation points. He frowned at it, opening the chat. He did not like his friends typing her name heedlessly.

It was some dumb TikTok trend.

“Hyung, you gotta do this to noona,” Jeon Jungkook had typed with multiple ‘kekekeke’ behind it. The youngest was an idiot for even suggesting this.

“Please do it,” Kim Taehyung typed with multiple laughing emojis.

“I want to know her reaction,” Park Jimin typed with a bunch of winking faces.

“The fuck is this?” Kim Seokjin had typed. “Oh my god, you have to do it, Yoongi.”

“But don’t film it,” Kim Namjoon warned. “Don’t want to make her look bad or anything.”

Jung Hoseok had just typed multiple laughing symbols. Yoongi could hear him laughing through the phone even if he wasn’t here.

It was a stupid trend where girls wrapped themselves in towels after a shower and then dropped said towels in front of their gamer boyfriends while they were playing, with varying reactions. Yoongi had sighed, putting his phone down. He shouldn’t have clicked on the chat. Those guys were loons. Besides, his role was reversed in his situation. A guy’s flaccid dick was a thousand times less interesting than his girlfriend’s perky tits and round ass. And her squeezable thighs. And her glistening pussy.

Yoongi rinsed his hair off, muttering to himself.

Why would he even consider distracting her like that anyway? He rubbed soap on his arms and legs. She took her games seriously and Yoongi wanted her to win them. It would just be dumb to be the reason that she dies in game. It was her job, after all. It was true they had less sex, but that was also partially his fault. He had been working on an album and it ran long hours. He had to finish before the deadline after all. Yes, sometimes Yoongi woke up late at night with a massive hard-on and her warm body next to him, only in her underwear. Sometimes he took her hand and wrapped it around him, considering on waking her up to do it.

But her peaceful, sleepy face was too cute to wake up, so he never did.

Yoongi puffed his cheeks as he rinsed off, thinning his mouth and eyes into lines. They used to mess around, right here in the shower, where he would jerk off on her face and chest, just to watch it drip down her body. He could see her pretty face in his mind, cum sprayed across her cheeks and chin, mischievous smile on her lips. They had different schedules now, so she always showered before her stream, while he was at work.

Yoongi clicked his tongue and turned the water off, body still hot. He grabbed the white towel from the rack and dried his hair, making it stick up in every direction. He rubbed himself down, wicking the water away. It made him remember how her hair used to stick to her body after their shared showers and how he would lift it away to play with her nipples.

He huffed, seeing his phone on the bathroom sink. His friends needed help. How could they even suggest such nonsen–

Yoongi tried to wrap his towel around his waist. He could feel a draft. He looked down, raising his eyebrows.

His dick was pitching a music-festival, VIP-member-only sized tent.

Well.

He pursed his lips. He shouldn’t be that surprised. He had literally been thinking about his girlfriend’s naked body the entire time. His eyes glanced to his phone once again before he opened the bathroom door. He heard her sigh loudly.

“Noooo, that’s the third dodge! Am I ever going to play a game, chat?” she whined.

Yoongi padded out into the hallway. Technically he was already halfway there. Might as well. Was this the stupidest shit he was ever going to do? Maybe. But she wasn’t going to expect it, that’s for sure. The thought made Yoongi smirk.

“When is Jungkook going to duo with me again? I don’t know guys; he said he has finals soon so he has to focus on school.” He heard her click her tongue. “Get him on cam again? Oh, I see, that’s what you all wanted... At least let him get through university.”

Yoongi stopped at the doorframe. Her hands were on her chin and she was sighing, looking depressed at her long queue time.

“Ah, so unlucky. It must be everyone’s dinnertime.”

He called her name in the same tone he usually used.

Her head lifted and her eyes floated in his direction.

Yoongi dropped the towel.

In less than a second, her eyes grew three sizes, jaw dropping. His wet hair stuck to his forehead, shading his eyes a bit. He cocked an eyebrow, slow smirk on his lips.

“Anything you want for dinner?”

-

What.

The.

FUCK?

You heard your queue pop, but you were frozen in place, gawking open-mouthed at your boyfriend standing in the doorframe of your streaming room, butt-ass naked, cock hard as a rock, towel on the ground. Did he just..? What the…? This was Min Yoongi. Your mild-mannered, somewhat-lazy, preferred-to-be-asleep boyfriend. Not suddenly-trying-to-send-you-to-horny-jail-in-front-of-three-thousand viewers boyfriend! You blinked at him, stuttering.

“Y-Yoongi…?”

Oh shit. Shit, shit, shit. Your voice was a little too breathless, a little too shocked. And slightly too needy for Twitch chat. Your face was heating up fast. You whipped your head back to the screen, realizing you missed the queue. At this point, you didn’t give a single shit.

“You know what, guys,” you said shakily, laughing awkwardly. “I better help Yoongi with dinner and be a good girlfriend.” You rose, feeling the wetness between your legs. “See you tomorrow!”

And you immediately turned off the stream, fuck, you turned off your whole damn computer, mashing the power button, and throwing one of your spare hoodies over the webcam. You exploded from your T1 gaming chair, literally shooting it back three feet into the League plushes behind you, ripping your headset off, tossing it onto the keyboard. Yoongi looked surprised, as if he expected you to be demurer about it.

Yeah, that’s not kind of woman you were.

“Min Yoon-gi,” you hissed, stressing every syllable of his name. “How the fuck do you think you can just show up naked and not expect me to want to immediately fuck you?”

Yoongi chuckled. “I wanted to see your reaction.”

You narrowed your eyes, pressing him against the door with your body. “You don’t watch TikTok. Who put you up to this? Jimin? Taehyung? Jungkook?”

His voice was low and husky. “You know the mankae line are trouble.”

Your hand snaked up into his damp hair and you pulled him down for a sensual kiss. His soft, pink lips parted and you nipped at his lower lip, grinding deliciously into his hard cock. Your sweatpants and underwear were in the way, but you moaned into his mouth, tongue grazing against his lips.

Mentally, you thanked the three mankaes for giving Yoongi this wonderful idea.

He breathed against your lips, smirking.

“How many pieces of clothing are you wearing?” he purred.

You grinned into his kiss, tongue between your teeth. “Four.”

“On brand for you.”

And then you two stumbled into the hallway, Yoongi’s hands on the hem of your hoodie, pushing it up as you kissed him over and over, whispering his name, telling him how handsome he was, how perfectly sexy he was with his wet hair and soft skin. His lips curved upwards under yours, basking in your compliments, drinking them up.

“Count for me,” he drawled, pulling the black T1 hoodie up.

You slipped out of it, sliding down, hands splaying over Yoongi’s chest.

“One.”

He tossed it aside as your hand wrapped around his cock. A sharp gasp left his lips feeling you stroke him slowly, your hand snaking around his neck and bringing his face close to yours, lips on lips. His hands curled around your waist, moving up, grasping the hook-and-eye of your black bra. All the while slowly making your way to the bedroom, nipping at his lips, sucking on his tongue.

Yoongi pinched, releasing your bra. You released his cock, letting it slide off your shoulders.

“Two,” you moaned, feeling his hands on your breasts, rolling your nipples in between his fingers.

“Hah, your body is so fucking hot,” Yoongi murmured. “Missed fucking you.”

You snickered, licking his lips. “Why don’t you actually try to wake me up for once instead of using my hand to jack yourself off at two in the morning?”

His dark brown eyes went wide, shock creeping into his voice. “W-what? How did you…?”

You pushed him through the doorframe of the bedroom. “You think I don’t notice your dick in my hands?” You reached down now, gripping it again, sighing softly at his hardness. “I’m a light sleeper.”

He sputtered at you, fingers curling under the waistband of your sweatpants. “No, you’re not.”

You grinned. “Yeah, you’re right, but this your cock we’re talking about, and I love your cock, Yoongi, fuck,” you continued, pumping him slowly as you felt his length twitch in your hands, his hands pushing down your pants, sliding down your legs.

“Three,” he breathed softly.

You took his larger hand and wrapped it around yours, stepping out of your pants.

“Go on, Yoongi. Show me what you do when you think I’m asleep,” you said softly, nudging him to the bed and laying him down, down, crawling over him, staring into his beautiful dark eyes, falling more and more in love with him every second. Yoongi bit his lip, looking back at you, shifting your hand up and down his cock, whimpering as he jacked himself off, but with your hand and your eyes on him.

“Fuck, you look so pretty,” he mumbled. “Such perfectly shaped eyes.”

You leaned down, squeezing him a little harder, a tiny gasp brushing against your lips. “That’s you, my love.”

He smirked, his free hand hooking on the side of your panties.

“Hit me with the fourth shot,” Yoongi teased, grinning.

You kissed him lightly, smiling. “That’s going to be a critical hit.”

“Better be a critical hit all over my dick.”

You laughed, reaching over to the nightstand and pulling out the drawer, taking out a condom. The two of you pulled down your black panties, Yoongi completing the final number.

“Four,” he exhaled, nearly moaning at the sight of your juices snapping against your thigh.

“Me on top?” you asked, ripping the condom open.

Yoongi’s naughty smirk grew. “You do love me.”

You slid the condom down his length, both of you gasping as his cock throbbed in your hands. You slid up, holding him with two fingers as you sank down on him, tipping your head back at the feeling of Yoongi’s cock buried deep inside.

“I’ve determined we don’t fuck enough,” you muttered, rolling your hips at the delicious sensation of being stretched out by your lover.

“I should wake up earlier,” Yoongi hissed, hands twisting in the sheets. “So we can shower together again.”

“You miss that?” You began to move, riding him deliberately slow but rough, slapping your hips together. You were leaking all over his crotch and balls, adding to the sound. “Miss me on my knees for you, wet from head to toe?”

“Hah… I was thinking about it in the shower,” he panted, feeling you lean down to change the angle, rolling the entire lower half of your body to fuck him hard, fast, intensely squeezing his cock at every descent. “You look so good covered in my cum, my love.”

You smirked, arching an eyebrow. “Yeah? Take some pictures. Show your friends.”

Yoongi laughed, that attractive raspy laugh that showed his pink gums and his pretty white teeth as you rode him, chasing your orgasm and determined to get him to his. “They fucking wish they could see this body,” he growled, a touch of possessiveness in his voice that made your spine shiver deliciously. “Bet they wish they could see you riding my dick right now, your perfect tits and ass bouncing on top of me.”

You clenched him harder and he moaned, head pressed into the pillows, eyes closing, drowning in the feeling of you.

“Ask them,” you snickered. “I already know Jimin’s answer.”

Yoongi gave you an open-mouthed smirk. “That fucking pervert.”

You slammed your hips together tightening your jaw and your core, sucking in his entire length, every contour imprinted into you, every vein pulsing into your walls, Yoongi so fucked out and gone under you, the best image in the entire fucking world. You leaned your head back, gasping triumphantly as the pleasure finally dropped, showering over you, your hips shaking, pussy throbbing all around him, splattering onto his crotch. Yoongi groaned, smacking his fists against the sheets as he shot up into you, cock swelling against your walls, choking out your name due to the strength of your orgasm. You felt your pussy milking him for every drop, draining him. Yoongi’s hips jerked involuntarily up towards you, squelching loudly and lewdly.

Fuck, you loved him.

You bent down, hand between your bodies, holding the condom down as you kissed his open mouth, tongue sliding in to stroke his, murmuring to him how much you loved him. Yoongi panted into your lips, hot erotic breaths that made you moan as you slowly removed yourself from his softening cock. He opened his eyes, half-lidded, drunk with pleasure. His voice was breathless, content.

“I love you.”

You smirked.

“Drop your towel some more, but maybe when I’m not live streaming.”

Yoongi laughed and you laughed too, because in the end it was still hilarious.

-

masterpost

[cjsinkythoughts]

FATWS One Shot #5 - Reminiscing

Word Count: 1195

Warnings: Mention of The Fall, Cursing, Teasing, Fluff, Not Much Else

Setting/Characters: Takes place before they moved to D.C., so before Stars, Stripes, and Bubbles and CA:TWS; In New York City; Reader, Steve Rogers

A/N: I didn’t post any writing today so I whipped this up because I wanted to at least put a dent in the One Shot list. I know it’s a bit out of order, but I got this request and I wanted to make it separate from the movie scenes because I felt like Steve would’ve told her this before. They also hadn’t visited the museum yet, obviously, or else she’d know about him already. It’s just a cute little thing about the good ole days. It’s a bit shorter, but there wasn’t much more to add and I like it the way it is.

I’ll try posting more this week; I’m babysitting my little cousin tomorrow and Tuesday, but I’m off work Wednesday, so I’ll be able to write more then. The next One Shot is already being worked on; it’s back in order so it’s gonna take place during TWS. I have to update the One Shot list to accommodate the ideas brainstormed between myself, a couple friends, and you lovely readers.

This isn’t beta’d, as usual, so please excuse any mistakes! Be kind to yourselves and others! Enjoy this one, thank you for reading, and stay tuned!

FATWS Masterlist

cjsinkythoughts Masterlist

You let out a wolf whistle, leaning on the back of Steve’s chair. “Who is that? He’s pretty cute. You know, for someone from a hundred years ago.”

Steve scoffed and rolled his eyes at you with a smile on his lips. It fell when he looked back down at the black and white picture that was fraying at the ends and had a tint to it from the time it’s spent on the earth. The young man you were pointing at, probably mid-20s if you had to guess, was grinning at the camera, looking sharp in an Army uniform, hat tilted on his head.

“That’s…Bucky.”

“Bucky?” You snickered, but then you caught sight of the far off look in Steve’s eye and found yourself frowning. “Who was he?”

“He was…” Steve sighed, leaning back into the chair, his head falling back onto your forearm. “He was my best friend.”

You set your chin on his shoulder, looking at another picture, yellowing with time. He was in that one too, over to the side with a cigarette in his mouth, his arm around two other soldiers, dark hair slicked back. You had heard about the Howling Commandos, who you were guessing were the other guys in the photo. Everyone learned about them in history class in grade school. Captain America and his Commandos fighting against HYDRA, beating the Nazis and saving the day. “Did you meet in Italy?”

“No.” Steve shook his head, carefully setting down the beat up picture. “We…we met when we were kids. We grew up together. In Brooklyn.”

Humming, you studied him, noting the tightened jaw and the crease in his brow, you looked down and tilted your head, spotting another picture of the two of them smiling. Tracing it gently, you tenderly inquired, “he meant a lot to you?”

“He was my brother. He was always there for me. At my lowest, he held me up. I never was truly alone. I always had him.”

You could hear the grief in his voice as he spoke in adoration about the man, frozen in time with a smile on his face in a frame to protect him from fading. “What happened?” You asked softly, running your fingers through Steve’s gold locks that were falling in his eyes.

Steve gave a heavy sigh, closing his eyes. “A mission went sideways. To catch Zola?” He looked up at you to see if you had read about that particular operation of theirs in a file somewhere. You nodded, remembering vaguely the mission he was talking about.

“A train in the Alps, right? I thought you caught him, though.”

The man nodded, sad eyes avoiding your gaze. “We did. But…we were ambushed. Bucky…Bucky and I were separated. I tried to get to him…I couldn’t-” He stopped talking, closing his eyes to compose himself. “He fell and I couldn’t reach him in time.”

“Steve…” you shook your head, scratching that spot at the nape of his neck you knew helped him relax. “It wasn’t your fault, bubs.” He opened his mouth to argue, but decided against it and nodded. “May I?”

He nodded again when you gestured to the box he had on the desk in front of him, letting you look through the other pictures he had. “Tell me about him.”

The blonde gave a little chuckle, smiling fondly at the memories spinning around in his brain. “He was a jerk. He always tried to keep my outta trouble. We met after some kids tried stealing my lunch money. I-I kinda tried fighting them. He beat ‘em up for me.”

“You never did like bullies.”

He grinned at you. “No…no I didn’t. There was this one time…”

You leaned your cheek against his shoulder and watched his face light up as he told you stories about him and Bucky being boys. Playing in the mud, racing through Central Park, going to Coney Island, eating ice cream, sitting on the fire escape. 

“He used to read to me. A lot. When I got sick and stuff. He liked reading. He told me it was his way of taking me somewhere without getting outta bed. I used to draw him scenes from his favorite books while listening. It gave me something to do with my hands. That’s why I picked it up. I could do it from bed.”

“Did he draw too?”

“Hell no! Pal could barely draw a stick figure! I made him take this art class with me and all he did was mope about it because it was the only class he had trouble in. But it was our agreement; he could take me to the gym he went to if he came with me to class.”

You giggled at the image of scrawny little Steve in a gym. “You went to a gym?”

He gave you a bemused look. “You’re not funny. Yes I went to a gym. I didn’t do much. Bucky trained a lot though. He was the YMCA welterweight champion three years in a row.”

“No kidding.” You picked up a picture of Bucky sitting on a couple steps, a t-shirt tucked into pants being held up by suspenders. “Look at those arms.”

“Shuddup!” Steve laughed, pushing you playfully. 

You sniggered. “I’m just saying. I bet he got all the ladies.”

“Are you kidding? Dames lined up at the door to dance with him. You would’ve too,” he poked your side. “If you lived back then.”

You shook your head, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “He’s cute, but I’d much rather watch you draw.”

Steve snorted. “Trust me. You’d be singing a different tune if you met him. You would’ve liked him. He would’ve liked you.” He went quiet, his expression morphing into one of contemplation.

“Well anyone willing to stand up and hang out with that stubborn kid from Brooklyn has my vote.” You joked, ruffling his locks.

Steve didn’t say anything. He just looked at you for a minute, before turning back to the pictures and starting to clear them away. “I’m gonna put these away and we can go for that run, alright?”

You nodded, getting off of him and stretching. “Alright. But you can’t lap me again!” He chortled at that, smirking not so innocently. “I’m so serious, Rogers! That was mean! I feel so out of shape when you do that!”

“Alright, alright. I won’t honey. I promise.” He grabbed your hand and placed a kiss to your knuckles. “And you’re beautiful no matter what, okay?”

“Sure, bubba.”

“I mean it!”

You smiled at his insistence, his eyebrow knit together in seriousness. “Okay. Meet me outside when you’re done.”

“Yes ma’am!” He nodded, spinning back to his keepsakes and adding as an afterthought, “wanna go see a moving picture?”

You gave him an amused look, trying not to laugh. “Yeah, Stevie. I’d love to go see a movie with you.”

He blushed, the tips of his ears turning bright red. “Movies. Right.”

“Don’t worry about it, Steve. It’s endearing.” You winked at him as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Now hurry up. I wanna get out there before it gets too hot.”

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[mrs-hollandstan]

Welcome Home || Harrison Osterfield

Warnings: language I think, mentions of pregnancy, kiddos, Tommo and Haz being cute little loves, minor angst

Word Count: 2,913

Author's Note: I was so torn between this and a dad!Sam fic that I'm O B S S E S S E D with so I still might post it. This one was written a while ago, but with the magic of editing I've made it a little better haha. I hope you guys enjoy!

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Harrison's schedule made it hard to be apart. You had seen a lot of time away because he and Tom are best friends. The two of them used to always travel together and that excluded you most of the time. But with that, it was always Tom working and Harrison sitting off to the side, facetiming you until his phone literally ran down to the last percentage. But when its him that's working, and he misses his wife and his little boy, it is the hardest thing ever. Hearing him bawl over the phone because you sent him a video of your son being tickled is so so sad. When he facetimes you, he won't even look at the camera, thinking you'll react negatively to him being gone so much, your son growing up without him there most of the time. When he finally did look up, his eyes were red and he kept rubbing tears from them. 

The day he finally came back was sooner than expected. He was expected back on Friday and was back by Tuesday. At first you thought it might be an intruder creeping into your son's room but upon further inspection, you found that Harrison was the more logical explanation and finding his car parked in the driveway confirmed the suspicion. Slowly standing and blinking the sleep from your eyes, you wander down the dark hall to Jackson's room. You smile when Harrison comes into sight, his hair still parted and gelled off to the side, the body of your two year old cradled to his chest. He rocks the little one who's still asleep in his arms, Harrison's head laid over Jackson's. 

"Welcome home soldier." You say gently, Haz's head snapping up, his baby blue eyes sparkling in the moonlight. His hips don't stop swaying methodically, but an exhausted smile crosses his face. Gently laying your little boy down, he takes the few strides forward, dragging you into his arms and dipping you to kiss you. You giggle into his lips, holding his broad shoulders. He stands you straight after a moment, 

"You're so cheesy." You rasp out, covering your mouth and squealing when he raises you in the air, your legs binding around his waist. He chuckles low in his throat, 

"My god I missed you so much." He growls, letting you run your fingers through his hair. You lean in to kiss his nose, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

"We missed you too my love." When your son groans and whines quietly, tossing and turning in bed, Haz sets you down, eyes wandering to the little two year old, 

"If he wakes up can he come to bed with us?" He asks, like he's a second child. You shrug, stroking his shoulders over the long sleeved shirt that sticks to his muscular arms, 

"Sure." Crouching beside the bed, Harrison looks down at his little boy longingly. You remember that look as the same he had on his face the day Jackson was born. The curiosity, the fear, the love; he felt it all, mostly all at once. The way Jackson wasn't planned but you both wanted him. The way you both craved to hold this little human in your arms. And the way when this little baby was laying in Harrison's arms, he was absolutely in love all over again. And it was just the three of you for the longest time, and still. You eloped in secret, keeping it from even your closest friends and family once the stress of having a baby was over. Of course Tom was pissed he wasn't gonna be a best man, but holding Jackson overpowered that. Uncle Tom was just as in love with the little boy staring up at him as Harrison was, and when that little one started to whimper and whine, Tom was on it, calming the baby back down to a neutral temper like only he and Harrison could do. 

"You should go take a shower. I'll bring him to bed for you." You softly say, walking forward and wrapping an arm around him. He smiles, stroking the little one's cheek again as he's broken from his thoughts, 

"Yeah. I'll be right there okay?" Standing and kissing your forehead, he exits the room just as swiftly as he entered, leaving you to lean in and  kiss Jackson's forehead. He whimpers again before his eyes flutter open, blinking a few times before he frowns slightly at the sight of you before him, 

"Momma?" You smile, stroking the sandy colored locks of hair from his eyes, 

"Hi baby. Daddy's home, you wanna see him?" He's suddenly fully awake, sitting up and nodding as he holds his arms out for you. Lifting him, you carry him down the hallway, following the noise into the bathroom where Harrison is vigorously washing his hair,

"Who is that?" You quip down to your son, Harrison quickly rinsing his hair and peeking from behind the frosted glass to smile at the two of you. Jackson makes grabby hands at his father leaving you to giggle as Harrison's eyes flash in panic, 

"Daddy!" Haz swallows, 

"Ahh shoot uhm, just give me one second baby. Lemme finish my shower." You lean against the counter, pressing your lips to Jackson's temple in soft, almost non-existent kisses, 

"We can wait huh? Just stay right here?" Jackson nods, resting against your chest and tucking his thumb in his mouth. You kiss his forehead, 

"We've waited long enough now, huh lovebug?" He nods again, looking up as Harrison turns the water off. Quickly drying himself and wrapping a towel around his waist, he holds his arms out, taking the overexcited boy into them. Jackson snuggles into his father, letting Harrison kiss his hair, 

"I missed you so much buddy. I thought about you every day." You smile, rubbing Jackson's back softly as they just hold each other. Harrison follows you out into your bedroom, watching as you walk to your closet to fetch him a pair of boxers, crouching and letting him step into them before dragging them up his legs. Taking the towel, you gently ruffle his hair and toss it in the hamper, pushing him back against the bed. He practically falls onto it, cradling Jackson to his chest. He holds an arm out when you crawl in beside him, ducking under the covers and wrapping your arms around both boys when he lays Jackson between the two of you. You kiss the back of Jackson's head, finding Harrison's eyes, 

"He missed you so much." You murmur. He nods, moving hair from in front of Jackson's eyes, 

"I know. I missed the both of you so damn much." Wrapping your legs around one of his own, you sigh, rubbing his chest, 

"I love you." He smiles, leaning over your little boy to kiss your forehead, 

"I love you too. I swear to you that if I have to be gone that long you'll come okay? Just for a little bit at least. No more leaving you for that long again." You nod, closing your eyes as he kisses your cheek. He rubs your arm, humming gently to Jackson. When you open your eyes again, he glances up at me, 

"Babe?" He poses softly after a moment. You nod, reaching out to stroke his cheek, 

"Yeah?" He licks his lips and kisses Jackson's forehead, 

"Can we have another baby?" He asks. You smile, his crystal colored eyes searching your own. He sighs, looking down at Jackson, 

"I just want another one. I really want a baby girl. I just want another baby honestly." You nod, running your thumb over his cheekbone, 

“You’ve asked before silly.” You incur. He smiles when you lean in to kiss his nose, 

“And you’ve never told me yes. I just keep shootin blanks.” You giggle again, his lips trapping yours in, 

“I do want another one. I love Jax and I’m not gonna push but-” 

“Yes.” He looks up, his mouth hanging open as he looks between your eyes, 

“Yeah?” You nod, 

“I’ve been thinking about it while you were gone.” You admit. He smiles, 

“You’re amazing.” You giggle, 

“Yeah yeah, go to sleep Mr. Osterfield. All of us are exhausted.” You murmur, leaning in to kiss Jackson's forehead. He nods, rolling on his back. Lifting Jackson, he switches sides with him, laying himself between the two of you. Jackson whines, laying his head over Haz’s shoulder. Haz tsks and kisses his forehead as you drape an arm over Haz's waist, 

“I’m not goin anywhere Jax.” Snuggling into his back, you sigh, 

“I’m glad you’re home Hazzabear.” You mumble in his ear. He hums,

“Me too love, me too.” 

                                                           --- 

Harrison didn’t let the two of you out of his sight for the next few weeks. He was constantly playing with Jackson, insisting that you all be in the same room. Jackson slept in your bed for a few more days after Haz returned, Harrison holding the both of you. The only time it was just you and him was when Jackson was in his room taking a nap, Harrison having set aside this time for the two of you to focus on getting pregnant with baby number two. And around two and a half weeks later he had reshoots during the day which was when you'd discovered his wish had come true. Most times Jackson wanted to go with him which Haz quickly obliged to. One of the days Harrison had reshoots, you were terribly sick, nausea and morning sickness halting any plans you'd made. Growing excited despite the circumstances, you took four pregnancy tests and squealed and jumped around the room when all four came back positive. Quickly running to your local store, you got a few unisex onesies and pacifiers, setting up a small box with the tests and clothes you'd gotten. Nervously cleaning the kitchen, Harrison and Jackson came barreling into the house shortly after, giggling. You smile, leaning in to kiss Haz when he enters the kitchen, 

“How was it?” You ask. He nods, sitting Jackson on the island, 

“It was good. Uncle Tom stopped by so Jax was pretty happy. Got him to play some games we're normally too preoccupied to do.” He explains. You nod, Harrison leaning on the counter on his hands, bumping into the box. He glances back at it and frowned, 

“What’s this darling?” He asks inquisitively. You shrug nonchalantly, 

“I dunno… why don’t you open it, find out.” He quirks an eyebrow before turning to it and taking the lid off. Looking over the contents, it takes only a moment before his eyes widen and his head snaps back up to meet your eyes, 

"Are you serious?" You nod, 

"Found out this morning." You inform. He crumbles to his knees, pulling up your shirt as you giggle. Jackson giggles along with you, looking down at his father, 

"What doing daddy?" He poses sweetly, 

"Mummy's pregnant Jax." Harrison whispers breathlessly, running a hand over your belly. He looks up at you, his eyes sparkling in tears and a soft smile crossing his face when you pinch his chin, 

"Congrats daddy, you've got another baby on the way." He chuckles, sniffling and looking back down at your skin as if he could see the baby. You smile, stroking his hair, 

"Can I tell Uncle Tom too?" You pose. He chuckles again, 

"You'll give Uncle Tom a heart attack." He murmurs. Picking your phone up, you send a quick text to Tom, telling him you'd love to have him for dinner. He replies almost immediately saying he'd love to and he'd be over in ten minutes. 

When he arrives, he hugs you, kissing your cheek and cheerily saying, "'ello darling." He turns to Jackson, lifting him into the air,

"Hey Tommy, there's something for you in that box." You chime, jutting your chin out to the same box Haz had opened. Holding Jax on his hip, Tom struts over to the box, pulling the lid off and peeking inside. Much like Harrison had, it took just a moment and a furrow in his brows for him to understand, his eyes widening as he looks up at you, 

"Jax is gonna be a big brother?" You giggle and nod, 

"You're getting another niece or nephew Uncle Tommy." He gasps, rushing forward and drawing both you and Harrison into a hug, 

"Oh my God guys, congrats!" He cheers. You giggle once more, 

"Thank you." Pulling back, he runs a hand over your belly, 

"Great, another kiddo to spoil. God Harrison, thanks mate." Tom jokes. Harrison smiles and shrugs, 

"I want a little girl." He informs. Tom tsks and cocks his head, 

"I'll steal her. I'll steal that little girl. She'll be the cutest little thing ever and I won't be able to resist her." He tells the both of you matter-of-factly. Harrison shakes his head, 

"You're not stealing my little girl." Harrison murmurs. Tom bounces Jax on his hip, 

"Just imagine it Haz, the cutest baby girl ever layin in a lil Spider-Man onesie her Uncle Tommy gave her." You smile, Harrison laying his hand over your hip, 

"You hear this guy babe?" He asks. You nod, 

"I do. I think he could sneak her out. You know how he is." You joke with a wink shot Tom's way. Tom chuckles, 

"Just saying that if you get a little girl and she ends up missing then there's no need to panic, she's with her favorite uncle." Harrison tsks again, not responding to Tom's pestering. Tom grows bored, looking down at Jax, 

"Are you gonna be a good big brother J?" He asks,, fixing the little boy's shirt. Jackson nods, playing with Tom's watch, 

"You want a little brother or a little sister?" He asks. Jax shrugs, giggling when Tom tickles him, 

"I think you'd do really good with a baby sister little man. I think you'll be a good big brother." He adds. Leaning in, you kiss Harrison's cheek, 

"I think we gotta worry about Haz here. How good of a daddy are you gonna be to a new baby?" You ask. Tom snickers, 

"I mean I can take over your family Harrison, it's no big deal." Tom jokes. Haz frowns, 

"Uhm no. This is my family." You smile, leaning into Harrison, 

"We are your family, regardless though. No matter what, Uncle Tommy is always welcome." You inform. Tom smiles, taking the step forward to wrap his arm around you. Rubbing your back, he leans in and kisses your temple, 

"Thank you love. I love your little family. Its like you're my wife and these are my kids too. You're the sweetest." He tells you. You smile up at him, crinkling your nose and laying your head over his shoulder, 

"Someone's gotta be here when times get tough. And that's the Osterfield family." Tom tsked, 

"You're the sweetest." When the potatoes behind you boiled over,you gasp and turn in their arms, both men chuckling as you pull them off the stove, 

"Why don't you guys go set the table while I finish dinner." Haz nods, leading Tom and Jax off, a steady stream of giggles and the clanking of silverware ringing through the air softly. As you dish the food up, you smile, listening to Tom growl at his nephew, making the little boy squeal,

"Need some help beautiful?" Harrison quizzes quietly, poking his head in the kitchen, 

"Yes please, can you grab these two bowls." He nodded, grabbing the two bowls and following you into the dining room. Tom looks up, smiling as you set a plate before him, 

"Technically you could've left after I told you I was pregnant." You tease. He chuckles, bouncing Jax in his lap, 

"I was invited to dinner, I'm staying for dinner." He mumbles. You smile, sitting between him and Harrison. Looking between them you smile, 

"I love my boys. All three... maybe four of them." You tell them. Tom smiles, laying his hand face up on the table. Placing your hand in his, you take Harrison's too. He smiles, bringing your hand to his lips to kiss the back of it, his eyes glistening in love, 

"I'm so in love with you baby. You put up with all my shit and you put up with my best mate's shit. You married me and had my babies and I don't think I can thank you enough. It's tough, especially when I'm away, but you make coming back so much easier. I love you." Harrison lectures. Tom rubs your knuckles with his thumb when you click your tongue and reach forward to stroke Harrison's cheek, 

"I love you too baby. There's nowhere I'd rather be, no one I'd rather be with than you. You're an amazing husband and father and..." You look to Tom, "assistant." Tom smiles and nods, 

"You're amazing Haz." He concurs. You smile, watching a blush rise to his cheeks. You hold your glass up, 

"To our Harrison. A brave, strong, amazing man." Tom raised his glass, making Jax raise his sippy cup to be just like his uncle, 

"To Harrison." He kisses Jax's forehead, "and daddy huh little dude?" Jax nods, Tom chuckling. Harrison raises his own glass, 

"To my family. My gorgeous wife, my adorable little boy, my new sweet little babe... and my brother." Tom smiles, holding his glass against yours, Harrison clinking the three of them together, 

"To our family." 

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[nachohypno]

Nate and Dave - Ch. 15

Dave’s POV

I’m sure you already know how much a single person can change a whole lot of your way to see the world, or have your life take a 180° turn (Had to look this up, angles are weird.) just by standing in a corridor.

Now I was just happy to stare at my phone’s unlocked background. A pic I took of us while cuddling. I was kissing his cheek and staring at the camera, while he just laid below me, his face had a little smile and his eyes were closed.

He loved that pic. I loved it too, it was both cute and wholesome. Never been one to do those things, nor even Leslie managed to get me to change my Dallas’ Cowboys background, and we had a lot more pics together than Nate and I do.

It was a nice distraction. I would sometimes just unlock my phone to see that pic and feel a bit warm inside as I imagined spending more time with my soulmate. I loved him a lot, and I wouldn’t mind sticking around with him for a day, or two, or the rest of my life, just to make sure he has all he needs to be happy like I am when I’m near him.

We sat together at school, yeah. Nobody batted an eye. We hung out during our breaks, still no big catastrophe happened. After school, we usually have a date or spend some time together before heading to our respective houses (As much as I’d like, having daily sleepovers wouldn’t be wise).

According to… everyone in the world who knows that I’m hanging out with Nate (Which may be just 2 or 3 people that I’m aware of), the guy had a really positive impact on my behavior. He’s always encouraging me to help whenever I can and to be… nicer, in general.

I’ve already apologized to one of my favorite targets a few weeks ago, but decided to fully leave them alone. In my house, however, I’ve been trying to honor my soulmate’s wishes doing some house chores to help mom and pops around. I still don't think I'm ready to 'change my public image' that much. Kicking nerd's asses is fun... but mean and unnecessary.

Mowing the lawn, going grocery shopping, cleaning around whenever my parents seemed quite tired to do it, that kind of thing. My room wasn’t a messy place before, but now I could spend less time looking for my stuff!

And now… Nate was at his house. I left him there per his request, he told me we could hang out later today! But first, he had some homework to do.

I looked around and noticed the door was closed. I dropped my shirt and pants, felt the locket’s cold metal against my chest, and dropped on my bed.

I wasn’t intending to take a nap, just close my eyes and think of my soulmate was a nice enough plan for my evening.

As I closed my eyes, images of my first day with him invaded my happy place. Me getting his scent, slowly walking over to his locker, and noticing the guy I never paid attention to, the one that sat a few rows in front of me, and was usually in the middle of the way when I threw paper balls around.

Now that I thought of it, maybe I never noticed him because he always hid? He was hiding right now; it was obvious that he was using his locker as a cover. I stood there, though. Taking in the smell. Feeling myself realizing more and more of that nice thought I had never thought about after my pops told me about that weird phenomenon.

…I had found my soulmate. The love of my life… It wasn’t my girlfriend, but a guy from my class… I frowned both in the real world and in my fantasy.

In the fantasy world, I lifted and kissed him. He didn’t fight back, just returned the love I was giving him by returning my kiss. I didn’t care if anyone watched us. I loved this guy, and I still do now.

I love Nate Hall.

I rubbed my crotch in the real world, as I kept kissing him in my fantasy. That was more than enough. A single kiss, a single thought about my soulmate being happy and in love with me could make me so hard and horny…

“Dave?” A voice said. My soulmate’s? It sounded so different though… I kept kissing him. This was perfect. He was perfect. He was the love of my life, of course he was perfect! “Daaaaave?”

Was there someone invading my fantasy? Oh, wait…

I opened my eyes and saw a familiar face standing there, wide eyed. I had my hand on my hard crotch, rubbing it. This was definitely an uncomfortable position to be found at. I could normally hear when people are walking towards my room, but maybe I was so out of it this time that I didn’t hear him.

“Fuck, sorry— Didn’t wanna—” My cousin said. What the fuck was he doing here, anyway?! In my room! When the fuck did he arrive?!

“Shut the fuck up! And close the door!” I commanded, feeling anger building up on my chest, totally replacing the warm feeling from a few seconds ago.

Brad Walker. My cousin was my height, which was a bit funny given that he was a few years older than me. He was muscled too, but his shoulders seemed wider as his torso formed a sort of upside down triangle. He was a rugby player, maybe it had to do with that.

By looking at his face alone, he could pass as a brother because of the resemblance. He had the Walker’s smile, looking both chilled while also managing to look a bit menacing to keep everyone in their toes.

Doesn’t give him much use, given that he’s a Beta.

Brad closed the door behind him, and laid back on it. “Off to a rocky start, I guess. Let’s try that again… Hey, cuz!”

I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. I could feel the anger diminishing. I thought of my soulmate, how would he react if he saw me like this. He would want me to be nice and polite to my cousin. I wanted that too, I wanted to be nice to him. I’m so hot-headed sometimes…

I smiled at Brad, and took a few steps forward to give him a bro hug. After that, I walked over to my bed and sat on the edge. “Hey man, wat’cha doin’ around here?”

“Uncle hasn’t told you? Pops and him thought about doing a little reunion, so we drove over and… here we are.” Brad left his hands in his pockets as he looked around. I noticed I was still almost naked, but didn’t give it much thought. I did put some shorts on, though. “Just the big guys, though. Mom was tired and decided to stay at home with the young ones, so it’s just pops, Logan and me today. The guys asked me to get you downstairs, so… shall we go?”

I pointed to my almost naked body. “Give me a few minutes, alright?”

-----

Dressed up in some shorts and a grey tank top, I walked downstairs with Brad following me closely.

Pops was there, with his brother and my other cousin. I walked over to Logan and gave him a brohug. I liked my cousins, they were like brothers.

“Hey man,” Logan greeted me after the hug. It was nice seeing him. Well, like, nice and not nice, because he was pretty annoying sometimes. So I hoped he didn’t get very annoying tonight. “Damn, you look buffed. Taking steroids already?”

I rolled my eyes. “Why do you ask? Need some to stop being so thin, cuz?”

“I swear I still don’t know how he's not broken after kicking that ball. Y’look like a stick, bruh” Brad backed me up. I liked that about Brad, he was pretty loyal.

Logan laughed. He’s not one of those chums who get mad at every tiny insult. He’s pretty easy going in that regard. Would need to learn from him, because I am one of those chums who get mad at every tiny insult. “Don’t pull my dick, assholes” He punched my shoulder, softly.

Even though Logan was a year older than me, he was an ass. And that’s coming from me.

Logan… He was alright, I guess. Not really very muscly like me or Brad, nor our parents for that matter. That’s because he liked soccer, ugh. Not even weightlifting, nah. Just soccer and cardio.

That got him looking well in a soccer uniform with long socks and knee pads, but… I really should reconsider his standing in my pack. Meh, might as well let him in just because he’s family, but I’ll most likely order him to start working out more to be a real wolf bro. (I’ll get into this later.)

“Uh… don’t wanna be rude or anythin’ but… how long are you guys staying? Thought about having a friend coming over and-”

“Ooooh, is it your girlfrieeend?” The soccer cuz said, moving his fingers towards my face. I slapped his hand off me, and he laughed. “Big meanie Daveee has a girlfrieeeend” He was like a little kid when it came to annoying others, and the worst part was that he nailed it.

“Oh, shut it, bro. You’re just jealous- Wait, that’s not what I was going to ask”

“Dad and uncle Adam thought about doing some beefs for tonight, soooo… family dinner, I guess? We don’t really hang out often, so I thought it would be nice. Besides, we all love beef” Brad answered, holding his arms behind his head and stretching for a bit.

“We’re about to leave, actually,” Uncle Thomas said, grabbing his car keys. “Gonna buy some meat and drinks for tonight. Y’guys wanna come? Hey cub, haven’t seen you in months...” 

I greeted my uncle with a firm handshake, before he gave me a little punch on the abs. “Strong as a rock. Not bad, kiddo.” He ruffled my hair, before turning his attention back to my pops.

I was a bit too worried to think about hitting the store. Nate was supposed to come after he finished his homework, so we could spend the night together. I was supposed to pick him up. Fuck, what am I gonna do?

I shook my head and remained silent. Brad followed suit with a “Yeeaaah… No, been in that car for an hour and I’d really like to move my legs.”

“Pussies,” Logan said in a snarky tone. I raised my eyebrow, but decided to take care of him later. “I’ll go, may find some hot chicks in this friggin’ town…” 

My uncle looked similar to my dad, just a few little differences. Dark blond hair, a bit longer. Their sizes were similar, but my dad was bigger. It was weird to think that my uncle was the one who activated the werewolf curse in a bar fight and not my dad.

If you kill someone, whether it was intentional or accidental, you can’t transform into neither your werewolf or full wolf forms without experiencing a lot of pain. Could be avoided by never turning into those forms but…

Transformation is mandatory during the full moon. This whole thing seemed really thought out to punish those who don’t follow the rules, right?

Brad grabbed my arm “Hey, since we’re staying behind apparently, wanna catch up?” He pointed back to the stairs, probably wanting to go to my room.

I nodded, nothing better to do. And it would give me some time to think about what excuse I could give Nate.

Again in my room, Brad closed the door behind me. “So… a friend? I mean, the locket already gave me an idea but I didn’t you were bringin’ her to your place already…”

“It’s nothing, really…” It was something, a lot. I loved wearing this locket, it reminded me of Nate. Thus meaning, it was pure bliss in a single necklace.

“So, what’s the locket for? Always thought you’d end up with that Leslie chick you talked so much about” Oh, I forgot. My cousins never met my ex.

I shook my head, but was kind of hesitant to talk about it. In the end, I eased myself to the idea as I thought more about Nate. “Got a soulmate now, cuz.” Was my answer. I was proud of myself! Not even a half of the average werewolf population gets to meet their soulmate once in their lives!

I was lucky, it was like, one in a whatever-number-of-people-there-are-in-Earth!

“Waitwaitwait, not gettin’ it. So, you and Leslie… or is it another girl?”

“It’s a guy, his name is Nate” I mumbled out quickly. I wasn’t embarrassed, but at the same time, I felt like a chunk of ice just fell through my stomach. 

Silence.

“So… you’re gay now?” Brad said, giving me a thumbs up. “It’s alright, I don’t mind gay people”

I honestly couldn’t get how he got that assumption. “What? What makes you think that?”

“You’re with a guy, like dating and loving him and you even have a locket… I mean, that’s pretty gay. But it’s cool, it’s not that weird. Lots o’ people take some time to discover their sexuality and stuff— Uh… Cuz?”

I stared at him. Not staring, actually. I was glaring at him.

Brad gulped. “I fucked up, didn’t I?” While he did sound afraid, his face displayed a mix of nervousness and worry. I always laughed at him when he asked if he fucked up, like it was a regular thing for him to do but still needed other’s approval about it.

I just glared at him, making sure he knew I wasn’t happy. I walked forward and held my gaze into his, trying out my favorite part of being an alpha.

As I focused on him, his expression slowly started to relax, then vanish, as his pupils dilated.

“On your knees” I commanded, making sure he got it as an order, not a ‘humble request’.

His blank face didn’t move an inch, as he dropped to his knees and looked forward. His eyes, besides the pupils being dilated, looked glazed over as his irises changed from hazel to pure yellow. The beta color!

“Who’s your alpha?” I mocked him, as he blankly stared ahead.

“You are, sir. David Walker is my alpha” Brad droned. I ruffled his hair. He was a good beta. 

“And who do you have to be respectful towards?”

“My alpha, sir. Being respectful towards their alphas is the sign of a good beta, sir” Brad answered, in a matter of fact voice.

…I should probably explain what the heck is going on.

I’m an alpha. I’ve mentioned quite a few times already, but I never mentioned anything about other ranks.

You have omegas, who are wolves without a pack. They’re usually weaker than alphas and betas. Then there are the betas, werewolves already in a pack.

Omegas can survive quite well on their own, it’s not a requirement to have a pack. But if you want to get stronger… Getting an alpha is the best you can do.

That’s one of the reasons Pops is so proud of me. He and mom conceived an alpha in their first try! Nate usually nerds out about me sounding like a “Jerry Stud” whatever the fuck that is.

So, since I’m an alpha, both my older cousins are ‘my pack’ to call it some way. And you just got to see one of my favorite alpha skills.

Much like a soulmate bond, being a beta for an alpha makes them completely loyal to the alpha, which means… I have some degree of control over them. Not as much control as my love has over me, but still… It’s fun!

“So, won’t you apologize for calling me a fag— Uh… gay?” I’m still getting used to not using that word. Everything for my Nate. Can’t be a bully anymore, right?

I didn’t have to ask twice. Brad seemed to struggle a bit against it, but after a few seconds he said “I apologize, sir. I didn’t intend disrespecting you like that…” It was a cold, empty apology. But it did the trick. I’m not a picky guy, he’s my cuz after all.

But that did make me wary. Should I tell Nate to not come after all, at least until these guys leave? Fuck, they were going to ruin my evening with my soulmate.

“Uh… what do you think about my soulmate being a guy?” I walked in front of him, back and forth. I was trying to think what would be the wisest decision here. A second opinion would be useful.

“I personally don’t care, sir. You can love whoever you want, especially if you met your second half.” My cousin answered.

“I mean, yeah. But what would Uncle Thomas and Logan say if they found out about it?” I should uh… ‘wake him up’ or whatever already. But I liked him this way. You can say I’m a dominant guy. Not saying I lust over my cuz, that would be incest, but ordering him around is fun.

“I don’t really know. He’s your soulmate, they shouldn’t say anything. Logan is a fellow beta though, it wouldn’t be wise to fear anything from him. He’s as loyal to you as I am, my alpha.” Not going to lie, I loved hearing that.

Being in control of the situation, having everyone in my surroundings looking forward to being with me, or do as I say out of fear/respect/whatever… That’s why I loved the not-studying-part of school!

As a little reward for his opinion, I did what Nate would have done to me if I did particularly good: Scratch the back of his ear. Brad’s head got some emotion again, as he got closer to my hand and started panting with his tongue out.

“There, there. Good beta cuz” I mumbled, as I machinated a plan in my head. I had an idea, but it would be a bit… not ideal. I stopped scratching the good spot, and his expression blanked out again. I crouched in front of him, and looked straight into his eyes. “I want you to listen very clearly to me, understood? Listen and do as your alpha says…”

If Brad wasn’t in ‘beta mode’ before, then he definitely was now. His irises were still a bright yellow, but his pupils were even smaller now. “I’d do anything for my alpha, sir” placing a hand on his chest. I knew what that symbolized, I used that expression with Nate before. It freaked him out a little.

“Y’know, my soulmate is kinda a big deal for me so… I want you to treat him like a king, alright? No mean or cocky comments, just be nice to him and I’ll be nice to you, got it?” I had to search for the words to say this, it wasn’t really a piece of cake as I expected. “Think of him as an extension of your alpha. Make him feel good and do what he says, and you’ll be good to go.”

He frowned a bit, but his face quickly eased up. “As you command, my alpha. Your soulmate’s wellbeing will be my top priority, sir.”

Yeah, that’s more like it. “Get up now.” I said and just… walked away from him. I wasn’t interested in bossing him around anymore, not for now at least. But actually…

“Lift your shirt.” One last command wouldn’t hurt, and he obeyed without a question, like a good beta. I walked towards him and gave him a little punch on his abs. Didn’t even flinch, he was keeping up with me! Of course, I wanted the best for my pack! “And… Beta out.”

My cousin snapped out of whatever that was, his yellow irises returning to a nice hazel, as his pupils got back to normal. He grabbed his phone from his pocket and smiled. “Huh, 5 minutes. Wonder what you did there” The guy said, smiling at me.

He couldn’t get mad at me. I was his alpha! I mean, he could… but there wasn’t much he could do about it!

“Meh, you don’t really care, do you?” I said, trying to sound uninterested.

Brad shook his head. “Nah, I really don’t. I really trust ya, cuz. Best alpha around!” Couldn’t tell if he was following the ‘you don’t really care’ thing, or if he was being honest, but I didn’t really care.

“That’s a good beta” I mumbled, going closer to him again to scratch the back of his ear. God bless Nate and discovering that hidden pleasure for me. I loved when he did that to me, as I mentioned, and I loved doing it to other wolves, too!

“What are you two ladies doin’ up here- What the hell are you two doing?” Logan entered the room. My other older cousin, although younger than Brad. Rather than being as muscular as we were, he was more chilled. Yeah, he was in good shape, but he didn’t look like a big gym bro like us.

This was probably due to him preferring Soccer rather than football or rugby. Each to their own, but soccer isn’t that fun to begin with? I tried to not give it much thought and respect his hobbies.

“Brad, close the door and put on some music.” I ordered him, walking over to Logan and wrapping an arm around his small soccer player’s shoulders. “You just made my whole evening way easier, lil’ cuz”

I wondered if Nate would like this. I’d have to send him a message telling him that I wouldn’t be able to pick him up… That felt bad, but at least these guys wouldn’t bother him tonight!

-------

Nate’s POV

Dave invited me to his house, but asked me to walk over. He told me we could have a family dinner, which was alright. I liked his family. Mr. Walker was funny and Ms. Walker was really nice to us. We just had one family dinner and Dave spent most of his time zoned out.

And also, there was a full moon, which I didn’t get to see.

Was I glad they considered me ‘family’? It pushed me out of my freaking mind when Dave sent me that text.

I was walking slowly. Not like a snail and doing baby steps, but I felt like I should slow down as much as I could and… be fashionably late? It was a good walk, from my house to his. But I didn’t mind.

The town was quiet, not much stuff happening as I walked out of my house, and on the way to Dave’s neighborhood.

I thought about buying some ice cream or some nice dessert to make a good impression this time, but hey, I don’t really think they’ll care about it that much. They highly prefer meat, as far as I know.

Stopping in the middle of the way, I grabbed my phone and checked my maps app. “Should have arrived 10 minutes ago… fuck, that shortcut would have been really useful…” I mumbled to myself, changing my route and getting back on the way.

I was nervous at fuck, that maybe explained my silliness. And I also never walked to this part of town. It wasn’t… bad, but it was a bit more private than the usual neighborhoods, which fits Dave’s family pretty well due to them being werewolves, and stuff like that.

I still had some time to cancel and be like “Oh, hey. My… hamster pet is sick and I want to look after him?” I kind of sucked at making up excuses, that's why I never wanted to be late on homework due to laziness.

It was late now, just another block and...

I reached Dave’s house. It was weird arriving here on my own. Guess I really got used to my soulmate acting as my personal driver.  

The rooms inside were on, Dave’s car and his dad’s were outside the garage. The closer I got to the front door, the louder I would hear laughter coming from inside. Were they having  visits? It didn’t sound like Dave’s laugh. His laugh was… deep and dumb-sounding.

I stopped now. What if they had visits? What if Dave didn’t tell them I was coming? I was shaking a bit, before taking a deep breath. 

Taking my final steps to be in front of the main door, I knocked and waited for someone. Loud footsteps later, Adam Walker (Dave’s dad) opened the door.

“Hey bud. Didn’t know you were coming, but uh…” He motioned inside with his head. “Come in, the big guy is in his room with his cousins. We’re having a family dinner”

“Thanks, mr. Walker-” But he stopped me as I set a foot on the door. The older man leaned in and started whispering.

“Don’t be afraid. If you don’t want to be picked on tonight, try your best to not sweat as you did the last time. Dave will probably have you covered, though.” He patted my back, and moved aside to let me in. After that, he closed the door behind me. “Dinner will be ready in a bit so… feel free to go mingle with the guys upstairs.”

Uh… that wouldn’t be needed, apparently. Dave and a pair of guys were coming downstairs, and as soon as my puppy boy saw me, he rushed towards me to give me a big tight hug. “Missed you a lot, bruh! Didn’t know there was going to be more family tonight so… I’m really sorry for that. But I’m sure we’ll have a good time!”

The other two guys just stared at me, arms folded. One of them was big, and buffed. He had an absent smile, a bit creepy but also inviting. The other was smaller than him (And Dave, for that matter).

“Uh… since your uncle is here, these are…”

“Cousins, yuh” Dave finished the sentence. I made the connection on my own, but it was good to get some confirmation. “Big one’s Brad, small one’s Logan.”

“Hey, I’m not small!” Logan complained, trying to punch Dave’s arm. He didn't seem to do much damage though.

“Yeah, and I’m a bottom, heh” My werewolf jock replied, obviously mocking his cousin. I noticed Brad chuckling, and I couldn’t help but find that funny though. I always wondered if Dave would like to bottom at least once. I feel like he’d be alright if I asked him for it, due to me having full control and all that...

After the introduction was over, and both guys shook my hand, my focus shifted again to who I wanted to be with: Puppy boy was looking at me too.

“I can’t find the words to tell you how glad I am to see you here, though” Dave said, before pulling me in for a good make out session. In the middle of the living room. He was feeling happy or romantic, I assumed? I was surprised his cousins didn’t react at all, and just looked like they were watching some kind of movie.

“Wait, what the heck?” Oh geez.

A man blasted in the living room, and tried to separate me from Dave. The puppy boy reacted quickly though, and pushed him away. “What the fuck, old man?! This is my soulmate!”

Before the guy could go back at us, Dave’s dad popped in to save the day! “You guys just had to hold on for a bit until dinner was ready!” I felt like the ‘complaint’ was more directed towards who-I-thought-was Dave’s uncle, and Dave himself.

The puppy boy seemed a bit angry, he got in front of me and made sure I was out of view. It was a cute touch. I noticed the other two guys taking a step towards us too, like siding with Dave in this.

“Just, calm down, all of you, and start setting the table. Try to not take your eyes out while you do, alright?!” Mr. Walker surely knew how to take care of these situations. Was this a normal thing?

After a long stare, both guys nodded, and we all scrambled.

-----

I was sitting next to Dave and that other guy, Brad. Across me, Mr. Walker looked around with a calm expression, as he chewed on his meat piece. Thomas, Dave’s uncle, wasn’t exactly subtle when it came to me. His eyes were like daggers, fixated on me as I nervously stared at my plate.

It was amazing, and terrifying. The resemblance and also differences between both werewolves were quite noticeable. Mr. Walker was probably calm because he already knew about my thing with Dave. The cousins seemed to be quite attentive towards my every movement and sound. I felt like their eyes would automatically fixate on me at any little sound I would make, which was killing me inside. (Were they glowing yellow? Maybe it was my head playing tricks…)

Was I doing something wrong or offensive? I should excuse myself from the table.

“So…” Uncle Thomas started, before biting a big chunk of beef and gulping it down quickly. “Uh… soulmates, that’s neat. How did you two meet each other?”

‘First family dinner all over again…’ I thought to myself, as I tried to find the words for my answer.

“School, I was just walkin’ around and smelled him. Knew he was the one so… tried my best, huhuh.” Dave saved my ass, although his story was different this time. We lied during the first dinner. I couldn’t remember the excuse anymore, and that’s what bothers me about lies.

They’re usually hard to remember. That’s also the reason I’m a bad liar, my memory is awful.

“Yeah, that’s how it usually happens. You just walk around and get the smell, all the soulmate stories start exactly like that, ain’t that right?” Dave’s uncle looked at his brother next to him, who gave him a really angry looking frown.

“Go fuck yourself, got’cha?” I understood that reaction, The man lost his soulmate, I guess the memories were still painful? I’m no psychologist to tell.

“Yeah, sorry, shouldn’t have mentioned that… So uh… back to you, kiddo.” Oh, fuck. Dinner was nice, the meat was delicious! But Dave’s uncle didn’t seem to be… really fond of me. I was glad to see (Not really, now I sound like a dick) that he was bothering Mr. Walker too, so it’s nice to see that the consensus was… Dave’s uncle was a loud mouth ass. “You don't seem to have big muscles, but that's pretty much a given when you're a human."

“I’m sorry…” I mumbled, looking up at him. I tried to sound nice and not afraid, like Mr. Walker suggested before but… it was hard. “Not really good at sports and stuff like that, I guess-”

“Can see that. At least you’re a valedictorian, right?” I shook my head. High grades weren't my top priority. I did well at school, but didn’t focus enough for high grades to be a given. “No? That’s too bad.”

“Tom…” His brother tried to calm him. I noticed Dave needed some calm too. The big guy was clenching his fist with a lot of strength, as he held his knife with the other hand. He didn’t seem eager to cut the meat though, so I decided to step in for him.

I grabbed his fist beneath the table, feeling as it relaxed the longer I touched him. At the end, he grabbed my hand too, and I noticed his expression relaxed as well.

“Dad, don’t be such a dick. The guy’s fine, cut it out.” One of Dave’s cousins, big guy, uh… Brad! He seemed to be standing up for me, for some reason. He angrily stared at Dave’s uncle, without an apparent reason.

Uh… I felt like I was missing a big chunk of information here.

The uncle just stared back at his son, a bit surprised by his reaction. But before he could answer, or even react at all, Dave’s dad spoke up. “Well, it’s been fun, a neat reminder of why we never have family reunions, heh.”

“Ow, c’mon. It’s just a big friendly talk between men and…” He looked at me, seemingly ready to strike another insult. I grabbed Dave’s hand tighter.

But Dave’s dad didn’t give him the chance. “Dinner’s over. You guys will be going upstairs.”

“Roger that” I mumbled, leaving my plate with still a good chunk of meat. I didn’t let go of Dave’s hand, but he followed right after me.

“But I wanted a bit more beef...” The other cousin said. Logan, if I remember correctly. He was small, rather than muscled and big. I related to him because of that, glad to see not all male werewolves are big muscular people.

“Take the plate” Brad whispered to him, before following us upstairs.

“Okay, what’s going on-” I started to say, but my boyfriend shushed me.

“I’ll tell you all about it upstairs, just follow me and don’t make loud noises. Remember that they can hear everything in here” Dave interrupted me, as we went to his room. ‘Great, now my werewolf seems to be part of a mafia’.

-----

Locking the door behind us and his cousins, Dave ordered his cousins to stand aside, and they obeyed right away. “I’ll put some music here and…” His phone started playing some loud rock, but not loud enough to make the place feel annoying. “There, we can talk now.”

“Whaaat’s going on? And just tell me already, it feels quite bad to be insulted for no reason.”

“You weren’t really being insulted, bruh. I was.” Dave explained, motioning for me to go closer before leading me to his bed. “Uncle has… a bit of a problem, like pops has. But while pops knows when to shut his mouth, my uncle doesn’t, huh.”

“I don’t really see the insulting part there but continue…” I pointed out, but Dave just chuckled. Which seemed to cause a chain reaction and the werewolves guarding the door in front of us chuckled too.

“Sorry, yeah. Uh, well… My uncle is just bitter because my dad got an alpha son on his first try, me of course” I could figure that out on my own. The ‘I’m an alpha’ part I mean, he says it all the time. “Brad and Logan here are my betas. They were born as omegas, yeah, but I got them in my pack by willing choice because betas are usually stronger than omegas.”

The cousins were on the other side of the room. The small one, Logan, was tasting his meal with delight, while Brad leaned in to… hear our chat? They looked directly at Dave as soon as he mentioned them, before each one of them saying a “Hey” “‘Sup?”

“Why are they so… attentive?” Nosy mode on. I wanted to get answers, mostly because my curiosity was triggered now. ‘Obedient’ would have fitted better than ‘attentive’ though.

“Asked them to take care of you for the night, because I wasn’t sure if It would look good for me to do it. Pops is usually really fond of my uncle, but I think he didn’t like seeing him insulting my soulmate to get to me, bruh” Dave then put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me closer. “I can put them back to normal if you want me to, but… they don’t really mind, so why bother?”

Uhm… I risk myself sounding like a dick right now, but I found the idea of the two cousins under Dave’s control quite arousing… I’m not going to say it to him, of course! I didn’t want him to feel bad or anything if he saw his soulmate interested in other guys…

“Where are they going to sleep, by the way? Or are they leaving after a bit?” It was after dinner already so… it wasn’t a bad thing to ask. Like, we had school tomorrow...

“Living room, sofa. One of them, at least. I’ve got a sleeping bag, because they both can’t fit on the sofa, so while the guest room is occupied by my uncle and… yeah, I’ll go get that old thing. Gimme a sec.”

Dave got up from the bed and left the room, leaving me sitting there alone as the two cousins stared at me.

“Hope the meat is still good…” I told Logan, trying to sound nice. I felt a bit bad, Dave made them look after me, and that made them ‘defend’ me against their father. Yeah, I definitely feel bad now. “Sorry for crashing into the dinner.”

“You kiddin’? You seem like a cool guy, dad was just being an ass. It’s okay though, I think he likes you” Brad answered, and I feel like he’s the one “kiddin’” here. “He’s just… We don’t like family dinners, we do them out of courtesy. Nothing personal, dad can be naturally obnoxious sometimes”

I wanted to say sorry again or something like that, but that’s when Dave bursted in with the sleeping bag. “Y’guys play rock paper scissors to decide who’ll sleep with the alpha… Like, beside me, don’t get weird ideas.”

I chuckled, as Dave threw the sleeping bag next to the cousins, and started taking off his shirt as he walked towards me. “You’re sleeping over, right? It’s still early, but I can make up for the bad time by cuddling, if you’d like.”

To be honest, it felt like a good idea to distract me from that… failed family dinner night. Never again I’ll ‘crash’ into a Walker dinner (Even though Dave knew I was coming over). Too many surprises for a lifetime, thank you.

I laid down, rolled over to leave him room. We wouldn’t be sleeping yet, I hoped. The big guy laid down beside me and quickly pulled me in.

“Fuck…” 

“Yeah!” We turned towards the other guys and noticed Brad had won the rock paper scissors game. Logan just seemed defeated, he grabbed his empty plate and looked over at us.

“Well, g’night bros. Gonna be in the living room, I guess.”

“Buh-bye” Dave said, before turning around again and holding me in his arms. “Sorry again for all that before, bruh. Let's get some sleep, a’ight?”

Honestly, I think I didn't feel as offended as I should have. Best to just let things slide off, I guess. I decided to just nod, and doze off while hearing Brad setting up his sleeping bag. 

I didn’t pay him much mind, though. My puppy boy's hug felt nice enough to help me relax quite quickly...

--------------------

Author’s note:

Took me long enough. But chapter 16 went up already, so gotta keep up with the content.

Chapter 16 is available in my Patreon, but it will go up as soon as I publish Chapter 17 there. Shouldn’t be long, I feel very inspired lately! (Hopefully it won’t take as long as this one did 😅).

Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it <3.

[alecmagnuslwb]

Love Me Tinder - @doubleredweek Day 5

Read on AO3

Roy doesn’t know why, but he’s fairly certain that Jason Todd is trying to kill him. There’s no other explanation for the scene before him. Firefighters don’t actually do this; he should know he’s been one since he decided to drop the sidekick gig at eighteen and never once before has he seen a firefighter actually wear nothing but tight-fitting jeans and suspenders while washing one of the firetrucks.

It’s just not something they actually do except maybe for the annual charity calendar which it’s nowhere near being the time for that photoshoot and no one has a camera. Well no one except those two girls he saw across the street about twenty minutes ago that were definitely not being subtle as they took a few shots he’s sure will make their way onto Instagram and then from there turn up in some tabloid later.

He can see the headline now: Bruce Wayne’s sexy ward gets wet. It’s like a bad porn he kind of wishes he was starring in.

For a brief only slightly insane moment he contemplated chasing after the two women and asking them to forward him whatever videos and photos they took for his own personal use. Luckily his logical brain took over for his horny brain before he could do anything so absurd.

Roy lets out a literal groan when Jason pauses in his work and runs a soapy wet hand through his hair the little white streak near the front being pushed all the way back.

“Go to your bunk if your gonna start making noises like that,” Dick says as he leaps up beside him twisting himself into an impossible sitting position on the picnic table out in front of the station that Roy’s been happily planted at for forty-five minutes now pretending he’s reading the book in his hand.

Haley, their own personal little firehouse mascot comes trotting out. She pushes up with her three strong legs and settles on the bench beside him.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Roy says indignantly looking down at his book that he realizes now is definitely upside down. Dick chuckles clearly seeing the realization cross his face. Roy hastily flips the book right side up ignoring his best friend.

“If you’re gonna ogle at least make your decoy convincing,” Dick says reaching down and picking up Haley cradling her in his arms like a baby.

“I am not ogling your brother,” Roy huffs casting his eyes down to his book. He starts reading and realizes he has no clue what’s going on, he’s pretty sure he just kept turning pages to seem like he was accomplishing anything but daydreaming about Jason’s six pack.

“You are totally ogling my brother,” Dick says as he starts literally rocking Haley to sleep. “You should just ask him out already, I’m like 99% certain he’d say yes.”

Roy gives up on his book tossing it off to the side. The thud of it against the table disturbs Haley from her drifting slumber the small grey pup giving him a warning look. He scratches behind her left ear the way she loves in apology before looking up at Dick.

“You want me to ask out your little brother?” he says in disbelief. He always assumed Dick would be very much against the concept of his best friend and his little brother.

Dick just shrugs. “Yeah, why not? Little Wing’s been a hell of lot better off since he finally quit the whole Outlaw gig and if it weren’t for him randomly running into you that never would have happened. Your good for him and considering how lovesick you look all the time when he’s around I’d say he could be pretty good for you too.”

Three years ago on a random chilly Gotham night Roy walked his way into a hostage situation by accident, the infamous Red Hood had broken it up, but not without a little help from the former Speedy.

Jason had been grateful for the help, but behind those eyes he could also see a hell of a lot else going on. He looked tired, worn down by life. Roy knew the look well; it had hit him before he could even legally rent a car. Mostly Jason looked like he could use a friend, so Roy decided then and there to be one.

Within the year Roy knew more about Jason’s life since being brought back from the dead than even his own brother and six months after that he’d convinced Jason he didn’t have to hit the streets anymore if he didn’t want to.

Getting him the training and into the vacancy in their firehouse had been easy with Dick vouching for him as well.

“Batman might beat me up though,” Roy says leaning back and finally letting his eyes stray back to Jason who it seems has sadly finished his job. A dry t-shirt now covering his Adonis like chest, suspenders hanging at his sides.

Dick whacks him on the shoulder with a huff. “Batman will not beat you up, I’ll beat up Batman if he even thinks about it.”

Roy chuckles at that his eyes still following Jason as he talks to a few of the other guys.

“Okay, since you’re willing to protect me from the big bad bat I’ll ask him to have dinner or something sometime,” Roy concedes looking at Dick with a ‘does that make you happy’ face.

“Fantastic,” he says with a big grin slapping Roy on the shoulder once before tumbling gracefully off the picnic table to stand in front Roy, Haley still perfectly held in his arms. “I got a shift with the other job,” he says with a wink lifting his shirt to reveal the Kevlar of his Nightwing costume. Roy gives him a playful salute that Dick returns as he wanders over past Jason.

“Hey Jay!” he shouts as he passes him by. “Roy wants to ask you something!” And then he’s off blowing Roy a condescending kiss before he disappears into the firehouse.

Jason turns his attention to Roy those perfectly white teeth showing as he makes his way over to the bench. He sits down straddling the same side of the table where Roy sits those tight pants stretching perfectly over Jason’s thick thighs that have been the star of some of Roy’s most pleasant dreams of late.

“What’s up?” he says ruffling out his rapidly drying hair. He’s so bright, so much happier than the fatigued anti-hero Roy met all that time ago.

He’s also annoyingly handsome with his hair sticking up in an array of directions from drying in the hot summer sun. Roy thought being best friends with an absolute smoke show for years was frustrating, this is so much worse. One day he wants to ask Bruce if there’s some sort of pre-requisite that Robin’s needed to look like they’d grow up insanely handsome to get the job.

For a moment Roy pauses and considers chickening out, Dick ran off so it’s not like he can force this to happen.

The thing is Roy really wants this to happen, plus Dick will continue to stick him in situations like this if he doesn’t just bite the bullet so he takes a deep breath and the biggest leap he’s taken since he was literally jumping across rooftops.

“You want to get dinner with me some time?” he asks holding his gaze with Jason those blue green eyes of his shimmering in the slowly waning evening sun.

Jason squints one eye at him the start of a smile on his lips. “Dinner as in a date or dinner as in two friendly firefighting friends?”

Roy smiles. “While I find your alliteration fun I was thinking of it more as a date.”

Jason’s half smile grows full and he swings one leg over the bench. “Sounds great, it’s about time you asked.”

He stands and starts walking backwards eyes still on Roy’s.

“Well you could have asked me,” Roy says holding his hands up in a why not gesture.

“Pfft,” Jason says still cautiously walking backwards. “I’m way too emotionally stunted for that and you know it.”

Roy huffs out a little laugh kind of in awe that Jason had ever considered asking him out first.

“You still off shift Friday?” he asks just as Jason has one leg in firehouse the other out.

“Yep.”

“Good, I’ll pick you at seven,” Roy says catching Jason’s bright smile and nod of agreement before he disappears inside the firehouse. Roy opens back up his book with a smile starting it from the beginning knowing good and well he won’t comprehend a single word of it once again. Just this time his distraction won’t be watching Jason, it’ll be thinking about Friday.

[you-can-call-me-wanda]

Home Movies

Pairing: Nasty Suicide x Reader

Author’s Note: I want to apologize for how long these imagines have been taking me. Lately, I just feel like my writing is turning out like shit, and I never wanna give you guys something that I don’t think is good. Anyways, ignore my pity party, and enjoy this! 

ALSO, this one does focus heavily on having a kid with Nasty and pregnancy is sort of implied (but I tried to keep it open towards other means of becoming a parent), so if that’s not your thing, I’m sorry.

The sound of your own laughter stopped you in your tracks as you carried a basket of laundry down the hall. You tilted your head in confusion. It wasn’t every day that you heard your own voice echoing from another room in the house.

“Nasty,” you called, knowing that he was somewhere around. “What are you doing?” You had a feeling your lover was behind this.

Sure enough, Nasty’s voice responded from the same direction of the familiar laughter you heard earlier.

“In here!”

You put down the laundry and followed his voice to the living room, where you found him lounging on the couch, entranced by the home videos playing on the television screen. He was still clad in his boxers and a t shirt, not yet dressed for the day. A steaming cup of coffee was perched on the end table.

“What are you watching these for?” you asked as you made your way over to him and joined him on the couch.

Not taking his eyes of the screen, Nasty shrugged. “Dunno,” he said. “Just saw the tape and decided to put it in.”

You looked to the screen to see what was going on. On the TV, a younger version of the two of you were giving a tour of your new home to your good friend, Razzle, who was behind the camera filming.

“Over here,” Nasty said, walking into the master bedroom, “is my favorite room.” The room was sparsely decorated, you and Nasty had only a sparse amount of money leftover from your first deposit on the house.

Razzle piped up from behind the video camera. “Why’s that?” he asked as he panned the camera around the room.

You rolled your eyes as a wolfish grin came across Nasty’s face.

“Well,” he said, waggling his eyebrows, “me and (Y/N) have a lot of fun in here if you catch my drift.”

Razzle made a gagging sound in the background as you and Nasty burst into simultaneous bouts of laughter.

“Come on,” you said once you’d regained your composure. “I’ll show you the kitchen.”

The video cut out a few moments after that and skipped ahead to another date in time. This time you and Nasty’s friends sat gathered in the very same living room you were currently sitting in, talking amongst themselves.

You snuggled up next to Nasty, who swung an arm around your shoulders, as you watched the scene unfold. You had to admit to yourself that watching these snippets from your past brought back a wonderful feeling of nostalgia.

“What’s with the camera?” Michael asked, looking directly into the lens. His eyeliner was heavy and made his blue eyes pop loudly. He looked younger and his hair was long.

Nasty must have been the one holding it because you suddenly came into frame wearing a huge smile.

“Well,” you said, “We have something to tell you guys.” This earned the attention of all your guests. You wrung your hands nervously in front of you. After a beat of silence, you finally spoke again. “Me and Nasty,” you began, looking over to the man behind the camera for moral support, “we’re going to have a baby.”

Shouts of surprise and excitement immediately filled the room. You couldn’t quite make out what anyone in particular was saying as everyone was speaking over each other. Sami, one of your best friends, was the first to stand and engulf you in a hug. He leaned in to whisper something into your ear.

The video paused and you looked over to see Nasty holding the remote. He turned to you with a sentimental look.

“Do you remember that day?” he asked you.

“Yeah,” you hummed. “If feels like just yesterday.”

He nodded his head in agreement with you. “It’s hard to believe it’s been five years.”

As if on cue, your son’s footsteps could suddenly be heard coming down the hall. He appeared in the doorway shortly after, dark fluffy hair sticking up in every direction and his pajama clad body practically bouncing with the energy only a four-year-old seemed capable of possessing.

“I dreamed about an airplane last night!” he cheered upon entering the room. He clambered his way onto the couch without invitation and wiggled his way between you and Nasty.

Nasty smiled down fondly at the child. “That’s super cool bud,” he said, ruffling his son’s hair.

“What are you watching?” the little boy asked, eyes instantly drawn to the colorful images paused on the television.

“Home videos,” you responded. “Videos from before you were born.”

“Is that Uncle Sami?” he asked, pointing to the frozen screen. Sami and you stood mid-embrace.

“Yeah,” you said. “This is right after we told everyone that you’d be joining our family.”

Your son’s big blue eyes squinted at the screen, trying to make out what was going on. “Was he happy?” he asked.

“Everyone was happy,” Nasty answered.

Your son nodded, content with that response, and turned his focus back to the TV.

Nasty took the hint to unpause the video.

The hug between you and Sami faded out as a new video began. This one, weeks later, at a birthday party for Nasty. You were filming for a change and had the camera pointed to Nasty who was seated on the couch opening birthday presents from his mates.

He was pulling the tissue paper out of a gift bag as he joked around with Andy and Razzle. They were sitting next to him, balancing plates of cake on their laps.

Finally, Nasty pulled the gift out of the bag and held it up. It was a shirt, made for a baby, with the words, “future drummer” written across it. The gift, of course, was from Razzle.

Everyone laughed while Nasty jokingly rolled his eyes at the present.

“No way!” he playfully argued, putting the shirt down. “My kid’s gonna be a guitar player.”

“Yeah!” Andy sided.

Razzle was quick to retort with a list of reasons as to why drums were a much better instrument than guitar could ever be. You kept on filming, entertained greatly by the scene in front of you.

“Hey!” Mike cut in, pulling the attention to him. “What about saxophone?”

Shouts of disapproval could be heard before the video cut out and skipped ahead.

You and Nasty both laughed at the memory while your son looked confused.

“I want to play drums,” he said, sticking out his bottom lip in a pout.

“You do?” you asked, surprised. He’d never said anything about that before this moment. “You’re already learning guitar.”

Your son nodded determinately. “I want to know both.”

Nasty shifted to look at him. “Hmm, I see,” he said. “I guess I can call Uncle Raz today and see about getting you some lessons,” he said.

Your son screamed with joy and threw his arms around Nasty’s neck. Your heart swelled at the sight of your two favorite boys sharing such a sweet moment. Your son had turned out just like Nasty, not just in looks, but in personality as well. He seemed shy and reserved in public, but around his friends and family he was always talking and making everyone laugh. He absolutely loved music too. Nasty had begun to teach him guitar when he was just two. The boy had begged to learn as soon as he knew how to. You felt extremely lucky to have the two of them in your life.

You turned your head as Nasty switched on the home videos one more time.

“Babe, look at him.”

You were holding the camera once again. It was aimed at Nasty, but this time, he was standing in the nursery looking down fondly into the crib.

You panned the camera over as to catch sight of the baby sleeping soundly inside.

“He’s adorable,” you whispered, careful to keep your voice lowered so you wouldn’t wake the baby.

“He’s perfect,” Nasty corrected. He looked up and you brought the camera back to focus on his face. “I love you,” he said, “and I love him. My perfect family.”

You leaned over your son and captured Nasty’s lips in a quick kiss, feeling nothing but overwhelming love for the man sitting next to you. He returned your kiss hungrily.

“Ew,” your son whined from beneath you. His nose crinkled up in disgust.

“Ew?” Nasty said, feigning shock. “I’ll show you mister!” he declared before grabbing hold of your son, pulling him onto his lap and covering the giggling boy’s face with kisses.

“I love you too,” you answered off-screen. “I love you both.”

[my-brothers-corrupted]

Chapter Four: Intro

A week after Peru, we find our characters together again. Time to play this game one last time.

tws: choking, threats, mentions of torture

-

Intro

Cold light drifts in through the window of Trickshot’s nest.

He sits with one hand wrapped around Dok’s gun and the other wrapped around Dok’s hand. Clear blue eyes stare out at the cold grey pavement and the sheen of the bulky cars arranged like guardians around the motel with an intensity that has been his as long as you have known him.

And only growing, these days - the steel in his face.

At his side you can make out the familiar shape of his twin, pressed close to his body. Dok is holding him like he’s a rock-climber and Trick is the last thing keeping him pressed to the side of this steep and shifting mountain. You can hear him breathing. Exhausted. Trick plays quietly with his gun.

Maybe, once Anti comes back, he will sleep, but for now he watches, he watches, he watches. Nothing, he promises himself, will take Dok from his side again.

No matter what is coming.

cest-mellow asked: hey trick. you doing okay tonight?

Trick jumps at the beeping and whirls with Dok’s gun gripped, but it’s only Anti’s bag making noises and he rolls his eyes, calming again. You’re watching them through a camera high up on the wall of the hotel, but none of them look up at you.

“Mhh?” comes a confused noise from the other side of the room.

“It’s just the cameras, Blue,” Dok murmurs. “Go back to sleep.”

Blankets shuffle and go quiet again.

“Are you going to get the camera?” asks Dok, who’s mostly squished under his twin’s weight.

Trick purses his mouth and shrugs, turning back to the window. Dok doesn’t protest. He extricates himself from his brother’s limbs and pads over to take you gently from Anti’s bag.

“Hi,” he says, carrying the camera back to the window. “We’re okay, right, Trick?”

“Better when the others come back and we can get out of this shithole,” grumbles Trick.

But for someone who’s putting on a grumpy front, the way he reaches out to push a curl of Dok’s hair from his face sure is fond.

pine-storm-season asked: Hello! Are you guys relatively okay? How are you doing?

Henrik shifts uneasily, gripping his stomach for a second, but his smile comes back quick. “Trick and I are good, yes?”

“We’re fine,” says Trick. “Jet-lagged, tired. Bored. But things are looking up. Anti is finding us a real place to stay. Which is, like, weird, but I think maybe great news?”

“Usually he just finds the first empty house or warehouse or something and we stay there,” explains Dok.

“But this time he says we’re going to stay somewhere nice cause he’s got to help the others to - I mean, to help Dap to readjust. But he’s already doing better than he was a few days ago.”

“I wish Anti wouldn’t take him out for dirty work, though,” grumbles Henrik, turning back to the window. “Not good for him.”

“Oh, come on. There’s nowhere he could be safer than with Anti.”

“Emotionally, though.”

“Emotionally? Anti loves that little shit.”

There’s a slight tension between them. They stare at each other for a second, and then turn away awkwardly, looking back out the window.

“Blue’s not doing so hot, though,” adds Dok after a second, and Trick turns uncertainly back towards the bed behind them, his eyes dark.

Anonymous asked: Blue? Are you okay?

“Blue. Blue!” calls Henrik gently, turning back towards his brother. With both of the twins angled towards you, you can see them better. They’re wearing the same outfit, green jackets over white t-shirts and dark jeans on their legs, but Anti has yet to cut their hair identically again. While Trick’s is vivid green and long and curly in the front, Dok’s is trimmed short, short, short, leaving just a little on the top to stick up. Just the way he likes it. “The cameras have missed you.”

The blankets shift. You hear Blue breathing sleepily.

“You’ve been sleeping all day,” Dok prompts him gently. “Let’s get up and walk around a little.”

Blue groans and tumbles over in bed. Dok smiles and gets up, padding towards him, taking you with and leaving Trick watching uncertainly from the window.

bupine asked: what's wrong with blue?

“What’s wrong with you?” teases Dok, putting you on the bedside table and leaning in over Blue’s blanket-wrapped body, shaking his brother’s shoulder. “Lazy? Sleepy? Just love bed?”

“Siiiiick,” groans out Blue, pushing irritably at his brother’s prodding hands.

“Yeah, he’s been very tired,” says Dok, petting his short white hair. “He - he struggles in the world.”

“They were with me in Singapore,” mumbles Blue. “They know. Just more of the same.”

“I don’t know,” answers Dok, his amusement fading. “I worry you’re only getting more tired.”

The blankets don’t shift. Blue is trying to go back to sleep.

“You are resting too much, love,” Henrik prompts him softly. “Come on, up we get.”

“Too tired.”

“You can do it. Come on. Doktor is in. Give me a hand.”

Reluctantly, Blue allows himself to be pulled up to sit on the bed, his grey face listing wearily.

pine-storm-season asked: Hey, Blue, how are you doing? There was some chaos happening when we last saw you guys.

“Lots of chaos,” murmurs Blue, and he manages to wince and smile at the same time, clutching Dok’s shoulder as he helps him to his feet, pressing his cane into his hands. “What a miserable day.”

“Dap’s okay and we’re okay and it’s going to be alright,” Henrik answers softly, squeezing his palm.

“Mmhhh,” sighs Blue, resting on his shoulder as he rises.

“Walk around with me.”

“There’s nowhere to walk in here.”

“Just around the beds. And then tomorrow we’ll be somewhere new, with a little more space.”

“Or chained up in a basement somewhere.”

“We’ll deal with that if it happens. For now, we hold to hope.”

Henrik gives him his arm and they walk back and forth between the bathroom and the door of the motel room, heads pressed close together. Trick is staring at them with a sort of silence on his face, his eyebrows bunched together and his mouth uncertain. He glances at you and seems to remember you’re there, scowling and turning away from his brothers, curling up in his nest, waiting for Anti to come home.

pine-storm-season asked: Are you okay, Trick?

“Great,” says Trick flatly. “Can we just - why did Anti turn them on again? Now?”

“Stop being a little loser,” chides Blue, stepping over to ruffle his hair.

“Hey!”

“Look at this mess,” giggles Blue, leaning his weight on his back.

“Blue! Get off! Dork, haha!”

He’s smiling when he pushes Blue away, touching his brother’s cheek fondly. “Dumb-ass pretty boy.”

“Aww! You think I’m pretty?”

Despite the teasing, Blue looks genuinely buoyed.

“Yeah, Blue, course you’re pretty. We have the same face, after all. Except Dok, he’s pug-ugly.”

Dok jabs Trick in the side hard enough to make him yelp and Blue is left steadying himself on his cane as Trick lunges for his twin, trying to get him by the ear while Dok yells his protest and tries to dig his fingers back into Trick’s side.

“Hey,” warns Blue suddenly, tearing his eyes away from his brothers’ play-fighting. “Someone’s coming.”

cest-mellow asked: still got those necklaces, henrik?

Henrik turns to you as Trick pulls away from him, his blue eyes flashing. “You bet your ass,” he tells you with gritted, smiling teeth, bared the way a dog bares his fangs. “He keeps burning his fingers trying to take them off me. They’re not going anywhere.”

He wraps his fingers around the three little bumps underneath his shirt.

spicydanhowell asked: blue, dok, i'm so sorry about what happened to you. this isn't forever.

“It is Anti, finally!” cheers Trick, leaping up onto the windowsill and watching for him to reach the door, waving at the trio of brothers coming up the way. “Look, Red’s doing his dreamy thing again.”

Blue and Dok exchange looks, Dok moving to support him again. Blue hides against his hair for a second, breathing in the smell of him again.

“This isn’t forever,” Dok repeats quietly.

“One month, right?” Blue grips his hand.

“One month. I’m with you.”

“I’m with you. I’m here.”

Anonymous asked: How’s noodle doing trick?

“Oh, my gosh! The only question that matters! I’ll get him real quick before Anti comes back!”

Instantly perked up, he races to the middle of the room, where an extra door connects the motel room to the one beside it. He pulls it open - “oh, Dok, give me the camera!” - and carries you inside, where a slinky golden cat races up to greet him, purring and butting his head against his ankles.

Anonymous asked: Cat? Cat? You have cat, noodle cat?

“Who’s my good kitty? Who’s my good baby? Noodle cat, mwah, mwah.”

He scoops his cat up and smothers his head in kisses, devolving into cooing baby talk and rocking his cat against his body while Noodle meows. As reluctant as he is to see you, he loves showing off his cat.

“Okay, baby, stay in here, papa will be back. Yes, you have to, muffin, you know Anti doesn’t want to see you. Who’s my baby? Yes, there’s my Noodle.”

Anonymous asked: How is everyone Trick? Are you doing okay?

“I’m okay! Everyone looks okay, I think.”

Leaving Pot Noodle behind, Trick closes the door gently and returns to Blue’s room, where his siblings have relegated themselves to the bed, watching the door cautiously. Trick steps forward to open it before the others have even reached it, grinning out at the world.

“Hi, Anti,” he says cheerfully.

Anti moves into his space and kisses the side of his head, his eyes boring into Blue and Dok’s as he presses his mouth to Trick’s fervently green hair. Blue turns his eyes away and Dok shrinks in on himself, clutching Blue’s hand.

“Hi-ya,” answers Anti pertly, his eyes flickering from black to blue. His hair grows out fluffy and green to match Trick’s and he draws back to smile at him. “Everything okay?”

“Yes, Anti. Everything okay with you guys?”

“No hitches at all. Not a scratch on anybody. When was the last time you had a kill that easy, Dap?”

Deep blue eyes stare back at Anti from the doorway. Dapper’s hand rests on the wall outside the motel like he can’t quite make himself step in.

But he does.

“Can’t remember,” he signs back in slow movements, removing the jacket from his shoulders. You see Blue stiffen as though injured. Dapper’s dress shirt is soaked in blood. He pulls it off, his expression mildly unhappy, and takes another shirt out of Henrik’s backpack.

“You’ll need a shower first, Dap,” Blue tells him. “It’s on your skin.”

“So it is.” He stares down at his hands.

“Go clean yourself up,” Anti orders. “Go, go. There’s a good boy. You check in with Dok before you fall asleep tonight. Where’s his medicine, Dok?”

“Here, Anti,” replies Dok, patting the bedside table.

“Good, good. So yes! Everyone is okay. Everything is okay. And now that we’ve got that done, we can move in to a new place tomorrow.”

Trick straightens up. “Really? Like a real house?”

“Oh, you’re going to like it, Rikki-Tricki-Tavi,” answers Anti smugly, glitching the blood off his hands. “You’re all just going to love it.”

Anonymous asked: Why does anti not want to see noodle trick? D:

“Anti doesn’t like animals,” Blue reminds you in a whisper, curled up at Dok’s side.

cest-mellow asked: what do you mean by “dreamy thing” trickster?

Red’s behind the others, moving slow and steady, kicking peacefully at a rock. Trick laughs to himself and points you at him, sitting down on the bed with Blue and Dok while Anti moves over towards his computer on the second bed. Everyone watches Red come into the room, his eyes unfocused and faraway, a faint smile on his face.

“Red?” calls Blue.

Red doesn’t answer, shutting the door gently behind him and moving forward - promptly smacking his hip into the minifridge. “Ow!” he yelps, stumbling back and looking up in alarm, confused to see everyone staring back at him.

Trick bursts into laughter, mimicking the way Red’s head was bobbing, as though he were listening to music.

“You spaced out again,” Blue tells him.

“Fuck,” hisses Red, rubbing his hip. “Shut up, Trick!”

“Fucking idiot,” laughs Anti. “Pay attention. Still dreaming of your boyfriend?”

Red flushes, humiliated, and moves towards the door to the other room.

“Camera,” Anti reminds him pointedly, and Red rushes back to grab one from his bag before darting back into the room and shutting the door beside him, leaving Blue staring worriedly after him.

bupine asked: red, are you ok? if you're worried about max, he's ok as far as we know.

“Oh, great,” says Red, still the color of his name, not quite meeting the gaze of you. He’s irritated and fast-moving, shaking his hands out again and again. “Well, that makes everything just peachy, then.”

He forces himself to sit down, staring out the window.

“Sorry. Things have just been weird lately.”

cest-mellow asked: jaki3 are you alright? has anti hurt you, do you have to stay in a separate room?

“No, no, I’m okay,” sighs Red, running his hands through his hair. “I mean, I just watched my baby brother tear this helpless fat guy to shreds, but hey, that’s just my life. Nah, Anti hasn’t hurt me, he just keeps making fun of me. And I can handle that. I think he’s pissed I was with Max at all when he found us. That I let Dap near Max.”

He puts his chin in his hands, his eyes drifting a little again. “Doesn’t like for me to talk about it, so I don’t…”

A smile floats across his mouth. He stares dreamily out the window, his legs swinging over the side of the bed when he sits down.

“Oh! Why am I in a separate room? Anti just got two, that’s all. And we gotta keep the doors closed cause of this little guy.” He pats Noodle’s head and the cat purrs, crawling into his lap. “Blue will come in and sleep with me tonight, though, so I’m not alone.”

pine-storm-season asked: Yeah, they probably have been. Is this a common occurrence, Red?

“I’ve been spacing out a lot, yeah,” grumbles Red, cheeks dark. “Stupid. I keep getting in trouble cause of it. Anti doesn’t think I’m listening to him. So now Trick’s been telling me what to do.”

He rolls his eyes. “Blue and me got in too much trouble lately. Not really top dogs anymore, I guess. But it’s almost a relief. I don’t think I want to have to push anybody around anymore. Anti says I’m going soft on him.”

pine-storm-season asked: Are you and your brothers more equal now, then?

“No, uh, well.” Red laughs. “When I say we’re not on top anymore? Trick’s in charge now. And he’s wrapped around Anti’s fucking pinkie these days. He’ll snap at Dok himself if he thinks he’s getting short with Anti.”

Red’s eyes fall for a moment. He picks at the raggedy sheets on his bed.

“I’m worried about him. Not acting like himself.”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Hey Red! What's got you distracted?

He shrugs and gives a small smile, though it’s equal parts sad and happy.

“Don’t know,” he says. “I space out sometimes when I’m overwhelmed and stuff. But this isn’t that. I used to be able to focus pretty clearly on right now. But now it’s like… I don’t know. I just keep thinking about different things. I guess I’m thinking more about the future. And not just about making sure everybody’s going to have enough to eat. I can just… imagine things, now, I guess. That I didn’t before. I imagine a different future than I did before.”

He scratches Noodle’s tummy, letting out a low sigh. “But it’s just dreaming.”

The door to his room swings open and he turns to smile at Blue, but it isn’t Blue there.

Trick holds his backpack to his stomach nervously, staring at Red.

“What?”

“Um. Anti told me to stay in here tonight.”

Red straightens up, blinking. “What? In here?”

“Yeah.”

“What, like, share the bed with me? Where’s Blue? And Dok?”

“I don’t know, staying in that bed, I guess,” says Trick, looking stressed.

“Anti wants you and me to stay together?”

“That’s what I said!”

They stare at each other, seeing each other’s discomfort mirrored.

“Anti’s not… taking us away from Blue and Dok, right?”

Trick shrugs, chewing on his lip. “I just got him back,” he mumbles.

cest-mellow asked: anti, why are you separating the boys from their twins..?

“Trick, tell the cameras I don’t answer to them.”

“Cameras, Anti doesn’t answer to you.”

Anti laughs. “You little kiss-ass. I was kidding.”

“Okay, but actually I would… not mind knowing the answer either,” offers Red weakly. “If that’s okay, master.”

“I’m still figuring it out. You’re still twins with your twins. Don’t ask questions, just do what I say.”

Trick stares at Dok, their eyes meeting. Dok tries to reassure him, but his smile is small and afraid, his hands stretched out towards him. Trick tries to smile back.

“It’s late,” says Anti. “We’ll move early tomorrow. Get some sleep.”

Trick swallows and signs good night at Dok before slipping into the second room. Red stares back at him, looking tense.

“Well, this is going to be fun,” says Trick.

In the other room, Anti’s smile has not changed. He stalks towards Blue and Dok. Before they have a chance to say anything, he has a hand on both their throats, pushing them down onto the bed. Blue closes his eyes, trying to breathe slow and calm. Doktor stares back at Anti, his eyes furious and scared.

“You two,” breathes Anti, his eyes drizzling to black, teeth sharpening in his mouth. “Are still trying to be my little trouble-makers, aren’t you? You think I’m going to give you free reign with your twins knowing what you know? Knowing how you feel?”

“Hurt me now and I’ll shout so Red hears me,” threatens Blue, panting.

Anti shoves against his throat, making him choke. “Right. Good luck with that. No, Blue. I still need your body at nights to get me through the sickness I get otherwise. And you, Dok…”

He moves his hand to Dok’s stomach and squeezes. Tears well up in Dok’s eyes, but he does not make a noise.

“Good,” growls Anti. “You know what will happen if you tell him?”

Dok nods swiftly, closing his eyes.

“Then keep your fucking mouth shut. Sooner you break back into shape, the sooner I’ll let you sleep next to Trick again. For now, you stay with me at nights, and you’ll look after Dapper and Blue. Understand?”

Dok nods again, tears washing down his cheeks.

Anti shoves him off the bed. Dok crashes to the ground and scurries into the corner, hiding his face in his thighs.

Blue chokes again, beginning to get desperate for air. Anti crawls over his body and leans down on him, gripping his head to turn his eyes towards him, and there is nothing Dok can do to stop him from possessing his brother once again.

“We’re playing this game just one more time.” Anti licks Blue’s lips, throwing his head and adjusting his clothes, sitting up in the fragile body no matter the strain he causes it. “Just one more time, like Red said. And I intend to fucking win.”

Dapper steps out of the bathroom, toweling off his hair. Doktor will not look at him. Anti looks back at him with Blue’s eyes.

Something hot and painful twists inside his gut, but when Anti reaches out for him, he goes quietly, and he lays down at his brother’s side like he always does.

Playing this game just one more time.

Henrik wraps his fingers around the ravens on his chest and he grits his fierce teeth in his mouth.

Well, then. Let’s play.

.

Dapper waits until Anti is asleep.

He does not like to be touched by him, these days. He does not want to be held. He does not want to share a bed. Especially when it is Blue beside him, trapped beneath Anti’s power. He does not want to see his sibling in pain.

Anyway, he can see Dok trembling in the bed beside his own.

He slips out from beneath Anti’s arms wrapped around his throat, pausing to make sure his breathing stays heavy and thick. When Anti does not wake, Dapper slinks to his feet and touches Dok’s shoulder.

Dok jumps so hard he nearly slams their heads together. Dapper holds him gently down and rubs his shoulder, waiting for him to calm.

“What?” whispers Dok, astonished. “Dap, are you - ”

He holds a finger to his mouth and takes Dok’s hands, pulling him out of bed and leading him to the bathroom.

“Are you okay, Dap?”

“Sit on the counter.”

“What?”

“Sit,” he repeats, pushing him. “Sit, sit.”

Dok has been crying. His face is still red. He turns his head away and hoists himself onto the counter, staring at Dapper like he might be the one possessed.

“What, I never given you an order before?”

“I don’t believe you have,” replies Dok. “Or woken me up for anything.”

“Usually you have Trick to look after you,” answers Dapper, and he reaches for Dok’s shirt.

Dok’s hands grab his own, his eyes wide.

Dapper looks back at him, not letting go.

“Don’t look,” breathes Dok, his voice shaking. “Don’t, there’s… I’m self-conscious, I…”

Dapper laughs again, his random, wild laugh without any noise but a humorless huffing.

“Did Anti tell you?” asks Dok, feeling his cheeks heat.

Dapper snorts and shakes his head. He helps Doktor pull the shirt over his head.

“Anti doesn’t have to tell me anything,” he replies shortly, taking the med kit from beneath the sink. “I know everything he does. You shouldn’t have tried to stitch this up yourself.”

Dok closes his eyes as Dapper’s hands run over the deep cut in his stomach, coated in struggling stitches.

“They’ll hold.”

“Since when do you know anything about stitches?” whispers Dok.

“Since I’ve bandaged myself and Red up a hundred times before, that’s since when.” He gets antiseptic from the bag and begins cleaning the wound. “I don’t like to be under-estimated, my darling.”

“I thought that was how you survived,” Dok pants back, staring at him.

Dapper doesn’t answer.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you these days,” says Dok, coughing at the pain as Dapper cleans the wound Anti gave him. “I’m scared you’re still suicidal and you won’t tell anyone. Your expressions are always wrong and I don’t know if it’s the schizophrenia or something else going on with you. I want to say you’re not acting right, but the truth is, I don’t remember how you used to act. Or who you used to be… I think a different person than this.”

Dapper looks up at him for a second, and then away.

“Are you angry, Dapper?”

He gets a bandage out of the bag and begins pressing it onto the wound, tearing away the sticky sides of the big white band-aid.

“Are you still suicidal?”

“No one here knows me,” Dapper tells him suddenly, his hands nearly in his face. “Let’s not pretend that you do.”

Henrik stares back at him, his face still hot from crying.

Dapper softens again, brushing water from his cheeks.

“I love you,” he says. “I know how to take care of myself. You should do the same. Tell Anti what he wants to hear, take the necklaces off, and go back to your twin. Be grateful you have the chance to earn one.”

“Don’t say that to me,” whispers Henrik. “I know that’s not what you want. I know. We all saw how badly you wanted things to change on the side of that cliff, Dapper. Don’t lie to me.”

Dapper watches the floor.

“I love you,” Dok adds, touching his cheek. “Even if I don’t know who you are… whoever that person is, I love him.”

Dapper closes his eyes for a second. He looks up again a moment later, his eyes tired, and he leans in to kiss Dok’s cheek, holding the back of his head.

“I love you too. But Anti is going to keep doing things like this to you. And I know you won’t tell Trick.”

“I can’t watch him get hurt because of me.”

“I know.”

“You looked after me just now. I want to look after you too. And Anti says I can. Promise me you’ll be honest with me, Dapper. I can’t watch you go back to the place you were in last week.”

Dapper stares at him for a long time.

“And I can’t watch you go back to being Anti’s favorite thing to hurt.”

Henrik’s mouth parts. He isn’t sure what to say.

“None of you know how hellish Anti could make your life, really,” whisper Dapper’s hands. “You, and all of our siblings, and anyone on the cameras - none of you know. I am the only one who remembers. I am the only one who still has the nightmares. I am the only one who still carries that. Doktor. Don’t make Anti angry again. If you think that what you remember is bad… you don’t want to remember the rest.”

Dapper kisses him again, on the heel of his palm, and for a second, the emotion on his face is real and right and true, and he does not laugh.

“Go back to sleep, H-healing,” he signs. “And don’t risk your life and your sanity on the promises of ravens.”

He draws away from him, his blue eyes dark. Henrik sits on the counter for a long time, in silence, his hand over the bandaged wound in his side.

[oohlovergirl]

Make Believe: Part 4 [Roger Taylor x Reader]

Pairing: Roger Taylor x Reader [FAKE DATING AU]

Summary: You’re a famous rockstar. Roger Taylor has an image problem. Both of your management teams thought it would be a great idea for you two to fake date. Problem is: you guys hate each other’s guts.

Word count: ~3.1k 

Contains: language and slut-shaming (not from Roger though!) 

A/N: I AM BACK. Here is part 4, I don’t how many people still want to read it, so if you’re on the taglist, and no longer want to be on it, please message me (I will not be offended). And vice versa, if you want to be on the taglist but you aren’t on it, just shoot me a message! I hope you guys enjoy this part and thank you for sticking with me! Love you guys. 

PART ONE || PART TWO || PART THREE 

Previously…

“I’m really tired of fighting. Can we call a truce until this whole thing is over?” he says after he blows out the smoke. You let out a laugh that sounds more like an exhale. 

“Truce,” you say, handing him the bottle of scotch. 

“Okay, well, now that we’re not enemies anymore, we should get to know each other better,” he says after he takes a swig. 

“Okay, shoot,” you ask. 

“What’s your favorite color?” 

“Really?” 

“That’s basic question!” 

“Fine, pink. You?”

“Yellow.” 

“Ok. I wanna ask a question, why are you always wearing those sunglasses? It’s night and we’re––we were––indoors.” 

“These sunglasses are sexy, and you know it,” he says with a nudge of his shoulder to yours. 

And so, you two spend most of the night there––forgetting about the party raging below. Passing the bottle back and forth to one another, you both share stories of childhood memories, being on tour, and everything in between. You talk about your crazy university stories and the time you not so accidentally threw up on a douchebag at a bar. 

Roger talks about the time he got into a bar fight over a pack of peanuts. 

“Did you win?”

“Oh god no, I was absolutely shit-faced, and I think he was a former boxer.” 

You tilt your head back and laugh, and he looks at you with a small smile playing at his lips, a weird feeling warming his chest. 

 –––––

After that night, you and Roger have been trying slowly to create a somewhat functional friendship. 

“Can I get an iced latte with vanilla and two packets of sweetener please?” you ask the waiter taking your order. Roger pulls a face, and you cross your arms. 

“What? I like sweets Mister Plain Black Coffee.” He rolls his eyes and flicks your nose. You swat his hand out of the way but laugh nonetheless. 

Maybe that smile in that picture the paparazzi caught of you and him wasn’t entirely faked.

And maybe after you guys pay for the check and are walking towards the car, Roger leaves his hand wrapped around yours a moment longer than he has to even after you both get are out of the camera’s spotlight. 

 –––––

You sigh as you look around the room. Another night, another party, another evening spending time around drunken fools. 

You stiffen when you hear a voice that makes your skin crawl. Oh no. Looking over, you spot your ex standing by the bar with his arm around another girl’s waist. Roger notices the way your shoulders tense, and he opens his mouth, but he doesn’t get to say anything because before he can turn around, you grab his hand and drag him into the nearest bedroom. 

Shutting the door behind you, you look at a very confused Roger. 

“Give me a love bite.” You’re not thinking this through. Jealousy and pride clouding your logic, but you don’t care. 

He blinks. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Give me a love bite.” 

You almost giggle at how clueless and flustered Roger looks right now, so unlike his usual cocky self. He opens his mouth. 

“Please? I think it’ll really sell our relationship!” He narrows his eyes at you. An inner conflict seems to be resolved when he exhales. 

“Okay…” He walks over carefully, almost as if he’s worried that he’s walking into a trap. 

Thus explains the reason why you’re currently straddling Roger’s lap in the first available bedroom you guys could find in the house. He carefully pushes the front of your dress to the side, the silk easily gliding away with his touch. Goosebumps erupt onto your skin when you feel his rough, calloused fingers graze your collarbones. 

“You sure about this?” he asks you, and you nod. 

He attaches his lips to the side of your throat. Your breath hitches at the feeling of his lips, and you feel his hands tighten on your hips. Your skin is on fire. You reach up, and slowly push up his sunglasses from his nose and to the top of his head. He looks up at you, hooded eyes meet your own. The blue of his eyes are almost swallowed with his black pupils, and you bite your lip at the sight, heat blossoming throughout your body. His eyes flick down at the movement, his mouth opened slightly. 

At a particularly harsh suck, teeth grazing skin, your hips give an involuntary jolt into his, and he lets out a surprised, quiet groan.

“Shit, sorry, sorry,” you stutter. 

The door swings open and before you can even process it, you hear a loud, “Oh shit sorry!” And the slamming of the door. 

You jump, instinctively pushing Roger away from you, but his hands are still attached to your waist. So instead, he takes you down with him. You let out a surprised squeal before your body hits his as his back slams onto the bed beneath him. 

Rolling off of him, you flop onto the bed panting. Heart beating out of your chest. A beat as you both lie on your backs, looking up at the ceiling. 

And then you burst out laughing. Deep, heaving laughs that make you clutch at your stomach. And Roger’s laughing as well. 

“You’re such a little shit!” you wheeze and hit him with one of the pillows. “Why didn’t you lock the door?” 

“I thought I did! And also you were the one who basically jumped my bones out there––you should have been the one who locked the door!” 

You scoff, but a smile pulls at your mouth. Pushing yourself up and off the bed, you walk over to a mirror that’s leaning on one of the walls. Poking and prodding the red mark quickly blossoming on the column of your throat, you deem it an acceptable love bite. 

“Okay, this should be good, thanks––what are you doing?” You ask as you see Roger reaching for the buttons on his shirt.

“Keeping up appearances.” He gives you a wink before unbuttoning his shirt all the way open. 

“Wait––” you say before grabbing a tube of your lipstick from your clutch. Opening the tube, you rub some of the color onto your fingers and proceed to rub it messily around Roger’s mouth. He looks down at you, smiling at the little furrow in your brow as you concentrate. You pull back and admire your handiwork. 

“We are now the perfect sex-crazed couple,” you say with a wink and a flourish of your hand. 

Walking out of the room, Roger pretends to readjust his belt, and you pull your dress down. Plastering a glazed, satisfied look on his face, he gives all the people standing in the hallway in front of the room a lazy smile. 

A couple of whistles, and you just flash them a knowing smirk. 

You’ve been at the party for an hour, and you’ve lost Roger after being swept away by some friends. Tired and ready to make your way back home, you’re in search of Roger and the rest of your friends to say bye. As you make your way through the too big house, you’re not watching in front of you. Instead, looking at what appears to be two people in chicken costumes dancing on top of one of the living room tables when you bump into someone. Strong arms grip your shoulders to steady you. You look up, opening your mouth to apologize. But stop short when you see who it is. 

“Hey, Y/N, I just want to say congrats on your album,” your ex says with a sleazy smile. His hand lingers too long on your shoulder. 

“Oh––uh, thank you.” 

You see his eyes flick down, and then stay there. His brows furrow. And you let the self satisfied smile grow on your face when you know he’s looking at the dark bruise you’re not trying to hide. 

“Who’s this, love,” Roger asks, coming up from behind you, his hands snaking around your waist. And you have to suppress your laughter as you can practically see the gears working in your ex’s head. His eyes rapidly flicking to your lipstick and then to the same color smudged onto Roger’s mouth. Your matching bed-ruffled hair. The way Roger possessively holds onto your waist, his thumbs rubbing lazy circles into the exposed skin of your stomach. 

He blinks a few times before plastering on a slimy grin. 

“Matthew,” he says, “Matthew Paul.”

“No way. You’re the bloke who stole the riff from our album!” he asks with an incredulous laugh. Your ex turns bright red, his eyes going wide. He clears his throat. 

“So, uh, how did, uh, how did the two of you meet?”

“I was already a huge fan of her work. I went to a concert of hers, I think it was last Spring, and then we met at an afterparty where we really hit it off. And from there, I couldn’t think of anything but her,” he says. You blush before leaning in for a quick kiss on the lips. But when you try pulling away, his arm around your waist tightens and he deepens the kiss. When you part, your cheeks are flushed and you bite your swollen lips, slapping Roger on the chest. 

“Just letting you know that you’re dating a fucking whore,” your ex says with a casual sip of his drink. If one wasn’t paying too close attention, they would have almost missed it. Roger stops dead in his tracks. 

“What the fuck did you just say?” 

Oh shit. By now, this little exchange has attracted a decent sized crowd. You see Brian pushing his way to the front, John right behind him. 

“Roger…” you warn, but he’s not even looking at you. It’s actually Brian who steps in between the two men, placing a hand out in front of him. “Walk away,” he says to your ex. 

Michael scoffs. Ignoring him, he looks at you, a fire in his eyes. “Oh so you’re fucking all of the members of Queen? That it? I always knew you were such a little slut.” 

That’s when Roger punches him. You hear a sickening crunch when Roger’s fist slams into Michael’s nose. Blood sprays everywhere, and you shriek when a spatter of blood lands on the side of your face. ROGER TAYLOR ATTACKS MAN AT PARTY is the headline that flashes in your mind. 

“Fuck!” Matthew shrieks, bent over and clutching his face. 

“Say sorry.”

“Mate, I’m sorry––” 

“What the fuc––not to me––say sorry to Y/N.” 

Matthew pauses and turns to look at you. “I’m––I’m sorry,” he gets out, voice thick from the blood clogging his nose. 

“Fucking dick,” Roger mumbles as he grabs his jacket, placing it on your shoulders, so you guys can leave. You guys leave the house, hand in hand, and you don’t look back at the gaping crowd. 

 –––––

“You didn’t have to hit him, you know,” you say quietly, dabbing his raw knuckles with a cotton swab coated with Neosporin. 

“He’s a fucking prick.” You laugh without humor because yeah, you know. You’re in your bathroom in your flat. Roger, sitting on the sink, and you, in between his legs. His hand resting in yours. He looks down at you as you work. Something he doesn’t want to acknowledge pulls at his heart when he sees your tongue poking out of your mouth and the determined furrow in your brow, the way your hair is a little bit messy and the fact that your makeup isn’t all the way off. The way you look in a ratty white tee shirt two sizes too big and how you’re holding his rough hand in between your soft, gentle fingers. The way he secretly wishes that that you were wearing one of his ratty tee shirts. It makes his heart ache. Ache for something he doesn’t want to know. Something he’s too scared to acknowledge––to pursue. 

His hand reaches up before his mind can stop him. He reaches up and gently tries to wipe away the dried blood on your face. His thumb trying to rub it away. 

“Roger you don’t have to do that…” you say, catching his hand in yours. It stills, still on your cheek. 

“I want to,” he whispers. “Let me.” And he grabs the hand towel on the sink, dipping it in the bowl of warm water you brought and wipes your face. the gentleness such in contrast with the way he usually his, banging on his drums, fighting with the paparazzi. It makes your heart ache. Eyes so focused on getting the blood off your cheek, he doesn’t notice that you’re staring. 

“Roger,” you murmur, and he looks up at you and something in his chest clenches. Your eyes a little shiny from the remnants of the alcohol, face flushed, and mouth parted. You look beautiful to him. You both look at each other for a beat too long, but you’re the first one to come to your senses and the spell is broken when you clear your throat.

“I––I didn’t finish with your fist, let me see it again.” 

And so you work in silence for the rest of your time the bathroom, spreading the ointment over his knuckles before wrapping it with white gauze that you had in your first aid kit. When you fold the gauze over one last time, you pat his hand gently before grabbing the wrappers strewn over the sink countertop and throwing them away. 

“All done. You change into those clothes while I make us some tea.” 

“Wait––I can do it––you’ve done enough for me already…”

You give him a soft smile. “You’re in my home. Would be a shitty host if I let you make your own tea the first time you come into my flat,” you say with a wink before padding away into the kitchen. 

Roger sits there for a moment longer, legs dangling off the sink counter. Hand beginning to throb. He hasn’t gotten that angry in a while now. Learned to control his anger. Usually was able to keep somewhat of a level-head around douchebags and critics––he obviously wasn’t unaccustomed to nasty language. But when your ex was spitting in your face, something in him snapped. Maybe because even though you looked calm and collected, he saw your hands––saw how you clenched them into fists to stop them from trembling. 

Maybe because he hasn’t seen that look in your eyes. Hasn’t seen that type of vulnerability even when you He has seen the videos and the pictures––people screaming in your face, calling you the same names (some even worse) than what Michael said––and though you looked a little cautious––he has never seen that look of sadness that he saw when Michael was yelling at you tonight. The way he saw the fire in your eyes that he’s so used to seeing whenever you’re spitting at each other disappear. 

He sighs before hopping down the sink, washing his face and then undressing in order to change into the clothes that you brought him. 

 –––––

“What happened between the two of you?” Roger asks when he walks into the kitchen as you mix cream into your cup of tea. You stop. The spoon clattering loudly against the mug. 

“He cheated on me––slept with a new groupie every night he was on the road.”

“Shit.” 

“That’s why I don’t date guys in the music industry anymore…all of them turned out to be cheaters and liars.” And maybe his heart breaks a little when he sees the light shutter from your eyes. The slump of your shoulders that are usually so defiant and angry and annoyed at him. 

“Don’t worry, you’re too hot to be tied down to one guy anyway,” He says with his signature smirk, and it pulls you back to reality, puts the fire back into your eyes––and in that moment you know what he did, why he said that. And for that, you’re grateful for him. 

“You’re a dick, you know that?” you say with a light push to his shoulders, but a smile pulls at your lips anyway. 

“It’s one of my many star qualities.” 

“Only cream right?” you ask.

“Hmm, maybe add like a spoonful of sugar,” he says, and you look up with a grin. 

“Oh, I thought you were too good for that,” you tease but dump a large scoop into his. He comes up to you, and flicks your nose, smiling at the little scrunch of your nose and the way you swat at his hand. 

–––––

You end up on the couch, watching whatever was on the TV at the time. 

Roger looks over and smiles to himself. You let out a big yawn, glasses perched precariously at the tip of your nose. 

“Hey, Y/N,” he whispers, gently tapping your leg, “I should probably get going…” 

You blink awake. “Oh, you can spend the night––if you want. I have a guest room,” you say. You dont know what possessed you to say it, but it leaves your mouth before you could stop it. He stops––looks at the clock. Looks back at you. A beat. 

“Okay, yeah, that would be better actually. Thanks.” 

After grabbing a few extra blankets, pillows, and placing a glass of water with Advil on the side table, you deem the rarely used guest room acceptable for use. He settles into the bed, thanking you for everything. 

“Goodnight Roger, if you need anything, I’m a door over,” you say before turning to leave the room. 

“Hey, Y/N…” he calls out softly. You stop, waiting for him to continue. “I––I never cheated on those girls––never cheated on anyone in fact. All of them––after I broke up with them––they would run to the media. I guess given my reputation, it wasn’t hard for the general public to believe anyway.” 

You furrow your brows. Furrow your brows because in that moment, you hear a deep sadness in his voice. A deep sadness filling the dark of the room. You hear him turn over, the bed sheets rustling, and before you can respond, he says, “Goodnight Y/N.”

And despite something stirring deep in your chest, you turn around and close the door. 

Permanent Tag List:

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Make Believe Tag List:

@royalblueviper @brianandthemays @kurt-nightcrawler @rogertaylorgirl-1977 @toger-raylor @queen-turtle-boiii @rogahloveshiscar @theprettyfandom @geek-and-proud @weakling-grace @loveandbeloved29 @benhardymazzello @radiob-l-a-hblah @ultrablackwidower @havvana-nights @tbird20165 @caborhapch @tichtaylor @queen-bunnyears @luvbohrap @tiredsinceforever @kiwithekiwi @prettygiiiiirl @jfrank1048 @coolcxt @a19103 @galileofigarog @rogershoe @bohrapbxtch @bwunnii @justmyfiveangels @kellypenac @70srogah @amy-brooklyn99 @countryday @rogerm-taylor @importantzonkponykid @honimello @shutup-sorry @youngpastafanmug @ixchel-9275 @darling-egg

(the ones with a slash are the ones I couldn’t tag, will be deleting the ones who I can't tag next time)

[cb-143]

The Last VLive - Chan [nsfw]

wc: 2566 warnings: masturbation, smut, lil bit of exhibitionism & attempted stripping an: Had this idea a few days ago. Liked it. Wrote it. Enjoy~

The show started off as usual.

Chan sat in his room. Channie's room. The lights turned on, it was late at night, the two chairs beside him empty.  

There was only Chris, sitting in his chair, in front of Wally, wearing  a suit – or what had been left in place after they finished shooting.

Truth be told, he looked a mess.

His hair, previously dyed blonde, was tussled. The foams, sprays and various other things didn't hold it in place any longer; strands of it were sticking out into different directions.

His eyes were tired, but alert. Chan was sleepy, his body exhausted, but he craved spending time with stays, had been anticipating it all day.

The suit's jacket had carelessly been tossed to the chair on his left before he went live.

The button up shirt below was white, with its first button opened.

Though the vest on top was still in tact, the tie wasn't. The tie was still around his neck, but loosened largely, he just hadn't taken it off completely yet.

Can had already opened Insomnia on his computer, but was yet to hit play on it. He wanted to time it perfectly with the moment he went live – which would happen in 3...2...1...

The music started, Chan focused on the screen to watch fans join.

As the first words of the song were sung, the first hundreds of fans had come in, too. Chris began speaking, then, greeting them.

Y/N, too, received a notification for Channie's room ep 69; however, felt quite taken aback when Y/N opened VLIVE to a pop up that read, in Korean letters:

"to watch this surprise VLIVE, you must be 19 or older. Continue?" Strange, Y/N thought, since when was Vlive age restricted?

The chorus was playing for the second time when Chan asked fans how they were doing. He read out a few answers. Someone had an exam the next day and was studying late into the night – Chan wished them luck. Someone else commented, saying how stressed they were.

"Don't worry, Chan said, after a short monologue to cheer them up, "I'm here today to relieve all your stress. This is healing time, for you and for me."

He smiled at the foreshadowing words he had picked out. He had prepared something very special for today's episode. He felt excited already – felt himself growing more excited when the song ended.  Though it was painful, he needed to be patient – Chris didn't want to rush things for his own pleasure. He always made sure to take his time for stays.

"Is there any song you want to listen to?" He asked. As he waited for suggestions to trickle in, he answered another comment.

" 'How's Berry?' I miss Berry a lot. I've talked about it with Felix recently, he really wants to get a dog as well. Maybe one day we can adopt a puppy together, but at the moment, I think we're just too busy, you know." Chan's glance shifted to the comments once more; the corners of his mouth twitched  upwards, breath coming out staggered as he read one song suggestion. Momentarily, he was taken captive by his own thoughts; silence filled the room. The tension within him grew.

"Stays... really have the perfect songs for the right moments." Chan bit his lip, hard. He then licked over it, soothing the area, wetting it. "One of you recommended a very fitting song for this episode."

Typing.

A shy smile spread across his lips – he felt nervous. But stays loved him, needed him – and right now, he really needed them. He looked down at his desk, a little embarrassed, but convincing himself, when he clicked play.

A girl's voice set in first, then a second later music.

"Early in the morning's when I think about you, yeah

I hit you like what you sayin'"

Time to get started. In the blink of an eye, Chan was filled with lust and confidence. Chan looked up, a seductive expression on his face.

"This is for you." He spoke softly. "Enjoy." He stood up.

Chan's right hand stroked over the back of his neck, into his hair. he tugged on it, pulling his own head back. He let out a shaky breath at the slight pain.

"Yeah, I hit you like what you sayin',

I could fuck you all the time~"

His left hand reached for the first of the three buttons of the vest. He opened it. His right hand joined in, unbuttoned the other two. On one side, he dropped the clothing down to his arm; his hips moved along to the sensual beats. Soon after he dropped the other side of the vest, he let go of the clothing completely. He threw it onto the chair to his right. Chan caught a glimpse at the comments.

"What is he doing?"

"Is he taking off all his clothes right now? What's going on?!"

"Yes Daddy so sexy ♥" Chan smiled at his audience.

"Are you enjoying the show so far, baby-stays? There's a lot more to come." Chan's hands roamed over his body; his right hand moved across the somewhat unbuttoned shirt. When he reached its hem, he slid his palm past it and underneath. As he felt his hot skin, his abs, he gave stays a preview of the glorious sight he would bless them with soon. His other hand, too, went below his shirt, but further up, he grazed his nipple, hissed as he squeezed it.

"I've been so needy today..." he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. Reluctantly, he pulled his hands away and went to open more of the milky-white-coloured buttons. He unbuttoned the first one, released it from the grasp of the shirt's other half. His lips moved along with the naughty words of the song, body feeling its beat.

So agonisingly slow, he went on. Was he teasing his viewers? Or himself? Chan questioned. His was aroused. His cock was card already, though having just started.

He reached the middle now, when he pulled apart the top of the shirt to reveal his pecks. He couldn't resist, his own arousal was fogging up his mind – a powerful, demanding mistress. Again, he fondled with his own nipples. Chan whined. He was so, so sensitive today. So desperate for release. The thought of thousands of people watching him only made him hornier.

"I think about it so often, if one of you touched me like this. I love to imagine it – helps me get off so easy." He admitted, his cheeks rosy, he bit his lip. Chan ruffled through the blonde strands of his hair. He couldn't lose his mind so early into the stream.

As he pulled away from his hair, he looked into to camera, then at the screen. He looked a mess.

Chan continued unbuttoning his shirt, he had managed to cool down a little, mentally. His voice was more stable, too.

"I want to touch you, too. You need a lot of love and I want to give just that to you. Want to make love to you." He growled, "really want to fuck you." With that, he ripped open the remaining two buttons of his shirt.

He slipped off the sleeves, threw the shirt to where the vest already lay. The tie, he decided, he'd leave on.

Another look at the comments encouraged Chan to go on.

"Please fuck me, Daddy! ♥"

"Why not let me fuck you, pretty boy?" Chan's head spun. All their eyes were on his body. He grew even harder within his jeans.

He took a step back, allowed his viewers to admire not just his white-chocolate abs, but also the bulge at his crotch.

"You see this?" He asked; Chan ran his hand over his clothed member. He palmed himself. "This is what you do to me, every day." He slid his hand into his pants, slowly stroked his cock.

"You made me so hard. Fuck." He pulled his hand out, opened the button and unzipped his pants. As he slid off his jeans, he turned around to give them a look at his round, peachy butt. He pulled his jeans just below it, then turned his head to be able to look at the screen. Over the material of his boxers, he groped his ass, took a handful to squeeze it; he slapped it. The noise went through the room. It sounded loud, he was sure they'd love it – it turned on Chan even further when this was confirmed.

"Take it off!" Some people demanded.

"So thicc. So pretty." Someone else wrote.

The song ended; another random sensual song started playing.

A moment later, his pants were off and Chan turned around. Through his black boxers, they all could see the clearly defined outline of his thick, erect cock. Chris palmed himself again.

"Hmm, I wonder how many of you guys get off to the thought of sucking my dick." He gripped his cock roughly. "So many of you would love to have this in your mouth, your pussy – I bet I could claim all your holes and you'd let me, too, wouldn't you?" With those words, he pulled out his cock. Spitting into his palm, Chan used it as lube as he stroked his cock. He started off slow, using merely his right hand.

"You guys touch yourselves too, yeah? I want to know I'm making you feel good. I'm gonna help make you cum- want to make you cum to me." Chan saw many people in the comments say they were already getting off along with him – he moaned out, imagining the scene. Others wrote encouraging words, told him how hot he looked, how big they thought his dick was. Yet other people requested him to do various things – touch his abs, fuck his fist, finger himself.

"Hmm, all your ideas sound so good," Chan purred, "Instead of my hand, I wish it was you guys I could fuck." He stepped closer to the phone, grabbed it to get a better angle on his cock. He held it in front of the camera, showed it off from the side. People could see his thick member in all its glory; his long shaft, the vein that ran along it, and the tip. He moved the phone once more, held is dick in place with the other hand as he showed off the pretty pink colour of his tip, the pre cum that was oozing out already. He removed his hand from his cock and, using the tip of his pointer finger, he smeared around he precum, then pulled off slightly, watching how a string of the clear substance still connected his digit and his dick.

"You guys see how worked up I am? I wish you were here to lick it off. I'd fuck all your pretty mouths." He chuckled darkly, then put the phone back in its original place.

"I've brought  a toy with me today, so I can at least pretend I'm fucking one of you." He reached to an area the camera couldn't capture, pulled out a fleshlight, as well as a small bottle of pineapple flavoured lube – his favourite.

He squirted a small amount on the opening, spread it around, then took some more for his shaft. To best spread that around, he gave himself another few, slow strokes. He hadn't been this erect, this out-of-his-mind horny in so long, even just jerking himself off gave him enough pleasure to moan out. Chan wanted release.

"I wonder how many of you pretty sluts get off with your own toys and think of me. This is what you want, isn't it?" He asked, referring to his cock. "How cute of you to think a flimsy toy could compare. It's such a shame you'll never know just how fucking well I could fuck you." Chan's hand sped up his movements, were focused on stimulating the tip of his dick. "I could make you feel so fucking good." He slurred.

Finally, he paid attention to the fleshlight again. He lined up the fake pussy's entrance with the head of his cock. Slowly, he pushed the toy all the way onto his dick. The toy swallowed all he had to give, tightly embraced it. It felt so good, Chan's eyes fluttered shut and his head fell back as he released another deep, guttural moan.

He was to impatient to hold it off any longer; he couldn't go slow, take his time. Lost in this euphoric feeling of pleasure, the tight stimulation on his cock, mixed with the pineapple scent in his nose, Chan had gone back to mere primal instincts. Vulgar, obscene noises filled the room – gushing noises, as Chan both yanked the toy back and forth with his muscular, veiny hands, and moved his hips against it, too.

“Shit, baby, you feel so fucking good.” He moaned.

Both hands were wrapped around the middle part of the toy; he held onto it as if his life depended on it. Chan  licked over his bottom lip as he read more comments.

“You look so hot, wish I was there”

“Plz fuck me!”

“I'm close already, daddy." Chan read the last one out loud.

“Hold on a little longer, baby. I'm almost there. Let's cum together, yeah?”  He kept fucking into the toy, had long since found his rhythm as his cock disappeared into the fleshlight over and over again. The squelching noises intensified. “You'll be a good little baby and let me cum inside you, right? Fill you with all I can give.” He bit his red, swollen lower lip. “Ah, shit-- Fuck!” He swore in Korean. “You feel so good, baby, love it so much.” He rambled on.

The closer Chan came to orgasming, the less coherent his words got – the more he mixed up Korean and English. A rambled mess of Konglish left his mouth as he asked fans to cum together with him.

“So close. Fuck. AH-” he switched languages. “I'm gonna cum- Gonna cum..” He moved the toy faster, then all of a sudden he lost his rhythm as he screamed “I'm coming!” His hips stopped, yet his hands kept moving, milked his cock as he spilled his load into the fleshlight. He moved it once, twice more over himself, before pulling it off completely.

“I've made a mess.” He admitted; a shy chuckle left his mouth. Chan looked back at the screen, at himself. His lips were red from biting them so much, his hair messier than it had been before, his eyes glassy.

Many stays said they came with him – others still nearing or experiencing their highs.  

A lot of fans praised him, too.

“Thank you for spending time with me today.” Chan said after a brief pause to catch his breath, and to regain his ability to think straight. “I have to get dressed and clean up now.. But I just want to thank you all for helping me. I hope I could relieve some of your stress, too.” Chan giggled.

“Thank you stays – Thank you baby-stays.” With his usual words, his significant wink, and of course, the hug, he ended the Vlive.

[kathyprior4200]

Helluva Boss Episode Remakes!

 Not too far away from Pentagram City lay a shady place in the bowels of Hell. “Welcome to Imp City: est. 1981” was posted on a worn wooden sign with a white painted eye toward the top. Under a crimson sky, a wide array of buildings made up the city, some with spikes on the roofs. Downtrodden imps of various colors and sizes mulled around the streets and ghettos. Mugging, sex, drugs, poverty, and murder were common aspects of their everyday afterlives. Indeed, being considered “lesser demons” and the “lowest of the low,” not very many had opportunities granted to them.

 Well, save for a unique family of imps, trying to get their business running.

 Just who were these imps?

 A nearby screen showed old fashioned numbers ticking down, 3, 2, and 1. Blitzo, a red and white faced imp, appeared on stage in front of purple open curtains. “Hi there! I’m Blitzo! The “O” is silent, and I’m the founder of I.M.P.!” He put out his hand and the logo appeared above it. The “M” in I.M.P. looked like imp horns, black and white in color. Down below were the words “Immediate Murder Professionals.”

 Blitzo spoke again. “Are you a piece of shit who got yourself sent to Hell?”

 A picture of Blitzo with a mustache and two black top hats over his horns was grinning evilly as a building burned in the background. The sign nearby read “Orphanage for elderly, blind, and newborn dogs.”

 “Or are you an innocent soul who just happened to get fucked over by someone else?”

 The next image showed Blitzo in a white angel costume, happily throwing away a Styrofoam coffee cup in a wastepaper basket instead of a recycling bin in an office.

 In the next shot, Blitzo held up a sign which read “Some guy who hired us!” A buff horned red demon wearing a white Ohio shirt stood not too far from the camera, a 666 News billboard in the background. He punched one fist into his hand.

 “After lovingly killing my wife for fucking a delivery man, you can imagine my surprise when I wound down here, after the state of Ohio killed me. I really wish I could stick it to that yappy jogger who saw me hiding the body.”

 Blitzo appeared again, this time with his fellow imps Millie and Moxxie in the background. A white-clothed altar with a mirror and skulls on it was in the very back. White candles were spread around the room. The two imps were sitting at a pentagram drawn on the floor. Blitzo held a blue Satanic ritual book in his hand.

 “Well, luckily for you, thanks to our company’s special access to the living world…”

 He waved his hand and a flaming portal appeared in the center of the room, causing Moxxie and Millie to scatter.

 “…we can help you take care of your unfinished business by taking out anyone who screwed you over when you were alive!” He happily fell through the portal on his back like it was a mosh pit.

 Then the musical jingle started:

 “When you want somebody gone

And you don’t wanna wait too long

Call the Immediate Murder Professionals”

  “Hand grenade or cyanide

We’ll make it look like suicide

The Immediate Murder Professionals”

 “We do our job so well

‘Cause we come straight up from Hell…”

 “We’ll kill your husband or you wife

We’ll even let you keep the knife,

 The Immediate…Murder…Professionals.

 Kids die for freeee!”

  A white person appeared with a thought bubble of his enemy with a red x. A demon fell to the floor and the person looked up. The I.M.P. logo appeared, silhouettes of Millie with a spear, Moxxie with a gun and Blitzo in the middle, spreading out his arms to make an “M.”

 Fast paced shots flashed through the ad.

 Moxxie throwing a grenade out a window as his companions grinned.

 Blitzo hanging a person in an office building while Moxxie watched. Millie held a suicide note in her hand.

 Then more killing scenes flashed: Blitzo electrocuting a person, Millie using a mace, Moxxie choking his victim.

 Blitzo led the way through a portal to Earth, Millie and Moxxie following. Moxxie tripped on a book and landed on his face while the others posed. They then stood up shocked…at the people in a church staring at them in confusion.

 Millie killed a naked couple with a chainsaw while Blitzo looked greedily at a woman’s underwear.

 Blitzo repeatedly stabbed someone else tied up near a “Blitzo show” sign at a circus.

 The three imps used more methods to kill Earthlings: Medieval torture racks, shark attacks, fire and gasoline on someone, pillow suffocation, crushing someone to death with a grand piano, the electric chair for a prisoner…

 “Kids die for freeeee!” ended the ad.

 Moxxie and Millie sang a murder love song in their living room before the meeting. Moxxie played on his purple demon-face guitar as Millie watched him with love in her eyes. It reminded them of the good times when they would shot at demons together in the streets, drag a bloody sack behind them and when Millie got a grenade as a present and used it to blow up a building.

  “Oh what a thrill when the crimson starts to spill

And my Millie goes in for the kill

She takes away my breath

She’s the angel of death for me

Oh Millie

She a queen, it’s like a dream

When I hear her victims start to scream

Get him out of the sack

She’s a maniac for me

Oh Millie

When the blood starts dripping down the sides

And the bodies start to fall from the skies

My heart skips a beat

When my Millie’s guns a blazing in the night

That’s in love

She makes the murdering fun for me”

 Both of them hummed before Moxxie finished,

  “Of all the imps in Hell…

Millie joined in, “It’s for him that I fell…

“Oh Millie.” They leaned in for a kiss.

  They paused. Moxxie yelled, while looking out the window. His boss, Blitzo was pressed against the window with a video camera. “Are you fucking filming us right now?!”

 Moxxie sighed, as a smiling Blitzo held up a sign which read “Meeting in 20 min: nice job banging yo’ wife!”

  Just before the meeting, the head imp, Blitzo walked into the receptionist room.

 “Blitz!” called Loona, the hellhound, holding a bone shaped phone in her hand. “That clingy rich asshole’s on the phone! Says it’s urgent and wants to talk to you!” Then she added in a lower voice, “Sounds a little DTFy.” (Down to Fuck)

 Blitzo spilled water on himself as he talked with Moxxie by the water cooler. “Oh god that was one time! We wouldn’t have access to the living world…if I hadn’t slept with that privileged asshole!”

 “You what?” Moxxie asked in disbelief.

 “Blitz!” Loona barked in outrage.

 “I heard you already!” Blitzo yelled. He stomped into his office and picked up his red cell phone. He played with little bobble heads of his imp coworkers, Moxxie and Millie. Signs were tacked to the wall, reading: “The Incredible Blitzo! One night only! Tickets now at the Big Top!”

 “So…” Blitzo beamed nervously, “What can I do you for this time, Stolas?”

 The owl overlord replied, lounging on his couch in a royal red robe and a crown.

 “Remember that time when I told you that a political candidate was causing problems up on Earth for a few of my associates? That he tried to convince people that global warming existed?”

 “Yes?” Blitzo answered.

 “And that it does, but more people die when nothing’s done about it? Oh, how lonely I felt.”

 “Okay well, yeah that makes sense,” Blitzo said.

 “But now…” he hooted in laughter. “There are tons of new sinners coming down here every day! I just had a feast and a murder party several nights ago. I wondered why a horde of people arrived and it’s because of a disease called the coronavirus! My, it’s the best thing to ever happen since my wedding with my queen Melody and my darling daughter Octavia’s graduation from flight school. Oh, how marvelous!”

 “Well…I’m very happy for you, sir,” Blitzo said. “I hope that…corn-ah virus does its thing.”

 Stolas sighed. “My wife wasn’t happy with me, though. She said you fell onto a cake in the middle of a lunch with her and the royal officials. What did you say to her?”

 “I said…’sorry I fucked your husband.’” He gulped.

 A tense silence.

 Blitzo examined his chest and arms. “I still have the talon scars and peck marks to prove it.”

 “And she also said that you stole one of my books, is that true?”

 “No! No way!” Blitzo lied, with a nervous laugh. “That was another imp long ago. Can I tell you how great it felt…sleeping with you?”

 “Indeed,” Stolas agreed with a contented sigh. “Your sharp horns and claws ruffling through my feathers, and my talons and beak exploring your multicolored flesh. You know what happens when I’m lonely, Blitzy?”

 “Oh, god fucking dammit…” Blitzo muttered to himself.

 Stolas’ eyes grew red. “When I’m lonely, I become hungry. And when I’m become hungry…I want to choke on that red dick of yours!  **** your ***** then lick all of your *****, before taking out your **** and **** with more teeth until you’re screaming ******** like a fucking baby!”

 Blitzo hung up the phone, the words on Stolas’ picture reading “creepy mouth: aka one night stand bird dick.” and smashed it with a rotary phone. He threw the pieces into a blender and mixed it up.

 “Eat this!” he told Loona who walked in and drank the red liquid.

 “And then you know that bridge over the freeway?” he asked.

 “Yeah?”

 “Shit off it! It’s time for the meeting, let’s go.”

  The imps currently resided in a tall office building that seemed to stand out among the other structures. Along with spikes jutting from the roof and sides, there were a pair of giant black and white imp horns attached to the sides of the building for decoration. The lights inside near the top floor were on.

 Posted on a door were the words “I.M.P. Headquarters” with “IMP Meeting in Progress” written on a piece of paper taped to the door, a smiley face off to the side.

 On a white board was a bar graph and a line graph, the line graph pointing lower at a drawing of a raging horned demon. “Fix this shit!” was written in big bold letters that took up much of the board. “Blitzo is the best, by Blitzo” was scribbled off to the side. Several tall chairs with spikes jutting from the top boarders were set near a brown table in the center of the room. A white pentagram was drawn in the center of the table.

 Up front, a black, white, and red colored imp paced back and forth, sprouting long curved striped horns: Blitzo. He wore black fingerless gloves with what looked like a yellow eye design on each glove. He was dressed in a slender navy blue business suit with light red buttons. A small round pink pin with black eyes and a stitched mouth was attached onto a red undershirt below his slender chin. What looked like a black two-clawed print mark lay over his red forehead. Along with sharp teeth, the imp has red iris eyes with yellow sclera. Like a typical devil, he also had a red pointed tail. He had four red finger-shaped claws on each hand.

 Blitzo began to speak, pacing back and forth. He looked toward his audience of two imps and a hellhound sitting on chairs around a table.

 “Alright, now I know business has been…a bit slow, lately, yes.”

 He mentioned to the board at the downward sloping line. “In fact, there seems to be less people seeking out our services; 1,056 in comparison to the 1,066 from last month. We’ve basically spiraled from the True Blue Market to that of the Raging Bull.” He pointed at the roaring demon head drawing on the board.

 “Shouldn’t it be the Bull Market is good and the Bear Market is bad?” said a voice.

 “Loona, nobody cares,” Blitzo said. He continued.

 “Any decrease could spell disaster for us, not to mention how lots of people use our services and yet look down on us.”

  Blitzo cleared his throat and spread out his hands. “It’s no one’s fault, okay? I’m not naming any names here…Moxxie.”

 Moxxie raised his eyebrows in a “what the hell?” gesture as Blitzo looked at him. The serious imp had a red face, yellow eyes, white hair framing his face and stripped horns jutting off to the sides in slight curves. He wore a large red bow-tie and a navy blue suit. White freckles were present under his eyes.

 Blitzo continued, “Now does anyone have any bright ideas on how we can get business drumming up again?”

 Millie, the bubbly imp raised her hand. She had a red face, messy black hair with a white flower patch near the top, and short black horns with faint white stripes. Her eyes were also yellow and she wore a black top, black torn pants, high heeled shoes and a little black choker around her neck. Her eyelashes extended past her face.

 Millie waved her hand and beamed, eyes shining. “What…about…a car wash?!”

 “This is Hell, Millie. No one cares about cars being clean here, okay?”

 Just then, there came a coughing from the other room. A small cyclops demon with hot pink hair with a patch of yellow opened the door and walked in. She brushed off soot from her hot pink skirt and waved at the group, who stared in surprise.

 “Hi, I’m Niffty! It’s nice to meet you. Are you part of I.M.P.?”

 “Uh yes?” Blitzo replied, unsure of what to make of this random maid.

 “Oh great, because one of my friends sent me here to investigate, he’s a busy chap, you know, and oh so dreamy!”

 She darted around the room and began removing cobwebs from the windows. “It looks like there are two men, a woman and a dog here, a nice balance.”

 Loona, the grey hellhound glared at Niffty, narrowing her red eyes. “What was that, you little shit?”

 Loona had a red cell phone in her clawed paws, the back of the phone displaying a black upside down cross. She wore a grey top with black strings in the shape of an inverted pentagram. A spiked collar was around her neck. Her pants were dark and torn, with a white crescent moon on them. Her feet were bare and her hair and tail were thick with white and dark fur.

 Niffty stopped in her tracks. “Now, did you guys need any cars to be washed?”

 Blitzo shook his head. “We don’t have any cars here, we’re broke as fuck.”

 Millie stared at Niffty and cupped her own cheeks with her hands. “Oh my Satan! She’s so adorable! Can we keep her?!”

 “No!” Moxxie and Loona said at the same time. The two workers then glared at each other.

 Moxxie crossed his arms. “We’re in the middle of a meeting right now. Do you mind?!” He pointed to the door.

 Niffty laughed nervously, “Oh okay, sorry about that, hehhehheh. I’ll be outside if you need me!”

 She scurried out of the room.

 Blitzo paused for a moment, then said, “Oh right! Ideas for our company!” He waved his hands, his eyes shining. “Ooh, what about a billboard?”

 Moxxie crossed his arms. “We can’t afford a billboard, sir.”

 Blitzo rushed over and held Moxxie in a headlock. His voice was rushed and sarcastic, “Helpful, Moxxie. Really glad you’re in the room right now.” He shoved Moxxie away.

 Blitzo stared in frustration. “Have you guys forgotten what service we provide?”

 He picked up a remote and turned on an old fashioned TV.

 After static appeared on screen, the footage showed the group killing off individuals.

 Blitzo bashing a red demon’s head with a mullet.

Moxxie shooting a blue person tied up to a chair.

Loona grabbing a red person in her mouth and shaking the person side to side like a wolf.

Millie beheading a blue person with a spear and laughing.

 Blitzo watched with a relaxed smile on his face, holding up a blue bowl of popcorn. Loona sat on the table, popping popcorn pieces into her mouth. Millie was perched on the table, enjoying the show, but Moxxie stood off to the side with a grumpy face.

 Posters hung from the walls, one showing Blitzo and his two sisters, Tilla (an imp with long black hair) and Barbie Wire (a smiling imp with ram-like horns.) It was a picture of them at a circus, the banner reading “The Amazing Imp Siblings!” Blitzo remembered the good times he had with them when they performed on stage. Barbie Wire would balance on a tightrope, holding a pole with flames on either end. Tilla tamed and evaded manticores, dragons and other beasts that were released into the arena. Blitzo would sing songs about murdering people and they would all pose and bow at the end as the crowd cheered.

 That was before Blitzo moved on to form I.M.P. recruited Moxxie and Millie, and adopted Loona.

 Blitzo moved his hand toward his chest and sighed with content. “Ahh, those were the good times.”

 Moxxie spoke up as Millie ate a piece of popcorn. “I don’t need any reminding, sir, considering you blew most of our salaries on an obnoxious TV ad last week. One that you then additionally paid to have run for a full three hours on a channel, nobody watches.”

 Blitzo turned his head, insulted. “Uh, hey, excuse me.” He stood up. “What’s “obnoxious” about a super-fun jingle, all right? It’s a fun distraction when an advertisement’s spittin’ bullshit!”

 He walked across the room.

 “People love musicals, sir,” Millie added.

 Blitzo smiled. “Exactly, Millie, and we’re basically doin’ a musical.” Blitzo did jazz hands before pointing rapidly at Moxxie with a scowl.

 “Are you gonna crush my musical theatre dreams like my dad did?” He lowered his head.

 “Sir…” Moxxie began, but his boss cut him off.

 “Because right now, all I see is just my dad’s asshole talking to me! Crushing my dreams of being who I truly am inside.” He turned his head away.

 Millie leaned in toward her husband and spoke with a teasing tone. “Are you trying to crush his dreams, Moxxie?”

 “I…what?” he asked, looking at her. Millie leaned in close and stuck out her tongue, tail curling. “I thought I knew you.” Moxxie rolled his eyes; his wife loved to annoy him.

 Blitzo turned back to Moxxie, tears in his eyes. “I can’t believe you, Moxxie. After I made you employee of the month!” He held a picture of Moxxie with his mouth open in a roar, snake tongue showing.

 Moxxie threw up his hands, “Okay, sir! I’m sorry, a commercial jingle is not comparable to musical theatre. Nobody actually likes the jingles.”

 “I liked it!” Millie pipped up.

 Moxxie turned to her, finger shaking, “Do not…do not agree with him in front of me.”

 Loona sat, bored, playing on her phone. Moxxie’s head appeared on the screen but was crushed by a weight and then blown up by a bomb. At one point his face was sliced in half as “boom!” flashed across the screen.

 “Remember when we shot that kid on Earth?” Blitzo asked.

 Moxxie got a flashback. “Oh, right. I shot that boy who was walking around licking strawberry ice cream. It was an accident. He was taken on a stretcher to the hospital.”

 The pink haired nurse had said, “Doctor, he’s not responding!”

 “Cool water, stat!” The blue-haired man had said next. He slammed water down on the boy and said, “It didn’t do anything!”

 The doctor had said, “Damn it! I’m not losing another one! “Clear!” Then they had shocked him and the boy somehow woke up with a gasp. The doctor said “Holy shit, it actually worked.”

 Millie then explained that the three of them sat in the waiting room. Blitzo read a magazine while Millie comforted Moxxie. The doctor had said to the imps, “He appears to be in stable condition, but he’ll need surgery. Now what insurance provider do you freaks have?”

 Then Blitzo asked, “The fuck is insurance?”

 Moxxie sighed, “…and then they kicked us and the boy out and we fell back into Hell.”

  A moment later, Moxxie spoke, hands forward in front of him. “I’d like to go on record and say that incident was Loona’s fault. Dispatch is supposed to give us the right info on the target. It’s very simple.”

 “Oh, sit on a dick, Moxxie,” Loona replied without looking up.

 Moxxie stuttered angrily, looking for a comeback. “You sit! Sit on…a… and the d...do your job!” He slammed his palm on the table.

 Blitzo scolded him. “Hey, now we don’t blame our screw-ups on Loona, okay? She didn’t do anything wrong!” He hugged her and nuzzled his head against her cheek, the hellhound growling at him to get off.

 Moxxie stared in disbelief. “Are you kidding me, sir? She’s awful.”

 Lonna looked at her phone. “The other day, right? I answered the puppy barking phone and said ‘Hello, I.M.P.’ Millie was yelling, ‘Loona, I got stabbed! Call Mox…’ and then I hung up. Wasn’t my problem. My Hellhound Monthly magazine was much more interesting.”

 “Don’t forget about my adoption anniversary gift I gave you,” Blitzo said, scratching his neck.

 Lonna seethed. “Don’t remind me. It wasn’t a cure for syphilis, I didn’t want it, and it so happened to be black spiders, crawling all over me!”

 “Again, I’m sorry it was spiders,” Blitzo said.

 “God damn it, apology not accepted.”

 “You should be thankful that I rescued you after your hellhound family kicked you out,” Blitzo remarked.

 Loona’s ears twitched. Millie stared nervously. “I was perfectly capable of fending for myself,” barked Loona, looking up from her phone for the first time. “There was nothing special about them, other than all the alcohol, meth and drugs they took. My parents never cared about us. I mean, they sent off my other siblings to work for other overlords and were never seen again. Perhaps I was fortunate enough to not have to deal with them.”

 Blitzo had tears in his eyes. He hugged her again. “Well, at least you’ve got me, Moxxie, and Millie as your new family!”

 Loona hid a smile and just bared her fangs. “Get off of me before I bite your face off!”

 Blitzo stepped back.

 Loona then smiled and looked at Moxxie, a look of mischief in her red eyes.

 Moxxie scowled. “Excuse me, did you just fax me an ad for weight loss the other day?”

 “No,” Loona answered. “I was busy watching the princess sing.”

 “Wha-Why…Why would anyone send me that?!” Moxxie argued.

 “Come on, you know why.” She smirked.

 “I’m not chubby, thank you very much! Not to mention, you were the one who ate my avocado salad lunch! How rude.”

 “I took it because I had the worst hangover.”

 “But why would you drink on a work night?” Millie asked.

 “I was hungover from that morning, dumbasses!” Loona said to Moxxie and Millie. “I couldn’t take your assaults. So I decided to blow some fucking steam! I kicked a baby in a carriage and caused some destruction. Felt good afterwards.”

 Blitzo mentioned to Loona. “Look, the point is, Loona is a valued member of our family and you don’t get rid of family.”

 “We aren’t a family, sir!” Moxxie pointed out. “You are the boss! We are the employees! You treat her like she’s some troubled teenager! She’s more like a meth-addicted homeless woman you let man the phone!”

 Loona flipped him the bird.

 “That is offensive!” said Blitzo, walking to the window, pulling open the blinds. “Without homeless people, I wouldn’t have half the joy and laughter I do in this life!”

  Outside, a homeless imp with a broken horn and ragged grey clothing held up a sign that read “Monee helps. Satan Bless.” An imp woman with black clothing and little bat wings blushed at Blitzo who waved and did a playful raise of eyebrows before closing the blinds.

 Moxxie crossed his arms. “While we’re on the subject of “family,” can you stop finding me and Millie outside of work?”

 “Come on, sweetie, it’s not that big a deal!” Millie said.

 Moxxie’s eyes grew wide. “Excuse me, what?! I asked you, ‘Honey, can you get the butter?’ You said, ‘sure sweetie’.”

 “Spoiler alert, the butter’s spoiled!” Blitzo added. Millie giggled.

  “He was in our fucking fridge! He was spying on me while I was asleep. And worse, he fucking filmed me and you while we were singing and about to kiss!”

 Blitzo giggled. “I still have it on camera.”

 “It’s fine, honey,” Millie replied to Moxxie, patting his shoulder. “The “spoiler alert, butter’s spoiled!” was a funny use of wordplay Blitzo used.”

 “Why was he in our fridge anyway?” Moxxie countered. “And then I was dreaming that my parents were being murdered and Blitzo interrupted it. I wanted to get back to that.”

 “I was just curious,” Blitzo responded.

 “Just. Stop. Doing. That,” Moxxie growled.

 “I don’t see what the issue is!” said Blitzo. “Is there something you don’t want me seeing?” A mischievous silly look crossed his face.

 “No!” Moxxie spat, eye twitching.

 “You a baby weiner havor?” Blitzo asked, another term for a small dick.

 Loona giggled under her breath.

Moxxie was fed up. “Sir, what you say and how you act is totally inappropriate!”

 Millie pulled him down gently. “Calm down, Mox, you’re gonna have another panic attack!”

 “I am calm!” he yelled.

 Millie rubbed his head and soothed him. “Shh, there, there.” Moxxie whimpered.

 Blitzo spoke again with a childish grin, making a hole with two fingers and tapping the opening with one finger. “Look, I don’t judge the boring couple stuff you do outside of work hours, so don’t judge me.”

 Veins popped out of Moxxie’s yellow eyes. “Oh I do judge you, sir. Quite a lot, actually.” He crossed his arms as Millie gasped in horror.

 “Mox, he’s our boss!”

 “No, no, no, it’s fine, Mills,” said Blitzo with a wave of his hand. “Your husband is just…how do I say this without being offensive…retarded.”

 “Does immaturingly insulting me make you feel better about your sad, single, life?”

 Blitzo leaned in toward Moxxie. “It actually does.”

 Loona appeared to agree, because she added to Moxxie, “The only reason you have a wife is because you’re easy to manage!”

 Moxxie gasped. She had called Moxxie submissive.

 “No he’s not, you bitch!” Millie yelled, holding up two middle fingers.

 “Do not talk to my assistant that way!” Blitzo demanded. “She’s sensitive!”

 “Yes I am!” Loona barked.

 Then a squeaky voice sounded from nearby: “You guys are all fucking assholes.”

 Everyone turned and stared at a boy wearing an orange shirt with a planet on it. He had brown hair, a blue baseball cap on and was connected to a monitor.

 Blitzo pointed at him. “Oh shut up, kid, you’re lucky to witness this.”

 Moxxie pinched his nose and sighed in frustration. “Ugh, this company is such a mess!”

 “Did someone call me?” Niffty’s voice rang from the hallway. She opened the door a crack. “I can clean up any messes you may have!”

 “No!” Moxxie called. “Go away!”

 Niffty slowly closed the door.

 An awkward silence…

 “Alright, let’s get back to talking about my outfit!” Blitzo said out of nowhere.

 “Nobody was talking about that,” Loona mentioned.

 “Which is why I’m trying to get that ball rolling. So how does it look? It’s good, right?”

 The kid pointed his finger at Blitzo. He ripped off the wires from his stomach.

 “It’s been a literal hell pretending to be paralyzed so you fuckshits wouldn’t kill me, but now? I want that. I want death. You!” he pointed to Blitzo. “You are a selfish, greedy clown. And I’m a kid! We’re supposed to like clowns…even the creepy ones!”

 Moxxie scoffed. “Hey now, that’s not very…”

 The kid cut him off. “If I wanted to hear from a spineless jackass, I’d rip out your spine and ask you some shit.”

 Moxxie shivered in fear.

 “That’s my husband you’re talking to!” Millie yelled.

 The kid snickered. “That’s your husband?! I figured you for a slut, but I didn’t know you needed dick that bad!”  

 Millie fumed at her husband being called ugly and weak. To think that she would have sex with anyone else at random…

 “And you!” The kid pointed at Loona.

 “What? What about me?” Loona asked.

 The kid crossed his arms. “Nothing. I don’t talk to dogs. I’m a cat person.”

 Loona whined.

 “Wow,” said Blitzo. “You know, kid, you kind of are a piece of shit.”

 “Yeah, after all, he’s kind of a piece of shit,” Moxxie muttered.

 A ding came from Loona’s phone. She smiled. “Oh fuck! Guys, I just got a text from our client. Guess he was the right target after all.”

 “Who?” Blitzo asked.

 “Him.”

 “Me?” asked the kid.

 “Yep,” she confirmed.

 “They wanted us to kill an actual child?” Blitzo asked.

 “That’s what they’re sayin’,” Loona said.

 Blitzo grinned and twirled a gun in his hand. His job just got more fun and easier. “Well Christ on a stick, I guess there is a god!” He fired and shot the boy in the chest. He flopped down dead in a pool of blood, smoke and sparks lingering in the air.

 Blitzo spoke about I.M.P.: “You know folks, with this company, I really wanted to prove that we’re capable of doing the same things anyone else can! Like killing people! So, from us here at the Immediate Murder Professionals group, we promise to settle your unfinished business or your money… is gone and you’re never getting it back and you can write us a bad review, but we’ll play dumb to it because it’s Hell and no one fucking cares.”

 Blitzo, Moxxie and Millie kicked the dead kid on the floor, enjoying themselves. Loona snapped a picture with her phone and recorded the scene. After the imps left with the body, Niffty came in and gasped.

 “Well, time to clean this up. What a mess!” She hummed a happy tune as she mopped up the blood at rapid speed.

 Blitzo and Moxxie wore gas masks and green suits as Blitzo sawed off the boy’s arm and Moxxie sawed his chest, organs spilling out into a sack below. Millie tossed an arm into the sack and Loona helped hold open the sack. Moxxie dropped the boy’s severed head inside and shared a loving smile with his wife.

 Etched in red graffiti on a dumpster behind them were the words “Devil,” “Hell,” “Happy Hotel,” and “I’m always chasing rainbows.” A pentagram, and wide smiles were also doodled on the surface.

 Blitzo embraced the entire group in a forceful hug, knocking the phone from Loona’s hands.

 “You know, even though this kid was a target, he’s still a child. It’s important that we’ve handled this going forward, respectfully.” He wrapped his long tail around the group, all of them smiling genuinely. For despite all their problems, they were still a company family.

 Back in the human world, a crying blonde mother wearing a pink shirt and a necklace held up a paper saying “missing boy.” Below in large letters read on the news: “Mom sucks at drawing own kid!” Words say “There is a missing boy!’ and “Yet another missing kid!”

 The mother spoke into the microphone, “Please! If anyone has seen my little Eddie, please contact us at…”

 She gasped as a sack dropped into her hands. She and the news reporter looked up to see a smiling Blitzo, Millie, and Moxxie through a portal up above.

 “You’re welcome!” Blitzo called with a wave before the portal closed.

 The mother looked inside the bag and screamed. “My son! He’s dead! Noooo!”

Part One: Mrs. Mayberry

Once upon a time, there was an innocent lovely blonde teacher named Mrs. Mayberry who taught at a typical schoolhouse. She was born many years ago on July 24th.

 She taught at a red schoolhouse with a little golden bell at the top of it. “Learning is fun,” was written in bright yellow letters on the side of the building with art of colorful kites and a rainbow on it. A sign at the front read “Puppies Junior School” in sunlight. There were tall green trees and a playground off to the side. The golden bell rang for the start of the day. A blue jay and a cardinal sang from a tree branch as the teacher opened the white curtains.

 The Vivziepop lookalike woman wrote “Good morning!” in white chalk on the green blackboard.

  “Good morning!” She twirled in a dance, catching her piece of chalk. She wore a white shirt with colorful red cherries and a long blue-gray skirt. A green pendant rested on her shirt. She wore cherry earrings and round yellow glasses. Her blonde hair was tied back in a flower-like shape behind her. “Have a bright and sunny day” was written on a poster with a large smiling sun with big eyes on it. Nearby was a calendar and an old boxy computer on a desk. A white daisy was in a flower pot. “The word of the day is harmony,” was written on a schedule posted on a board behind the children sitting at desks. The orange curtains by the windows had white math symbols on it. The schedule read “math, history, reading, grammar, science, art and music” as the many school subjects for the days of the week.

 “I hope you all did your homework!” she trilled.

  The children nodded with a dance to their bodies. One boy wearing an orange shirt spun around in a stool wearing a dunce cap and he faced the wall. The class broke out randomly into song.

 “We love to do our homework and we love our teacher too!”

 The teacher sang, “And when I throw out these fun questions, you should know just what to do.”

 “Okay!” they cheered, arms in the air.

 She wrote on the board 2 + 6 = 8 and added,

“Two plus six is…”

 “Eight!” the class answered.

 “And good behavior’s…”

 “Great!” they chimed in.

 “And now it’s that part of the class when we say the time of day and date.”

 “It’s nine in the morning,” sang a blonde boy…

 “On January 8th…” added a black girl.

 “The sun is out smiling,” said a brown haired girl with a bow.

 “And it’s your husband’s birthday!” reminded the dunce boy with his tongue out.

 As the class sang “la la la,” the teacher found herself scrapping her chalk down in a line on the board. Sweat coated her forehead as the chalk was almost completely broken down. The singing was a constant drone in her head. Her right eye twitched and she turned around.

 “Oh my stars, stop singing children! Hush up now!”

 The class fell silent.

 She put a hand to her forehead. “I forgot it’s my husband’s birthday! I didn’t get him anything special.”

 The brown haired girl stood up and said, “Maybe if we call him, we could do a happy birthday surprise!”

 The teacher and kids gathered around the boxy computer. At the husband’s house, a lone sock fell on the call screen that read “wifey” on it.

 The screen turned on, and everyone gasped in disbelief.

 The teacher’s husband was in the process of having sex with another lady!

 A tie, a bra and a condom flew against the screen as they straddled naked in their bed.

 “We won’t be needing this,” a voice said as the condom hit the screen with Mrs. Mayberry’s face on the other side.

The teacher sat at her desk, looking stunned, her face turning red. The other woman was so young and beautiful. There was her husband, clad naked and showing off his muscles and parts to her.

 “Oh yeah,” the husband giggled, “Not there, not there.” They seemed to be also playing with sex toys.

 With a blank shadowed look on her face, the teacher suddenly stood up and walked away. If she wasn’t going to be able to divorce that cheating bastard…

 “Wait! Mrs. Mayberry!” called the brown haired girl. She took hold of the teacher’s hand. “Remember what you taught us…think before you act.”

 Dark thoughts suddenly festered within the woman and she gripped the girl’s neck before tossing her up in the air through the roof. She stomped out of the room and shut the door. The children ran to the window to watch as she got in her old green car and plowed through a white picket fence. “I love school” was on her license plate. The children rushed to the computer.

 The door to the bedroom was quickly pulled open.

 “Oh shit, sweetie!” said her husband, caught in the act of fucking the young lady on their master bed. “What are you doing here?”

 “Shut up, Jarold!” A newfound rage flared in her eyes. A deadly looking riffle was in her hands. She fired several shots.

 The blonde lady shrieked as Mrs. Mayberry moved closer.

 “You scream like a fish!” the teacher mentioned to the blonde haired lady.

 With a demonic yell, she brutally shot the younger woman across multiple areas of her body. Thick blood splattered everywhere.

 Her husband gasped. “Oh god, what have you done?! She had a family!”

 “We could’ve had a family!” the teacher sobbed, in a flood of despair and rage. She picked up a bullet and shot her husband square in the head. He collapsed to the floor, dead.

 “Oh god, what have I done?” she asked, frazzled, whipping away the blood from the screen. She saw her children stare in horror and disgust. “In front you all.” She broke down into tears, seeing her dead husband in a pool of blood.  She spoke her last words through sobs. “I’m so sorry my children. Don’t forget to work on your timestamps.”

 Mrs. Mayberry knew there was nothing left for her but jail time and grief. There was only one other option. With shaking hands, she shot herself in the chest with a yelp. The children fainted on the floor one by one at the traumatizing sight. The policeman took the wailing blonde lady to the hospital…and found Mrs. Mayberry’s body lying next to her husband’s on the blood-stained floor.

 The blonde lady Martha stared lovingly with a brown uncovered eye at her new muscular husband Ralphie wearing an orange plaid shirt. He had brown hair and an athlete/superhero build. Their two children stood by her bedside as she recovered. The room had bouquets of colorful flowers in every corner. Camera flashed as news reporters talked to her.

 “How does it feel to have survived such a crazy bitch?” a newswoman asked.

 “I just hope that sick woman finally found peace,” Martha drawled in her hospital bed.

 Her husband comforted her, head lowered.

 “You are so brave,” the reporter commended to Martha. “Here’s $2 million dollars!”

 The woman’s face lit up as she was handed a large golden check. “Oh thank you!” She smiled at the cameras with her husband like she was a movie star.

 The stereotypical America family lived in a house near the woods and by a lake. Martha dressed like a housewife with a long polka dot skirt. Her daughter had brown pigtails, a lavender shirt with a tie, and a red skirt, with boots. The younger boy had a beaver-skin cap, a white shirt, brown pants and camouflage boots. On the outside, they were the perfect typical family.

 “You’re a hero,” said more news people as she stood elegantly at a VNN (Vivienne News Network) podium.

 “You’re a hero, girl,” admired a brown skinned jogger with short blonde passing Martha by. Martha basked in the attention and wealth. Who knew that getting shot at would change her life for the better.

 “My mama’s a hero!” declared the son.

 “She is a hero!” The brown haired casher agreed down to him as the family went grocery shopping.

 “Ooooh…You’re a hero!” moaned her husband as he thrust his penis wildly in and out of her as they made love in their bedroom. Their walls were covered with pelvises and newspaper clippings of Martha under “local hero” headings.

 “You’re a hero,” smiled an old praying priest who stood by her at one church meeting.

 Even worse for Mayberry, a new class of children cheered, “You’re a hero!” to Martha when she taught a “How to deal with trauma 101 class.”

 “Oh you’re a hero!” another man groaned as he wildly gave her anal.

  Mrs. Mayberry woke up staring at a crimson red sky. Her form had completely changed… Mrs. Mayberry was now a purple demon with stripped curved horns on her head, wearing rectangular glasses. She wore a pale red shirt with x stitches on it, along with an eye where her pendant was. Her hair was long and white and pulled back with a black bandana. She wore a dark skirt with an upside down cross on it and heels. She also had sharp yellow teeth.

 After finding a place to live and shying out of sight from shady strangers, Mrs. Mayberry had the chance to continue her career where she left off. So she did. It took some learning and adaptation to Hell’s culture but fortunately...it was pretty simple.

 Mrs. Mayberry was soon hired at “Pentagram Penitentiary Place,” one of the top public schools in the district. It was a large school for grades K-12. The name of the school was in black letters surrounded by a red downward facing pentagram over the black front doors. “All grades in one place!” read the slogan. The building was of red-orange brick with three rows of low cracked windows facing the front. The outdoor playground consisted of rusted basketball hoops, a jungle gym, dark asphalt and a swing set that made squeaky sounds every time it was used. The slide was high up and made of metal, so that it was always painfully hot for the young demon children to slide down. A barbed wire fence with swirls of wire at the top surrounded the prison-like school.

 A bunch of middle schoolers were bouncing a demon skull around and tossing it into the basketball hoops. Little preschooler demons rough-housed on the grass-less ground, laughing. One small green dragon kept making burping sounds, emitting orange sparks much to the delight of his peers.  A dinosaur used his tail for a black eyed doll girl to use as a jump rope. There was even a little scary-go round that furry bird-like kids went on to test their flying and spin out of control in the air. One white bird crashed against the fence and slid down with a flop.

 “Loser!” taunted a bulky blue cyclops kid wearing a baseball cap. He spat on the bird’s upside-down head and laughed with his goons. An older demon with a rhino’s horn was spray-painting teal blue penises on the walls.

 “Watch your back!” he called out to a centaur who fired an arrow from a bow, startled. The green lizard demon tied to the target glanced down at the arrow that had almost gotten him in the crotch. He sighed with relief, only to have an ax lodged into his head, thrown by an orange goat teenager.

 Nearby were two purple demons with silvery snake hair sitting on a concrete window ledge, wearing blouses, sequined navy skirts and shoes. They were listening to music from their Eye-Pods. One of them was painting her nails and the other took a drag from an e-cigarette. Every kid had a multiple digit number temporarily tattooed on their necks. An E, an M and an H were before the numbers, for elementary, middle and high school. The following number indicated their grade and the last two numbers were their position in alphabetical order. K or a P next to the E stood for kindergarten and preschool.

 A loud buzzer rang at the top of the roof, signaling class starting. The children were lined up in front of their respective teachers. Mrs. Mayberry stood in front of her line of preschool demons.

 After singing a song about a demonic turtle drowning in a bathtub with the class, she counted each child as they made their way to homeroom. They all filled in and sat at their wooden desks. The demonic alphabet was listed on a nearby poster with translations into English and other languages.

 “Good morning!” Mrs. Mayberry trilled in the windowless classroom, scrapping her chalk against the blackboard before catching it with a twirl. “I hope you all did your homework.”

 The kids fearfully nodded.

 “Hmm, I don’t think you did, EP-04,” she scolded a demon boy wearing an orange shirt with no paper in front of him. “Go sit in time-out.”

 The boy groaned and sat on a stool facing the wall. The white dunce cap burned on his head.

 “The pledge of allegiance,” Mrs. Mayberry led. The class stood up with their hands on their hearts.

 “I pledge allegiance and my soul to the banner

Of His Majesty Lucifer and Her Majesty Lilith

And to the unholy Inferno

For Pentagram City

One nation under Satan

Indivisible

With liberty and chaos for all!”

 They sat back down.

 “Now let’s sing,” Mrs. Mayberry ordered.

 The demonic class broke out into song:

 “We love to do our homework and learn stuff every day.”

 “And when I throw in these hard questions, you should know just what to say,” Mrs. Mayberry sang.

 “Okay!” they cheered.

 She wrote an equation on the board. “Divide this number by…”

 “Zero!”

 “Our favorite paint is…”

 “Bloody red!”

 “And when there’s a stranger danger…”

 “You stab them in the head!” they answered, making stabbing motions with their arms.

 “A poison for a deep sleep?” she asked

 “Wormwood! Does no good!”

 “The geological components of Hell?”

 “Fire and brimstone!” added a girl.

 “If you can’t use love…”

 “Use hate!”

 “Now it’s time for us to say the day and date.”

 “Your death day was on January 8th, right?” piped up a boy in the back.

 Mrs. Mayberry stopped short. “Hush up! We don’t mention that date.” She turned to the class. “Go on.”

 “It’s 3 in the afternoon…” said a boy.

 “On October 31st,” said a green girl.

 “Hell’s heat is still hot,” said another girl, sweating.

 “Let’s watch the episode first!” reminded the dunce boy.

 The demons went “la la la” as Mrs. Mayberry stared at the board, red eyes wide.

 “Oh my suns! Stop singing children. Shut up!”

 The demons fell silent.

 “I forgot it’s the new episode! I’m supposed to be off to pursue my revenge!”

 “Maybe you could scare your enemies at a death-day party!” a girl suggested with her hands up in the air.

 Mrs. Mayberry looked at her hell-phone and saw the last seconds of an I.M.P. commercial. She stood up to walk away.

 “Wait! Mrs. Mayberry,” said a girl, taking hold of her hand. “Remember what you taught us. Act before you think.”

 Mrs. Mayberry pat her head. “I think not. Work on your timestamps and assignments, children. I’m off to pursue a little education of my own.”

 A horn-covered sub man walked in and bellowed, “200 pushups on the double! Or it’s back to your cells!”

 The demons got up from their seats and bent down to do the pushups.

 Mrs. Mayberry called a taxi outside and it drove her off.

 Up on a screen outside her window, Mrs. Mayberry saw a full commercial where she learned of an assassination company called I.M.P.

 “Hi there, I’m Blitzo, the “o” is silent and I’m the funder of I.M.P.! Are you a piece of shit that got sent to Hell? Or are you an innocent soul who just so happened to get fucked over by someone else?”

 The next shot showed a bulky red demon with horns, wearing a white Ohio shirt/jersey. A sign read, “Some guy who hired us!” The demon spoke:

 “After lovingly killing my wife for fucking a delivery man, you could imagine my surprise when I wound down here, after the State of Ohio killed me.” He rammed his meaty fists. “I really wish I could stick it to that yappy jogger who saw me hiding the body!”

 “Guess I’m not the only one who murdered my spouse,” she thought. “I’ve also never seen a guy with…such muscles before…”

 Blitzo appeared again. “Well luckily for you, thanks to our company’s special access to the living world…we promise to take care of your unfinished business by taking out anyone who may have screwed you over when you were alive!”

 The sounds of the imp jingle motivated Mrs. Mayberry as the taxi pulled to a stop in front of the I.M.P. building. She got out, climbed up the stairs and knocked on the office door. It opened and out popped Blitzo.

 “Is this I.M.P.?” she asked.

 “Yes,” Blitzo said.

 “I figured, since I saw the commercial. I have one bad bitch that needs to be killed. And I’ve got a lot to say.”

 “Well, come on in then,” he said.

 Mrs. Mayberry paced Blitzo’s office at I.M.P. headquarters as she told her story.

  “I was a good person before it all went down,” she narrated, pacing to and fro. “I was good my entire life.”

 She continued on, adding details about her personal life. She held a cigarette in her hand. Apparently, it was easy to get into unhealthy habits in Hell.

 “You do everything right in life, play by the rules, and still get sent down here with all the Hitlers and Epsteins of the world. After one measly massacre propelled by blind rage. So that’s why I’m here. To get my revenge.”

 “I mean was she hotter?” Blitzo remarked with a smirk.

 The demon’s eyes flared red in anger, her face partially in shadow by the drawn blinds. A lemon tree was in the background with a sign that read “no whores” beside it. Blitzo casually lounged in his office chair.

 “I’m just saying I had a hard time understanding the unprompted melodrama you just spat at me, tits,” Blitzo chuckled.

 Mayberry growled and her body briefly glowed red. Her cigarette bent in her hand.

 Blitzo rolled his eyes. “Anyway I don’t think you quite understand how we’re operating down here.” He stood up and Mrs. Mayberry glared at him. “You see we take revenge on the living and it sounds like the core cast of your sitcom of a death frankly are all probably down here in Hell with you. Boop.”

 He bonked her on the nose.

 Mayberry’s pointed tail twitched, her purple claws clenched. Her skirt was torn with holes and her feet were cloven hooves. This imp guy was worse than the demonic children she taught.

 Mayberry extended her left claws. “Not all of them. That whore survived. Now they all call her a hero.”

 She continued. “Between the talk shows and bullshit donations she made so much goddamn cash. Getting shot was the best thing to happen to her.”

 Mayberry bashed her fists into the ground, creating cracks. “She’s not a hero!” Mayberry yelled, getting in close to Blitzo’s face.

 “Yeah, okay, yeah, my thoughts exactly,” Blitzo stuttered in a rapid nervous voice. He frantically pressed a red button under the desk multiple times. The red light flashed under the “Deranged Client” label on a dashboard. The other labels read, “More Coffee,” “Soiled My Pants,” “Horny Client,” “Client Giving Birth,” “Ghost,” and “Stolas.”

 Blitzo later burst through the door, followed by Mrs. Mayberry. “Guys, I’d like you to meet, our newest client!”

 The room suddenly burst into flames…Blitzo was furious. He quickly led Mrs. Mayberry outside where she hopped into a taxi to wait back home.

 “Bye and don’t worry,” called Blitzo to her, “We’ll get that skank in less than 24 hours or your first kill is free!”

 She could only hope that crazy imp and his team could do their job.

 As it turned out, Mrs. Mayberry later found out that not only had I.M.P. killed Martha, they also killed her crazy Satanic family. Mrs. Mayberry was very impressed. She held a piece of cake and laughed with the I.M.P. members for a special celebration. Millie talked about how it was okay to kill someone if they tried to kill you back.

 “That’s messed up,” mentioned Mrs. Mayberry. Then she smiled. “But I paid for it!”

 Everyone laughed again. Mrs. Mayberry felt good among her new allies. She had embraced her past at last.

 After the celebration, she got back into the taxi but instead of heading home, she headed further into town.

 There was a red Ohio demon for her to thank.

 Part Two: The Imps’ Adventure

In another room, Moxxie was holding a black and red crossbow in his hands. In front of him was a picture of a smiling family: a father, a mother, a baby and two children. His arms were shaking as the reflector hovered around the man’s crotch area.

 “Moxxie, stop shaking!” Millie chided. “You’re gonna shoot our only hellhound!”

 Loona lay on her back on a gray couch. The family picture was in one hand and her phone was in the other. On the wall were drawings of Blitzo as a horse and a drawing of Robo Fizz with an arrow sticking out from it.

 Loona spoke in a sarcastic tone, “Wow. I feel so loved here.”

 “Just take a deep breath,” Millie told Moxxie, inhaling, “and let it out.”

 “But, it’s a family,” Moxxie argued. “Under what circumstances would we ever need to kill a human family?”

 “I mean if that’s what the client wants,” Millie began.

 “Maybe like a shitty dad,” Moxxie suggested. “Or a mob family.” He spoke through his teeth, “That’s understandable.” He then spoke normally. “But to eradicate an entire innocent, seemingly innocent, upper middle class family bloodline?”

 Loona stared at the picture for a moment before pointing to Moxxie.

 “Hey! You don’t know their innocent.”

 She pointed to the boy. “This kid probably sets dogs on fire.”

 She pointed to the girl. “Maybe this girl gets off to bullying Australian kids online.”

 She pointed to the father. “And this guy…” She narrowed her eyes and spoke lower. “This guy definitely watches.”

 “Exactly!” Millie agreed. “Humans are full of secret nasties. It’s why so many of them end up here. But guilty and innocent aren’t our business, Mox.” She cupped his cheeks. “Killing who we’re paid to is our business. Choose a target.”

 She kissed him before stepping aside. Moxxie positioned his crossbow again.

 “I just think it’s a bit excessive and we could be a bit more selective, is all.”

 Just then, Blitzo barged into the room, followed by Mrs. Mayberry.

 “Guys! I want you to meet…”

 Startled, Moxxie fired the arrow and it ricocheted around the room. Millie jumped into Moxxie’s arms as the arrow hit a computer. It then flew and poked a hole in the family picture that a startled Loona held. The arrow made impact with the bottom of an eel tank, causing it to wobble dangerously. The arrow speed toward Mrs. Mayberry but Blitzo calmly caught it in one hand.

 “…our newest client!”

 The eel tank suddenly fell down, glass and water pouring onto the floor. The eels burst with electricity, casing the room to erupt in flames. Loona, Moxxie and Millie cowered in fear.

 “Dammit, Moxxie! I just bought those eels!” Blitzo yelled in anger.

 Soon, imp firefighters rushed to the scene to put out the flames as the group waited outside. The firefighters also carried the eels away to their red fire truck. Although imps were immune to fire, the buildings were not.

 Mrs. Mayberry climbed into a taxi cab.

 “Bye,” Blitzo waved, “and don’t worry, we’ll get that skank in less than twenty four hours or your first kill is free!” He waved as the taxi drove away.

 “When did we start implementing that deal?” Moxxie asked.

 Blitzo turned to glare at him. He pulled him close, holding his face.

 “When you set fire to my office in front of a…” Blitzo screamed, “client, you fucking dipshit!" He shoved Moxxie out of the way in anger. “Now someone please tell me that fancy book is still intact!”

 Loona stood against the wall, typing on her phone. “You mean our only ticket to the other side?” She pulled out a blue book from behind her. “Yeah, got it.”

 Blitzo came over to her and started to baby talk to her. “And that’s why you’re my favorite, Loony. You get a treat now.”

 He held up a dog treat in his hands, tossed it in the air and caught it with his long tongue.

 “Ew, stop it,” Loona said with disgust. Blitzo pulled the biscuit into his mouth and chewed.

 “You’re so gross!” she remarked.

  A nearby billboard with Blitzo’s face on it read with misspellings: “Goat an asshole in the living worlds!? Come to I Am Pee!!??! Make sure you put this sign up on the rite side. Don’t fuck this up. Also payment may take a couple of weeks because it cums in the mail. –Speech to text- -Blitzo”

 Millie drew a pentagram with chalk onto the wall. The pentagram glowed red and a portal to the human world appeared.

 “Aw stop it, I get enough of that from my therapist,” Blitzo told Loona before she left. He mentioned to the other imps, and moved his fist in front of him. Now let’s go lick some ass!” He pressed his hand into Moxxie’s face.

 “The expression is “kick some ass.” Blitzo,” Millie mentioned before she stepped through the portal. Blitzo let go of Moxxie’ face.

 “Mine’s better,” Blitzo said before following her.

 “Aw, fuck,” Moxxie sighed as he followed them through the portal.

 All three imps stood in front of a small red house by the lake as the sun set. Blitzo and Moxxie leaned against the side of the house, rising from the bushes. Blitzo stood up and peered into a window. A row of white flowers were on a planter on the ledge.

 “That’s gotta be her,” Blitzo whispered. He then chuckled darkly. “This is too easy.” He looked over at Moxxie. “Moxxie, do you want this one?”

 Moxxie looked stunned and smiled nervously. “Me?”

 “Yeah, this one’s simple enough for you to handle. It’s just a happy mother who just got out of the hospital.”

 Moxxie stood up and looked through the window. His face fell as he looked at the happy family enjoying dinner. A pig’s head was at the center of the table. The house was decorated with axes and guns on the walls. A lamp stand seemed to be made out of a spinal column. Ralphie and Martha affectionately rubbed each other’s noses, Martha holding a dinner platter in her hand. Moxxie hesitated; there was no way he could kill any one of them.

 “You snooze you lose, Mox!” Blitzo called out.

 He got out his gun, which was black with flames painted on it. The reflector was an upside down cross and it hovered over Martha’s face. She smiled with large doe eyes and blinked innocently.

 “And I’ve got you, bitch,” Blitzo murmured.

 “Wait, are we actually killing a family?!” Moxxie asked in disbelief.

 “No, don’t be a puss, we’re just killing a mother,” Blitzo remarked. “We’re running a family.” He grinned and clicked his rifle, positioning it.

 “But…” Moxxie began. “Hold on, hold on, let’s just think about it…”

 Moxxie lifted up the rifle just before Blitzo fired. The bullet hit a glass mirror in the house, causing the family members to gasp in fear.

 “What was that, Ralphie?” Martha asked her husband, who sat at the table.

 Ralphie shook his head. “I don’t know Martha, but whatever it is…”

 He stood up with a sharp-toothed grin, holding a rifle in his hands.

 “They’re gonna be tomorrow night’s dinner!”

 Martha set the platter down on the table, downed a glass of wine and smashed the glass on the floor.

 “Alright, kids! Gun’s out!” She called with an evil grin. The kids, too, grinned evilly as they pulled out smaller guns. The boy pulled out his from his brown beaver-skin hat.

 “Looks like we’ve got some rabbits to catch, youngins!” Ralphie said with an evil chuckle.

 Back outside, Blitzo was fuming. “What the fuck was that, Moxxie?”

 Moxxie breathed anxiously before letting out a croak, his snake-like tongue flickering. He fell to his knees, hands over his face.

 “I’m sorry. They just seemed so wholesome and happy.” Tears fell from his eyes. “I panicked.”

 Blitzo face-palmed. “Oh who the fuck is innocent, Moxxie? From the moment of birth, you’re already a parasite leeching off your momma’s tits.”

 He grabbed his chest in an imitation of holding breasts. He leaned in and poked Moxxie painfully on the head. “Now get the fuck over yourself you baby dick prick!”

 A bullet fired through the wall and shot Blitzo in the arm. He cried out as black blood splattered.

 “A new hole!” Blitzo cried in terror. “Scatter!”

 Blitzo and Millie leapt into the air just as another gunshot created a larger hole in the wall. A grinning Martha and Ralphie leapt through the hole and chased after them, guns drawn. Moxxie peered out from behind the bush, rapidly looking around. A child’s hand grabbed Moxxie’s pointed tail and he yelped. He only saw a barrage of fists from the children before passing out.

 Millie flipped backwards along a cobblestone trail before diving into the lake.

 “There you go, little critter!” Ralphie called, firing another bullet. He stepped onto the wooden dock. “Y’all can’t hide long from me!”

 Millie had her head above the water under the dock, a knife in her mouth. She broke through the dock with a crash before landing with a grin, knife at the ready. Ralphie swing a beer bottle at her, but she moved behind him out of the way. Millie jumped up in the air, knife in both hands. Ralphie swung the bottle upwards, hitting her in the head. The glass shattered and she fell to the ground with a loud yelp. Millie struggled weakly to stand, but collapsed onto the dock, eye twitching. Ralphie grinned down at her as the sky spiraled red. He picked her up and headed deep into the woods.

 Moxxie opened his eyes and gasped with a squeak to find his hands and body tied with rope. He appeared to be tied to a stitched up headless dead body sitting on a chair. Moxxie’s face fell in fear as he stared at the boy and girl in front of him. Both their eyes were red and devious grins formed on their faces.

 Moxxie tried to defuse the fear. “Oh. Hello there little ones. Aren’t you cute?”

 The children spoke in low distorted voices, the boy finishing shortly after the girl.

 “It’s nice to have a new critter to play with.”

 Moxxie glanced up in terror at a red spotlight above him. The light revealed a human head high up and several limbs on plaques. The wooden walls were stained with red blood. Tow plaques held stitched up faces of skin. A larger plaque displayed a dead man with long white hair, arms crossed, eyes and teeth bulging out. His upper chest was connected to the plaque. A picture frame made of bones displayed another face made of skin inside it. Human skin was tacked to the wall with “bless this mess” stitched onto it. Moxxie looked and saw a dead human body on a platter, an apple in its mouth. Organs were displayed in a nearby bowl.

 Moxxie took one look at the dead body and whimpered. “Aw. Crumbs.”

 Meanwhile, Blitzo was running for his life in the woods. Four gunshots rang out as Blitzo darted through a bush, leaves falling to the ground. Martha’s evil echoing laughter quickened his pace. The imp slide down a grass hill, landing on his feet. He crouched under the bushes, looking around. He panted, catching his breath.

 “I know you’re hurtin’, little devil,” drawled Martha in a sing-song voice.

 Blitzo darted behind a tree, taking in deep silent breaths. His back was pressed against the bark. He covered his mouth, not daring to move.

 “I promise that I can make that pain go real quick.”

 Martha walked through the woods, not too far away, in shadow. “Just come let Mama Martha put a bullet in that pretty little skull!”

 Blitzo sighed in relief after hearing the footsteps fade.

 Ring! Ring! Ahh!

 A startled Blitzo scrambled to retrieve his yellow cell-phone, which was ringing a yelling ringtone. He eventually caught the phone before pressing it to his ear. The phone had a GFY (Go Fuck Yourself) on it and a laughing devil emoji with imp horns.

 “This is a really bad time,” Blitzo whispered.

 At Stolas’ palace, the owl prince was currently lounging in an ornate bathtub, several lit candles with blue flames positioned around the edges. Astrological symbols glowed white in a circle on the floor. The midnight blue curtains looked like the night sky, with starry designs on them. Floating constellations hovered around the room. He was the prince of astronomy as well as being horny.

 “When isn’t it a bad time, Blitzy?” he mused, stretching his long slender arm. He held a rotary phone to his ear, the speakers shaped like sunflowers.

 Blitzo sighed in frustration. “What is it?”

 Stolas’ four red eyes blinked. “I’ve been meaning to follow up on our last conversation regarding my grimoire?”

 Blitzo’s angry face appeared in a bubble.

 “What did you just call me?” Blitzo asked. Stolas popped the bubble with a finger. “My book, Blitzy. The book I was given to do my job that I have allowed you to use to do yours?”

 Blitzo ducked as a bullet flew through the tree he was behind. Martha’s shadowy figure appeared in the hole, her eyes and mouth glowing red.

 “I can hear ya, darling!” she called out.

 “Shit,” Blitzo muttered, scurrying off.

 “Anywho,” Stolas continued. “I have been thinking. You know, I have been permitting you to access the mortal realm less than legally for quite some time now, but I do need it back to fulfil my duties. I was thinking, what if we worked out some sort of exchange?”

 He ran a finger along the edge of the tub. He then did a walking motion with his fingers as they glowed red.

 “Favors for favors? Doesn’t that sound…” He spoke seductively, “…enticing?”

 Blitzo skidded to a stop as another bullet hit a tree. He ducked behind another one and frantically whispered, “You gotta stop using your fancy-ass rich people talk, okay? I’m trying to concentrate on not getting fucked in my hay!”

 Bam!

 Another bullet hit a spot on the tree.

 “Then let me keep it simple,” Stolas explained. “Once a month, on the full moon, you return the book to me, followed by a night of…”

 His eyes glowed red, his beak open in lust…

 “…passionate fornication.” He briefly slid lower in the tub with a blush before rising up to lean against the tub.

 “And…you get to keep it the rest of the time. Sound fair my little imp?”

 “Fine, whatever!” Blitzo replied.

 Blitzo let out a happy sigh. “Oh Blitzy! I’m so excited! I cannot wait to fill your slimy **** inside of my *****…”

 Blitzo cringed as Blitzo went on about the sexual things he planned to do to him.

 Out of nowhere, Blitzo found himself being pinned against the tree by the bottom handle of Martha’s gun.

 “Got ya!” she grinned. Bltzo’s phone was on the ground, Stolas still talking.

 “So, you’re a little devil, huh?” she asked, a wide grin. “Come to drag me and my kin to Hell? Well not today, Satan!”

 She pressed the gun further into Blitzo. “Gonna send y’all back where ya came from!”

 She hit Blitzo hard and he slumped to the ground. She took him and headed off into the woods.

 Back at the house, Moxxie struggled to free his tied up hands and body. In the reflection of the window, he could see the orange yellow lights of fires. He gasped.

 “Millie!”

 The two kids stared deviously at him. He froze when the girl revealed a long sharp knife in her hands. Moxxie glared, determined. As the girl raised the knife, Moxxie shoved her backwards with the chair. There was a thud as the chair toppled over onto the floor. Moxxie grabbed the knife and cut the rope loose, freeing himself. A “Live, Laugh, Love” sign and a hangman’s noose hung from the wall. Moxxie burst through the round window, a shadow silhouette with glowing yellow eyes. Wasting no time, he raced into the woods and toward rows of torches. Hanging from the trees were red Satanic symbols. There were also tents around the area.

 A full moon appeared in the sky from behind thin clouds. Down below, Blitzo and Millie were tied to a stake decorated with black spikes at the top. Ralphie laughed as he poured gasoline onto the ground by their feet. Martha stood nearby, holding a torch in her left hand. Her blouse was torn and low cut, with polka dots on them. Her eyes were red and she wore skull earrings.

 Blitzo groaned in frustration. “I had that fucking shot. God dammit, Moxxie.”

 “Satan!” Martha declared. “We return your filthy creatures back to the pits of Hell!” She raised her torch. “May the root of evil remain honored as we continue thy work!”

 Martha tossed the torch underneath Blitzo and Moxxie, who still struggled to free themselves. Ralphie laughed again. The stake soon lit up in flames…

 …leaving the imps unscathed.

 “Yeah, that’s not exactly how it works, lady,” Blitzo explained. “Sorry, your fire doesn’t really hurt us, but I mean I could fake it if that’ll get your dick hard.” He smirked and Millie giggled.

 “Oh. Shit.” Martha stared confused and rolled her eyes. “I don’t have one.”

 Then she got a better idea and grinned. “Well, I’ll just shoot you in your smart-ass mouth!” She held her rifle in her hands.

 “That would be more effective,” Blitzo mentioned.

 “Blitzo!” Millie spat.

 Martha laughed again as she raised the rifle, two barrels pointing at the imps. The imps closed their eyes and flinched.

 A loud bang and a yelp was heard. Martha’s eyeball flew from her socket and she collapsed to the ground.

 “Moxxie!” Millie cried, seeing Moxxie hold a gun in his hands. Moxxie raced over and untied Millie and Blitzo.

 “You’re not getting your goddam paycheck for this one, Mox!” Blitzo mentioned before he fell down. Moxxie and Millie embraced each other with small smiles. They slowly moved their heads against each other in affection. Ralphie tripped over Martha’s body before fleeing the scene.

 “Oh yeah, thanks! I’m fine!” Blitzo spoke out in sarcasm.

 Moxxie helped Blitzo up, supporting him.

 “I’m sorry, sir. I compromised our objective and put us in harm’s way. It won’t happen again. I promise.”

 Blitzo pulled Moxxie into a hug. “Apology accepted.” Then he spoke to Moxxie in a low threatening voice. “But if you ever pull off a stunt like this again, I’ll fuck you and your wife.”

 Just as fast, Blitzo separated from Moxxie and announced, “Alrighty! Job well done! Now let’s get off.” Millie lifted her arms in a cheer. From his chest, Blitzo pulled out a gray horse figure with a back mane like a My Little Pony toy. He put it back and retrieved his cell phone.

 “Eh. Yeah give me a moment. I need to get something I left at the house,” Moxxie said.

 “Okay, fine but hurry up,” Blitzo said. He put his cell phone to his ear and spoke loudly, “Loona! We’re ready to come home, dear!”

 Moxxie raced through the woods, determined to set things right. In the background, Stolas was talking to Blitzo, mentioning, “You and I on…peanut butter and jelly sandwiches all night.”

 Back inside the house, the boy and girl were in their father’s arms in a corner.

 “Don’t move!” Moxxie demanded, pointing his rifle at them. The boy and girl looked scared and innocent. The girl even had a dark gray stitched up teddy bear with her.

 Ralphie chucked. “What are you gonna do, little guy? Kill us?”

 “I should!” Moxxie replied, stepping back. “You people are monsters!” Then he lowered the rifle. “But… you should have a chance at a life and a purpose. Look at your children. They have their whole future ahead of them! You are going to face your crimes, justly.”

 He picked up a remote from a stand. “I am calling your earthly authorities and they will make sure you are dealt with, fairly. I am handing this, my way.”

 He pressed a button and a television turned on in the adjacent room. A black and white program played. Moxxie gasped in surprise, then looked down at it.

 “Oh shit,” he muttered. The black remote had pink and white buttons reminiscent of a smiling goofy face.

 “Uh do you…do you have a phone to summon 911?”

 “Yeah, it’s in the kitchen,” Ralphie mentioned behind him.

 Moxxie held the remote. “Then what’s this for?”

 “It’s a universal remote,” Ralphie replied. “Got it for the kids.” The kids smiled and he pulled them in a hug.

 “Aww,” Moxxie smiled, eyes shining.

 He called the police and hurried back to the portal in the dark woods.

 “There he is,” Blitzo said. “Have a good wank-off session, Moxxie?”

 “Excuse me?”

 Blitzo walked over to him. “Well I don’t care where you cum in the living world, just come to your job on time, alright?” He poked Moxxie several times for emphasis. “See you at the office!” He ran through the portal.

 Millie placed a hand on Moxxie’s cheek. “You doing okay, sweetie?”

 “Better now, honey,” Moxxie replied with a smile. “I think I just needed a minute to process.”

 Millie tenderly touched Moxxie’s chest. “You have a good heart, honey.” She playfully pinched Moxxie’s nose. “Just a fuzzy head.” She kissed him and Moxxie’s heart fluttered. He smiled happily as Millie walked through the portal.

 Moxxie heard the whirl of blades and flashes of light. He turned around. There were police cars and a helicopter in front of the house.

 A voice over a loudspeaker said, “We got em’ boys!”

 A missile fired at the roof and the entire house exploded in a fiery inferno. Something hit Moxxie in the face. He stared at the ground and found the head of the teddy bear that had flown off. He stared with a shocked look of disbelief on his face. The family that had a chance to be better was now dead.

 Blitzo grabbed Moxxie hard by the neck and pulled him through the portal.

 Later on, everyone was laughing and celebrating back at I.M.P. headquarters. They were all wearing birthday party hats. Loona and Mrs. Mayberry held slices of cake on plates. A white banner read “Killed the bitch,” in red letters. A white and blue cake sat in front of Moxxie, the blue icing read “We did it! :)” Everyone seemed joyful except for Moxxie. He still felt awful that they had killed an entire family. An evil family, but still…They had come close to being killed or caught. Now here they were celebrating human death.

 Moxxie wasn’t sure if he agreed to the “senseless killing” morals of I.M.P. anymore.

 Millie squealed for joy and hugged Moxxie tight around the neck. “Did you see my little Mox, Mox? We did it! Oh Moxxie!”

 “Well here’s to another mission accomplished,” Blitzo announced, “…and Moxxie finally learned not to fuck up.”

 Moxxie just stared wordlessly at his plate, dark circles under his eyes.

 “And killing people isn’t that big of a deal if they try to kill you back,” Millie added, rubbing Moxxie’s white head of hair.

 “That’s messed up,” said Mrs. Mayberry, “But I paid for it!”

 Everyone except Moxxie chuckled at that.

 “Yeah, fuck that family!” Blitzo declared, raising a fist.

Helluva Boss Episode Two: Loo-Loo Land

Part One: Octavia

 Hundreds of years ago in Hell…Stolas’ Palace

  Before Octavia Goetia was a 117 year old owl princess (Mentally turned seventeen supposedly August 15 2003), she was a cute little child owl living with her mother and father.

 At night, faint blue constellations illuminated against the exterior of the estate. On the lower jutting wall structure supporting a balcony, Stolas’ sigil symbol also glowed blue in the dark. The balcony itself was spacious and decorated with hanging see-through drapes along the pillars. Spirals and a few eyes were also part of the design above the pillars. Bushes were lined up in rows on an upper row above the balcony, with little rows of coffin-shaped windows behind them in another wall. The borders of the building were decorated with difference phases of the moon in gold. Finally, the double doors on the balcony were stained glass in yellow and orange, with a sun on the left and a crescent moon on the right.

 Inside the estate, three candles cast a dim teal light in the darkened master bedroom. The spacious room had a white tall couch off to the side and a rotary phone on a nearby dresser. Hanging on the wall was a mirror and several large portraits of Stolas dressed in red robes and a crown. Rows of small red banners hung around the top of the bed and four red curtains with gold royal symbols were draped tight around the bed. The bedspread matched the curtains.

 “Mommy! Daddy!”

 A child’s cry from another room roused the owl prince from his slumber. One of his red eyes opened halfway, another one a slit near the top of his dark feathery head. His face was white and heart-shaped. He turned his head to where his wife was sleeping. She was a white owl with long eyebrows that extended past her face. She was curled up in most of the blankets.

 “Via’s calling us, Stella,” Stolas groaned sleepily.

 Stella let out a sigh. “You get up,” she replied tiredly.

 Stolas sighed and rose out of bed, briefly putting his fingers to his head. He opened the door to Octavia’s bedroom. The wallpaper consisted of several columns of moons and stars. Astronomy books lined a shelf while tapped drawings on the wall showed stick figures of Stolas and Octavia, labeled “Daddy,” and “Me.” A nearby portrait showed a smiling Stolas giving an overjoyed Octavia a piggy back ride against a blue background.

 Stolas opened the white door, wearing his red housecoat and a pair of demon face slippers.

 “Dear? What troubles you, my owlet?”

 Octavia’s room was small, with a bookcase and strings of lights hanging around. A white and pink chest and telescope were decorated with stray feathers. Her bed was decorated with small stars and a pink crown on the white headboard, sparkling curtains on either side. A stuffed cat lay on the floor. A lavender blanket with yellow stars on it was currently quivering on the bed. A small frightened face popped out from under the covers: little Octavia. She wore pink jammies with white stars on them. Her face was white and her eyes were large and pink with white pupils. Three gray feathers stuck out from her feathery head and she also had a little tail.

 The little girl sobbed and climbed out of bed.

 “Daddy! Daddy!”

 She ran into her father’s arms.

 “I had a dream! A really bad dream!” Her mouth quivered in a whimper.

 Stolas scooped her up into his arms and yawned.

 “A nightmare.”

 He wiped a tear away from her face.

 Octavia spread out her arms. “I was looking all over the palace and…I couldn’t find you anywhere! You weren’t there!”

 Tears appeared from her eyes and she hugged her father around the neck.

 “There, there, Via. It’s okay; you’re okay.”

 He pat her several times on the back and carried her into the room. A blue grimoire with a golden crescent moon on the cover floated into the room in a purple cloud of magic.

 Stolas sat down on the bed, Octavia in his lap. The book hovered next to him and he waved his hand to turn the pages. Stolas looked at Octavia.

 “When you’re sacred and you don’t know where I am, you must remember: I will never be far away from my special little Starfire.”

 He playfully poked her on the nose and she giggled.

 Stolas waved his hand and magic surrounded it. He moved his hand to the ceiling and created a starry portal above their heads. Octavia looked up with wonder in her eyes. It was then that Stolas started singing his lullaby: “You Will Be Okay.”

 “It always seems more quiet in the dark”

“It always feels so stark”

 Both of them floated upward through the hole. A brilliant indigo night sky filled with stars was revealed. A small bright sun and a distant ringed planet hovered in the distance. Stolas stood on the surface of a large white moon dotted with craters of various sizes.

 “How silence grows under the moon

Constellations gone so soon”

 Stolas’ feet made talon bird tracks on the surface as he carried his daughter.

 “I used to think that I was bold

I used to think love would be fun

Now all my stories have been told

Except for one”

 Stolas looked down at Octavia’s innocent eyes as their faces shone from the pinkish light of the nearby star. Octavia was the ongoing part of his life that Stolas continued to live for, day by day. In all the centuries of his long life, no sexual conquests, no battles nor royal duties could compare with the unique experience of raising a child. In a sea of constellations, Octavia was a guiding light to a greater purpose.

 The ringed planet hovered beside another planet bathed in purple-pink light. A rocky meteor caught on fire and soared toward a molten planet.

 “As the stars start to align

I hope you take it as a sign

That you’ll be okay”

 Stolas sat down on a small rock and held his daughter close.

 “Everything will be okay.”

 The meteor slowly dipped into the molten planet, turning a fiery orange. The meteor broke through the planet, causing it to break into rocky pieces. Stolas and Octavia sat on a floating chunk of rock as light burst upward from between the gaps of the planet debris.

 “And if the Seven rings collapse

Although the day could be my last

You will be okay. When I’m gone you’ll be okay…”

 Octavia yawned and nestled into her father’s feathery chest with a small smile on her sleepy face. Stolas knew that even a powerful demon like himself could not live forever. Angelic weapons could kill both Hell-born and Sinners in Hell. The higher class Hell-born could respawn like the Sinners but unlike the dead previous humans, the Hell-born aged slowly and could die of natural causes like mortals.

 Stolas was a part of a powerful ancient clan of demons, one of the first in Hell. The Ars Goetia brothers in arms were very numerous and powerful…desirable targets for enemies like Valentino and the lot. The family living for so many years didn’t lessen the potential sadness that permanent death would bring.

 Like any good parent, Stolas wanted what was best for his child; to pass down some existential knowledge for her to remember later on.

 “And when creation goes to die

You can find me in the sky”

 Seven planets flew toward the sun, creating powerful impacts. The planets turned ashen black before everything burst into an explosion of light. Stolas’ vocalizing face was illuminated by the large pink smoke from the galactic explosion.

 Tears pooled in Stolas’ eyes as the portal closed behind him, now back in the bedroom. A red and gold metallic model of a solar system hung from the back wall. Stolas lifted the starry blanket and draped it over a sleeping Octavia.

 “Upon the last day

And you will be okay…”

 Stolas walked toward the door, looking at her lovingly again before closing it. Octavia slept peacefully in her bed like a happy chick in a nest.

   Stolas’ palace, Dec 9 2020, present day

 Octavia jolted awake suddenly, her pink eyes angular with constricted white pupils. Her hand rested by her face. Her eyes narrowed in anger, her fist clenched as piercing yelling from another room echoed off the walls.

 Her parents were having yet another fight.

 She got out her phone and texted Loona: “Parents fighting again. Fuck my life.”

 Loona replied: “Srry 2 hear that. Currently dealing with asshole boss and Moxxie the dick. Hang out at concert Friday?”

 Octavia: “Hope so. Mom has grudge against imps and hellhounds, what a royal bitch.”

 Loona: “Smh. Hang in there, my friend.”

 Octavia knew that her regal mother, Stella was pissed that Stolas had fucked the imp Blitzo behind her back. Octavia often worried that Stolas would go on some honeymoon with that creature and leave her behind with Stella. Stella wasn’t cruel but she was sterner than Stolas was. Octavia didn’t know which was worse, her father’s childish attitude laced with a perverted nature…or her mother’s cold critiques of Octavia’s behavior. Stella loved her but expected her to mold into the royal role she was given from birth. Stella was more concerned with tea parties, fashionable attire and her appearance than Octavia’s many thoughts.

 Currently, Octavia was just a typical emo/goth teenager who had to deal with a lot of stuff going on.  

 Octavia’s room was different as well. More spacious, it had a couple of slanted windows between purple drawn curtains that let in some light. A solar system mobile hung from the ceiling in the center of the room. A mirror hung on the wall along with several banners with suns and moons on them. A long couch in the style of white feathers sat off to the side, complete with comfy cushions and pillows. There was a smaller purple telescope as well. Her bed still had the sparkling starry drapes and above that, were hanging purple drapes with a small moon on it and a large pink eye at the very top. Her bedspread was midnight blue with crescent moons on them and the chest by her bed was plainer than before.

 Octavia sat up in bed, with her feathers ruffled, quite literally as well as figuratively. With a grumpy look on her face, Octavia inserted earphones into her ears and held a blue phone in her hand, decorated with a yellow crescent moon. Octavia got dressed in her usual pink shirt with stars on it, black pants, shoes and a crown on her head.

 A playlist of songs appeared, the majority of them were by My Chemical Romance and some were by Lilith. An icon with flames and a sad face appeared on the screen and she pressed the play icon. Pop music played in her ears as a person sang: “My world is burning down around me.”

 The screams grew with intensity as she got out of bed and walked down a hall lined with Venus Fly Trap plants of different colors. They were arranged in a pattern of brown, magenta and purple. One poor potted planet crashed to the floor in front of Octavia. She stepped over the mess as she continued listening.

 She could hear the vehement arguments form her parents as she walked into the spacious kitchen.

 There was her mother, Queen Stella in a white dress with the top part of her outfit a light pink. A crown was on her head and light gray feathers fanned from her head like long hair.

 “I can’t believe you slept with an imp, in our fucking bed!”

 “It was unexpected!” Stolas replied. “I didn’t have time to go to a motel!”

 Stella seethed in disgust. “A motel?! Like a fucking plebian?!” (Roman word for commoner)

 “You want to fuck this one too?!”

 In a fury, she grabbed a small white dressed imp butler and tossed him at her husband.

 Stolas flinched, holding up his hands. “No! Of course not!”

 Stella pointed a finger at him. “You are a god damn embarrassment! I’m not spending another moment looking at your pathetic, imp-sucking face!”

 Stella stormed out of the room, tossing and breaking more of Stolas’ beloved plants as she yelled.

 Stolas sighed in exasperation before turning to look at his sulking daughter who was sitting at a table with a box of cereal.

 “Good morning, Octavia!” he greeted. “Did you sleep well, my owlet?”

 “Was that a serious question?” she deadpanned as she drank coffee from a mug.

 “Mm-hmm…” Stolas began as he walked to an old fashioned white refrigerator with the royal crest on it. He opened the door and took out a slab of zebra meat on a plate. In a corner shelf was a can of soda and a cartoon of chocolate milk. In a zip-lock bag were three white dead mice for a later snack. (They are owls after all!)

 “What’s that you’re listening to?” he asked, with a snap of his fingers.

 “This song is called “My World Is Burning Down Around Me.” It’s by Fuck You Dad. It’s a band.”

 “Oh…how charming…” Stolas chuckled bemusedly. He shut the door and fed the meat to a large white potted plant in a small alcove off the kitchen as he pet it. The satisfied plant closed its three eyes. A starry calendar hung on a nearby wall.

 “So…you two done screaming for the day?” Octavia asked.

 “Um…” Stolas began as Stella let out another scream of anger along with a crash.

 Stolas walked over to Octavia, who had a box of Robo Fizz’s Greed Seed cereal next to her. He placed a hand on her shoulder. “You know what I haven’t done in a long, long time? I haven’t taken you to your favorite place in all of Hell! Why don’t we go to Loo-Loo Land?” He mentioned to a portrait of Stolas, Stella and a happy child Octavia in a dress at an apple theme park.

 “I’m not five anymore.”

 “You always were so happy when I took you to Loo-Loo Land! What do you say we go there again, have a day, just the two of us!”

 “I’d rather kill myself,” she deadpanned.

 “There we go!” Stolas beamed, bypassing her comment. “Anything but staying in this house.” He lifted a finger. “Now, I’ll arrange our security.”

 He picked up a white rotary phone carried on a platter by the battered imp servant.

 “Security for a theme park?”

 “We are rich, and we’re hot. People want our money and our bodies!”

 “Our money, maybe,” Octavia said under her breath. Stolas rotated the dial a few times.

 “Speak for yourself, Princess. Now, I’m calling the only man who can fuck me!”

 Octavia looked with disgust, cereal falling from her hand. “What?”

 “Who can protect me! Us. Being part of the Goetia family is rather valuable, you know.” The imp collapsed.

 Octavia groaned and pulled her hat down over her eyes.

 At the I.M.P. office, there was a picture of Blitzo wrapped in a towel with the words “#1 bitch” on it, with the word “boss” in red over the letters. A paper crown rested on one corner of the picture frame.

 Blitzo played with crude representations of Moxxie and Millie made of office supplies. “Millie” was made from a stick and clips while “Moxxie” was made from an eraser.

 “Oh, Blitzo, you’re such a good boss!” Blitzo impersonated Millie. “Yeah, I really want you sir,” he impersonated Moxxie. “Me too!” he said as Millie. “Let’s three-way!” he said as himself before lowering the office puppets to his crotch. The screaming ringtone of his cell-phone interrupted his pansexual fantasy.

 “What?!” he yelled into it. He lounged in his chair, legs propped up as he drank iced coffee from a bloodstained mug. A poster with SpindleHorse on hind legs with “Wild and Free,” hung from the wall.

 “Why hello, my big-dicked Blitzy!” Stolas spoke lustfully.

 Both Blitzo and Octavia forcefully spit out their coffee.

 Blitzo spoke angrily, “What…”

 Octavia said, “The…

 Blitzo: “Fuck…”

 Octavia: “Dad?!

 “Language! Everyone!” Stolas shouted out loud before speaking into the phone. “I have a special request.”

 “Aw look,” Blitzo mentioned, “I just had a chemical peel, so you’ll have to find someone else’s face to plant that feathered ass!” He was in no mood for another intimate session.

 “It’s for my daughter.”

 A session with Stolas’ daughter? “Ah, well make sure she washes it.”

 “Oh! No! No, no, no!” Stolas cried taken aback. “I’m taking my daughter to Loo-Loo Land and I was hoping you brave little imps would accompany us.”

 “We’re assassins, not bodyguards, okay? Don’t invite us to shit unless someone’s gonna die.”

 “I’ll pay you.”

 “With what?”

 “Money.”

 “Done!” Blitzo yelled in confirmation, accidentally smashing his phone against the desk. He glanced in annoyance at the shattered pieces before producing a white megaphone with a painted monster mouth on it. He put the crown on his head.

 “M and M, get in here! We’re goin’ to Loo-Loo Land!”

 Moxxie opened the door to respond. “Loo-Loo Land?” he asked in concern. An excited Millie smashed her head through the glass window of the office door. “Loo-Loo Land!” Her eyes were shining.

 “Loo-Loo Land!” Blitzo yelled excitedly through the megaphone, his long snake-like tongue flickering.

 “Shut the fuck up!” Loona yelled from another room.

      Part Two: Loo-Loo Land

Loo-Loo Land was a knockoff apple themed park located in Mammon’s Ring of Greed. The sky was blue instead of red like it was in the Ring of Pride. Indeed, there were Seven Rings in this Hell ruled by Archdemons and named after the Seven Deadly Sins: Pride, Envy, Lust, Sloth, Greed, Gluttony, and Wrath. Only sinners could dwell in the Ring of Pride; it was Lucifer’s punishment since he hated mortals. Lucifer, Satan, Leviathan, Mammon, Asmodeus, Belphegor and Beezelbub were the Archdemons…but Lucifer was the Ringmaster of all of them!

 A wide array of attractions spun, lit up, whirled and roared to life, some of them reaching toward the sky. There was a large Ferris wheel with a large blue star structure in the center. A star flyer swing ride spun people on swings, while a towering red roller coaster contrasted against the blue sky. A brick tower displayed an eye with pointed ears on the top of it. A white and red stripped circus tent stood between two tall pillars with red painted caramel apples on top as part of the design. Two smiling red apples wearing straw hats were the pillars that flanked the entrance. A teal sign with blinking lights around the border read “Mammon’s Loo-Loo Land” in white, the last “o” hanging lopsidedly. A cardboard cutout of Robo Fizz had an extended hand in an arch holding a welcome sign. A sign read, “Legally he have to say this,” and another sign said “Not affiliated with Lu Lu World.” Another sign read “Money please!” by a ticket booth.

 A dark gray van pulled into a parking spot and Moxxie got out. He walked with a blank expression on his face, wearing a black suit and dark sunglasses like his imp colleagues. A bold red I.M.P. decal was spray painted onto the van door. Moxxie slid open the door.

 There was the hunched black silhouette of Stolas, his four red eyes glowing menacingly in the dark. He got out of the van, a happy tall owl wearing red shorts and a white Loo-Loo Land shirt. There was a brief silhouette of Octavia, her two eyes glowing violet. Octavia seethed in annoyance as she peered out through the door. Blitzo and Millie came along as well, getting up from the red seats. Stolas put on an apple hat with big eyes and excitedly mentioned for his daughter to come along. Octavia covered her face with her black hat before following.

 In a black suit and sunglasses, Blitzo strolled by Stolas with a serious expression as they walked by a booth that sold apple Loo-Loo hats. By a clock with a black crown on it that read 7:30 AM, was another booth with “Balloons Attack” on it.

 “Now remember, this is work and work only,” Blitzo reminded Stolas. “Me and my crew are not here to satisfy your perverted bird needs, alright?”

 “Hey, dad, do we have to…” Octavia complained before Blitzo cut her off.

 “Okay, yeah, hold on right there, sweetie.” He turned to Stolas, holding an accusing finger at him. “If you try fuckin’ my little ass in that park, I swear to…”

 Stolas leaned down and playfully tapped and booped Blitzo on the nose. “You are so cute when you are serious!”

 “I am literally going to be sick,” Octavia deadpanned.

 “Oh crumbs!” exclaimed Moxxie, rummaging through his small gray bag. “I knew today would be a lot! What do you need?”

 Moxxie fished around in the bag, retrieving pill bottles. “Antacids? Ibuprofen? Morphine?”

With a sharp toothed grin, Moxxie showed Octavia eight hypodermic needles with a glowing green substance in them.

 “That was figurative, old man,” Octavia replied, arms crossed before walking away.

 “Oh, right,” Moxxie chuckled sheepishly as he casually tossed the needles into a baby stroller by the cotton candy booth. A red baby imp wearing a bib with a pentagram on it stuck out his tongue and cooed as he reached playfully toward the deadly looking needles.

 “But she said it was ‘literally,’” Moxxie muttered under his breath.

 On a wall of a Plush booth were Robo Fizz posters and several taped signs that read: “Not Lu Lu World! Stop showing complaints,” “Does Lu Lu World have a sex robot? No! Stop asking!” “I would never do that to my BFF Lucifer.” “Everyone is so mean to me.”

 Millie took off her sunglasses and beamed. “Wooow! I haven’t been to this place since I was a tot!”

 An R on an “Apple Core Roll” sign fell off and squashed a poor teen imp below it. Moxxie flinched.

 “It hasn’t changed a bit! Oh! Look! It’s Big Lovely!”

 Near a gray Extermination booth with exterminator plush heads stood a blue animatronic T-Rex dinosaur wearing a shirt with a planet on it. It had yellow lopsided eyes. Three imps stood to watch it. It suddenly opened its mouth and let out a fierce roaring shriek.

 “That is…deeply upsetting,” Moxxie mentioned. Millie pulled him toward her. “Oh come on! It’s fun! You’ve never been here?”

 “No,” said Moxxie. “Theme parks always disturbed me. Especially the mascots,” he shivered.

 The park’s apple mascot suddenly appeared behind Moxxie. It was a large red apple with a big row of teeth with several holes in them. The top of the apple was green and a black top hat rested on top of the costume. The eyes were big, the black pupils shaped like Pacman symbols. The mascot also wore gloves.

 “Well hey there!” the mascot called in a goofy southern accent.

 Moxxie screamed in fright as the imps both turned around.

 “I’m Loo-Loo! Welcome to Loo-Loo Land!” said the mascot, spreading out his arms. “If y’all get hurt here, just try and sue us!” The mascot stood on an apple design on the ground as the animatronic head fell onto another imp. Stolas and Octavia stood near a carousel with monstrous looking horses and a small triceratops dinosaur. Some of the horses had bat wings, painted eyes all over and fiery shaped manes.

 Stolas’s eyes glowed with childish excitement, while Octavia stood embarrassed. “Look! Via! It’s Loo-Loo!”

 “I have a question,” Octavia stated, holding up a finger.

 The mascot leaned in close to her. “Well ask away, little girlie!” The mascot bounced around, an eyeball hanging out as he made “a-hyuk, a-hyuk a-hyuk” sounds.

 “Is it true this park is just a really shameless spin-off of Lucifer’s far more popular Lu Lu World?” Octavia smirked as Stolas looked at her with a pleading frown.

 The mascot paused. “No?”

 Octavia narrowed her eyes and scoffed. “This place reeks of insecure corporate shame.”

 Stolas chuckled in embarrassment before leading Octavia away. “Why don’t we go check out the rides?”

 “That chick’s creepy, huh?” the mascot asked.

 “Ah, wait till her dad tries to diddle your holes,” Blitzo deadpanned.

 “What’s that mean?”

 “Don’t talk to me!” Moxxie called in suspicion, poking a finger at him. “I know you’re a pervert under there!”

 Moxxie and Millie left. The mascot hung his body in dejection as he sighed “Yeah.”

 Moxxie and Millie headed down a pathway while a sweating Moxxie stopped to catch his breath. “You really like this place, huh?”

 “I love this place!” Millie exclaimed. “My parents would bring me and my siblings here, when they could swing it, Money-wise.” Willie and Lillie were Millie’s brother and sister and sometimes they were just as excited as she was. Unlike Blitzo’s mean father Donner and Moxxie’s parents, Millie’s parents tried to do what was best for their children while also attempting to survive.

  An imp wearing loose clothing and a baseball cap pushed a wheelbarrow full of money into a nearby toy shop. A nearby sign on a brick wall showed a Robo Fizz doll and the words, “New! Fizzy Buddy! He laughs, he sings, he swears! Tell your parents to buy me! Over 100 lovable phrases! Posable! Only 48% asbestos.”

 The two imps approach a window where apple plushies and apple shaped novelty cups with Ls on them were sold for $29.

 Moxxie mentioned, “Yeah, the prices do seem rather criminal. I mean, that much for a novelty cup you use one time?”

 “’Cause it’s Loo-loo Land!” Millie said excitedly. Blitzo walked over, slurping from a straw in a novelty cup. He wore a hat with an apple on it and two can holders and straws attached to it. Loo-Loo Land brought back memories of him and his sisters doing jokes and performing at the circus.

 “Listen to your ho’ Mox,” Blitzo said, mentioning behind him. “How ‘bout I take the first watch while you two…” he winked, “have a little fun.” Stolas held up a white shirt with an apple on it to Octavia who frowned.

 “Oh!” Millie cried. “We gotta do my favorite ride!” She picked Moxxie up and carried him as she ran.

 “Oh yeah? Whi-Which one?”

 Millie and Moxxie raced over to The Lawsuit roller coaster, the carts were red with the front displaying a green grin. The ride plunged at a sheer 90 degree drop while on fire. A lone rider hung on for dear life and screamed as the ride plunged into a tunnel in the ground. The mascot posed by a height rules sign. Later on, Moxxie threw up in a trash can as an angry vomit covered imp family glared at them. Even the red three eyed dragon from the petting zoo glared at Moxxie.

 Stolas happily carried a balloon in his hand while Octavia slouched on. They walked by a stand that read “Funnel Cakes: Eternal Suffering” with popcorn and a sausage on a fork. Blitzo snuck around like a secret agent with his sniper rifle. He appeared on a teal-green tent roof of an “Ice Cream Bugs” stand. Blitzo slid with his rifle and knocked over cups at a “Hot and Cold Drunks” stand. The imps glared at him as he toppled backwards onto the ground. A nearby blaster game was titled “Stop that Soul” and showed a frowning sun and cardboard angels in clouds with xs over their eyes. Another sign read “Hax Away.”

 Five grinning imps with knives and weapons peered out from an alleyway at Stolas, itching to kill him and steal the prince’s money. Blitzo slid along the floor, then glared at the imps, causing them to scatter away. Blitzo aimed his sniper again, near a game where imps could knock out mechanical clown’s teeth at “Teeth Off!” Stolas tilted his head upside down and stroked Blitzo’s horns from above. There was a game where one could toss balls into skulls and a ring toss with real spikes to toss them onto.

 “You know, it’s quite thrilling to see you on the job, Blitzy.”

 “Save it, bitch. I’m working.”

 Octavia rolled her eyes. “You both need to get a room.”

 “Hey!” Blitzo called. “I am not a day-hooker!”

 A nearby imp mother and her baby glared at Blitzo.

 “What? I just said I’m not one, prude!” He flipped her the bird. A nearby film sign read “Pirana.”

 Meanwhile, Moxxie and Millie walked along a line of booths, one read “Muppet” and one read “Knock a Bottle.” Millie suddenly beamed and pulled Moxxie toward another vendor. A smug imp wearing a yellow hat and a red shirt spotted them.

 “Hello, hello!” he called. “Step right up and win a thing!”

 Millie’s eyes shone as she gasped and pointed upwards. “Oh, look Moxxie! A thing!”

 The “thing” was a purple stuffed animal wearing pink overalls with stripped imp horns. It had a yellow beak, an upside down cross on it and a tag with “Thing?” on it.

 Moxxie looked at her with a grin. “Oh, you like that thing?”

 “Yessss!” Millie exclaimed, drawing out the word. “I don’t know what that thing is, but I want that thing!”

 Moxxie straightened his bow tie with a smug look. “Finally something I can handle.”

 He walked up to the vendor, took out some money and handed it to the carnie. “Okay! One game, please!”

 The carnie rolled his eyes and handed Moxxie a clown-like blaster with his tail. Moxxie pulled the trigger with one eye shut and the cork projectile hit the bullseye on the cardboard smiling apple’s behind. Millie clapped in the background. Moxxie made a “ricochet” noise and blew the black powder smoke clear of the gun.

 The carnie just grinned. “Strike one, little man!”

 Moxxie stared in disbelief. “But I hit it!”

 “Hmm, I don’t know what to tell you, buddy. The target, see? It didn’t go down. So yeah, no go, bro.”

 Moxxie slammed another dollar bill onto the counter, picked up the gun and fired again. He hit the bullseye but the cardboard apple stayed in place. He slapped the pistol in annoyance. “The Heaven’s wrong with this thing?!”

 The carnie smirked. “Oh man, a real shame I tell ya. Whaa, whaa!” He pretended to cry and rub his eyes.

 Moxxie hissed in anger and slapped another bill on the counter. “Another!”

 Again and again Moxxie tried to hit it, but the carnie rigged the game, not making the apples go down. Soon, the carnie was holding 600 souls of Moxxie’s money, the dollar bills had Robo Fizz on them. He rolled one bill up into a cigar and put it in his mouth.

 “Wow! Man, you’re really starting to make this sad. You know, if you suck, you suck! Guess you won’t win your honey here a prize.”

  Moxxie seethed in anger.

 “Let me try!” Millie said, taking the blaster from Moxxie. She fired it and the cork flew far off between the apples. The carnie grinned mischievously, and pressed a foot pedal, making an apple target go down.

 “Oh, look at that! Lucky shot, baby,” the carnie said. He wiggled the rolled up bill against Moxxie and dropped it. Millie laughed and clapped.

 Moxxie yelled, “Are you kidding me?! You…you…charlatan!”

 The carnie pressed his hand into Moxxie’s face. “Hey, uh get lost pipsqueak, I’m talkin’ to the lady.”

 He leaned toward her and made a purring sound, causing her to flinch back in disgust.

   Meanwhile, Stolas pulled Octavia close with a gasp, letting go of his balloon.

“Look, Via! You used to cry such tears of joy at this show!”

 Stolas mentioned to a large circus tent with promotional signs of Robo Fizz on either side. A mother imp tried to drag her crying child toward the tent.

 “Oh no…” Octavia breathed, her white pupils constricting. A flashback of when she was a young girl came back to her. She was pushed against the stage by other cheering imp children. Robo Fizz was a robotic imp jester who posed on the stage with his arms spread out. An animatronic band was behind him. A neon sign above read “Fizzarolli and Friends,” with the “R” burnt out which made it look like “Fiends.” Robo Fizz sparked and cackled, wiggling his fingers and leering over a crying Octavia. Off to the side, a scowling Blitzo was dressed in clown makeup and attending a food cart.

 Back in the present, Octavia and Blitzo muttered at the same time: “I hate that fucking clown!”

 Meanwhile, Stolas happily waved as he was being held captive in the air by the gang of imps pointing weapons at him.

 “Oh Blitzy! I need my bodyguard, please!” Stolas smiled unconcerned before another imp jumped up and put a purple cloth sack over the owl’s head. Another imp grinned and held Stolas’ wallet. One imp jumped, trying to skewer him with a pitchfork. Blitzo turned around and fired his rifle, shooting the imp in the torso. Black blood splattered against the cloth sack over Stolas’ head. The imps dropped him and quickly scattered away. Blitzo carried Stolas into the tent and set him down on a wooden bench before leaving. Octavia sat next to him, rolled her eyes and removed the blood-soaked cloth form Stolas’ head. The owl blinked, wondering where he was.

 Two spotlights merged into one on the stage and Robo Fizz flapped open the curtains. He wore a jester outfit and his horns were covered with stripped cloth and little bells hung from the ends. A happy face and sad face pin were by his shoulders along with a string of lights as a necklace. His pants were stripped and he wore gloves. His shirt had small white hearts near the bottom and his eyes glowed an eerie green.

 Six lit up arrow signs pointed to him and read: “Fizzarolli,” “Robot property of Mammon,” “Look at him go!” “Yes! Love 2 c it!” “Wow!” “He.”

 Robo Fizz held up a sign with “Lu Lu” crossed out in red with “Loo-Loo, the better one,” on it. He also briefly held out a red and gold contract signed by Mammon: “This is a statement regarding the unfair accusations that my theme park “Loo-Loo Land” is trying to profit off my friend and ruler Lucifer’s park Lu Lu World. This is false. These allegations are baseless and untrue. You are all just dicks. Fuck right off and stop saying that, alright? They are legally distinct. I checked. Signed Mammon.”

  “Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey implings!” he said in his showman voice. “It’s me, the Robotic Fizzarolli! Shipped from Mammon’s factory to bring you a wonderful show celebrating Loo-Loo Land (spelled with O’s to avoid lawsuits!) Hit it!”

 Rows of spotlights lit up and he began to sing. The curtains opened and Robo Fizz’s Five Nights at Freddy’s band played. An open clown mouth served as the stage backdrop. Robo Fizz rapidly pointed at a boy imp and a girl imp and made his rounds toward Stolas and Octavia. He moved back to the stage just as Blitzo aimed his sniper at him in warning. The band played on a rising structure shaped like a cake, decorated with eyes and sharp spikes.

  “Loo-Loo Land, Loo-Loo Land!

Everybody sing along with the Loo-Loo band!

Every girl, every boy, every woman, every man

Loves Loo-Loo Land!”

 An animatronic bear and a smaller rabbit meshed together played a red banjo with a pentagram on it. A lopsided dinosaur played a guitar decorated with flames. A green frog with large human teeth played the Robo Fizz head drums and a brown dog played the triangle. The two speakers on either side were shaped like weapons and had skulls on them. “Fizzarolli and Friends” sign glowed at the top.

 “Loo-Loo Land! Loo-Loo Land!

Everything is beautiful in Loo-Loo Land!

Ugly children holdin’ hands

In Loo-Loo Land!”

 Robo Fizz briefly pulled a crowd of imps into a hug before spinning around and tossing them aside. They crashed back into the stands. He hugged the animatronic dinosaur which fizzled and slapped the bear and rabbit, which squirted black ink at a nearby imp.

 He poured gasoline onto a pile of “cease and desist” papers, causing them to go up in flames.

 “Everybody’s friendly, and nobody is mean

No copyright infringement’s ever seen!”

 In an imitation of Princess Charlie, Robo Fizz then posed on top of a piano. He stood on top, hand over his heart in the spotlight.

 “I have a dream (he has a dream)

I’m here to tell (he has to tell)

About a magical fantastic place called Loo-Loo Land!”

 He spun his body around and landed in a pose with arms and legs spread out. Octavia watched with disgust and boredom.

  “Loo-Loo Land, Loo-Loo Land!

Everybody sing along with the Loo-Loo band!

Every girl, every boy, every woman, every man

Loves Loo-Loo Land!”

 The show ended with a pyrotechnic display. Green flames ate up one of the curtains and Robo Fizz laughed as he did a final pose up front. Octavia leaned her head back and pounded her fist on the bench in annoyance. Stolas cheered and rapidly clapped.

 “Ohhohohoho! How delightful! Haven’t had this much fun since the last Harvest Moon Festival…” Octavia hid her face in her hat again.

 Behind Stolas, an imp armed with a wave-shaped keris sword rose from beneath the seats, ready to stab him. The imp’s head was quickly blown apart by Blitzo at the back seats.

 “Oh! My, what aim you have, Blitzy!” Stolas praised.

 “Ugh! I can’t do this anymore!” Octavia shouted in frustration.

 “Octavia!” Stolas reached out in concern as the owl teen stormed off. Stolas chased after her as Blitzo followed suit. Robo Fizz cackled as he spotted the imp dashing along.

 “Ha ha ha hoho-oh! Is that Blitzo my sensors spot up there?” He emphasized the silent “O” in his name. “I bet the kiddies are still running away from you, huh?”

He spun his head around in loops and cackled.

 “The “O” is silent now!” Blitzo stopped and yelled.

 Robo Fizz mocked him some more and did wild dance-like poses. “Uh huh! Just like your audience always was when you to-told your lazy jokes here!”

 Blitzo tossed his sunglasses aside. “I make more money killing people than you do being a cheap-ass ripoff of an overrated sell-out jester!”

 “Oh ho ho! Someone’s salty! Real or not though, people love me! Does anybody love you…”

 His face turned dark and his eyes glowed menacingly, grin stretched wide, “Blitzo?!”

 “No. But I’m really good with guns now!” Blitzo took out his sniper. “Dance, bitch!”

 Blitzo slammed a new magazine into his rifle, switched it to full-auto and opened up on Robo Fizz, who cartwheeled out of the way of the rounds. He rapidly spun like a wheel up the stairs to where Blitzo was. He coiled himself around Blitzo like a snake, before using his momentum to launch the imp out of the tent.

 “Fuck meeeee!” Blitzo yelled.

 Outside, Wally Wayford, an imp with a southern accent was selling lit torches. There were two posters of Robo Fizz, the first was “Fizzarolli and the Handy Dandies.”

The other showed Robo Fizz with handcuffs:  “Robo Fizz Personal Companion. Gives and receives. Ribbed for your pleasure. Real tentacle action. Ten speed vibration. BDSM feature. Machine Washable.”

 “Torches, I say, I say!” Wally said in a southern accent. “Get your inconvenient torches here!”

 Blitzo landed on the cart with a yell, which scattered the green torches everywhere.

 “Ow…I say ow!” Wally yelled.

 The flames lit the big top of fire. The flames rapidly spread to all corners of the park. Burning animatronics fled the tent as Robo Fizz cackled with demonic glee at the chaos.

 Back at the blaster game, Blitzo had crash landed through the roof and into the pervert carnie just in time, saving Millie.

 “Sir?” asked Moxxie, surprised.

 “Oh hey guys!” a dazed Blitzo replied. “You should probably go and uh…make sure Stolas is okay! I got some…unfinished business to take care of.”

 Blitzo stood up and drew a brown flintlock pistol and fired. Robo Fizz swayed creepily toward Blitzo, a red eye showing on his burning grinning face, green flames behind him. The impact spun Robo Fizz’s head around…but the jester was unharmed by the shot.

 “Oh what a mouth!” Blitzo exclaimed as Robo Fizz caught the bullet in his mouth and spat it out. Blitzo grimaced as Robo Fizz rolled at him again. Moxxie, Millie and Blitzo jumped out of the way as the jester hit the booth, destroying it in a large explosion. Shrapnel and several white imp head prizes flew through the air on fire. The piece of a stuffed animal hit a young imp boy on the head, leaving him unconscious. The photographer then snapped the picture of the imp family.

 “Goddammit Nathan!” the fat father yelled. “You ruined another bloody photo! Why were you even born?!”

 Stolas wandered around other booths: Aim and Fire Shoot Apple, Happy Ducking, and a bomb themed Knok Knok game. One was called Eggs in the Basket, Poison Apples sold caramel apples decorated like slimy skulls and a dunking game was called Drown the Sinner.  

 Stolas then gasped. “Octavia!”

 Octavia ran into a fun house shapes like an elongated head of Lucifer. The face was white with the blushes on the cheeks and the eyes were green and snake-like. The steps were positioned onto a long tongue and the fun house entrance was shaped like Lucifer’s fanged mouth. A top hat and an apple reading “Fun House” was at the top. Stolas followed her inside as two grinning imps held rope and weapons close behind.

 The neon interior was filled with eyes, tubes, swinging pendulums, mirrors and disembodied hands. Stolas went further into the room and looked around. A sign reading “Smile” had an arrow pointed down at a tunnel. A shadow appeared behind Stolas as a random imp jumped onto his shoulders.

 “Um, I think I’m supposed to be body-guarded right now!” Stolas said, annoyed.

The imp covered Stolas’ mouth with his shirt sleeve, but was shot in the head, falling to the ground. Moxxie and Millie appeared in the entryway, Millie had just shot the imp.

 “Ugh. That’s better,” Stolas said, brushing his sleeve. “Where is Blitzy? He’s my knight in shining armor, not you littler ones.” Even his apple hat got an annoyed expression on it.

 The imps came over to him, Millie hugging the thing stuffed animal. “He’s…uh busy.”

 “Being a fool,” said Moxxie.

 “What kind of fool?” asked Stolas.

 “The “everything is now on fire,” kind,” Moxxie replied.

 Stolas left the imps, dodging two swinging pendulums, and headed down a tunnel into an adjoining room filled with eyes on the wall. He then spotted Octavia sitting in one of four apple-themed rail cars, crying.

“Octavia…” Stolas breathed. He took off his apple hat and it fell to the floor, the goofy face now a sad face, reflecting Stolas’ emotional state.

 Stolas scooted next to Octavia, leaving a bit of space between them. “I take it you are…not having fun.”

 “I didn’t even want to come here!” Octavia protested.

 “I’m sorry, sweetie. I thought you loved it here.”

 Octavia glared at her father. “When I was a kid and my parents didn’t hate each other, and my dad didn’t flirt with some weird red dickhead the entire time.”

 Both owls looked downcast.

 “I’m sorry, Via,” Stolas said. “I’m sorry for everything happening right now. I know it’s a lot but I…uh…I should have listened.”

 “I just want to go home, but home doesn’t even feel like home anymore. You ruined it.” More tears fell from Octavia’s eyes as she shook her head and wiped more away with her arm.

 “You need to understand, you mother and I…” He stroked the back of his head, nervously. “I just…I felt…she’s always been…I haven’t been” He stuttered, “…we weren’t in…” He buried his head in his hands, “I’m sorry, I-I-I don’t have the words.”

 “Are you going to run off with him? And leave me behind? Go away where I can’t find you?”

 “What? No!” He pulled her close. “No, no, never. I’d never do that. Never.” Both of them embraced in a tight hug. “I think it’s time to leave this place,” Stolas said. Octavia smiled a bit through her tears. Despite his mistakes, her father loved her dearly. It wasn’t too hard to forgive him. Stolas lifted her up into his arms and continued, “You were right. You are too old for it, anyway.” He walked through an apple shaped opening.

 Stolas carried Octavia out of the Fun House as an imp grinned manically in the space above the drop-ceiling. The imp dropped down and flicked open a switchblade behind him. Stolas immediately turned around, his red eyes glowing brightly. The frightened imp was turned to stone on the spot, then was knocked over by a pendulum.

 As dusk feel outside, the park was reduced to pandemonium. Millie tried to shoot Robo Fizz who wildly rolled around. The red dragon picked up Robo Fizz, tossed him into the air before catching him and swallowing him whole. On the dragon’s back, Moxxie gaped in terror.

 Stolas and Octavia left the park gates.

 “So, what would you like to do now?” Stolas asked.

 Octavia smiled. “Oh, can we go to Stylish Occult? They sell weird taxidermy there.”

 “Hmm,” Stolas said reluctantly, but then said “Okay.”

 Octavia let out a small laugh. “Thanks, dad. You’re okay sometimes.”

 Stolas smiled down at her, his face bright against the starry sky above. It was nice to get a compliment from her. “Thank you Via. Thank you…”

 A massive explosion rocked the park, sending green flames shooting up into the air. The I.M.P. imps hurtled through the air, screaming before all three landed in front of the owls. All three were covered with smoke.

 “Way to ruin another good thing, sir!” Moxxie strained at Blitzo.

 “Worth it!” Blitzo replied, holding up a shaking finger. “That slutty toy clown had. It. Coming!”

 Moxxie and Blitzo then fell unconscious.

  In the darkness, Valentino’s hairless black dog Queef sniffed the unconscious Millie, grabbed her by the hair and dragged her still form away…

 Helluva Boss Episode Three: Spring Broken

Part One: Verosika

 The ground-shaking rock music blared as a gray van rolled along the street at high speed. The front hood of the van was loose and rattled up and down, showing a dark opening. The front headlights looked like a dark grate with a few yellow lights at the very ends. The small license plate at the front read “IMP-666” in black letters. Two red stripes streaked across the side of the van while the bold red and white I.M.P. decal was proudly displayed on the side door.

 “I love this song!” exclaimed the leader imp, Blitzo. He was wearing his usual work outfit; a navy blue coat with red buttons and a red pin at the front. Above Blitzo hung small red and white flags. In the center was a white toy horse with a blonde mane and tail. With his hands on the wheel, Blitzo belted out the lyrics:

 “You were the little spicy…uh… demon with the bleach blonde hair Fiendin' for some semen when I caught your stare Thought it might be love but you went too far Fucked all of my friends and blew up my car

 Lit me on fire made me watch rom-coms Made a secret sex tape and showed it to my mom You were a bitch kinda generally Now I'm a wet wild stallion and I'm running free

 You stepped on my nuts and you tore me apart Slapped up my booty and tangled my farts Cut off my dick when you shattered my heart But it grew back twice as long

 MUSTANG DONG!”

 Memories of him and a former lover were already rushing back to him. The song perfectly described his previous love life and though not very pleasant, was still fun to sing to. There were many times in his life where he considered horses to be better companions than his peers. An array of endless horse names and adventures he could conjure up in his head…

 Blitzo made “horn” rocker symbols with his hands as he nodded his head to the beat. In shotgun, Loona made a face of annoyance as she glanced at her black and white cell phone in her hands. She wore her usual shorts, torn gray tank top and black strings in the shape of a downward facing pentagram below her neck. In the back of the van, Moxxie covered both ears as he sat in the long red seat. He wore his usual dark coat and red bow tie. Millie rolled down her window and smiled as the breeze blew through her wild black hair. She had on her black tank top and torn pants as well.

 Blitzo drove the van into a reserved parking lot, surrounded by graffiti-sprayed buildings. A worn white banner on one building read “Buck you Flitzo” in bold capital letters. One of the buildings was decorated with a large red eye made of glass. Bizarrely enough, there was a billboard that advertised holy water. Blitzo haphazardly drove through the lot opening. He was just about to pull into the remaining empty space to the right when a pink convertible car beat him to it.

 “Holy shit! F…” Blitzo yelled, he and Loona both fearful. Blitzo rapidly turned the wheel and the horn sounded. He slammed on the brakes and the van skidded to a stop. The pink car had a red heart with gold trim on the back and a golden border. The license plate read “SUCK-4-LIFE.” The wheels had small white hearts on the dark inside, white rims surrounding them.

 An angry Blitzo rolled his head and turned off the radio.

 Oh, you “suck for life,” do ya?!” he asked as he glared at the car. He pulled out his white megaphone and leaned out the window.

 “Listen up, you unoriginal pink cum dump!” he yelled through the megaphone. “You have three goddamn seconds to get your dick out of my parking spot…”

 A pair of tall high heels lowered to the ground. The shoes were black with pink hearts on them. The figure wore black tight pants with three pink xs on the side. She wore a black and white dress, a black star on the lower half and a large X and O over her breasts. A sparkly light pink fluffy coat covered her shoulders. Her face was dark pink and a black choker was around her neck. She had a pointed tail, little bat wings and curved pink horns with a few black stars on them. Her hair was long and pinkish white, and sunglasses with pink hearts on them obscured her eyes.

 Blitzo lowered his megaphone in shock at the sight of the familiar succubus.

 “Oh shit! Verosika?!”

 The succubus blew a bubble of pink gum before it popped.

 “Blitzo,” she greeted, arms folded. She had pronounced the “o” on purpose to annoy Blitzo.

 Blitzo glared. “I should have known you’d be here. I could smell fish for miles. Which is odd because I believe the nearest ocean is…”

 Blitzo fell out through the window, face-planting onto the ground. He quickly stood up, pointing at the ground, “…three rings down!” He was referring to the Ring of Envy where the oceanic ruler Leviathan resided.

 “And I should have known you’d be here when I heard the Amber Alerts,” Verosika retorted. She held a white and brown flask bottle in her left hand. It was decorated with a small red and white heart near the top. “I.M.P. is a scam!” and “Swear word” were painted on a nearby brick wall.

 “Oh yeah?” he asked. “I’m surprised they let your fat ass out of rehab. I can see you’re still a drunken whore, clutching onto that beelzejuice juice bottle like it’s the last cock in Hell.”

 “They let me out because I’m still famous,” Verosika bragged, flipping back her long hair dramatically, “and rehab is for sad, loser wash-ups.”

 She took a drink from her bottle and wiped her black lipstick mouth with a gloved white thumb.

 “So your sister says hi,” she smirked, implying a temporary sexual relation with Tilla or Barbie Wire.

 Blitzo stomped over toward Verosika. “Why are you parking here?” he growled. “This is the only parking spot my company has. So take your tampon race car somewhere else.”

 Verosika leaned slightly toward him. “Actually prick, it has my name on it.”

 She pointed down at their feet, where “Verosika” and a heart was spray painted in purple over the previous black “I.M.P.”

 Verosika stood up. “I’m doing a bit of freelance for one of the infinitely more successful companies in the building…”

 “No way,” Loona breathed as she peered from the van.

 “…and they wanted to have me come in this week to lead their team during spring break.”

 “A week?!” Blitzo exclaimed. “No, no, you are not parking here for a fucking week!”

 Verosika removed her sunglasses, revealing pink irises with yellow sclera.

 “Aw, you mad, Blitzo?” she cooed in a mocking tone. “You gonna run off, leaving someone else to pay for the hotel room, steal their car…”

 Verosika and Blitzo talked over each other, “…and run three Rings to Wrath and back and max my credit cards on shitty horse riding lessons?!”

 Blitzo stomped his foot. “God dammit whore, you will not let that go!”

 Verosika walked past him, showing a middle finger. “Choke on a sandpaper cock.”

 Loona lowered her head as she walked by. Blitzo angrily followed Verosika.

 “Hold on, you better move that pussy wagon right now or I’m gonna…”

 Blitzo froze as he heard a low growling sound behind him. Towering over him was a beefy dark gray Hellhound man. He wore a torn black jacket decorated with red spikes along the shoulders. A black tattoo of a wolf with sharp teeth and a tongue out was on his left shoulder. He had thick eyebrows, torn pointed ears, a black nose and a scar over his milky left eye. His right eye was red.

 “You’ll what?” he grunted, showing his sharp white teeth.

 Blitzo stuttered and looked around, fearfully. “Or I’ll…um…I’ll…I’ll call HR.”

 Blitzo, Verosika and the Hellhound burst into sudden laughter before they calmed down.

 “Anyway,” said Verosika, “Meet my new Hellhound, Vortex. Unlike you, he actually does his job well.”

 Vortex walked by Verosika’s side as she left. She flipped off Blitzo again before saying, “Ta ta, fuck stain.”

 “Ugh, I wasted so much time with a bag of holes like that,” Blitzo muttered in annoyance.

 Just then, Loona stepped out of the van. “You know Verosika Mayday?!”

 “Huh?” Blitzo asked. Then he casually answered, “Oh yeah, her, yeah, we dated.”

 “Was it before or after she became a pop star?” Millie asked in curiosity.

 Blitzo crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes.

 “You dated a popstar?!” Moxxie added as he stepped out of the van.

 “Okay, why are you all acting like that’s such a shock?” Blitzo asked.

 “Hello. It’s Verosika Mayday?” Loona replied.

 “It’s you?” Millie said. Moxxie and Millie were surprised that a famous person like Verosika would consider dating someone who was perceived to be far below her league.

 Moxxie scratched his head. “I just…Is she blind? Suffering some form of brain damage?”

 “Okay look, you are all making this into a way bigger deal than it needs to be,” Blitzo said. “I don’t pry into your stupid personal lives.”

 Loona, Moxxie, and Millie did overlapping yells:

  “You do that all the time, sir!” yelled Moxxie.

 “Come on, you do that,” added Millie.

 “You totally do that,” Loona agreed.

 Millie grinned mischievously, her eyelids lowering. “What was sex with her like?”

 “Millie!” Moxxie yelled, taken aback.

 “What?!” Millie shrugged. “It’s a pop star! You’d wanna know what sex with Michael Crawford was like.”

 Moxxie paused in mid argument. “Touché.”

 “Okay look, let’s just drop it!” Blitzo demanded. “Millie, find a temporary spot for that truck.”

 He tossed a pair of keys to a gleeful Millie, who caught them and scampered off.

 “Okay, Loonie, Moxxie, let’s go handle this shit.”

 In the building, Loona led the way between the imps as the three stepped out of an elevator. The dark brown walls were decorated with yellow webbed cracks. I.M.P. was painted in red on an office door window. The Hellhound nervously stepped forward, hands together.

 “Did they see me? Fuck! I did my makeup shitty today!” she muttered. Blitzo stared at her with shining eyes.

 “Oh you look perfect, Loonie. Like always.”

  She flinched away from him, arms crossed as she passed by a water cooler. A look of annoyance crossed Loona’s face at Blitzo baby-talking her.

 “Oh shut up da…” Loona began before seeing a look of adoration and wide eyes on Blitzo’s face. She had almost said, “dad.”

 “Urgh!” she caught herself and shoved him aside. “…Blitzo!” She checked her face in a small hand mirror, a wolf design on it. She then bumped into a long furry arm.

 “Oh. Whoa,” she breathed. Glancing down at her was none other than Vortex. Redness crept up to her cheeks and she wagged her tail. Blitzo briefly smiled at Loona before gasping in shock. He dashed between Loona and Vortex, arms out.

 “Hi big man,” he said. “Where’s your bitch bag of an employer?”

 “She’s in her office,” said Vortex in a low voice. “There wasn’t room on the second floor so they rented one here on this one. It’s way cheaper.”

 Vortex mentioned toward a room down the hall, across from the I.M.P. office. Three neon hearts stood right above two blue double doors. A large pink “V” and a pink “M” were painted on the door windows, standing for Verosika Mayday (and Vivienne Medrando, creator of Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss!)

 “Oh come on!” Blitzo yelled.

 Vortex chuckled with a shrug of his shoulders. “Sorry man,” he said before walking away.

 “Oh no you don’t, bitch,” Blitzo muttered.

 “Sir,” Moxxie began. “How about you let me go in and try to reason with her. I don’t really listen to what’s classified as “pop genre” music, so her status to me is…”

 Blitzo tuned out Moxxie’s rambling.

 “Moxxie,” he said, “Shut the fuck up.”

 “All righty then,” Moxxie replied, pushing open one of the blue doors and going inside. Electronic music briefly sounded from inside the room. The room had been converted into a dimly lit recording studio, with mixing consoles, effects units, microphones and separate booths. The neon pink border just under the ceiling gave it a club-like atmosphere, as did the rows of beer bottles on the counters. The silhouettes of Moxxie, Verosika and her gang of demons were visible from a large glass window.

 “Hello Miss Verosika was it?” Moxxie asked, his eyes golden and glowing. “I work for Imp and it is actually rather important for us to retain the singular parking space we were assigned because…”

 A woman succubus with a bob of hair pointed at Moxxie. “Aw, look at the little one. He’s got a wittle bow tie!” The gang snickered.

 “Please don’t condescend me, ma’am,” Moxxie replied. “I…”

 A male incubi leaned close to Moxxie. “Wanna kiss, you little guy?”

 Moxxie stepped back. “A…A kind offer, but…I’m married.”

 Verosika stepped forward as her gang surrounded Moxxie. “Hey, why don’t you send a little message from me back to your limp-dick boss?”

 Verosika and her gang hissed with sharp shadowy mouths over Moxxie. The imp screamed “Don’t touch that!” Blitzo raced over and pressed both hands on the window pane.

 “Moxxie, do not let her access any of your holes!” he cried.

 Moxxie raced back into the hall, his back against the closed doors. He was shaken and battered, with red lipstick kisses all over his face.

 “I…I gotta go lie down…now,” he stuttered as he walked away.

 Blitzo fumed, veins popping in his yellow eyes. “Oh this won’t stand!”

 He boot-kicked both doors open, gaining the attention of his ex and her crew. There were other succubi and incubi with reddish pink skin, horns, pointed tails and small bat wings. A white-haired man wore a black collar with a black upside down cross around his neck. He wore a black short sleeved shirt with a red logo that read “burn forest burn” on it. His taller male partner wore a ripped black tank top with a circled X on it. His hair was black and he had a black goatee. Two demon women partners sat together as well. The first had long dark hair and wore a fishnet top and leggings. The white-haired succubi next to her wore short revealing overalls. Verosika stood poised in the middle.

 “Alright, (censored)! That’s it!” Blitzo yelled, marching over toward Verosika. “If you’re gonna be shitty to my employees…” he pointed a finger at her, “…then I challenge you to a fucking…challenge!” He leaned his head back in frustration. “Fuck, I said that twice.”

 The woman with long dark hair chuckled. “Is this imp boy starting a demon duel?”

 “I think he is,” Verosika replied with a snicker. She bent over toward the imp. “What’s the game then, Blitzo?”

 “Every year, you STD spreaders go topside for easy pickings while spring break is a prime time for crime of all kinds!” Blitzo responded. He grinned, “So I bet…you succu-bitches can’t fuck as many people as we can off by the end of the day.” He briefly made a hand gesture of a gun.

 Verosika and her gang burst into laughter. Blitzo glared in determination. Verosika and the others stopped laughing. “Oh, you’re serious?” Verosika asked. She leaned in and spoke to Blitzo in a low whisper, “Game on, bitch.”

 Later at I.M.P. headquarters, Blitzo stood in front of an easel full of paper and a large whiteboard flanked by bat wings near the top. There was a large bar graph drawn on the board along with horse drawings. On the left hand corner, Blitzo had written, “Potential Horse Names: ‘Grape Fiesta’, ‘Paperclip’, and ‘Soap’, -32.”  Moxxie, Millie and Loona sat in their usual spiked chairs around a long table to listen.

 “Alright, shut your assholes, here’s how were gonna do this shit,” Blitzo announced.

 “First, we find a fuck ton of clients…”

 The animated childish drawings on the paper showed Blitzo, Moxxie, Millie and Loona standing together. A crowd of imps and clients surrounded them and gave them hugs and piles of money.

 “We portal up…”

 The Blitzo drawing snapped his fingers and the I.M.P. figures fell down to earth.

 “We have our fun murder time as per usual…”

 The I.M.P. figures used guns to kill the human figures around them.

 “We pile all the bodies into a big fucking canoe…”

 Drawing Blitzo tossed the dead humans into a canoe that read “S.S. Cum Gutter.”

 “We push said canoe into some water. We light it on fire to attract the sharks and eagles and maybe a goose, too. Fuck it…”

 Animated drawings of sharks, snakes, eagles and a goose ate at the bodies on fire. A large octopus sea monster snapped the boat and everything up in its mouth.

 “They come and eat the bodies, we win the bet…”

 The I.M.P. figures cheered, while the Loona one wore a party hat and blew a noisemaker.

 “We rub it in that sloppy bitch’s drunken whore ass face.”

 The Verosika drawing burst into tears on her knees as the I.M.P. figures flipped her off several times.

 “Do you have any questions?” Blitzo asked as the real meeting continued.

 “Uh yeah, why was that nonsense?” Moxxie deadpanned.

 Blitzo walked over to him. “That wasn’t a question.”

 “That wasn’t a plan,” Moxxie retorted.

 Blitzo put a hand around Moxxie. “I’m sorry, but that was a flawless presentation of what we should do, Mox. It’s not my fault you’ve got a smooth little brain upstairs.”

 “A what now?” Moxxie asked, eyebrows raised.

 “I’m calling you slow, Moxxie. God, why don’t you learn to take criticism, you talentless baby dick troll?” He pointed his finger into Moxxie’s chest several times as he spoke.

 An angry Moxxie stood up on the table. “Well why don’t you take an art class?”

 Blitzo grabbed Moxxie by the collar and threw him back onto the chair. “Why don’t you see how expensive they are?!”

 Loona interrupted the argument, still holding her cell phone. “Hey, is there a way I can come with you guys this time?”

 Blitzo crossed his arms in disapproval. “Absolutely not. I forbid it. Not gonna happen. Sorry, sweetie. Spring break is no place for young vulnerable goth girls. You know the kind of freaks up there who drool all over you.”

 All four characters glared into the camera, breaking the fourth wall.

 “Well, I can blend in with humans easy enough,” Loona explained. “Just let me tag along.”

 “Wait, say that again,” said Blitzo.

 “I can blend in?” Loona reiterated.

 “You have a human disguise?” Millie asked.

 “Yeah. Don’t you?”

 The three guilty imps nervously looked at each other, eyes darting from side to side.

 “You three have been screwing around on Earth this whole fucking time, without human disguises?!” Loona asked in disbelief.

 “Okay, new plan!” Blitzo called, rapidly scribbling on a piece of paper. He placed the paper on the easel, showing Loona surrounded by human figures with tiny hearts around them.

 “Loonie can help lure the humans to us and we’ll take care of the rest. Okay how about that?”

 “Flawless logic,” Millie smiled in agreement.

 Moxxie held up a clawed finger. “I think you’re missing the biggest issue, sir. Isn’t it crucial to have a client who demands enough kills to win this bet? We aren’t just going up to massacre.”

 Blitzo smirked in response. “I got that covered, Mox.”

 Not long after, Blitzo stuck a flyer onto a pole. It read “Spring Break Victim 50% Off!” It had a drawing of Blitzo, a dead victim and little cartoon horses.

 Blitzo strode to Moxxie. “Now, we wait.”

 Moxxie shook his head. “Sir, there is no way we are going to get enough clients by the end of the day with one poorly spelled bad grammar flyer!”

 Both Moxxie and Blitzo paused and looked over to see a line of a dozen creatures looking in curiosity at the flyer under the Pride Ring’s blood red sky. They arrived in a variety of shapes and sizes. Some of them were imps and others were sinners. There was a pink fluffy monster with black eyes, an orange fly trap plant wearing librarian glasses, a fox with thick white hair, a humanoid dog with pointed ears and a hook for a hand. Next to a teal lizard lady with dyed hair stood a tall man wearing a blue suit with a deer skull for a head. Even Travis, a gray owl demon, was there.

 Blitzo elbowed Moxxie with a smug grin before strolling over to the other demons. “Now, who’s first?”

  Part Two: At the Beach

 The beach in the human world was alive with humans from everywhere. Men, women and children happily walked around, relaxed under umbrellas, or had snacks. Several surf boards stood up in the sand by a decorated teal wall with a wavy orange design taking up the center. The crowd was positioned between a wooden dock and a makeshift stage. Two women wearing sunglasses got comfortably close and kissed each other in the shade. A muscular dark skinned man talked with a red haired woman while a blonde guy wearing sunglasses and a baseball cap shook a bottle of pills into his mouth. Above the beach lay a small row of shops. One sign read “Pawn Paradise.” One sign read “hotel” in red letters while another sign read “Sea cream” with a teal ice cream cone structure next to it. Another sign read “Pico Puncho Pizza” and another read “Dagon Juice” and had a green fish with a sailor’s cap on it.

 In the shadows under the dock, the I.M.P. crew emerged from algae covered rocks.

 “Now remember, we can’t be seen, alright?” Blitzo reminded them. “And loose shots will likely cause a panic, so Loona can help with leading targets to a better spot to off them. You got the list, Loonie?”

 Loona skimmed the list in her hands and gave it a sniff. “Got it.”

 She dropped the paper, stood up and walked into the light. A rush of swirling blue magic enveloped her before it vanished.

 Loona was now in human form. She opened her red eyes and brushed her thick light gray hair with her hands. She wore her same dark crop top and high black shorts but she now had white skin, two bars in her right ear and a partially shaved head. She had gray eye makeup on and a black choker around her neck. Her pale midriff, arms and legs were visible.

 All three imps stared in amazement.

 “Oh Loonie, look at you!” Blitzo breathed. “You look downright awful!”

 Loona glared at him.

 Blitzo wiped a tear from his eye. “I’m so proud.” He pointed ahead. “Now go fetch!”

 Loona peered in front of her with a hand over her eyebrows to help block out the light. Her target humans were outlined in red in her vision. Loona smirked and strolled over to a tall dark haired muscular man wearing sunglasses. She moved a finger toward his chest and gave him a flirtatious grin. She mentioned behind her to a private alleyway. Loona led him into the alleyway and leaned casually against the wall. The man reached out to grab her in lust but was immediately shot in the head by Blitzo spying on the roof. He gave Loona a thumbs up.

 Later on, a blonde man ran to Loona in an alleyway with a hungry lustful look on his face. He was caught in a noose by Blitzo. A random “music band” poster hung on the wall. On a rooftop, a brown haired man leaned in to kiss Loona, but Millie knocked him off the roof with a kick. The man fell into a green dumpster that Moxxie slammed shut. Loona walked with a fat man down the sidewalk and a flower pot crashed fatally into his head. Blitzo killed a woman with a knife, Millie killed a white haired woman with a spiked baseball bat, and another woman got shot in the head.

 Blitzo and the gang put the bodies in bloodstained dark trash bags, closing them. In the background, Millie happily jumped on another body.

 “That’s nine kills in the bag!” called Blitzo. “I’d like to see that waily snatch orgasm that many…”

 The imps froze when they heard a voice through a microphone. It was Verosika Mayday on stage, in her human form. Her shadowy silhouette in the clearing smoke resembled her demon form. She had blonde hair, tan skin and wore black leggings and high heels. She wore a pink skirt and a matching frilly top that revealed her right shoulder. She had a small black heart on her right cheek. The background lights were pink, giving the appearance of moving hearts. “Verosika Mayday” was on a pink banner overhead. Verosika appeared on two screens on either side of the stage, showing moving hearts of red, pink and white for the background. Six pink spotlights shone on her.

  “All right spring breakers! Are y’all ready get fucked up and make some bitching bad choices?!”

 The crowd cheered in affirmation. A white teen boy with short blonde hair tore off his shirt and yelled “Verosika!” He had her name written in pink on his bare chest.

 Verosika sang her song:

 “All aboard

 Pack your bags

Sun’s out

Take a vacay babe

Take it straight to Bonetown

 V-time, free time, baby relax

Self-care, no hair, Brazilian wax

Hardtop succu-bus to the beach

Catch some rays while catching some D

 Pack your bags

Sun’s out

Take a vacay babe

Take it straight to Bonetown

 Hot dog, hot bod, sausage and buns

Threesome, fivesome, having some fun

Back to my place, welcome to Hell

Sun’s out, hormones out, how does it smell?

 Pack your bags

Sun’s out

Take a vacay babe

Take it straight to Bonetown”

  Verosika performed her song on stage and took a drink from her bottle. “Fuck you Blitzo” appeared on the screens as Blitzo seethed. The humans made out with others around them. The humans kissed, hugged, and gave each other anal. One dark woman succubus showed a love-struck man a popsicle with semen-like saliva on it. She grinned and threw herself onto the human male. An incubi with dark hair in human form smiled and snapped his fingers at a blonde man…his sunglasses fell off his surprised sunburned face. Several more succubi and incubi grinned and snuck up on the humans.

 Blitzo was furious. “God dammit, that bitch started her godish mating call! Now she’s gonna win all those sex maniacs. We gotta pick things up, guys! He on the list, Loonie?”

 Blitzo mentioned to a vomiting long haired blonde man in boxer shorts.

 Loona appeared distracted, not even looking at him. “Huh? Yeah I think so.” Loona was staring at a tall muscular black skinned bouncer by the stage: a human Vortex.

 “Good!” Blitzo called.

 The blonde man looked up at Blitzo in a stupor.

 “Whoa, what are you? A leprechaun? Hahaha!”

 Blitzo raised a sharp black and red ax. “Oh yeah, pretty cool, huh?”

 Blitzo smashed the man’s head open with the ax, causing blood and brains to splatter.

 “But you sure as shit ain’t gonna tell nobody.” He looked over. “All right, next one, Loonie, come on.”

 Blitzo rapidly glanced around, but Loona wasn’t where she was a moment before.

 “Where’s my baby?!” he cried in a panic. Millie pointed toward the stage. “Look!”

 Loona nervously made her way through the crowd, avoiding a French-kissing couple and tossing aside a bra that landed on her head. A squealing fanboy ran toward Verosika but Vortex punched him into the ground, head first. He dragged the teen away in the distance as Loona watched. A male incubus appeared as a white skinned human with short white hair. Putting both hands on her shoulders, he smirked and wiggled his eyebrows at her. With a roll of her eyes, Loona landed an uppercut on his chin, causing him to fall.  

 “Now, who wants a piece of this?” Verosika called as she took one last gulp.

 She tossed her flask into the ocean, creating a small golden portal. A fish appeared, which rapidly grew in size.

 Loona walked sideways over toward Vortex.

  “Hey, you,” she tried.

 “Hey,” Vortex replied. “You’re the hound working for my boss’s freaky ex.”

 “Yeah. Sorry if that’s weird.”

 “It’s cool,” he shrugged. “Her beef ain’t mine. I’m not paid enough to care.”

 Loona laughed nervously. “Yeah. Yeah.” She pushed her hair behind her ear. “I’m Loona!”

 “Okay.” In her giddy tone he repeated, “I’m Vortex!” Both chuckled.

 “That’s hot,” Loona said with a grin. Then her face turned red and flustered. “I mean like literally you know because vortexes, you know, they give off heat. Probably.” She pointed both fingers in a snap, trying to act cool.

 Vortex chuckled lightly. “Uh, yeah. I guess. But my friends call me Tex.”

 “Oh yeah. I wish I had friends. I mean no, I mean, I don’t. I…I don’t have friends.”

 Just then, Blitzo arrived, moving himself between them.

 “Am I interrupting something?”

  “Nah man. Just having a conversation,” Vortex replied.

 Blitzo narrowed his eyes and wagged a finger at him. “’Conversation’ leads to HPV!” Loona clenched her fists in frustration.

  Meanwhile, Moxxie and Millie hid behind several metal beer barrels.

 “And… we lost him,” Moxxie declared. “Huh, it’s looking like it’s up to us handle this list.”

 Millie’s face shone in excitement. “Hell yeah! Team M and M, getting shit down, making the money!”

 Moxxie and Millie ran off holding hands in the sunset and killed more people. A sign read “Senpai, notice me.”

  Loona pinched her nose. “Let’s get the fuck out of here,” Loona said to Blitzo in concern. “You’re gonna get us all into shit.”

 “I just wanted to see what was so important that you’d be distracted from your job.”

 Loona angrily pulled Blitzo away from Vortex.

 “What, I can’t have a break?”

 Blitzo yelled at the top of his lungs. “We have a parking spot on the line!”

 “Hey dude,” Vortex mentioned as he walked over. “Why don’t you chill out?”

 Blitzo wagged a finger. “Why don’t you stay out of it?”

 He turned back to Loona.

 “Okay, this is our business.” He pointed to the ground and in his tail was a drawing of Blitzo killing a person, a horse followed by an equal sign and dollar signs. “Literally.”

 Loona clenched her fists and briefly leaned forward in anger. “Oh fuck Blitzo! Why can’t you stay out of my face for like five minutes?!”

  “Because I adopted you! And that should mean something.”

  “Oh what does it matter? You’re not my real dad! I was almost eighteen.”

 “It still counts.”

 “Well it shouldn’t. I didn’t need you then, asshole! I don’t need you now.”

 A tense silence followed. Both of them crossed their arms, their backs to each other. Both faces showed hurt expressions.

 As a young pup, Loona had been left to fend for herself by her real neglectful parents. She had lived a life of meth addiction, sex, fighting and insecurity with no real friends. Blitzo was perhaps the first person to truly care about her. He took her in as a teen and adopted her…and she had worked at I.M.P. ever since. Loona already felt bad at what she had just said. But there was no taking it back.

 She stuttered, trying to say something.

 “Uh, Blitzo…I…”

 “Enjoy your break, Loonie,” he replied. “I’m gonna go kill something.”

 Loona sighed sadly as he left.

 “Damn, girl. That was savage,” Vortex remarked sympathetically. He placed a large comforting hand on her shoulder. “You okay?”

 Loona blushed heavily, forcing a smile.

 “Yeah, I’m fine. He’ll get over it. He usually does.”

 “I’m glad you could stick up for yourself, at least,” Vortex mentioned. “Hmm. Takes guts.”

 “Thanks,” Loona smiled.

  Meanwhile, Moxxie looked to the left and right from behind the beer cans on a table. Beer can and bottles were everywhere. Moxxie ducked back behind them, watching as Millie loaded her crossbow. The two imps smiled and kissed.

 A man with a baseball cap, sunglasses and a tie-dye shirt that read “Kool” threw down a beer can. “Yeah! Party!” he yelled. The man pointed both fingers in the air and then promptly flipped the table, sending the imps flying. Moxxie landed on the ground as the beachgoers stepped back.

 “Eww!” exclaimed a red haired woman in disgust, pointing down at him. “Oh my god! It’s a fucking possum!”

 Moxxie tried to scurry off, but a man picked him up. “Oh crumbs!”

 “I got it!” called the guy with “Kool” on his shirt, holding up Moxxie in the air. A muscular blonde man held a large beer barrel. The first guy tossed Moxxie inside while the second one closed the lid. “We put him in the keg,” one of them said. The other people cheered as Moxxie was carried away. “Beer is awesome!” they cheered. While he was inside, he gulped down the beer around him. The people tossed the barrel and played catch with it before leaving it behind.

 Millie dashed from behind the beer cans, arriving at the barrel Moxxie was in. The barrel wobbled, surprising Millie. She placed her ear to it before tipping it over. Moxxie spilled out on his back with the remaining beer.

 “Moxxie!” Millie cried.

 “Millie! Hi! Hey!” Moxxie slurred, rolling onto his back and looking at her upside down. “Hey, when did you get four heads? I wanna kiss ‘em!”

 He made smooching noises before Millie picked him up.

   Suddenly, a large gush of water rose up from behind them. A dark shadow passed over their faces, darkening the sky. The humans glanced up in shock. Even the demon gang and Verosika looked on in fear and surprise. A woman pointed upwards and several people ran off. A giant foot crushed a man lying on a turtle towel. Blood splattered everywhere and onto the crowd of humans. Another woman screamed and the humans ran for their lives. Blitzo was in the process of chocking a drinking man from behind, when he, too, stopped to look.

 It was a giant black Leviathan fish monster!

 The fish had large teal eyes, fins, white whiskers and dozens of blue sharp teeth. The beast let out a fierce, ear-shattering roar.

 “Oooh, fish,” Moxxie grinned stupidly in his drunken haze.

 Like a deadly vine, a long spiked tongue wrapped around Moxxie and pulled him toward the fish. Millie watched in horror as Moxxie was wrapped up above the large maw before the fish snapped its jaws shut.

 Millie got into a fighting stance. She glanced to her left and spotted a fat man drinking and wearing sunglasses. She stabbed him with a knife and tore off a piece of his towel. With her knife in her mouth, she lit the cloth on fire over a vodka bottle, creating a Molotov cocktail. Millie tossed it toward the monster, sending the fish stumbling and crashing down into the sea.

 Wasting no time, Millie swam toward the monster and cut upwards along its scaly body with her knife. Using all her strength, she pried open the monster’s mouth. Moxxie was punching the monster’s uvula, still wrapped up in the tongue.

 Millie reached for him with her hand. Moxxie reached too, then gave her a high five. Millie grabbed hold of his wrist and pulled him up. She used her other hand and foot to support herself on the monster’s teeth. She pulled as hard as he could, but Moxxie wouldn’t budge.

 Just when she lost her grip, she slashed her knife across the tongue, slicing a piece off. In a roar of pain, the monster spat Moxxie out. Moxxie spread out his arms, enjoying the feeling of flying. Back on the beach, a man flinched as the tongue piece landed on the ground. Moxxie landed in Blitzo’s arms. The man cheered before Blitzo shot him with a gun. Moxxie cheered drunkenly.

  Back inside the monster’s mouth, Millie rapidly punched at the tongue, trying to get out. The monster roared in pain and anger, slashing around as Millie wrestled with it.

 “I love that woman!” Moxxie declared.

 Blitzo smirked. “Oh she totally pegs you, doesn’t she?” Indeed, Millie was dominant in the bedroom and Moxxie loved it.

 Millie leapt into the air, knife aimed downward. She fell back inside the mouth…then sliced off the fish’s head from the inside. A gush of blood flowed out from the monster before it landed with a final thud into the water. Millie walked back to shore and dropped her knife, exhausted.

 Blitzo and Moxxie cheered. “Oh yeah, way to show off, Mils!” Blitzo called.

 “Is Mox okay?” Millie panted.

 Blitzo glanced at the drunken Moxxie. “Oh yeah, he’s fine,” he casually said before dropping him onto the sand.

 Millie raced over and held Moxxie in her arms.

 Moxxie grinned at Millie with a doped expression. “This is funny. I’m soooo… drinky.”

 Millie just smiled and hugged him.

 Blitzo scowled and crossed his arms. “Okay, this is too wholesome for my liking.”

 “Blitzo!” Verosika called.

 “Oh perfect,” he said sarcastically. He turned around to the human-disguised gang of seducer demons. “That must be the whores!”

 Verosika was flanked by four succubi and an incubi disguised as humans. “That was handled rather…obvious, don’t you think?” She grinned a smug grin.

 Millie held up Verosika’s flask. “I don’t think this belonged to any of us.”

 Millie tossed the flask to Verosika who caught it with one hand. She dropped it into one of the succubus’ hands.

 “Would be a shame if anyone found out you guys were behind a giant monster fish in the human world,” Millie added with a grin.

 Even Moxxie laughed out loud, pointing at them. “Oh Satan! You all be so fucked!”

 Verosika briefly looked concerned, then sneered. “Yeah, well you three nasty ass gremlins will be in shit for not being in disguises.”

 Moxxie fell to his knees and face-planted into the sand. He lifted his head up. “A human called me a possum. I am not a possum.” He face-planted again.

 Blitzo stepped forward and moved Moxxie out of the way with a foot. “You know, we could keep this little B movie scene on the down low if you agree to let us use that parking space.”

 Verosika, not wanting to get in trouble, relented with a sigh. “Fine.”

 Blitzo raised both arms in the air. “We fucking won!”

 “Fuck yeah!” Millie cheered.

 “In your face, bitch!” Blitzo taunted Verosika, who scowled.

 She glared at Blitzo one last time. “Come on, let’s get out of here. Tex!”

 Vortex stood with Loona not too far from the empty stage. “Well, guess it’s time to bounce, but hey, if you’re ever down to party, I’ll give you a ring sometime.”

 Loona smiled in excitement. “Really? I mean, Yeah. Yeah.”

 “Yeah. My girlfriend throws a ton of crazy hound parties.”

 “Nice. Can’t wait for my first one.”

 “Let’s get you some friends, girl.”

 Vortex gave her a playful punch before following Veroskia. Loona looked downcast at seeing Vortex leave and being reminded of her confrontation with Blitzo. Vortex already had a girlfriend and he wasn’t coming with her. Now she would go back to doing her usual secretary work. With Hell being “every demon for themselves,” it was hard to make true friends, especially if one was of lower class and lost in dark thoughts all the time. Loona could not deny to herself that she often felt like a lone wolf.

 Millie carried Moxxie and jumped into the portal.

 “Come on, Loonie tooney!” Blitzo called to her. “Let’s go back and park our fat fucking car in our fat fucking space!” He ran off into the portal.

 Loona followed Blitzo and fell through the portal on her back.

 Blitzo mockingly gave Verosika double middle fingers through the portal from behind her. Verosika growled in anger after noticing. She and her gang made their way up the stairs and onto the street.

 A policeman yelled, “Put your hands up, you sick deviants!”

 The gang huddled in fear as guns were trained on them. They were surrounded by police cars, a SWAT team, men on horses and a helicopter. A clown and a mime robot were also with the police.

 Verosika sighed in defeat. “Alright, sluts, get ready to suck a lot of pig dick.”

Her gang members groaned in disgust as they raised their hands in surrender.

[arckook]

around and around - one

pairing: cho seungyoun x reader, kim wooseok x reader

au: idolverse

warnings: none

wordcount: 4.2k

description: you’ve had a one-sided crush on your close friend seungyoun for who knows how long, but things don’t stay so black and white when he introduces you to his new groupmate kim wooseok.

next

“You two look cute together, you know.”

You hide your smile behind a hand, giggling lightheartedly at the comment Jimin makes, resting her head on her hand as she looks over at you from across the table.

You glance over at Seungyoun, watching him grin and laugh, mirroring you. His smile makes your heart feel weightless- it makes you want to see it all day. 

“Thanks,” Seungyoun chuckles, ruffling your hair with one hand as he looks sideways at you with that breathtaking smile. “You know she’s like a sister to me, though.”

Your hand falls from over your mouth.

You smile back at him, trying your hardest to keep it from looking tight all of a sudden.

Seungyoun’s hand draws back from your head, and the conversation between your friends continues on, not spending too long on the brief remark about you and the man sitting next to you.

For you, though, it’s hard to move on from that.

You tip back a shot of soju, not particularly enjoying the burn in the back of your throat, but not minding it either. You take another piece of meat from the grill in the middle of the table, dipping it in a little sauce and chewing. You half-listen to what everyone is talking about, half-answer when someone asks for your opinion. You think they probably chalk up your quiet attitude to having drank a little more than usual because of the occasion.

After all, Seungyoun’s debuting again, and you’ve gotta celebrate.

“Y/N,”

You look over at Vernon, whose expression reads a little concerned. “You okay?”

You nod, smiling lightly. “I’m good.”

“Anyway,” Seungyoun speaks up, so you look over at him instead, hoping you don’t seem too starry-eyed. “Our schedule is packed, so I probably won’t see you guys again for a while.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jimin shrugs, leaning back in her seat. “We’re happy you’re employed!”

Everyone laughs, Hyunggu clapping Seungyoun on the back as said man smiles sheepishly. 

“Thanks for paying, then?” he jokes, which Jimin sticks her tongue out to.

“I’ll pay,” you offer, sitting up from where you’d been slouched over.

“No you’re not,” Seungyoun pats your head again, looking fondly at you. “I was joking.”

“Hey, I’m employed too,” you tease, which he chuckles at.

“Whatever, I’m paying because it’s a celebration for me.”

“Sounds good, Mr. Wears 2000 dollar shirts to go out for tteokbokki.” 

He rolls his eyes, but playfully. 

Everyone starts gathering their things, getting ready to leave the restaurant as Seungyoun leaves his seat to go pay at the counter.

You know she’s like a sister to me.

You think it over as you get out of your chair, tugging your jacket on and walking over to the window by the door.

He’s said it before. Or at least, something like it. A variation. It’s a constant reminder, that sentence, that he doesn’t look at your smile like you look at his. His fondness is like that of an older sibling, nothing more.  

That doesn’t stop it from feeling like a numb pain in your chest whenever you think about it.

“Y/N!” you look over just as Seungyoun throws his arm and some of his weight directly onto you, causing you to stumble forward with a laugh. “How are you getting home?” 

“Jiseo-unnie’s coming,” you reply, showing him your phone screen. You’d texted her twenty minutes ago. 

“Not your manager?” Seungyoun asks, pulling back from you enough that his arm is still slung around your shoulders, but he isn’t weighing you down.

You shake your head. “He had to rush to Gwangju yesterday, his mom got sick.”

“Gotcha.”

You look back down at your phone screen, the last message you sent showing up as ‘read’.

“Do you have practice tomorrow?” Seungyoun asks, drawing your attention back to him. You smile, albeit tiredly as you start to realize that drinking more than usual was probably a bad idea.

“Yeah, not till after lunch, though. September comeback, so.”

“Right,” he nods.

“See you guys!”

Both of you turn to Jimin, Vernon, and Hyunggu leaving together, waving at you and Seungyoun.

“See you,” you wave back. 

“Sorry to drag you out tonight, then,” Seungyoun says, which you shrug at, turning back to him. 

“It’s okay. You have practice tomorrow, too.”

“That’s for sure,” he chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “I already know we’ll be learning choreography for the whole day. I can feel it.”

Your eyes widen, and you lightly shove him away from you, pointing towards the door. “Go home, then! You don’t have to wait for me to leave!”

“What, and leave a lady by herself at night?” he scoffs, playing offended. “What kind of man do you think I am?”

“Shut up, this is a safe city,” you roll your eyes. “There’s tons of random drunk people on the street at night and nothing ever happens to them.”

“Still,” he says, setting his hand on your head again. He smiles down at you as you naturally turn to face him completely. “You’re one random drunk person I can protect.”

You can feel heat crawling up your neck, so you pull back quickly, turning your head. “I’m not even drunk, idiot.”

“Jiseo texted you,” he says, and with a brief glance, you see him pointing at your phone screen, lit up with a message from your eldest group-member.

‘Here.’

“She’s here,” you relay to Seungyoun, who nods with a smile, his hands folded in front of him. You linger, though, despite feeling like that nod was supposed to be a goodbye. “You… really think we won’t see each other for a while?”

His smile falls a little, but he nods again nonetheless. “There’s a lot to do. If I can make time, I’ll call you guys.”

You guys.

Never just you.

“Right,” you nod back, with a small smile painfully tugging at the corners of your lips. “Well, then. I’ll see you sometime.”

“Bye, Y/N,” he replies, and you wave with one hand, before turning and exiting the now empty restaurant, easily spotting Jiseo’s car outside on the edge of the road.

You get in the passenger seat with a sigh, setting your purse down in your lap and pulling the seatbelt across you.

“So?” she asks, and when you look over, Jiseo’s face is expectant. “Did you tell him?”

Your teeth latch onto your bottom lip. “...No.”

“Y/N!” she exclaims, thin, cat-like eyes going wide. “You said you would tell him today!”

“I couldn’t,” you say, voice thin and weak as you look down at your hands, interlocked. “I can’t.”

“Why not? If you like someone, just tell them- it’s as simple as that.”

“Unnie,” your eyes snap to her, your throat tight. “Not everyone is like you. And anyway, there’s so many reasons why I could never date him.”

Jiseo settles back into her seat, looking at you with what you think might be a mix of pity and frustration. You know she can’t understand how you act with these things- she’s the kind of person who will say that she likes someone at the first moment of feeling attraction. 

“Tell me one,” she says, as she shifts the gear into drive and gets back on the road.

You sigh, looking up at the ceiling of the car. “He said… he said I’m like a sister to him.”

Jiseo is quiet for a moment too long after that, and you sigh again, feeling tears sting your eyes as your throat really closes up. 

“Fuck, I just feel so stupid,” you mutter, wiping at your eyes as you squeeze them shut.

“No, Y/N, look- he might just be saying that-”

“He’s not, he’s said it before,” you cut her off. “I want to give up on him, but it’s just so hard. It’s just hard.”

She’s quiet again. You lean your head against the door of the car, wishing this pain in your chest would go away.

“So, if he calls you to hang out this month, just say you’re too busy and don’t go.”

You look over at Jiseo without moving your head. “I can’t do that, he’s still my friend.”

“Well if you actually want to move on from him, you have to do something, Y/N. Or rather, not do anything.”

You don’t respond, looking away and out the window instead. 

You know she’s like a sister to me.

You scramble to answer the phone as soon as you see who’s calling, pushing the studio door open to hurry out into the empty hall, smoothing a hand over your hair (despite knowing that it already looks perfect) before you press the green button.

“Hiya!” Seungyoun shows up on your screen, grinning brightly. His expression changes, then, eyes squinting. “Woah, what do you look this fancy for?”

“We’re doing our jacket shooting right now,” you reply, a little out of breath. 

“Already?” he seems surprised.

“It’s not that early, it’s almost the end of August,” you smile, already knowing he’s probably lost track of time.

“Right,” Seungyoun chuckles. “Anyway, I won’t take up too much of your time since you’re busy. Everyone’s meeting up tonight for samgyeopsal, can you come?”

You frown, thinking about your schedule. It’s already the afternoon, and you still need to do the group shots at this set. You don’t think you have anything else planned, but you could be wrong.

Your mind keeps drifting, remembering the conversation you had in the car with Jiseo a few weeks ago.

“If he calls you to hang out this month, just say you’re too busy and don’t go.”

“If you’re too busy, it’s okay, we can just see each other next time!” Seungyoun’s cheerful voice brings you out of your thoughts.

“No- um…” if you don’t see him now, then he’ll have his debut, and be promoting, and then you’ll have your comeback, and then you won’t be able to see him for almost two months… “Um, I can! Just send me the address.”

“Great!” he grins, his eyes scrunching up into lines. You smile, too. You love when he looks like this. “You’re the best, Y/N.”

“I might be a little late, though, we need to finish up here.”

“No worries!” Seungyoun points a finger gun at the camera. “I’ll order for you.”

You giggle. “Okay, sounds good.”

“See you later!”

“See you,” you say back, and he ends the call.

You let out a sigh of relief, leaning against the wall by the door, your hand dropping down to your side. 

Jiseo’s gonna be pissed. You cried over him that night, made her eat ramen with you at like 1am, and end up with puffy faces in the morning just to do it all to yourself again. 

You head back into the studio, setting your phone down on the makeup counter where you’d been sitting before.

“Hey,”

Soohyun flicks you, which you wince at. “What were you doing?”

“You’re done already?” you ask her, head tilted.

“Duh,” she flips her newly blonde hair. “I’m a model.”

You roll your eyes, smiling to yourself. “Alright, resident model. Someone facetimed me.”

Soohyun’s bright look fades to something like annoyance. “Unnie, don’t say it was Cho Seungyoun.”

You purse your lips. “Alright, I won’t say it.”

Her eyes widen. “No way! You’re kidding, right? You actually talked to him? Jiseo-unnie is going to kill you!”

“Yeah, I know,” you sigh, sitting down. Soohyun sits down in the chair in front of you.

“What did he call about?”

You brush your hair back from your face, sighing again. “He wants to eat dinner later.”

“With just you?” Soohyun exclaims, slamming her hand down on the counter dramatically.

You glare. “No. With our other friends too. As per usual.”

“Oh,” she leans back, clearly disappointed, then sits back up. “You said no, right?”

You just purse your lips again, and she throws her head back. “Ugh, unnie! You’re seriously embarrassing!”

“Why?” you cross your arms over your chest. “As far as he thinks, we’re just friends anyway. It’s not weird that I said I’d go to a friendly gathering.”

“Isn’t your pride hurt at all?” Soohyun asks, and you smack her on the arm, to which she whines out a long ‘ow!’.

“Ma’am, are you abusing this child?”

You grin as you look to the side, sticking your leg out and pushing Eunmi, who has a firm look on her face and her hands planted on her hips, away from you. “Shut up, this ‘kid’ is already an adult.”

Eunmi laughs. “I know, she’s getting old like us hags.”

“I hope you’re not including me in the hags list,” you tease, gesturing to her and Jiseo, who’s walking over now. “I’m younger than you two.”

“Did you just call me a hag?” Jiseo asks, after taking a bite of a candy bar. 

“Woah woah woah, what is that?” Eunmi points at the chocolate offender. “Sungjoon-oppa is going to have a heart attack if he finds out about that.”

“Then we just won’t tell our precious manager, right?” Jiseo says, looking at all of you with hard eyes. 

“Uh-huh,” you and Soohyun respond.

“Good,” your leader nods. 

“Unnie,” Soohyun, starts, and you immediately kick her. “Ow! What was that for?”

“Don’t,” you warn, but she keeps talking anyway.

“Unnie, Y/N-unnie said she’d go hang out with Cho Seungyoun later.”

“What?” Jiseo says, eyes wide as her gaze snaps to you. “Do you think you have time for that today, Y/N?”

“I… thought I did?” you respond weakly. 

Jiseo takes another bite of her candy bar, frowning at you. “You can’t make plans without asking me or a manager first.”

“Sorry,” you say, bowing your head.

“Plus, you know I don’t think you should meet up with him.”

“Sorry for that, too.”

She sighs. “Whatever. We’ll be done in two hours, so after that, you can go. But I’m not picking you up this time.”

“Really?” you sit up straighter, having expected that you would need to cancel on Seungyoun’s plans.

Jiseo nods. “Yeah, sure. Don’t come home late, because tomorrow morning we’re starting the outside shoot.”

“You got it,” you shoot her a finger heart. “I’ll be back before midnight.”

“Ah, seriously, Y/N-unnie,” Soohyun whines. “You’re really embarrassing me. Please, take some of my pride.”

You kick her again.

You take your sunglasses off as soon as you enter the restaurant, quickly locating the front counter and telling the man who seems to be running the place that you’re part of the group in Room 3.

He nods, chuckling good-heartedly, and leads you over to the room, clapping a hand on your shoulder along the way while telling you that his son likes you a lot. 

“Oh, please tell him thank you for me,” you tell the owner, bowing your head as he slides open the door for you.

“Would you write a short note to him? It’d make his night!” the man presses his hands together hopefully.

“Ah, sure,” you smile. “I’ll leave it on a napkin.”

“Thank you, what a sweet girl, you head inside now,” he holds his hands out, gesturing for you to go in. You bow your head again before stepping inside the room and sliding the door shut behind you.

“Finally, Y/N!” Jimin calls your name as soon as the door is shut, waving with a bright smile. “I thought you’d never get here!”

“Hey, she said she was busy,” your eyes snap immediately to Seungyoun, as he pats the chair next to him. “Saved you a spot!”

“Thanks,” you say, a little sheepish as you slide behind Vernon, who looks so tired you wouldn’t have expected him to come. 

You sit down, noting that there’s already food on your plate. 

“How’d the jacket shoot go, Y/N?” Hyunggu asks, chewing on some meat. You pick up your chopsticks, beginning to pick around the pieces on your plate to find the best looking one.

“It was good,” you respond, then glance over at Vernon. “I think you need to go home.”

He laughs, then wipes a hand over his face. “I think I’m about to pass out.”

“He’s fine,” Jimin teases, waving her hand as if to wave off Vernon’s nearly unconscious state. “Anyway, Y/N, have you met Wooseok?”

Huh?

You frown, looking around the table, then realize as your eyes actually focus on the guy sitting on Jimin’s right that it’s not Nathan as you’d previously assumed.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Kim Wooseok,” the guy who is not Nathan bows his head with a polite smile. 

“Oh, nice to meet you too,” you bow yours back, recognizing him as one of Seungyoun’s members from his new group. You somewhat recall Seungyoun telling you something about Kim Wooseok also having debuted before, but you can’t quite remember which group it was or when. “I’m L/N Y/N.”

Wooseok nods again, then goes back to flipping the meat on the grill.

“He wanted to meet my ‘other friends’, so he tagged along,” Seungyoun explains with a light grin, helping move around the sizzling pork belly with a pair of tongs. 

“You’re the same age, right?” Hyunggu asks, taking the initiative to snatch a piece of meat for himself, which Seungyoun shoots him a dirty look for. 

“We are,” Wooseok answers. 

You can’t help but observe Kim Wooseok a little as the conversation goes on while all of you eat. He’s really handsome- strikingly so, the sort of classic face everyone can agree on. He seems sort of quiet, but you get the feeling that it’s because he’s not totally comfortable here with people he isn’t used to. He listens more than he talks, but he interjects when it has to do with Seungyoun or their group.

“Y/N,”

Your gaze drifts over to Jimin, gesturing at you with her chopsticks. “Are you busy next week on Tuesday?”

“Next Tuesday?” you repeat, confused. “Why?”

“Ouch,” Hyunggu snickers, which only confuses you more.

“Why?” you say again, looking around, only to see an amused smile on Kim Wooseok’s lips, and deep pout on Seungyoun’s. 

“Y/N, it’s their debut,” Vernon offers from your left, slumped over with his chin resting on his palm.

You ahh in understanding, then smile at Seungyoun. “Sorry. It’s been a long day.”

“You can make up for forgetting about our debut by coming to the showcase!” he suggests, suddenly enthusiastic.

You bite your lip. You’re almost 100% sure that you have dance practice scheduled for the entire day on Tuesday. 

At your hesitation, Seungyoun grabs your hands, face absent of the pout. Instead, he shows off his small, gentle smile that makes your heart race. 

“Please, Y/N? Nobody else can come. I’ll get you two tickets so you can bring Soohyun too.”

Trying to overcome how hard your heart is beating, you give him an apologetic smile back. “I don’t think I can.”

“Ah,” Seungyoun drops your hands, and being his dramatic self, presses the back of his hand against his forehead like he’s feeling sick. “You were my last chance. I see how it is.”

You laugh, pushing him lightly. “Oh, come on, oppa. I always go to your stuff.” you throw in the honorific, knowing it’ll appease him.

“Alright, alright, I know you’re busy,” he says, glancing over at you with that fond expression that always makes you feel conflicted. “Maybe we’ll be on the same music show in September.”

“Us too,” Vernon cuts in. You look over at him, chuckling.

“I’ll watch out for you guys.”

“Sorry about this,” you say, abashedly brushing your hair behind your ear as you glance over at Kim Wooseok. “I always tell Seungyoun that he doesn’t have to wait around for me, but…”

Seungyoun’s handsome groupmate shrugs without much of an expression on his face. “It’s okay.”

Seungyoun left you with Wooseok to wait for a taxi while he went to the bathroom, which you guess was probably hard to find as it’s already been a couple of minutes.

“So…” you try to strike up conversation again, feeling awkward just standing there outside the restaurant in silence. “Were we what you expected?”

Wooseok turns to you. He has a mask on over his mouth, but you can see a hint of a smile with the way his cheek lifts up slightly. “Pretty much.”

Surprised, your eyes widen. “Huh? Really?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “Seungyoun’s hyper and energetic and a mood-maker. I figured his friends would be similar.”

You purse your lips, thinking about your friend group. Are you guys really hyper? Well… you guess.

“Gotcha,” you finally respond. 

“By the way, Y/N-ssi,” Wooseok says, drawing your attention back to him. He meets your gaze evenly. “How long have you liked Seungyoun?”

Your jaw drops and your eyes pop open, sputtering out a shocked “what?”

Kim Wooseok doesn’t seem fazed by your alarm. “Sorry to ask, it’s just that it was so obvious I got curious.”

Horrified, you look away, staring down at the ground. “You’re saying that it’s obvious?”

“It’s pretty obvious,” he reiterates, which only makes you cringe more, letting out a groan.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you smack your hands onto your face, letting them drag down in shame. Quickly, you turn to Wooseok as a humiliating thought comes to mind. “Does he know? He would tell you, right? If he knew?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t think so. At least, he hasn’t said anything about it. He always calls you his friend.”

You sigh in relief, wiping your hand over your face again. “Thank God.”

“You’re happy about that?” Frowning, you look over at Wooseok again, who’s looking blankly back at you. “Wouldn’t you want him to know, in case he returns your feelings?”

“No, because he definitely doesn’t,” you answer, knowing your tone has turned a little bitter. “So please don’t tell him.”

“...Alright.”

“Hey, you two!”

You look over your shoulder and see exactly who you’d been discussing walk up, hands tucked in his pockets. “Still waiting, Y/N?”

“Yeah,” you answer, a little quieter than you’d intended, not looking at Seungyoun even though he was talking directly to you. You look out into the street again, fingers fidgeting, still not seeing any available taxis driving the direction you need to go. 

“Y/N?” Seungyoun repeats your name, a note of concern present in his voice this time. “Do you want to just come with us? Our manager’s almost here. I know you have a shoot tomorrow morning.”

You glance at him momentarily, suddenly feeling like you really can’t look him in the eye with Kim Wooseok standing right there. “No, it’s okay. Our dorms aren’t in the same area.”

“Still,” Seungyoun says, but you shake your head, smiling to try and seem less weird.

“Hey, I’m gonna walk down the street and see if there’s more taxis down there,” you point down the road. “I’ll see you soon. Good luck on your debut!” you quickly bow to Wooseok since you only just met him tonight, and then start walking without looking back, knuckles white as they clutch your phone.

By the time you finally hail a taxi ten minutes later, your heart is pounding with a sudden bout of anxiety. Kim Wooseok said that it’s obvious that you like Seungyoun. What if he lied about never hearing anything? Seungyoun could know how you feel about him, and just be trying to spare hurting your feelings by not talking about it. Or even if he doesn’t know, Wooseok could tell him now. You don’t know why he would… but he could. He could just tell him. 

You slump against the window of the car, hands shaking slightly as you watch the bright lights of the city streak past you while the taxi driver heads straight.

Ding!

The notification sound on your phone startles you out of your thoughts. You flip it over, expecting to see Jiseo’s name on the screen, but instead, it’s just a number and a text message.

You looked worried. I promise that I won’t tell him. Thank you for wishing us good luck.

Frowning, you bring your phone up closer to your face, squinting to read the message again. You did not drink enough to hallucinate this.

You unlock your phone, quickly typing out a response to the random number.

Kim Wooseok-ssi?

The reply shows up right away.

Yup

Brows still drawn together, you read the single word again. 

“Huh,” you mumble under your breath, leaning back into the cushioned seat.

You open google, typing the name Kim Wooseok in the search bar. A few informational pages about him come up first, mostly referring to his appearance and performances on Produce X 101. There’s a few just about how impressive his visuals are. You go on the images tab, scrolling down through a plethora of them. He really is handsome, you think as you look them over. You tap on a picture of him in glasses that looks like it’s from a fansign. Nodding to yourself, you save it, and then set it as his contact picture.

“Kim Wooseok-ssi,” you say softly to yourself as you write out his name in your contacts. “Thanks.”

[kaistarus]

Clickbait(YouTubeAU)--Ch 8

Pairings: Kiribaku; Tododeku; Seromina

Words: 4,678

Summary: A lot of great things came with being a big name YouTuber, but along with those perks were some serious drawbacks. One of the biggest being your lack of personal privacy. Due to just one video, Kirishima's least well-kept secret has become a viral sensation overnight, and now he has to deal with the repercussions from both the YouTube community and the public. Hopefully, those he's dragging down with him won't mind...

Notes: She’s alive! lol here’s the next update finally... coronavirus right? wtf is that about. Anyway, Camie deserves more love, so I gave it to her :)

Read the full story here

As Kirishima took in the two-story house, packed full of college kids that spilled into the crushed White Claws and red solo cups yard, he realized he may be in over his head.

“Well, we definitely have the right address,” Sero said, side-stepping a couple as they wobbled past, clinging heavily onto each other as their laughs rang a little too loudly through the crisp night air.

Kirishima nodded in agreeance. The strong bass from the music inside the chipping red-paint college house shook the ground beneath him. He tried to guess what song the cheap LA DJ had remixed beyond repair, but deemed it hopeless with such a sporadic rhythm.

“This party is sick,” Kaminari smirked, pointing to the cheap christmas lights hanging on the second-story balcony that flashed to the music’s beat. As if that boosted a party’s rating in any way.

“Camie should be around here somewhere…” Mina pushed her lips into a pout, absentmindedly wandering up the sidewalk while staring at her phone. Kirishima smirked as Sero shot death stares at the people playing beer pong who did nothing to hide themselves checking Mina out.

“If we’re lucky she won’t show up at all.”

Kirishima glanced over to Bakugou, hands shoved deep into his pockets and glaring at the drunken students that could no longer control their volume. His eyes trailed down to the black t-shirt Bakugou wore that accentuated his chest just right and after admiring the view shot the grumpy boy a wide smile.

“Aren’t you and Camie friends?”

A sneer covered his face. “In her mind.”

“She’s so cool though.” Mina said, giving Bakugou a confused look over her shoulder. “We’ve been talking since your party and she’s, like, the nicest person ever.”

“No wonder Bakugou doesn’t like her.” Sero said as he fiddled around with the camera he brought. They couldn’t forget the vlog after all. The whole point of being here was to work.

“Well, that’s not right. Kirishima’s the goodest boy alive and Bakugou like likes him.” Kaminari pointed out.

“Yeah, because Kirishima isn’t annoying as fuck.” Bakugou crossed his arms with a sneer on his face. Kirishima felt a blush creep up his neck because even though they’d made it clear they had feelings for each other, it still felt surreal anytime Bakugou stated it so boldly.

It didn’t help that Mina was wiggling her eyebrows and making kissy faces behind Bakugou’s back.

“So romantic,” Sero said with a laugh. “Can’t wait for the day someone tells me I’m not annoying as fuck.”

“Don’t hold your breath.” Mina teased, sticking out her tongue at Sero’s pout.

Manning the front door of the house was an exhausted looking guy, slouching in a rusted metal chair. Without taking his eyes up from his smartphone he extended his hand up to the group.

“If you’re a girl you’re free and if you’re a boy it’s five dollars.”

Mina blew them a raspberry as she skipped into the party while Kirishima suddenly remembered why he disliked going to parties during his short-lived college career. As he dug through his jean pockets for the crumpled five he knew existed somewhere-beneath his house keys, one of Mina’s scrunchies, and a spare chapstick that’s been washed several times and useless-the guy glanced up and went slackjaw.

“Holy shit,” he dropped his phone onto his lap and scrambled to sit up straight. “Are you fucking--Is it really--RedRiot?”

Kirishima blinked a couple times before Kaminari slung an arm around him. “Yep. RedRiot and friends.”

The guy stuttered several times before finally noticing Bakugou. “And you--you’re that angry ghost hunter guy!”

Bakugou’s eye twitched and he tried to calmly ground out. “I’m not a fucking ghost hunter.”

“Okay,” Kirishima grabbed Bakugou’s tightened fist to calm him down. “Uh, yeah that’s us. Is that okay? We don’t have to be here if--”

“Dude, no way. Go ahead.” The guy ushered them through the door, careful to not touch Bakugou as he practically growled at him.

“Really? I have five dollars it’s no big deal if--”

Kirishima was pulled through the threshold without finalizing his offer. As he followed his friends further into the house, weaving through clumps of people congregated together, he continued to look back guiltily.

“What?” Bakugou asked.

“I feel bad.” Kirishima said earnestly. “I shouldn’t get special privileges just because I’m a YouTuber. That wasn’t fair to all the other people who--”

Bakugou pinched his cheek and shook Kirishima's face around. Kirishima was too confused with the action to get properly upset about it, and the fond look in Bakugou’s scarlet stare completely wiped his mind.

“I promise you with how cheap their fucking alcohol is and how many drunk idiots are here their making more than enough money. Your five dollars means nothing.” Bakugou’s mouth lifted into a quick smile before squeezing Kirishima’s cheek and releasing it. Kirishima rubbed at the spot. “You’re too good.”

“I just feel bad…”

Bakugou poked Kirishima’s forehead repetitively. “Don’t waste time worrying about stupid things.”

Kirishima rolled his eyes, but in a way uniquely Bakugou, his words had given him a bit of relief.

“Alright guys. I’ve found the booze and I’ll be back” Kaminari shot them finger guns and began backing away towards the only room lit up by overhead lights and not cheap fairy lights.

“We won’t be seeing him for a while.” Sero said, searching around the room for a different reason.

“Don’t you usually give Sparky a babysitter?” Bakugou asked.

“Sometimes,” Kirishima shrugged. “He’ll survive probably.”

“Holy shit,” a high-pitched voice squealed. “Is that Blasty?”

Bakugou’s shoulders shot to his ears and his eyes pinched closed in preparation before he was tackled into a tight hug, arms around his neck as the assailant's legs lifted off the ground. Bakugou was quick to shake her off and hold the snickering girl at a distance.

“Look who I ran into.” Mina announced as she skipped up to them trailing behind Camie.

“Glad you guys could make it,” Camie smirked, her arm now clinging tight around Bakugou’s shoulders.

“Thanks for the invite.” Kirishima smiled.

“No problem at all. If I would’ve known you guys were legit dating I would’ve invited you out here weeks ago!” She pulled Bakugou down and ruffled his hair, while he wiggled himself out of her grip. “I never would’ve guessed Blasty could land a hottie like you.” She said with several nudges to Bakugou’s stomach. He shoved her away again, yet she remained unbothered.

“Well, we haven’t really--”

“Would you fuck off.” Bakugou said, still pushing Camie away by her face, but rather than taking offense she just began giggling before gripping Bakugou’s nose playfully.

“Aww, is our little Blasty embarrassed?” She asked while moving his head back and forth. He went to swipe at her hand, but she’d already let go and leapt behind Kirishima for cover. “Geez, keep a leash on this one. Am I right?”

Kirishima chuckled awkwardly, shrugging at Bakugou helplessly as Camie stuck her tongue out at the fuming boy from over Kirishima’s shoulder.

“What’s with everyone calling him Blasty?” Mina asked between giggles, the glare from Bakugou doing nothing to quell her amusement. “You and Uraraka both use it.”

Bakugou’s eyes widened. “It’s not fucking important for--”

“Oh my god. That’s the best story.” Camie said skipping to Mina’s side.

“Don’t you have something better to do than annoy the fuck out of me?” Bakugou growled.

“Oh, Bakubaby. You know I don’t.” Camie said with a devilish smile. “So, Bakugou’s first year in college, during his first ever chem lab, right? He was obviously trying to show off, cause like, he’s Bakugou...”

Kirishima half listened to Camie's embarrassing story of Bakugou pre-YouTube, adding Bakugou’s apparent love for chemistry to his neverending list of interesting Baku-facts, while simultaneously admiring how Bakugou looked under the dim college party lights. The humidity of the densely packed house left a slick sheen across Bakugou’s forehead and his normally chaotic hair was weighed down by the air. The thick scent of alcohol left Kirishima feeling slightly enthralled, and with the lights darkened and music covering whispers, he was beginning to understand the few couples pinning each other in the corners.

“Anyway, I hear they still tell the tale of the great Bakugou Katsuki explosion before every Freshman’s first Chem lab.” Camie laughed before taking a swig from her red solo cup, wiping the dribble from the corner of her mouth inelegantly. Bakugou was sneering at her and Kirishima could practically feel the steam rolling off him from the short distance between them.

He gave Bakugou’s bicep a small squeeze, definitely to calm him down and not for any personal pleasure, and shot him a crooked grin. “Don’t worry about it. Kaminari embarrasses himself worse on a daily basis.”

Bakugou looked between Kirishima’s grip and his eyes before scoffing. “Whatever.”

“Speaking of our idiot.” Sero looked at Mina. “We should probably go find him.”

Kirishima nodded. It had been a little too long that Kaminari had been by himself. They needed to both check that he was still alive, and if he had done anything stupid enough they could at least put it in the vlogs. Just as they began pushing through the crowd toward the kitchen Mina abruptly stopped the train.

“Do you hear that?”

Kirishima’s stomach sank as he slowly turned back toward the main room of the house. The owners of the house had removed the majority of their furniture and belongings from what appeared to be the living room. What remained was a bookshelf and a couch both shoved against a far wall and somehow, atop the bookshelf, their idiot was bouncing around. The crowd around him chanted ‘Chargebolt’ as he danced pathetically to a remixed version of something Kirishima thought he heard on the radio, but couldn’t tell anymore.

“How’d he even get up there?” Sero’s eyes widened as they watched Kaminari start chugging from a bottle of Whiskey. “How’d he get that?”

Kaminari began circling his butt in some semblance of a rhythm as he slowly turned around and while stretching his arms he began to crouch. The group started to panic and Kirishima began shoving his way forward.

“Is your friend going to jump?” Camie asked, completely stunned.

Kirishima barely broke into the crowd before Kaminari had back flopped onto it. His heart stopped as he watched his friend hardly lift off the shelf in a lame attempt to crowd surf, certain Kaminari was about to die. Miraculously, the drunken group of college kids had used their several collective brain cells to come together and catch him. The mass of people cheered loudly as Kaminari was passed around and Kirishima walked slowly back to his friends who all were staring at the event in equal zombie like states.

“I need a fucking drink,” Bakugou stated already stepping away from their circle before gesturing back to Kirishima. “Want something?”

“Uh, yeah. Sure. Anything is fine.”

“Can you get me one too?” Mina smiled, fluttering her false lashes.

Bakugou shot a middle finger over his shoulder in response as he pushed his way past sweaty bodies dancing too close for comfort. Kirishima smiled softly, a warmth filled his chest as he kept eyes on him as long as he could.

“Your boyfriend is rude.” Mina said, crossing her arms over her chest.

Kirishima felt another blush creep up. “Well, we aren’t exactly--.”

“They’re so cute,” Camie cooed, grabbing her cheeks and ignoring how her drink spilled onto the floor. “I’ve never seen Bakugou so whipped.”

“All he did was get drinks.” Kirishima raised an eyebrow.

“Please, he’s been staring at you like a lovesick puppy this whole time.” Camie said, sighing wistfully. “I’ve literally never seen him look at anyone like that before, unless it was himself in a mirror.”

Sero hummed. “There’s a lot to unpack in that sentence.”

“Oh, shut up.” Mina whacked his shoulder lightly. 

“I’m just saying,” Sero put his hands up in defense. “I know this is LA, but that’s taking self-love a little too far, right?”

Mina smacked his chest with both her fists and Sero grabbed them playfully. They started up their usual bickering, Sero a teasing lilt in his voice and a light pink dusting Mina’s cheeks.

“Ugh, is everybody here lovey-dovey?” Camie frowned over the rim of her cup. “I’m starting to feel left out.”

Mina whipped her attention toward Camie and quickly stepped away from Sero. “What that’s--we aren’t… I don’t know what you--”

“Relax, it’s a joke.” Camie waved her cup in Mina’s direction with a mischievous smirk. Kirishima felt almost guilty about enjoying Mina’s embarrassment. But, at least he wasn’t posting a video about their possible relationship for the world...

He raised an eyebrow, thoughtfully.

“Back,” Bakugou nudged Kirishima’s shoulder while handing him and Mina drinks. After avoiding Mina’s appreciative hug he saddled up on Kirishima’s far side away from both her and Camie.

“Hey party people!” Kaminari slurred, wobbling his way out of the crowd he’d sunken down into earlier. “Did you see my sick crowd surf?”

“Hell yeah!” Camie raised her hand for a high-five. “That shit was sick, bro.”

Kaminari blinked before breaking out into a huge grin and reciprocating the high-five. “Yeah! Someone who finally gets it.”

“Great. Now there’s two dumb fuck blondes.” Bakugou sneered over the rim of his red solo. Kirishima snickered into his cup and Bakugou raised both eyebrows in question.

“It’s just… you’re also blonde… so…”

“Yeah, but I’m hot and a genius.”

Kirishima tilted his head in confusion. “What does being hot have to do with being smart?”

“So you agree?” Bakugou pressed a finger against Kirishima’s forehead that he followed with crossed-eyes. “You think I’m hot?”

Kirishima shoved his hand away with a red face and began sputtering. “I never--That’s not what I--I mean, yeah, but you can’t just--”

“Calm down,” Bakugou rolled his eyes with a cocky smirk that sent Kirishima’s heart into orbit. Bakugou reached forward and gripped onto Kirishima’s cheeks again to shake his head around. “It’s a joke.”

Kirishima’s eye twitched and he shoved his hand away from his face. “Why do you keep pinching my cheeks?”

Bakugou blinked a few times before poking Kirishima’s cheek instead. “‘Cause they’re fucking squishy looking.”

“What does that mean?”

“I dunno.” Bakugou furrowed his eyebrows. “It just means I want to touch them.”

Kirishima tilted his head at Bakugou’s statement, trying to mull over the words, but ended up with nothing. He couldn’t even tell if he’d been insulted or not, but by the puzzled look on Bakugou’s face neither did he.

“Hey, lover boys,” Mina clapped to garner their attention. “We’re heading outside to play some beer pong. You guys in or you gonna stay here and flirt some more?”

Bakugou immediately snapped out of his stupor with a dangerous smirk. “Is that a fucking challenge Pinky?”

“It can be.” Mina’s eyes sparked with fire. “Think you can handle it?”

Bakugou chuckled darkly, sending a chill down Kirishima’s spine as Bakugou raced Mina through the bodies that clung tighter together the longer the night went on. Kirishima shook his head as he watched them, trailing after at half the speed.

He welcomed the cool night air that chilled his overheated skin from the muggy building. The contrast of noise once Kirishima exited the door was immense. The music toned down greatly and was replaced with people whispering intoxicated secrets they’d likely regret in the morning, the only small commotion from the few gathered around the beer pong table. The loudest noise pulling attention came from Bakugou and Mina’s shit talking over an already aggressive competition.

“Can I have the camera?” Kirishima gestured to Sero, figuring now would be a good time to pick up the slack. Sero shrugged and, trusting his abilities too much, tossed it over. Kirishima barely caught it, shooting him a glare before heading over to Mina and Bakugou’s game.

“You cool with being in the vlog?” Kirishima asked, already aiming the lens at his face, recording.

Bakugou blinked, then smirked cockily. “As long as you’re recording me kicking Pinky ass.”

“It’s going to be hard to film something that doesn’t happen Blasty.” Mina emphasized the nickname while sinking a perfect shot. “Kirishima, you have to film the entire game. These aren’t the Bakugou vlogs.”

Kirishima turned bright red as he whipped the camera over to where Mina was prepping for her second shot, dunking her ball into a water cup on the side.

“Maybe you’d get more views if they were,” Bakugou grinned, catching her second ping pong ball as it bounced off the foldout table out of bounds.

“If anything we’d lose half our audience.” Mina said, catching the first of Bakugou’s balls as it went over all the cups. “I’m sure Kirishima would have a great time editing all the footage though.”

Kirishima didn’t bother arguing that point as he filmed Bakugou furrowing his brow in concentration, sticking out his tongue slightly while he lined up his toss. He’d definitely enjoy watching this back more than what’s socially acceptable. He zoomed in extremely close so that it was just Bakugou’s eyes and he chuckled to himself at how ridiculous it looked. Until they were both glaring at him.

“The fuck are you laughing at?”

Kirishima quickly shoved the camera down to his lap. “Uh… nothing.”

He fiddled with the settings so that it was back to normal and chewed the inside of his cheek to keep himself from breaking into a smile. Bakugou continued to eye him suspiciously, but winning must have taken priority because luckily he dropped the situation quickly.

Much to Bakugou’s disappointment, the game didn’t last much longer before Mina beat him by several cups. Kirishima tried to remind him with how few parties Bakugou had been to it was actually impressive that he almost won, but it didn’t stop Bakugou from pouting for the next half hour. Mina, however, rode that victory high for as long as possible, annihilating any boy who dared to challenge her there after. Kirishima stuck around for a few games to get a little more footage, promising Mina that through the power of editing he’d make her look like even more of a badass, before deciding she’d be there longer than his attention span could handle.

On the opposite end of the porch Kaminari, Sero, and Camie were slouched against the wall listening as Kaminari went on another one of his rants. He was still sipping from the liquor bottle and Kirishima raised an eyebrow at Sero since he was a little past a point that he should be drinking, but Sero shrugged and mouthed ‘water’. Letting out a sigh Kirishima was content that he could relax knowing everything was okay.

He glanced over the banister to Bakugou who had taken purchase in the center of the front lawn, lying on his back with arms behind his head as he stared at the sky. Kirishima took a moment to admire the scene, Bakugou’s relaxed beauty amidst the chaotic beer can filled yard. A beautiful mess.

He jogged down the concrete porch steps to reach Bakugou, giving him a lopsided grin when he hovered over him in the middle of the yellowing grass. Bakugou’s gaze flickered to Kirishima and a soft smile dusted his lips.

“Have you recovered from your loss?” Kirishima said, teasing.

Bakugou's smile turned into a disgruntled frown. “Fuck off. If I would’ve practiced I could’ve kicked her ass.”

Kirishima rolled his eyes, but hummed in agreeance. He kicked a crushed beer can that laid beside Bakugou and ungracefully plopped down, cradling his knees he followed Bakugou’s eyes upward. He noticed that from here, further from the city, he could see more stars dotting the sea of obsidian than from his Los Angeles home.

“This is like when we first met.” Bakugou said, eyes trained on the sky. “Outside of a party or whatever.”

Kirishima tilted his head in surprise, but as the off-key singing to Mr. Brightside reached his ears he couldn’t help but smirk. “Yeah, I’d say it’s pretty identical.”

“Fuck off.” Bakugou snorted. “You know what I mean.”

He did. Kirishima closed his eyes and allowed himself to roll onto his back. His heart jumped to his throat when he felt a small brush against his hand that lay relaxed in the grass between them. He looked over and saw Bakugou had loosely placed his fingers beside his, slinging his other arm over his face to hide any expression from Kirishima’s curious look. He bit his lip and with all the courage he could, completed the action by loosely interlocking their fingers, facing the stars before he could judge Bakugou’s reaction.

But instead of pulling away, like Kirishima feared, he adjusted himself closer.

Kirishima couldn’t believe how far he’d come since that first night. From thinking Bakugou would throw him off a balcony out of pure hatred to being… whatever they were right now. If he tried to go back in time to describe this to past Kirishima, that version of him would punch him for lying before believing a word he said.

“Hey Bakugou…” Kirishima began, waiting for Bakugou’s quiet grunt of acknowledgement. “I’m really glad that I met you.”

Kirishima bit the inside of his cheek to calm the sporadic rhythm of his heart. He felt a tug on his arm and Kirishima rolled his head to the side to be met with Bakugou’s inquisitive stare, flickering across Kirishima’s face as if searching. Kirishima started looking around awkwardly.

Bakugou took a deep breath, “Kirishima, I’m not--”

“Oh lover boys!” Mina shouted from the porch. “There’s only a few more songs, so if you’re going to do anything you gotta do it now Ei.”

Kirishima pushed himself onto his elbows to shoot Mina a thumbs up before turning back to Bakugou. “What were you saying?”

Bakugou just shook his head as he rolled up onto his feet. “What’s she talking about?”

“The big finale.” He said, pushing himself up and making his way back to the house. Bakugou raised an eyebrow with uncertainty, but followed Kirishima back into the party through the riled students that swayed and shouted overenthusiastically, giving their all for the last few moments they had of their night of freedom.. Kirishima felt Bakugou grip the back of his t-shirt to not lose him in the tight knit crowd and felt his chest flutter.

But now wasn’t the time.

When Kirishima finally reached his destination at the furthest point in the living room where a young man was manning a cheap DJ station he began climbing over the makeshift blockade. Bakugou’s eyes widened and he gripped the back of his shirt tighter.

“The fuck are you doing?”

“The best part?” Kirishima smirked. He turned to the DJ who was now slack jaw and grinned.

“RedRiot?”

“Can you do me a favor?” The DJ nodded enthusiastically. Kirishima looked back to Bakugou who stared up at him stunned. He reached out to him and Bakugou looked around at everyone crowding the DJ, specifically Camie who Kirishima noticed was giving him a teasing grin, before a determined look set onto his face and he firmly gripped Kirishima’s hand.

Kirishima confirmed the DJ had connected his phone before grabbing the microphone and stepping dangerously onto an unsteady speaker. Bakugou stood to the side confused as the music died out, people first whining until they noticed Kirishima smacking the top of the microphone checking it’s sound. That’s when the squeals and cheers began.

“Hey guys,” he said as a round of cheers erupted throughout the crowd. He waved them down before continuing. “I’m filming something quick if that’s okay. I just need you to sing along if you know the words, please.”

As he hopped back off the speaker slowly the music began to fade back in: I’m Good by The Mowgli’s. Kirishima’s signature outro for the majority of his vlogs. He laughed as the entire house party shouted the song. Some had their arms slung around each other’s shoulders and swayed back and forth while others jumped up and down wildly as if it was some sort of mosh pit. It held him in disbelief that he could stand up here with people knowing who he was. Some even shout his name.

He began laughing as he put down his camera, his smile wide enough that his cheeks were beginning to ache. He turned to ask Bakugou what he thought of it all, but was stopped short. Bakugou looked mesmerizing, scarlet eyes enamored as they watched Kirishima and lips in a slight upturn. It took Kirishima’s breath away.

“What is it?”

“You.” He said breathlessly.

Kirishima gave a lopsided grin. “What’s that supposed to--”

Bakugou gripped the collar of his shirt and effectively cut him off by pulling him forward for an admittedly unpleasant impact. The second Kirishima realized the situation, a beat of his heart passing before his brain restarted, he relaxed against Bakugou, repositioning for a less painful approach. The muffled cheers barely registered behind the pounding against his ribcage and the speakers that shook the stand beneath their feet as Bakugou’s lips moved steadily against his, the taste of cheap beer lingering on his tongue. He placed a blind hand atop a pounding speaker to steady himself when Bakugu pulled back with hooded eyes and heavy breaths.

Kirishima struggled to steady his own breathing pattern and keep his blush at bay when Bakugou sent him a cocky ass smirk. Kirishima would have called him out if his brain wasn’t still lagging.

“Fuck yeah!” A deep voice shouted from the crowd as a few people continued to squeal at their public display. Bakugou seemed to slowly remember where they were and flipped off their audience.

“You can’t flip them off,” Kirishima laughed, pulling Bakugou’s hand down.

“They’re being nosy.” Bakugou glared at the swarm of people as the DJ switched to the last song of the night.

“We kissed in front of them on a platform,” Kirishima raised a brow, gesturing to their location. “It’s not exactly discreet.”

“Well, I don’t cheer for every fucker I see making out against a wall.”

Kirishima chuckled low. “I think the party would’ve been a lot more entertaining if you had though.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Probably,” Kirishima nudged him and without thought said, “but I’m your idiot.”

Bakugou’s eyes widened at the statement and Kirishima quickly panicked. “I mean, I’m not like your your idiot. I’m just like an idiot who is also with you, but not like with you with you because I’m totally emotionally stable enough to just be--”

Bakugou pinched both of Kirishima’s cheeks and narrowed his eyes in annoyance. “I want you to be my idiot.”

“Yeah?” Kirishima asked. Bakugou nodded and gave Kirishima’s head a little shake. “Does that mean you’re my idiot too?”

Bakugou pinched Kirishima’s cheeks roughly before releasing him. “Absolutely not.”

Kirishima rubbed at his face and whined. “Wha--why not?”

“Because I’m not an idiot,” Bakugou scoffed as he began climbing off the DJ stand they were still chatting on. Kirishima pushed his lips out in a pout, accepting Bakugou’s hand to help him down. “So, I’ll be your boyfriend.”

Kirishima was grateful Bakugou was there because he would’ve buffed it if not for the arm steadying him. His jaw dropped and he stared wide-eyed at Bakugou’s bright red face. Had he really just said what Kirishima thought he just said?

“Like… the dating kind?”

“Yes? What other...” Bakugou scrunched up his face and turned away. “Look, if you don’t want to then just say so because I--”

Kirishima cradled either side of Bakugou’s face. “I want to,” He said, pressing their foreheads together. “I really want to.”

 Bakugou nodded against him slowly before Kirishima captured his lips for another kiss. He felt Bakugou smile against his mouth and it took every ounce of strength he had not to keel over from happiness. Call him a hopeless romantic but… this felt right.

Bakugou felt right.

[mankai-onlyfans]

first brush with fame - (TsuzuKazu)

It only takes Kazunari a few seconds to figure out how to set up the livestream, but as he double checks the settings, his heart skips a beat. This is so exciting! His fellow company members get to do what they love in front of their fans, and they’ll even get paid for it.

Sitting in on this first session is Kazunari himself, and Tsuzuru.

The reason being is that when Kazu was getting ready, Tsuzuru was the only one nearby who wasn’t busy (and can also be easily persuaded.)

Now, what to call this very first livestream...?

In a flash of inspiration, Kazunari types up a title.

Mankai's First Time All Male Super Hot Sexy Livestream !! 😘🔥

“There we go!” Kazunari cheers and takes a seat, checking out the different features of the stream while Tsuzuru withers beside him.

“Why did you call it that?" He asks weakly, already having doubts about letting Kazunari be in charge of this project. "It doesn't sound very professional... don't we want people to take us seriously?"

"It's clickbait! Just put in a bunch of keywords that'll make people wanna watch. It works every time." Kazunari smirks, the picture of confidence. He feels completely in his element. "See? It's already working!"

Tsuzuru bolts upright in his chair. "W-wait, it's live right now?” He asks nervously, his voice distinctly higher than normal.

"Sure is," Kazu replied, waving to the camera. "Look, people are starting to join!"

Sure enough the viewer count steadily goes upward, first two, and then five, and now it's at twelve.

"Alright!" Kazunari claps his hands. "We should introduce ourselves. My name is Kazunari Miyoshi, find me on InstaBlam." He winks and makes double finger guns at the camera. "You might also know me from my roles in Mankai's Summer Troupe plays."

He beams, watching as a comment appears, full of hearts, and then another one. They're at twenty viewers now. He nudges Tsuzuru, encouraging him to speak.

"H-hello!" Tsuzuru bows his head, a blush starting to dust his cheeks at the idea of being under scrutiny. "My name is Tsuzuru Minagi. I'm a member of the Spring Troupe, and the Mankai Company's amateur playwright."

Kazunari slings an arm around his friend's shoulders, much to Tsuzuru's annoyance. "Amateur? Don't be modest. This guy's a pro." Kazunari tells the camera, poking Tsuzuru's cheek before being batted away.

Kazu laughs, checking the status of the stream before continuing.

they seem cute lol

do you think they're close

I bet blondie is the top

Huh? He shrugs off the last comment and puts on a smile. Gotta focus on being entertaining.

"Okay, so now that we've made ourselves known. The rest is up to you guys! What do you want to know about us? Do you have any requests?"

Tsuzuru gives a start at this. "You mean you don't have anything planned?" He hisses, his cheeks really starting to flame now.

"That's the whole point of a livestream!" He grins in reply. "Anything can happen."

Kazunari turns his attention to the comments as more of them begin to roll in. Fifty viewers now.

He skims the first few question, skipping over a couple that seem a little weird.

"Do we like each other? Yeah, of course we do!" He says proudly. "Tsuzuroon and I go way back."

Tsuzuru makes a noise of protest. "Just because we've known each other a long time, that doesn't necessarily mean-"

But Kazunari interrupts him, pointing at the screen. "Oh my god, 'take off your shirt'?" he laughs and wiggles his eyebrows directly at the camera, giving it his most heart-stopping smoulder. "Such naughty fans... but I assure you, you would not be disappointed."

Tsuzuru roughly pulls Kazu back down into his seat. "What are you doing?! That's definitely not professional!"

"Fanservice, Tsuzuroon~" Kazunari laughs under his breath, thoroughly enjoying the opportunity to tease their fans. "Remember, we're supposed to be taking requests."

"Yeah, but that's a little too far, don't you think?" Tsuzuru pinches the bridge of his nose, already developing a headache from Kazu's antics.

"Come on, it's just a little teasing. No harm in that." Kazunari pouts. He grabs Tsuzuru by the shoulders, trying to convince him. "Don't be such a stick in the mud, bro. You don't want to end up all old and grumpy like Frooch, do you?"

This does grab Tsuzuru's attention. He looks like he wants to refute the point, but decides not to argue. "... No." He says with a sigh of resignation.

"That's the spirit! You just gotta lighten up a little," Kazunari ruffles his friend's hair and is quickly swatted away. He returns his attention to the screen.

Holy- 300 viewers?!

"When did that happen?" He mutters to himself, skimming through more comments.

did you see the way he HELD him??? so tender... ♡

omfg i ship it already 😍

what's their couple name?? sksksksks

Oh. The gears in Kazu's mind start turning. The flurry of activity and new viewers was sparked by... him giving Tsuzuru a pep talk?

More specifically that he held Tsuzuru for a moment.

Now, Kazunari may be dumb, but he isn't stupid. Even though it wasn't like that between them... maybe they could give a little more of that type of fanservice.

After all, he and Tsuzuru are close. They've shared a room before. They've seen each other in their underwear at various times during their high school and college years.

It wouldn't be weird, right?

His eyes catch on a comment.

he looked so cute when you touched him kazunari... do it again pls? ♡♡♡

Touch him? Well, that's easy enough. They didn't say he had to touch somewhere too personal.

A smile grows on Kazunari's face and he gives Tsuzuru a sidelong glance. "Follow my lead, Tsuzuroon?"

Tsuzuru, who is still trying to wrap his head around the fact that Kazunari might view him as a Sakyo-in-progress, brings himself out of his musings and finds these new words from Kazu to be just as confusing.

"What do you mean?"

"Fanservice," Kazunari replies, leaning closer to Tsuzuru.

Tsuzuru instinctively leans backward, gripping the arms of his chair. He doesn't trust the look in Kazu's eyes. "W-what do you mean?"

Kazunari makes a tutting noise. "They want to see how close we are, Tsuzuroon," he chuckles.

Before Tsuzuru can think, warm hands are cupping his face. He never thought of Kazunari as gentle, but that's exactly how the artist's fingers feel against his cheeks. Gentle, careful, practiced. As if Tsuzuru's face was just another of his painting projects, all fine brushstrokes and delicate linework.

Then the color must be in Tsuzuru himself, appearing on the canvas as Kazunari's thumbs brush against his cheekbones. Bursts of pink beneath his cheeks, racing red inside his chest, a curious purple filling the back of his mind, and many, many warm yellows, dancing through his body, reaching the tips of his fingers.

Kazunari's smile turns into a beaming one, and with a wink, he pulls away from Tsuzuru, severing the connection.

"See, that wasn't so bad," he whispers, then turns his attention back to the stream.

They gained another 500 viewers! And ten subscribers already? Wow...

While Kazunari is fixated on numbers, Tsuzuru is trying to remember every detail of what just happened, searing it into his memory in case it never happens again.

But why does he want to remember it that badly? Wasn't it embarrassing? Hundreds of people just saw Kazunari hold his face, and yet the shame he expects to feel just... isn't there.

It felt... nice. To be held. By him.

Tsuzuru brushes his cheek absentmindedly, watching while Kazunari entertains the viewers with one of his many overused anecdotes. His eyes light up as he describes the memory, and Tsuzuru feels a funny tug in his chest.

Maybe Azuma was onto something with this whole fanservice thing.

Mankai Onlyfans

Do you love seeing shows at the Mankai Theater, but you're stuck at home? Never fear, now you can see exclusive Mankai content, right in the comfort of your bed! Tune in for exciting livestreams with extra special new shows just for you! Get to know our actors in thrilling and intimate ways like never before!

Send us your burning questions, your most desired requests, or just come to chat! Fanservice of your favorite actors** delivered right to you!

**Muku, Yuki, Masumi, Tenma, and Taichi are exempt from answering any questions or requests that their director deems too suggestive.

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