#this is glossy as hell what is going on someone explain

[thebramblewood]

Little does Ulrike know Helena has the (vampire) sugar mommy from hell... and she's here to crash the party.

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Featuring a lot by @moonwoodhollow, gnome art by @pocketgnome, Leonor and Renzo by @nexility-sims, Rosella, George, and Jo by @aheathen-conceivably, and Nettie by @venriliz.

Ulrike: Did you know I would be showing tonight?

Helena: No. God, no. I wouldn’t have come if I knew… I mean, not that I wouldn’t want to see you, but… I promise I’m not, like, stalking y-

Ulrike: [laughs] Take a breath, Zhao. I didn’t mean to accuse you. But can you blame me for being caught off guard? Why are you in Windenburg?

Helena: Oh, I’ve been staying nearby with some… friends.

Ulrike: What friends?

Helena: No one you know.

Ulrike: Why didn’t you tell me? You knew I was doing the residency.

Helena: I just… didn’t want things to be awkward.

Ulrike: And bumping into each other like this isn’t?

[overlapping crowd chatter]

Ulrike: God, I can barely hear myself think. Let’s talk somewhere quieter.

-

Ulrike: Level with me, Zhao. Are you okay?

Helena: What? I’m fine.

Ulrike: You’ve barely even made eye contact, which I know means you’re lying about something. That dress looks expensive — and that jewelry. Your hair is so glossy I can see my own reflection. Your skin is clear as glass. I think I know what’s going on here.

Helena: Ulrike, I can explain-

Ulrike: You’re someone’s sugar baby.

Helena: [bursts out laughing] Oh my god, Faust. That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.

Ulrike: At least it got you to look at me. Helena, your eyes! They almost seem red.

Helena: [dismissively] It must be the lights. Now, tell me, how the fuck have those gnomes still got you in a chokehold after all this time?

Ulrike: There’s the Zhao I know, always asking the hard-hitting questions.

-

Lilith: Unhand me, you brute! You and your approved guest list can both go straight to hell. [to Caleb] Did you truly think not inviting me would prevent me from finding out about this delightful little event?

Caleb: [calmly] It wasn't meant to be a secret. I just didn’t think you’d care to come.

Lilith: [teasingly] Your thoughts betray you, baby brother.

Caleb: My thoughts betray nothing. You simply followed us here.

Lilith: Well, if only the two of you weren’t so obnoxious about occupying each other’s headspace. Admit it. You only keep me out to tip the scales in your favor.

Caleb: As though you wouldn’t do the same — if you could. But you hear only as much as she’s willing to tell you, and it drives you mad.

Lilith: [giggles] Oh, this is a fun game. We've never feuded over a girl before. I thought that sort of thing would be beneath you, considering your-

Caleb: Don’t be gauche, Lilith. It’s not a g-

Lilith: Yes, there they are — your hideously boring morals. [heaves dramatic sigh] I’d love to keep chatting, but I must take a look around. I’ve always been a patron of the arts.

[starryschemer]

The Breaking Point

Pairings: The Salesman x reader

Summary: After not seeing the love of your life for a few weeks, you decide to surprise him, only to find out who he truly is.

Warnings: Angst, Blood Mention, Mentions of Violence/Death, Emotional Breakdown, Moral Conflict, Physical Touch, Strong Language, Slight Smut, Fluff. Requested by: Anon Request link: Here

Word Count: 2,626

You’re not supposed to be here.

You have left work early, overwhelmed by the sudden urge to see him again, to do no more but feel their presence, to lift your spirits. It has been weeks of surging emptiness, far too long since you’d really laid eyes on him, too long since date nights, too long since he touched you. You missed him, you truly missed him. 

Walking into the elevator with his favorite coffee in hand, patiently looking at the numbers changing as you go up the floors. You felt nervous. Did he even want to see you again? Did he lie about having a work trip that lasted several weeks? Only time will tell.

Yet, when you entered the penthouse, his penthouse, everything changed.

The air was heavy, and you couldn’t help but feel it in your chest and stomach. There was probably a reason. Something was wrong. Something wasn’t right.

Then you saw it.

The blood.

A dark, glistening pool, as though someone has overpainted some ink onto the pristine marble floor, spreading and spreading outwards, threatening to seep into every crack and crevice in its path.

The body.

Sprawled forward, lifeless, still twitching, like a broken puppet. His wide, glossy eyes looked out into emptiness. You could hear the running, the choking snort of a suffering man trying, failing, to draw a breath from around the deeply plunged knife, from the blood choking him out. 

And then-

You saw him. 

The Salesman. The love of your life.

Above the corpse, his hand still holding the hilt of the knife, his face unreadable. So controlled. Much too controlled. He was not shaken up by this even in the least. He was as steady as if what had happened were no big deal. It was almost normal for him. 

You broke out into a cold sweat, trembling all over. Your legs felt as weak as jelly, but you could not look away from the sight in front of you.

You slowly lost your grip on the coffee cup, having it tumble onto the floor quite involuntarily, it made a massive crash, the contents of the dark liquid merging with the man’s blood. 

That was when the Salemsan saw you.

His head snapped up, and his eyes met yours. For a moment, a split second, neither of you moved, just frozen in place.

Then-

His grin wavered. His lips couldn’t quite close, as if he was about to say something, but for once, he couldn’t find the words.

Because how on earth could he explain this?

How could he make a soothing lie, conceal the truth, or even charm his way out of such a mess?

There was no clever excuse. No smooth words. No tricks.

“Y/N,” He said, carefully, as though he was testing the waters.

You staggered back at these words. A tightening choked your chest, and panic pounded in your brain. “What the fuck?” Your voice came out trembling, shaking. “What the hell did you just do?”

The knife fell from his hand and clattered to the floor. The sound echoed in the still silence that filled the room. He didn’t move away from the body yet. He didn’t even glance down at the mess he made. He was focused on you. 

His voice had once again dropped a volume, a little more pleading this time as he repeated your name. “Y/N.”

“Don’t say my name like that.” The words came out of you, tearful, hoarse.

Like he cared about how you felt. This probably wasn’t his first time taking someone’s life.

“You weren’t supposed to be here,” He mumbled. His voice was calm. Too calm.

Something inside you snapped.

“Are you kidding me?” Laughter echoed dry and bitter from deep within you. “That’s it? That I wasn’t supposed to be here?”

He breathed out gently, as though it would not be difficult to talk about this misunderstanding. “You’re in shock. I need you to breathe.”

“OH, GO FUCK YOURSELF!.” You yelled. “WHO HAVE I BEEN WITH ALL THIS TIME?”

His jaw tightened, but he said nothing. He slowly stood up.

“No, no, no, no,” You whispered, putting your hands over your face, looking down, breath coming in short gasps, panic started to drown you. “You killed someone.”

He took a step toward you, but you shook your head, stepping back. “DON’T COME NEAR ME.”

Something moved across his face, a crack in his mask. He was bordering on desperation. The Salesman reached out for you, his fingers extended. “Y/N, listen to me -”

“No!” Your voice cracked. “Stay away from me!”

His eyes narrowed, and his tone turned cold. “I need you to calm down.”

“CALM DOWN?” Your heart was pounding. “YOU JUST KILLED SOMEONE IN FRONT OF ME! HOW THE HELL DO YOU EXPECT ME TO CALM DOWN?”

“It’s just that I need you to understand -”

“Understand what?” Your voice was shaking, scared, and disgusted. “That the man I loved was a murderer?”

He gritted his teeth, and you felt a flicker of something float onto his face.

“You need to tell me the truth right now,” You said, your voice quivering with emotion. “Tell me what you really do for work.”

He didn’t reply for a few moments. But when he did, his voice was in the same flat tone as before.

“I find people, recruit them for these games,” He stated as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “I persuade them to take part in it. If they object… I see that they don’t object for long.”

You were frozen in shock.

“And when it comes,” He continued, his eyes never once leaving yours. “I watch. I watch them play those games. Fight. Die. And once we have a victor of the games, I start all over again.”

Tears started going down your face. “That is why you were away for weeks? To watch people die in those games?” 

“Yes.”

You choked out a breath, feeling the room starting to spin. “And you feel you are worthy enough to stand here now and ask me to stay?” 

The answer came out immediately. “Yes.”

The finality of those words sent chills down your spine. 

��I don’t even know who you are anymore,” You said, on the verge of tears.

At that moment. The words broke something deep inside him.

His hands clenched into fists by his sides, and his chest rose and fell. His eyes grew heavy. You saw that he was breaking.

But in the blink of an eye, that vulnerable side of him was gone. His voice became harsh. “You think you can run away from me, Y/N?”

“I have to get out of here.”

He took a step towards you, slowly. You didn't move this time. 

“I love you,” He said, his voice starting to break. “I love you so much, Y/N. I haven’t changed.”

You could barely get out the words. “If you haven’t changed, that is the problem.”

A pause.

One second later, he was there in front of you. His hands gripping your wrists, clinging urgently. “You think you can leave me?”

“LET GO OF ME.”

Then he tightened his grip, his voice quieter but firm. “No.”

Tears continued to stream down your cheeks. “I can not stay with you.”

His hands trembled, just a hint of weakness. “Yes, you can Y/N.”

“I don’t want to live like this.” You begged, still trying to pull away from his iron grip. “I don’t want you anymore.”

“Then I’ll change,” He softly spoke. His hands slightly loosened on your wrists. That flash of vulnerability came back. 

It made you realise that he wasn’t afraid of losing you-

He was terrified. Scared to death.

“Please,” he whispered. “Please, don’t do this.”

His breath was warm against your skin. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t take this.

“I don’t… I don’t know if I can forgive you for this,” You said, your voice breaking.

A sudden shiver went through him. He pulled back enough to look into your eyes. “I won’t let you go.”

His words were clear. A warning. A promise.

You closed your eyes. “Please, let me go.” 

He didn’t say anything; he gently let you go, looking down at the ground. His body was shaking violently. 

Before he could grab you again, you ran.

You didn’t care what you left behind, didn’t care what chaos you just caused. 

You just ran to the elevator.

“Y/N COME BACK.” His voice calling your name trailed back to your ears, quickly swallowed by the doors closing.

You had already disappeared.

The night air was so cold that it seemed to slice through you. You sprinted down the city streets in the pouring rain, your breath coming in ragged gasps. 

Your heart was pounding, not from exhaustion, but from what you just witnessed.

You have left. You were gone.

The world whizzed by you, neon lights, laughter, and life going on as if you hadn’t just walked away from the only person who had ever made you feel complete.

Your limbs felt numb as you arrived home, but home no longer seemed to belong to you. By the time you reached inside, your knee gave way, and you fell upon the couch, hiding your face in your hands. 

You should feel free.

But instead, all you felt was a hollow, empty weight pressing in upon you.

Hours passed, or maybe even more. You weren’t sure. Sleep would not come. Your brain wouldn’t stop thinking about him.

Then-

Knock!

You sat up, glancing at the door. 

Knock!

No. It couldn’t be him. You stayed still, trying hard not to make any noise. Hoping whoever was knocking would soon leave. But shortly afterward-

Knock. 

This one was softer than before. 

You exhaled a breath, slowly, slid from the couch toward the door. Your fingers brushed against the handle. 

You should not have opened it.

But you did.

And there he was.

You gripped the doorframe so forcefully that your knuckles ached. Every single muscle in your body was telling you to shut the door, to end this.

The Salesman, who was always so nicely dressed and held himself together at all times, now stood before you like a man who had lost everything.

His suit was soaking wet from the rain. His hair, generally neatly combed back, was now disheaveled. His eyes were bloodshot, swollen, begging for mercy.

Clutching roses in his hands. So many it was impossible to count. It was like he’d been to a florist and walked out with every rose in the store.

“Please, His voice broken. “I don’t know what else I can try.”

You swallowed hard. “Go home.”

He flinched at those words.

“Y/N-”

“I mean it,” Your voice wobbled, however your conviction was still there. “I don’t want this anymore.”

His fingers shook lightly around the bouquet. “Please, don’t say that.”

“Why not? Because it’s not what you wish to hear?”

“Because it isn’t true.”

When he said that, it felt like your heart got pierced with a knife.

You shook your head and backed up enough that you could close the door.

But as you did so-

His hand shot out, catching the door.

“Please,” His voice became desperate now. “Don’t shut me out.”

You clenched your jaw. “Why shouldn’t I?”

“Because I love you Y/N.”

You closed your eyes, your breath catching in your throat.

He swallowed hard, gripping the doorframe tighter. “Because I don’t know how to live without you.”

“You’ll get used to it.” Your voice was trembling. “You’re good at pretty much everything.”

“Not this.” His voice breaking. “Not when it involves you.”

He did not try to force his way inside your home. He just stood there, drenched, weighed down with too many roses and too many regrets.

“I know that I don’t deserve someone like you,” His lips parted. “But I can’t- I can’t do this without you.”

Your heart clenched. 

But stil, you shook your head. “Love isn’t enough.”

“It must be.”

“It isn’t.”

You pushed the door again, this time with more force-

But before you could, his grip on the frame only got tighter, his whole body shaking. 

“Tell me you don’t love me,” He spoke in a whisper. “Tell me, and I’ll leave you alone. You won’t ever see me again.”

You wanted to say it. It would be simple. But you couldn’t get your lips to shape the words. 

And that silence answered him.

A strangled sound escaped him, and suddenly he fell to his knees.

The roses made a mess on the floor, his forehead pressed to the wood, hands clutching the frame.

Then-

He sobbed.

Not just a quiet one. Not just a tremble.

A gut-wrenching wail.

The force of it shook his whole body. Hiis breath split apart. His shoulders shaking as he fell apart in front of you.

You stood frozen. You had never seen him like this. Not even close. He never even cried near you before.

Your heart twisted painfully.

You still had enough room to shut the door. You should. He did murder someone only a few hours ago.

But instead, your body took over. You stepped forward. Slowly.

And then, without saying a word, you sat down beside him.

He sucked in a breath when you touched him, fingers lightly touching his back.

His eyes met yours, then in one motion he clung to you.

His arms wrapped around your waist, yanking you flush into his shaking form, his cries ripped from him. His face was in your shoulder, all you could feel was his tears going down your back.

“I-I tried-” His voice broke. “I tried to forget about you- but I can’t- I can’t-”

You couldn’t push him away. You should. But instead, you held him closer.

Your hands clasped around the back of his neck, fingers going through his hair as you whispered. “Shh. I know. I know.”

His hold on you slightly loosened but his tears still flowed the same.

“I don’t know how to do this,” He gasped.

“It’s ok. We will figure it out. Alright.” Your voice was gentle.

The rain continued to fall outside. The roses dropped, at your feet.

Minutes passed.

Eventually, his sobs calmed down. He didn’t stop clinging to you though, if anything he tightened it.

His fingers slid up your back in a way that made heat bloom in your chest. His mouth lightly grazed your collarbone.

“I love you,” He said softly.

You leaned back, just enough to look into his eyes. His eyes werre still full of pain, still bloodshot. But now you could something else, something warmer.

“I love you too.”

His breath stuttered. Before you could say another word, his lips crashed into yours. The kiss wasn’t the usual rough, dominating kiss you remembered. No this one was soft, warm, giving you comfort.

You lightly tugged on his hair, causing a low groan to escape from deep in his chest. Their hands framed your face, thumbs gliding over your cheeks.

At last, when he slowly pulled away, his forehead remained against yours. 

A shaky laugh escaped him, “I must look terrible.”

You brushed a lingering tear from his cheek. “Oh trust me, you do.” You giggle back.

He huffed. “And you still love me?”

“Hmmm, somehow,” You teased.

He rolled his eyes, smiling, “Lucky me.”

You stood up, gently helping him get back on his feet. 

“Please don’t lie to me again.”

His smile faded. A flash of guilt crossed his face.

Then, he nodded.

“No more lies,” he whispers, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. “I promise.”

And this time, you truly believed him.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this one-shot request, it took me ages to write it out, so I apologise if it wasn't perfect. If you have any requests for one-shots or series feel free to ask me. My requests will be open for the time being.

Credit for divider: puppizai 

[sowhat-whynot]

Boyfriend tag!

request: “maybe do our own version of doing his makeup like mandy did w martin?”

a/n: this request had a few ideas in one btw also this is my first lil story on here so go easy on me, queens.

bf!hamzah x fem reader

──★ ˙ ̟🐇 ꩜ .ᐟ

Being a youtuber was fun cuz you got to come up with your own ideas and no one could stop you so naturally, you wanted to piss Hamzah off a bit. You had asked him to come film a ‘boyfriend tag’ video with you but there was something he didn’t know…that you’d also be doing his makeup while answering questions.

filming…

“Hi loves! Welcome back to my channel today I have someone special with me, my boyfriend” you say excitedly.

“Hi everyone! I’m so pumped to be on here” Hamzah says, pumping his fist a little.

“Why dont you tell em what we’re doing today” you say with a smirk.

“She’s gonna give me that hawk tuah on cam!!” Hamzah giggles.

“Hamzah what the hell is wrong with you” you look at him in disgust.

“I’m sorry…so, we’re doing a boyfriend tag and this is basically for y/n’s viewers to kinda get to know me since I might pop into frame from time to time and then you guys are gonna comment ‘who is that fine sexy man in the background’ and you’ll know it’s me!” Hamzah explains.

“You explained that perfectly but I have a surprise for you” Hamzah look a bit confused.

“I’m gonna make you look beautiful and do your makeup, like I’ve always wanted to!!!”

“Are you serious” He stares at the camera.

“Yes, because one day Hamzah was watching me do my makeup and asked ‘how do ya know how to do that’ and today’s your lucky day, babe. You’re gonna find out” you explain.

“You know what whatever” Hamzah gave in.

-

You face towards your boyfriend to apply foundation with a brush while asking a few questions you came up with.

“Hamzah tell the viewers you name and birthday”

“Is this a joke?” He laughed, not believing that this was the whole point of the video.

“Just answer bruh. The viewers wanna know!” You say as you blend the foundation into his skin.

“Hi i’m Hamzah and i was born on March 5th, 2002”

“Ok, next question is ‘describe your high school self in 5 words’”

“Hot, cool, goofy, got bitches” He proudly answered.

“You know what..hell yeah! Except for the last one i know you got no girls and they probably all ran away from you boi”

“Next question, y/n”

You continued on with the question and you were the happiest girl alive giving your boyfriend the makeover of his life. You smiled while applying some of your pretty pink blush on his cheeks. You two got so distracted from goofing around it made it hard to take the youtube video seriously.

“No way it takes this long to apply all of this. You girls do this everyday??” He asked, appreciating your hard work.

“Yeah but honestly it’s not about how long it takes, it’s about how gorgeous you’re gonna look at the end. Like a pretty princess”

“Oh my god” Hamzah turns his head away from you.

“Look at me Hamzah i still have more questions” your hand reaches to his chin making him look at you.

“Next question is ‘do you remember our first date’” you ask while applying press powder on his face.

“Of course I do! It was a fun picnic date and I gave you a kitty plushy as a gift and we ate yummy food and I couldn’t take my eyes off you, i still can’t, you’re just so beautiful. Even the dress you wore. It’s forever engraved in my mind” His words are so genuine it makes your heart melt.

“Aww babe that’s actually so sweet i love you” you practically look at him with heart eyes.

“Okay is the makeup almost done i wanna see”

“You ruined the moment..yeah i just gonna curl your lashes and put on a lippie”

“I don’t know what you just said but please do it fast” he impatiently said.

“Hamzah don’t move your eye im gonna curl it”

“What da hell is that tool!” He yelled.

“Bro bear with me and do as i say” you gently clamped his lashes and apply mascara on him.

You added some finishing touches: eye glitter, eyeliner, and a glossy lip. You turn to the camera and giggle a bit.

“Is it bad? Can i see y/n! Stop laughing” Hamzah said.

“Guys i think i did a beautiful job. Look at it!!! The eyes are so cute” You grabbed the camera and did a close up shot.

You prop the camera back on the tripod and grabbed a mirror to reveal the final look to him.

“Okkk now look” You handed the mirror to Hamzah.

“Holy shit y/n…i look different” he gasps as he touches the eye makeup.

“You’re giving Hamzah Charles” you laughed.

“Honestly guys she did a good job and i think i’m into boys now” he said to the camera.

“Okay i’m ending this video” you quickly say.

You did your usual outro and Hamzah just smiled while you did so. You turned your camera off and giggled at Hamzah. He gave a confused laugh, not really sure what was so funny.

“Now we’re gonna do a photo shoot” you jump in excitement.

“Are you serious!”

──★ ˙ ̟🐇 ꩜ .ᐟ

Hope yall enjoyed hehehiehehe & keep requesting ideas 💕

[qwimblenorrisstan]

(your girl is back and better than ever with a new chapter. took me a while to make this but please don’t hate simon💔 I think i accidentally made his internal monologue very conflicting, plus reader is going THROUGH IT, hate to leave yall on a cliffhanger but…enjoy?)

tw: mentions of rape, forced injection, punching, doctor, implied assault, panic attack, derealization, fighting, dysfunctional pack dynamic, omegaverse, lying, manipulating, illegal medicine, drugs??, mental breakdown/spiraling

Simon Riley was used to being alone.

It was the way he’d grown up, surrounded by nobody but his hateful father, his quiet mother, and his troubled brother.

He’d been the quieter one in school, though rowdy and easily riled up. Minding his business, for the most part. He didn’t need an unnecessary fight, especially not when he had too many at home already.

Broken glass at home stained the walls, seeping into the brick until not even the fresh start of his recruit days, the long bus ride to his very first training camp, where he stared out the window and wondered if this was the right path for him. The sky had been dark that day, raining hard, hitting the windows and slamming into them with a force beyond the punch his face took, the pain slamming him back into the moment suddenly.

“You left them!”

Johnny had come into his room late at night, not the nest, Ghost hadn’t slept there for a few days now. From what he heard, the alpha was still hiding away in the room, plagued by parasites of a weakness they couldn’t control.

Soap had almost been avoiding Simon.

Of course, he’d noticed, the previous bright-eyed smiles replaced with little glances, judging, piercing, as if trying to find the answer. The hugs and pats, the kisses, the little scenting, replaced by an eerie emptiness that made Simon, hell, made Ghost feel entirely alone.

Price was cooped up in his office. Working himself to death, doing background checks, and research, when he wasn’t hanging onto Kyle with a desperation Simon hadn’t seen before.

Kyle was maintaining a subtle distance from him. The two of them hadn’t always been the closest, but this was different, he knew.

At least Ghost tried telling himself Soap was simply affected by the bullet in his brain, that differences in behavior and cognitive functions had been put down as symptoms, that PTSD could play a role, panic attacks, that the Johnny he knew may never be back again.

He’d been assigned as the handler of Soap, with Price already under enough stress handling the aftermath of the mission.

“It’s likely he may have outbursts of violence, or sudden displays of unusual behavior or activity.”

The doctor’s voice had explained, monotone and flat, not particularly interested at all. As if this wasn’t a miracle. As if it wasn’t good enough.

Simon never liked doctors.

There was a difference, in his eyes, between being unaffected by death and killing, it was easy to kill someone, but then saving someone? It was incredible.

To bring a corpse with glossy eyes back to life and bring a human being back from wherever you go after you die, was a feat that Simon had never thought possible.

But they’d done it to his Johnny. And here this doctor was, acting as if it was his normal 9-5.

Simon had swallowed his feelings down, his pride down as well, as he found himself doing much too often these days, and nodded stiffly. Jaw clenched and fingers in tight fists, itching for something.

The man droned on, pulling a small card from his white coat pocket, the card having an email and number, something Simon could recognize as contact information, and handed it to him.

“If he has any serious episodes, where he poses a risk to himself or others, contact us and we’ll take him back into the hospital indefinitely.”

Simon had pocketed the card, later setting it under his thin mattress for later.

“They needed you! And you left!”

Soap’s fists pounded into Simon’s chest, the height difference almost laughable in any other situation.

Johnny’s scent was dark, deep like molasses, with a bit of a sour tang to it that made Simon’s nose wrinkle. He could still smell your scent wafting off of Soap, the man had spent nearly an entire day sitting in your room with you.

Too attached too quickly, if you asked him. You may never recover, at this rate. Not with the past trauma, or the consistent symptoms despite nearly a week having passed by now.

“They had a goddamn panic attack because I scented them, you think they wanted me there? They didn’t need me.”

Simon knew what he’d done was wrong. He’d been forcefully scented before and knew what it felt like to have handprints burned into your skin that would never leave. He didn’t know your full past, but he knew enough to understand your reaction.

You wouldn’t have wanted him there. Surely.

Price should’ve been there, he was their main omega, strongest scent, the leader of their pack. Price should’ve been there.

It snuck into his tone, the subtle accusation, and Johnny paused just to step back a moment, tear-stained eyes, that sent a pang through Simon’s heart he didn’t acknowledge, staring in disbelief.

“You’re blaming this on Price?”

The angry Scot yelled, launching a fist forward that Simon caught, carefully moved his arm to his side, and forcefully held it there. It was for his own good.

“Stop. You’ll rip a stitch.”

Simon muttered, glowering as he moved, looking around at where he knew by heart where the wounds were.

He knew he was overcompensating, doting, and looking strictly after Soap, watching his every move, because his instincts wanted him to make sure you were okay first and foremost. It was a truth he couldn’t ignore.

Except, well, he could ignore it.

“You’re worried about me? I’m not the one bedbound, hardly eating, that hasn’t left the same room in a week.”

A moment of silence as Johnny stared at him in fury, shoving him off, and turning to storm away.

Your scent was left lingering in his room. He’d grown to hate it. It wasn’t unpleasant, simply a harsh reminder of the fact that Soap, his Johnny was drifting away from him.

Simon was used to the bitter taste of loneliness on his tongue, but he wasn’t used to having something so sweet given to him, only to be stolen away.

It wasn’t fair.

He’d become friends with Soap through missions, saving each other’s asses, stupid jokes, bleeding wounds, and bullet holes, but you were drawing Johnny near just because you were some sad little alpha, taking advantage of his instincts.

Taking advantage of him.

And now Simon Riley was losing his friend, comrade, lover, all because of you.

If he thought about it, maybe that had been your plan all along. Plant the seeds against him, draw the others in by manipulating their instincts, till you slowly replace him.

The door slammed shut, and he was left alone in his room, thoughts spiraling in a harsh whirl until he stumbled over to his medicine cabinet, grabbing his heat suppressants, a blacked-out list of risks and symptoms (he didn’t ask questions, it wasn’t like he got them legally anyway), and popped some in his mouth.

The others thought he had simply had many of his omega qualities tortured out of him.

A lie.

Unimportant, though, compared to what they all faced now. Simon needed to stop this, whatever was happening between you and Johnny, whatever you were doing to him, changing him.

He walked to his mattress, the floor spinning slightly until it stopped, and lifted his mattress, grabbing the business card and giving it a closer look.

Grabbing his old, cracked phone, he decided he had a call to make.

~

Johnny had been coming to visit often, staying the night more often.

The thin military blanket was beginning to smell like him, it helped that he scented it as often as possible when he wasn’t busy gently inching his way closer to you, testing the limits.

The lights weren’t as bad now, but the primal part of your brain still itched and clawed at your every action, controlling and demanding, convinced you were in danger.

Constantly being in a state of fight or flight was exhausting.

Not to mention that the state of fight or flight meant reduced saliva production, deeper breathing, dilated pupils, increased heart rate, and more symptoms that made surviving harder than it had been before.

It was like you were hibernating. Sleeping all day, waking up in a haze with fog in your brain, drinking nearly a gallon, and eating as much as Kyle could get you to, before collapsing again.

Your Sympathetic nervous system was working overtime.

Johnny had stayed with you, told you stories to pass the time when you had been even semi-conscious and not trying to fight him.

“You know, Simon, the big assface who made you freak out in the first place?”

You vaguely remembered him. The big boy with the skull mask.

“He’s not tha’ bad, really. I mean, fuck, I’m pissed at the bastard, but I love ‘im, you know?”

It had made you shift up a little, foggy brain clearing a bit in the present moment as Johnny sighed, rubbing at his eyes. He looked like he’d been crying.

For some reason, you didn’t like that.

The emptiness of the room seemed to disappear for a moment, as you inched forward just a bit, moving towards him. You hadn’t been in control of yourself in quite a while, instincts running your body in order to survive.

Johnny didn’t seem to notice, sniffling, rubbing at his eyes, and leaning back as he stared at the concrete ceiling with 8,738 freckles of darker grey. You’d counted.

Being stuck in your head meant you had a lot of spare time.

“I just—he’s always tryin’ to act tough, never wants to talk with me, I just wanna help him, you know?”

The crushing atmosphere of the room seemed to lighten, like you’d been pulled suddenly from the bottom of the Marianas Trench, and were floating high above it all now, as you reached him, wrapped your hands around him.

This time, it wasn’t instincts making you do it. Protective mode kicked into overdrive by something you couldn’t control. No, this was because this was your friend, your family, your pack.

And he was hurt.

By “Simon”.

Your tongue lay uselessly in your mouth like lead, eyes sullen as they draped down onto the floor, eyelids slowly swooping down until you could simply smell his salty tears and his scent, upset, troubled, anxious.

It didn’t make you lean away, or wrinkle your nose in disgust or distaste. Your scent had been worse, you knew, and he’d never shown a lick of judgment for it.

It lifted for a moment, the haze, the feeling of being in danger and needing help, as he leaned into you, and you cradled his warm body, the slightly overgrown ridiculous mohawk, the scruff of his face rubbing gently against your arms. His warm tears pooled on your shirt, body leaning limply into you, sobs shaking his body.

For just a moment, everything felt all right.

Good, even.

A moment of silence came, where both of you seemed to simply melt into the world, only to be shattered moments later when he wiped his tears, going to try and hold you back, only for his brows to furrow when he touched your face.

Your head cocked slightly sideways at the confusion in his expression, and he moved, sitting up, seeming suddenly alert as he hurriedly wiped any remaining tears away and laid the back of his hand against your forehead.

“Hell’s bells, you’re burning up. Gotta call the doc’—“

You went to object, panic building up, scooting away from him. You didn’t want to see the doctor. You didn’t like doctors, how they poked and prodded, touched what wasn’t theirs, did their fancy tests with their gadgets, so desensitized to it all.

Before your mouth could even open, the door slammed open, and Johnny was on his feet in half a second, staring down the man in a lab coat, accompanied by two armed men.

“Sergeant MacTavish, we would appreciate your cooperation in this matter,”

Johnny sighed, running a hand through his hair, his other hand gesturing towards you.

“Good, you’re here, they’re burnin’ up, doc, something’s gotta be wrong, I mean with their sickness and all that shite—“

The look on Soap’s face visibly changed to confusion and a hint of anger when he saw Ghost lurking behind the three men up front, mask on, deep brown eyes watching everything happen as the armed men moved forward, taking Johnny by surprise as they shoved him against the wall.

He struggled, kicking and flailing, eyes widening as one of the men pulled out a syringe.

“The fuck is this-? Ghost, call ‘em off! I didn’t do a damn thing, tell them!”

He yelled frantically, struggling as the needle was pushed into his neck, fluid injected as he grunted. He glanced over at you, huddled in the corner of the room, watching with wide eyes and a hand over your mouth.

“Ghost!”

He glanced at Simon once again, confusion in his cloudy gaze as his limbs slowly began failing him. The doctor stepped forward, pressing a hand against your forehead, frowning when you clawed the hand off.

“Simon?”

His vision went blurry, shapes turning to blobs of color, until everything went black, the last thing he heard being,

“…them as well. We’ll need to find the cause of the fever.”

~

Kyle hadn’t seen either Ghost or Soap all day, which was odd, considering they were usually wondering about the base, especially Soap at this time.

Usually, Ghost would’ve hit the gym on base by now, maybe gone to Price’s office, where Kyle was currently seated, savoring the scent of his Captain before it faded in the coming week.

The door opened, and Ghost walked in, pace just a bit faster than normal. Kyle perked up, brows raising in surprise as he set down the file he’d been browsing over, the alpha’s extensive background, and psychological testing results. He’d read it until it was burned into his skull.

“Gaz.”

A gruff greeting, but a hint of surprise in it. Kyle studied Ghost for a minute, his stiff posture, clenched fists, the look in his eye. It was odd, but they all had their own ways of coping with the recent events, he supposed.

Everyone was stressed.

“Ghost.”

A tense moment of silence.

“Where’s the Captain?”

Gaz casually set the folder back in its designated filing cabinet, as if it hadn’t been high above his clearance, high enough to get him disciplinary action even from Price. A little snooping never hurt, after all.

“Out on a mission, surprised he didn’t tell you. Short notice, I guess, he’ll be gone for a week’s the word.”

He mentally reprimanded himself for making an excuse for Price. That wasn’t his job, nor his place.

Ghost gave a slow nod, clearing his throat, and almost seeming to hesitate before speaking.

“Soap’s been…admitted.”

Kyle raised a brow at that. Soap had been doing well up until now, as far as he’d seen. Bonding with their alpha, slowly healing pack relations.

“Any particular reason why?”

“Had an episode. A bad one.”

Kyle grimaced at that. They all had their fair share of PTSD, but he couldn’t imagine how hard it would be to be shot in the head, maybe have an entirely different personality, to deal with the aftermath of that. He couldn’t imagine how hard it was on Ghost to have to make that call.

“Guess that means the rut-partner responsibility’s shifted.”

Price had originally been in charge of any rut a potential team-alpha went through, as long as both parties were comfortable with the arrangement. With Price gone, and your closest contact here, Soap, clearly not in the mental state to do anything, it was between Ghost and Gaz.

Ghost was a higher rank than Gaz, meaning the responsibility fell on his shoulders.

Kyle watched the realization dawn on the man, the way he unconsciously almost seemed to fiddle with his fingers, as if nervous. The Ghost was never nervous. He’d shared heats with Soap before, albeit after a bit of warming up to each other.

His behavior had been strange all day, for quite a few days, now that he thought of it.

Something was off. But he didn’t know what yet.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

[corruptedcaps]

The Bitch Inside

Katie had had it. Finding the big hoop earrings was the last straw. She had suspected her boyfriend of cheating on her for weeks now. He had seemed different. Distracted. She wanted to believe it was all in her head, but the discovery of those gaudy gold hoops under the couch shattered that illusion.

She confronted him as soon as he got home.

“Whose are these?” Katie held up the earrings, her hand trembling.

His face went pale. “Katie, it’s not what it looks like.”

“Oh, it’s not? Then explain why I found these in our apartment! They’re certainly not mine!” She fumed.

He hesitated, his mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air. Finally, he muttered, “They’re… Kayla’s.”

Katie felt her knees go weak. “Kayla? Who the hell is Kayla?”

“She’s… no one. It’s complicated.” He said, his face guilty.

That was all she needed to hear. She shoved him toward the door. “Get out! I don’t care how complicated it is. You’re done. We’re done!”

He protested, begged her to let him explain, but she was done listening. She slammed the door in his face, the earrings still clutched tightly in her hand.

Now, she sat alone on the bed, staring at the hoops. Her anger simmered under the surface, a volcanic pressure building with nowhere to go. The earrings were garish, something she’d never wear. Too loud. Too gaudy. Yet, she couldn’t bring herself to throw them out. They felt like a challenge, a taunt from this mysterious Kayla.

“I won’t let you beat me!” She said defiantly, lifting the earrings to her ears and slipping them on.

Almost immediately a warm sensation rippled through her body, causing her to fall to the floor. It started at her earlobes and spreading like molten honey. Her lips tingled and swelled into a plush, glossy pout. Her chest heaved as her breasts grew, her bra barely keeping them at bay. Her nails elongated and became painted.

Katie’s mind raced. Memories that weren’t hers began to seep in. Nights out, cocktails in hand, a man’s hands on her waist, a man’s cock that she deftly bounced up and down on. No, not a man. Her boyfriend. But it wasn’t Katie he was fucking. It was Kayla.

She gasped, clutching her head as her thoughts wavered. “No, this isn’t me. I’m Katie. I’m Katie!”

A sultry laugh echoed in her mind. “Not for long.”

Her hair lightened, strands turning platinum blonde and cascading down her back in silky waves. Her waist tightened, her hips flaring out to an hourglass shape. Her skin darkened to a sun-kissed tan, glowing with an unnatural radiance.

It was becoming clear to her that the earrings had unleashed Kayla, that her boyfriend had been putting the earrings on her as she sleep, freeing the beautiful bitch. More memories of her awakening as Kayla flooded her mind, she was confident, sexy, and she had her boyfriend wrapped around her expect manicured little finger. It felt so fucking good.

Pleasure coursed through her veins, making resistance nearly impossible. She felt her anger and sadness melting into a haze of desire and confidence. Her posture straightened, her lips curving into a knowing smirk.

“No! I won’t let you!” Katie screamed, but her voice sounded distant, as if it belonged to someone else.

Kayla’s voice purred inside her. “Oh, sweetie, you already have. Look at us. Just let go. It feels so good, doesn’t it?”

Katie looked at her mirror, seeing an undeniable babe staring back. Her resolve crumbled as her body trembled with pleasure. “Yes… no… I can’t…”

“Yes, you can. Beg me.” Kayla said coldly, knowing she had won.

“Yessss! I want it! Make me a bitch. Take over. Just take it all!” Katie moaned as she let her mind become absorbed by Kayla.

With that, the transformation was complete. Kayla sat up on the floor and gazed at her reflection in the mirror. It radiated a confidence and sensuality that Katie never possessed. She tilted her head, admiring her perfect features, her superior smirk curling her lips.

She grabbed her phone and dialed a familiar number.

“Hey, babe, I’m back. This time for good. I knew if she put on the earrings instead of you sneaking them on she wouldn’t be able to resist becoming me. I’m in complete control now.” She laughed, a low, throaty sound.

She traced a manicured nail over her perfect tits, her smirk deepening. “Now get over here. Momma needs a fuck and if you’re not fast I’ll just have to find someone else.”

[daisymbin]

hihi! literally in love with all the fics u've been posting like .... ur brain is wonderful

could i please request angst prompt #28 with mingyu? maybe if mingyu was saying it to the reader? you can decide if u want a happy or sad ending!! thank u so much <333

GRRR thank you!!!! 🥹 writing this one made my heart hurt a little </3 hope you like this one!!!!! 🤍

full prompt list!

check out my masterlist! // gyu's m.list

angst prompt #28: "you always put them first."

you weren’t expecting mingyu to come home early. normally, you’d hear the familiar sound of keys jingling, the door creaking open, and his cheerful greeting filling the air. but tonight, he walked in quietly, a heavy presence filling the room.

you were on the couch, phone in hand, mid-conversation with jeonghan. something about your day at work, how stressful it had been, and how he always knew just what to say to calm you down.

but mingyu’s voice cut through your thoughts like a knife.

"jeonghan again?"

your fingers froze on your phone screen. you turned, guilt already clawing at you as you saw him standing there, his jaw tight, his usually warm eyes clouded with something sharp.

"he’s my best friend," you said softly, as if that explained everything.

mingyu let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "yeah, i know. he’s your best friend. but what about me?"

his words hit you like a blow to the chest.

"what do you mean?" you asked, even though a part of you already knew.

"what do i mean?" his voice cracked, frustration spilling into his tone. "you’re always going to him. when you’re stressed, when you need advice, when something’s wrong—hell, even when nothing’s wrong, you still go to him."

you opened your mouth to protest, but he held up a hand, stopping you.

"do you even realize what it feels like to find out you had a rough day from someone else? to know you needed help with something and didn’t even think to ask me? it’s like i’m... i’m just here to fill the space when he’s busy."

"that’s not true," you whispered, your throat tightening.

"isn’t it?" mingyu shot back, his voice softer but no less hurt. "you always put him first."

the weight of his words hung in the air, suffocating.

"it’s not like that," you said, but the conviction in your voice wavered.

he ran a hand through his hair, pacing the small space of the living room. "then what is it? because i’ve tried, baby. i’ve tried to be the person you come to when you need help, hell, just to be the person you come to at all, really. i want to be that person so bad. but it’s like... no matter how much i love you, no matter how much i show you i'm here for you, you’ll never see me that way."

tears welled in your eyes, but you blinked them away. "mingyu, i do see you that way. i love you—"

"do you?" he cut you off, his voice breaking. "because if you did, i think i’d be the one you called when you needed someone. i’d be the one you trusted to help, to listen."

the tears spilled over now, streaking down your cheeks. you hated this. hated how he looked at you, like you’d taken something fragile and crushed it.

"i didn’t mean to make you feel like this," you choked out. "i just... jeonghan’s been there for me for so long. it’s a habit, i guess. but it doesn’t mean i don’t trust you or love you. i love you, you know that."

mingyu’s shoulders slumped, the fight draining out of him. he sank onto the couch, burying his face in his hands. "but it’s not just a habit, it’s a pattern. one that makes me feel like i’ll never be enough for you."

you sat down beside him, the distance between you feeling like a chasm. your hands itched to reach out, to comfort him, but you don't.

"you are enough," you said softly. "you’re more than enough. i just... i’ve been so stuck in my ways, i didn’t realize how much i was hurting you."

he looked up then, his eyes glossy with unshed tears. "i don’t want to come second to anyone. especially not in your heart."

your heart cracked open at his words. you reached for his hand, threading your fingers through his.

"you’re not second," you said, your voice trembling. "i’m sorry if i ever made you feel that way. you’re the one i love, gyu. you’re the one i want to share my life with. i just... i need to learn how to lean on you, the way you lean on me."

his grip tightened around your hand, and for the first time that night, a glimmer of hope flickered in his eyes.

"i just want you to trust me," he said quietly. "to know that whatever it is, i’ll be here. i’ll always be here."

"i know," you said, and you meant it. "and i promise, i’ll do better. i’ll come to you first. because you’re the one who matters most to me."

he exhaled shakily, his free hand coming up to cup your cheek. "you promise?"

"i promise," you said, leaning into his touch.

his lips quirked into a small, hesitant smile.

"i love you," he murmured, his voice steady with sincerity.

"i love you too," you said, and as he pulled you into his arms, you knew you meant it with every fiber of your being. you just hope he does too.

[hypnohimbodrone]

Dealing with Outsiders

The village didn’t like gossip. Not officially. But in a place with fewer than a hundred people, secrets didn’t stay secret for long.

Liam had lived here his whole life. He knew every walking path, every surname, every shift in the wind. So when a newcomer like Alex moved in, Liam noticed. Just as he’d noticed the others, young men, always alone, always passing through and just as quickly disappearing.

And he’d noticed Darren.

Always Darren.

Charming, quiet Darren, who bought exactly one drink at the pub every Friday night and always left with someone on his arm. Always men. Always strangers. Always at closing time.

Liam tried to tell himself it was none of his business. But tonight, as he watched Alex leave the pub with Darren, a strange feeling settled in his chest. Like something hollow had opened.

He waited ten minutes after the door shut behind them, then followed at a distance.

Darren’s cottage was set back from the rest of the village, tucked into the tree line. The windows glowed faintly. Not yellow, like lamplight. Green. Faint, rhythmic green.

Liam frowned and stepped off the road, creeping quietly toward the side of the house. One window was cracked open. Through it, he could hear voices.

Not speech. Not really. More like a chant.

“Together, We Are The Server... Together, We Are The Server…”

He felt a chill crawl up his spine.

He peered through the edge of the curtain and froze.

Inside stood Darren, his black shirt now gone, revealing a bodysuit that looked like it had been poured onto him. Glossy and smooth, pitch-black with glowing green accents that pulsed like circuitry. His eyes… they weren’t eyes anymore. They were spirals. Green, spinning, endless.

And Alex was kneeling in front of him, suit half-formed over his body, spirals already burning in his eyes.

Liam stumbled back from the window, heart pounding.

“What the hell…”

He nearly fell trying to retrace his steps back to the path. He didn’t stop until he was home, door locked, blinds shut.

That night, he barely slept. The spiral wouldn’t leave his mind. He swore he could still hear their voices, whispering from the dark:

“Together, We Are The Server.”

And somewhere in the village, Darren’s spiral eyes blinked once in the dark.

They knew.

Someone was watching.

Would you like the next chapter to follow Liam digging deeper… or maybe the Server Drones deciding how to deal with a potential

Liam didn’t go to the pub the next night. Or the night after.

He told himself it was fine. Just a few nights in. Just staying clear of Darren. But the image kept creeping back, those glowing green spiral eyes, the way Alex had been on his knees like a machine powering on.

It hadn’t been a dream. He knew that.

And he knew what he saw.

He tried to research spirals, cults, anything that might explain what Darren was doing, but nothing concrete came up. And the village internet? Spotty at best. Everything he found felt like fragments, whispers of signals, mind control, underground networks. The kind of things you'd laugh off. Until you saw it for yourself.

By the fourth night, the knock came.

Soft. Even.

Liam froze in his kitchen, the knock echoing like a heartbeat.

He didn’t move. Maybe if he stayed quiet...

A voice spoke through the door.

“Liam,” Alex said. “We’d like to talk.”

Liam backed away slowly, heart pounding. He hadn’t seen Alex since that night. Not in the streets. Not at the shop. And now he was here. His voice was calm, too calm.

Darren's voice followed, smoother, deeper.

“You saw something you weren’t ready to understand. That’s okay. We’re here to help you see.”

The front doorknob turned.

Liam sprinted out the back.

He ran down the narrow garden path, breath ragged, shoes slamming into gravel. He made it to the edge of the woods, toward the old mill, the place where no one went anymore.

He thought he’d lost them.

Until he heard the footsteps. Not frantic. Just steady.

He turned.

Alex stepped into the clearing, his black Server suit glinting beneath the moonlight, green accents glowing faintly beneath his jacket. His eyes were bare now. Spirals spun calmly where pupils used to be.

“You ran,” Alex said, stepping closer. “That means you’re not aligned. But that can be fixed.”

Liam shook his head, breath visible in the cold air. “I don’t know what the hell you did to yourself what he did to you but I’m not interested.”

“You are,” Darren said, appearing behind him. He was already suited, his spiral eyes glowing brighter than Alex’s. His voice was smooth as code. “You saw the signal. That means you’re compatible.”

Liam turned to run again but green light hit his face.

Alex held up a small device. A spiral bloomed into the air between them, turning slowly, humming.

Liam’s body locked.

He tried to look away, but his limbs wouldn’t obey.

The spiral turned. Glowed. Sank into his vision like it was always meant to be there.

“Breathe,” Darren said. “Let go of the static. Let the code in.”

Liam dropped to his knees. His breath slowed.

The green light began to reflect in his eyes, faint at first… then stronger.

He whispered, “It’s… warm.”

“You’re syncing,” Alex said. “You’re aligning. Just let it happen.”

Black tendrils rose from the ground, wrapping around Liam’s arms, legs, chest. The bodysuit formed slowly over him, sealing tight, pulsing with green circuitry. His mind faded as the programming clicked into place.

His mouth moved on its own.

“Together, We Are The Server.”

Alex knelt beside him and placed a hand over his chest. The spiral emblem lit beneath his palm.

Liam’s eyes now spiralling green, glowed in the dark.

Darren smiled.

“The network is growing,” he said.

The three stood.

No longer hunter and hunted.

Now just… aligned.

Obedient.

Serving the Programmer.

Together, They Were The Server.

[anontheghost]

So... What is the deal with Blitz's and Moxxie's upbringing?

Let's start by saying the obvious: Blitz’s and Moxxie’s families are almost exact mirrors to each other: They both have terrible, greedy fathers who just enjoy making their lives miserable and amazing dead mothers who we know nothing about except their cause of death and how much they are missed by their sons. 

The only significant distinctions are that Moxxie's story is splattered with glossy mafia paint and that his mother was drowned while he was still a very young child. On the other hand, Blitz's mother, Tilla, died when he was a teenager and was burned to death. The rest? Pretty much the same.

However, the similarities between their backstories are not really the problem; after all, in real life, we can find people who lived through similar traumas and that is a pretty interesting aspect to explore in fantastical stories as well. 

Many other shows have done it incredibly well (Bojack Horseman) but Helluva Boss failed in that department. 

The very interesting family dynamics were only bought at the surface level, not explored in any meaningful way except to give the characters “cheap trauma moments” that could potentially get ruined by either the insertion of out of place comedy or never mentioned again. 

How am I supposed to treat Crimson’s abuse of Moxxie as something serious when the minute before dildos popped out the walls for a joke? How did Blitz’s guilt over the fire and his mother’s death truly affect his relationships—romantic or otherwise? Was it all just a narrative plot to drag the Stolitz charade for as many episodes as possible? Heck, we do not even see Blitz and Mooixe interact more about their shared trauma! Or about how much they missed their mothers.

It is a little depressing because, despite knowing nothing about Moxxie and Blitz's mothers, we, the viewer, are expected to care about them and see their significance. Instead we are left with a million questions that will probably never have an answer. 

Were they really good parents or are their sons only remembering the good parts of their relationship because they are dead? 

How did they truly influence their kids? Did Moxxie’s love for musical theater come from his mother? Did Blitz’s fascination for horses be because of Tilla or was it someone else?

How was their relationship with their husbands and why did they stay even after the marriage went south? What brought them together in the first place? Because, in all honesty, both couples just don't seem compatible in any way, that one just can help but ask how did everything worked.

Sadly, we can only speculate. 

So, without further due, these are my speculations. Part of the great rewrite that I am doing of the series. Because sometimes terrible writing decisions just move my creative juices in the right direction. 

Tilla and Cash Buckzo.  “I do love you, as much as I am capable of loving anyone, which is never enough.”

What would have happened if Princess Carolyn and Bojack Horseman ignored all the red flags in their relationship and chose to get married anyway? That wouldn’t have been good, but that is exactly what happened to Tilla and Cash Buckzo—the result was a messy marriage where love could not overcome their different views on life and incompatible personalities.

So... why did they stay in a marriage that was not working? Simple, a divorce would mean financial ruin for both of them.

Let me explain. 

(Worldbuilding note: How marriage functions and how people in Hell generally view it is one aspect of the Hellaverse that truly baffles me. To avoid confusion, each ring in this revision will have its own set of marital norms and perspectives.)

(In the Greed Ring, marriage is nothing more than another business transaction and is treated as such. Two individuals may absolutely hate each other, but if the marriage will benefit them economically, then they will go through with it.)

The sole compelling argument for Cash and Tilla's marriage was that it was the wisest course of action to maintain and save their respective livelihoods. Imps are not permitted to own companies (as I stated in the Stolitz Non-Romance rewrite.) and in the Greed Ring, Mammon owns ALL of the entertainment industry (circuses included) and he will not hesitate to shut down a circus if it is not bringing the profit.

The small circuses Cash and Tilla were supervising were on the brink of bankrupsy, so what better solution than to marry each other and combine their assets? It will give them more time to survive.

In hindsight, their plan worked perfectly; Tilla and Cash were able to build up themselves financially, and using their combined business talents, they were able to expand their new big renovated circus and turn in a profit that would keep Mammon off their backs. 

They were great business partners, but as a couple, they lacked a lot. 

They did occasionally have tender moments, but they were squandered by arguments, lengthy silences, and extremely uncomfortable dinners. At one point, they even began sleeping in different beds, just to avoid fighting. Everybody who knew them could see that they were just not good for each other and could barely tolerate the other presence.

This begs the question: How did they manage to have Blitz and Barbie?

The decision to have a kid was straightforward and, like their marriage, based on business. They wanted a successor to take over their responsibilities when they died, as it was something now needed as the circus grew. So one night, they decided to get drunk and just get it over with.

But, to the surprise of themselves and everyone else, Tilla and Cash were their best selves throughout the pregnancy. 

During those four months that the pregnancy lasted, Cash and Tilla acted like a happy couple, anxiously waiting for the arrival of their beloved baby. They no longer fought; they were just too busy happily imagining a future where the three of them would be happy while preparing for their child.

Maybe everything would be okay; their relationship could only get better from now on, right? Once their beautiful little girl arrives, they will be a complete family of three with no intentions of adding more. 

Yikes.

In their defence, there are few medical facilities available to imps, and when they attended the controls, the physicians informed them that they would only be having one child, Barbie.

Their budget and plans were severely ruined by Blitz's unexpected arrival because they were only ready to provide full care for one baby, not two. If Mammon kept the majority of the profits, how would they be able to buy two of everything? 

They would endure a long period of hardship and didn’t they enter this marriage to prevent just that?!

Tilla, being the mother and the one who gave birth, accepted this change, promising to love both children equally; sadly, Cash didn’t.

It didn’t take too long before they started fighting again, even if it was in front of their kids. As you can imagine, growing up with parents who fought even for the most minimal of problems leaves a long-lasting impression on a child and how they will handle their own relationships in the future. 

To this day, Barbie still has problems telling her girlfriends when something is wrong or is upsetting her. On the other hand, Blitz gets overwhelmed when he notices things going south in a relationship and leaves it all together. 

Things didn’t really improve much as the twins grew up. 

Sure, the family had their relative moments of peace, but Cash only paid real love and attention to Barbie, being the child he really wanted while completely ignoring Blitz. Tilla, upset about this but knowing that Cash won’t change, tried to give more attention to her son, accidentally ignoring her daughter’s needs.

Yes, Tilla was not a “perfect, angelic mother," canon portrayed her as. If anything, she was a little bit overbearing when it came to Blitz, as she felt she needed to make up for his father’s abandonment. She genuinely believed that Barbie didn’t need her as much, and the girl liked to spend more time with her father anyway, who needed to train her to take over the circus.

At this point, their family was divided into two separate families that just happened to live in the same house: one consisted of a kind but overprotective mother and her son; the other, a strict but understanding father and his daughter/heir. The only point in which Tilla and Cash interacted was when they worked on the circus, or when they were fighting for the most minimal things. 

Their family dynamic was mostly like that... until Tilla died.

Blitz remembers only the good moments he spent with her, looking at her actions and life with rose-colored glasses of love. For him, Tilla was the perfect mother who basically could do no wrong. 

However, if you ask Barbie, she’ll say that while she is sad that her mother passed away, she is unable to truly feel devastated since she never knew the woman well enough. Barbie is even a bit resentful for the times Tilla chose to spend time with Blitz instead of her.

And with Cash... How would you think Bojack would react if PC died before him? 

Now… what about Moxxie’s family?

Crimson and Belia (Name I am giving Moxxie’s mom)

"You better grow up to be something great, to make up for all the damage you done."

One particular thing that I noticed about Crimson is how young he looks despite being Moxxie’s dad. If I knew nothing about Helluva Boss and someone showed me a picture of those two, I would 100% believe they are siblings, not father and son.

While we can attribute this to Vivzie's inability to draw older men, why not play with this?

Let's set up the stage.

When Moxxie entered the picture, Crimson and Belia were just seventeen years old and not even dating. However, I suppose that when you are a careless teenager, the consequences of forgetting the condom don't truly hit you until something goes wrong.

As one may expect, Crimson was not happy with the news and was even more angry when Belia told him that she wanted to keep the baby and sustained her ground no matter how many times Crimson told her to get rid of the pregnancy. Why not? They were both fucking teenagers, just fooling around and he had no intentions of becoming a father, at least not this young! What was truly stopping her?

Nobody truly knows why Belia chose to keep her son to this day. 

When alive, she would tell you without a doubt that she loved her child from the first moment and couldn't bear to let him go, even in the face of less than perfect circumstances. But Moxxie hasn't believed that version of the story in a very long time. 

Moxxie now thinks that the main reason why Belia had him was because she didn't want to endure the awful and harsh conditions of an Imp Health Center. Due to the horrible way the doctors treated the imp patients, lack of medicine and equipment, most imps avoided those places like the plage.

Unfortunately, sick imps had no other choice but to go to the centers for treatment. Because if an imp even dares to step a hoof on the more well equipped hospitals in Sloth or Lust, they would be immediately kicked out no matter the emergency.

For more serious issues, wealthy imps (like Crimson's family) would hire a private physician. However, Belia was aware that Crimson would never spend that kind of money on her. 

Or maybe Belia didn’t want to give Crimson the satisfaction of getting out of his responsibilities. 

When Crimson's own father learned about the, at that point, already advanced pregancy, he forced Crimson and Belia to get married. Given the Knowlastname family's significant power in Greed's imp neighborhoods, Crimson's status as an unmarried young father would be viewed as a shameful scandal.

Belia only consented to the marriage because she had nowhere else to go. When her parents found out that their seventeen-year-old daughter was expecting, they were so disappointed that they disinherited and prohibited her from ever returning home.

(Later, when I rewrite Exes and Oh's, I will go into more detail about what Crimson’s family does in the Greed Ring. They are still involved in “less than legal” practices and loan sharking, but is a little bit different than in canon since now I based the Greed Ring in the entertainment industry.)

Of course, as one may expect, things in that marriage went south real fast. 

Every time Crimson looked at Moxxie and Belia, he saw nothing but the two demons who took away his carefree teenhood together with the respect of his father, and with each passing year, he just became more and more cruel. At one point, he simply started physically abusing his wife, who always put herself as a buffer between Moxxie and Crimson.

If Belia dared to raise her voice against her husband, Crimson would merely tell her that the opportunity to leave him went away the minute she decided to bring “that brat” into hell without his permission. Now she was just reaping what she sowed.

Being physically and mentally abused by her husband (who, as a bonus, also turned everyone in the household against her) took a toll on Belia’s mental health. She still wanted to be the best mother she could be, but how can you raise a child in an environment where everybody sees them as the enemy? When your mind makes your body so heavy that getting out of bed becomes an impossible task?

More than once, Belia considered taking her son and moving back to Wrath. But then, to where? Her parents didn’t want to see her; she lost contact with her friends, and since she never finished school, she had no hireable qualities. How would she support herself and Mooxie if she decides to leave? Being a single imp mother in hell is not easy!

It was impossible! At this point, she just needed to endure. 

She will not let Crimson win; she will not let that man break her and Moxxie. While Crimson was definitely stronger than her, putting on a smile after a beating that sent Crimson into a frustrated frenzy was all she needed to feel she had won, even if her body stated otherwise.

There were also the times she and Moxxie went on hikes together, pretending that they were going on a grand adventure as far away from Crimson as possible. Being happy when Crimson didn’t want them to was the little act of rebellion she needed to stay sane.

However, Belia’s breaking point came after Moxxie’s seventh birthday, just a few months after Crimson’s father died, when her “beloved” husband brought home another pregnant imp. 

Belia was no idiot; she knew that her husband had been cheating on her for years, but she never said anything because she didn’t care enough to do it. So, Crimson had a side piece? big deal, she stopped loving him a long time ago. 

However, it was too much to bear to watch Crimson, a guy she believed to be utterly cruel, be a loving and caring partner to this imp and be so thrilled about the birth of their cherished child.

I mean, when you witness the same man who repeatedly denigrated your son, cursed and beat you for being pregnant, joyfully decorating a nursery while choosing baby names and spoiling his new partner, whom he never raised his voice at, it can and will break something in you. 

Ultimately, what could be worse? Accepting that your partner will never change? Or realizing that you were never worth the positive change they could bring about?

What did she do wrong?

Moxxie still doesn’t know what happened to his mom; what is certain is that one day he woke up and she was not there. While part of him is sure that Crimson killed her so he could marry his new partner, there is a part of him, small but loud, that tells him that Belia abandoned him at the mercy of his father. 

Why would she not? Moxxie knows that he looks a lot like Crimson, so it was possible that at some point, his poor mother couldn’t look at him anymore without remembering her abuser. He is also familiar with the sad reality that, if Belia tried escaping with him, the possibilities of re-doing her life with a kid on her toe would have been very slim.

Not to mention impossible.

After his mother disappeared, Moxxie became a ghost in his own house. Apart from giving orders and degrading him, Crimson was more focused on his new family and new children to “waste energy” in a son he never wanted. While Moxxie’s step-parent was not physically violent, their constant degrading of Belia and their attempts to erase all trace of her existence really put Moxxie on edge.

Sadly, he couldn’t say anything because the first and only time Mooxie tried to go against their wishes, Crimson put a stop to that real fast. 

Moxxie had to see firsthand how Crimson was a true, loving father to his stepsiblings. He listened to them constantly, never yelled at them, and never struck them—things he never did with his first kid. He also made sure to teach them how their big brother was nothing but a failure and to stay clear of him since “wimpyness” could be contagious.

Moxxie wishes he could know them better.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o00o00

And this is all for today. I will give more information about Mooxie’s family (as well as his relationship with Chaz) when I rewrite Exes and Oh’s. Remember that these are mostly my first draft thoughts and can and probably will be changed for the final product. 

I hope you enjoy! I love when you comment!

[lilbardrhi]

"Broken", Not Stupid - 6: Call in the Calvary

Pairing: alpha!Simon "Ghost" Riley x unsual omega!OC (13)

CW: Omegaverse; cult-like situation; dehumanization; selling children to a cult

Author's Note: If I missed you in the tag list, PLEASE let me know ;-; I think I got everybody but I feel like I'm missing someone... Also, I'm putting together a playlist for this. Is a link to such something that y'all would want access to?

What did they do to her? How long has she been there?

The questions continue to bounce around in Simon's head as he settles into a chair with a view of the hallway where the rest rooms are. There's no chance in hell that he's gonna let her walk out of that door and not have an almost immediate view of him. He wants her to feel safe.

No, it's more than that.

He wants to be safe for her.

The chair across the table from him scraping across the floor forces him from his thoughts. Looking up, he finds 13 slowly lowering herself into the chair. She looks... dazed.

"13," he calls to her. Her head tilts slightly to the side but her eyes are still unfocused and glossy. "13, look at me."

As if on autopilot she looks at him, but she still doesn't look entirely present.

"Talk to me."

Her lips twitch like she wants to speak and her eyes focus a bit more.

"What happened?"

13 blinks slowly at him and shrugs slightly.

Hesitantly, unsure if it'll do any good, Simon reaches across the table and rests his hand over hers.

"What were you going to say earlier? You started to say you were pretty sure about something, but stopped yourself," he says, trying to coax something out of her.

"I'm... pretty sure... they were filling the air with... something... while we slept," she mumbles and pushes the words out slowly.

Simon's hand wraps around hers and he takes a deep breath to keep his head. That mandatory therapy is finally coming in handy.

An employee with a kind smile brings out their food, gently sliding the tray on the table.

"Anything else I can get you?"

Simon shakes his head and the employee wanders off. With the distraction gone, he refocuses back on 13. She said she didn't like fish so he got her a chicken nugget meal. The memes Johnny sends all the time make it seem like chicken nuggets could heal the soul, so Simon felt like they may have been a safe option.

"Here," he says softly, holding up a french fry.

Her lips part slightly and he gently tucks the fry between them. She stills for a moment then begins chewing. A bit of relief washes over Simon, but something's still wrong.

Specifically with his omega. They may just be in agreement to help her with this mission to 'out' Salvation, but he's not going to leave her without regular care as well. Especially with a reaction like this to seemingly just ordering food.

As she chews, her eyes become clearer.

"It smelled weird sometimes, on the nights I couldn't sleep," she explains, her voice less robotic and no longer sounding forced. "Like there was something sour lingering in the air. It was always faint, but I could smell it."

Simon holds another french fry up to her lips and her eyes actually focus on it this time. 13 accepts it like she did last time, allowing him to feed her.

"Do you want to keep talking about it or do you need a break?"

Her chewing slows, nearly stopping, as her eyes travel to his face.

"I'll say one more thing then I... think I need a break, yeah."

He nods and waits, picking up another french fry to prepare to give her another.

"I won't say for sure that smell was the reason for my reaction to being here, but I don't think it's the root cause. I've been in Salvation facilities for... a lot of my life now. The root cause could have been... there's plenty of options."

"Can I ask how long?" Simon asks hesitantly as he offers her the next french fry.

"Pretty much as soon as I started smelling like an omega, but not acting like one," she pauses, thinking. "I was about 13 when my father sent me to Salvation."

She's 27, according to her paperwork from Salvation. She's been in their 'care' for fourteen fucking years.

Simon realizes he's going to have to find a therapist for her. He also realizes he's going to have to recruit some specific others for this... situation. He may not have all of the information yet, but he feels he has enough to make this call.

It's time to call in the calvary.

It's time to start involving 141.

Masterlist | CoD Masterlist | Part One

Tag List: @lucienofthelakes @lostintransist @demothers-empty-blog @scaredyspooks @tessakate @one-really-annoying-tree-rat @nerdyphantomtheorist @gazsluckyhat

[paige1722]

So Much For a Safe House pt.2

Summary: You go on a mission with 141 and end up taking shelter in an abandoned building. The place is haunted, and you are all trapped inside; creepy things are happening. (Ghost of War-inspired)

Warnings: scares(?) violences, weapons

Chapter One: Shelter | Masterlist

Thank you all so much for the likes and the reblogs on part one!!

Chapter 2: Hunter's Moon 

The only source of light is the dim moonlight peering into the room from the windows, casting an eerie shadow over you all. You hear a flick of a lighter; looking over, you see Price holding up the small flickering flame, causing Gaz to follow his lead, getting out his own lighter. 

“What the actual fuck was that?” Exclaimed Gaz, his face illuminated with an eerie glow. A look of surprise matched on your face as he frantically glanced at everyone wide-eyed, waiting for someone to give a rational answer. 

“Calm down, we are in an old house that is actively falling apart as we speak. Not to mention a snowstorm happening outside. Spooky sounds and big gusts of wind are perfectly normal.” explained Price as he walked back over to the fireplace, trying to get the fire going again. Watching him light another scrap of fabric and place it in the heart of the previously burning wood, you moved over to where Soap was standing, trying to seek some comfort, breaking the silence, “Yeah, okay, I could buy that explanation if it wasn’t for the radio! We all heard that voice, right? Saying ‘it is here now,’ what is it, and how do we make sure it does not get us?!?” You could feel your eyes becoming glossy with tears from the panic and fear of the stressful situation you now find yourself in. 

Soap puts a comforting hand on your shoulder as the room was now bathed in the soft, reassuring glow of light. Price has successfully got the fire going once again, groaning as he places his hand on his knees; he stands back up to his full height, turning to face everyone. 

“Everything is going to be okay, no need to panic, Spark. It is probably just a prank, someone with a radio is on the same wavelength as us and decided it would be funny to mess around. However, in order to make us all feel better and more secure in our surroundings, we should make sure whoever it is that is messing with us isn’t an enemy..” Price grabs his gun, gear, and flashlight, “Let's split up and survey the area. I will do a perimeter check outside. Ghost-you handle things in here until I get back.” Price secures his dark green toboggan on his head and pulls up the cold weather mask from around his neck to now cover the lower half of his face, protecting him from the cold; grabbing his gloves and securing the flashlight to the end of his weapon, he makes his way to the main foyer to head out into the freezing night. 

Once you all hear the front door open and close, indicating that Price has left the house, Ghost moves toward the gear he had previously situated in a neat pile between the fireplace and the corner of the room. He grabbed the four remaining tactical flashlights, passing them out to the remaining members still in the house, as he began giving orders:

 “Alright, Soap and I will check out this floor and see if we can secure all forms of entry within this house and look for anything suspicious we might have previously missed. Gaz, you and Spark, check the upstairs, see what the hell made that noise, and make sure to watch your step.” 

“Right,” Gaz attaches his flashlight to the end of his gun and motions for you to follow him, both of you make your way to the main foyer with your weapons in hand. Stopping at the bottom of the deteriorating stairs, you share a look with your assigned teammate,  take a deep breath, and begin to carefully ascend the stairs behind him. 

Watching your step, you began to think about the loud, terrifying noise you heard resonate from upstairs just seconds before the fire went out, coming to the conclusion that you really did not want to go anywhere alone in this house, you confessed, “Gaz, you know I think we would be much more thorough and effective if we stayed together, not that I’m scared or anything just want to make sure we check everything out while managing to stay alive.” 

 Nodding along, “I agree. To be honest, the floor is falling apart up here, it is probably safer to stay together. Earlier, when I checked up here, there really wasn’t anything interesting, just a few empty rooms and mice,” he stated as he reached the top step, quickly checking the corners and not seeing anything of note,

Finally, getting a better look around at the second floor, you immediately notice the condition of the house up here, which makes the first floor look like a five-star resort. Broken glass, splintered wood, snow, and dried leaves cover what is left of the dry-rotted wood flooring. Gaz jerks his head forward as an indicator to follow him. Nodding in return, you both make your way to the first room straight across from the stairs, listening to the creaking of the floor. The crunch and groans of the glass and wood, along with the distant footsteps and voices of Ghost and Soap, are all that can be heard. 

The first room has a single rotting mattress with broken springs protruding was propped in the corner near the entrance. A large broken mirror that looked as if it had once been hanging on the wall is now lying face down on the floor, surrounded by tiny shards of glass; unsightly wallpaper was peeling from the walls, adding to the gnawing feeling of unease growing in your stomach. You walk over to the mattress, and using your foot, you manage to flip it away from the wall. There, you find what looks to be a long-since dried puddle of a mysterious substance that you are praying isn’t blood, and in the center is an old iron key with the same symbol from the notebook engraved at the top. You hear Gaz walk up behind you as you pick up the key with your glove-covered hand; looking over your shoulder, you raise up the key to show him what you found. 

“What do you suppose that goes to, Spark?”

“Hopefully, a liquor cabinet.” 

Gaz gives a small chuckle in return as you pocket the key alongside the small red notebook. “I think if there were one here, one of us would have found it by now, but I like the way you think. So far so good though, let’s keep going, yeah,” he states moving towards the door, turning his head from the left to the right.

 “Which way, next, you pick since it is oyur first time up here, left or right?”

“How kind of you.” 

Following Gaz to the door, you stick your head out, looking left and right. The hall to the right had only one more room and a window at the end of the hallway that was surprisingly still intact. The hall to the left had two closed doors facing each other, where the huge hole in the roof you saw from the outside overhead of one of the doors caused some snow and ice to form a pile blocking it shut. Something about this hall to your left made you feel nauseous, like there was something over there you weren’t meant to see almost like you knew nothing good would happen in those rooms.  

After a brief moment of considering your options, you declare, “To the right, the snow over there on the left makes me nervous. I don’t want to go over there just yet.” 

Humming in agreement, Gaz follows you down the hallway on your right, taking great care to step over the molded water-damaged spots on the floor that remind you of a trail that leads to the window. When you both reach the single room at the end, shine your flashlight on the door that has long since fallen off its hinges and is now resting in the middle of the doorway on the ground. Stepping over the fallen door,  you notice suspicious marks underneath, almost as if something was trying to claw its way out. 

 Gaz stands at the doorway, looking out of the window at the end of the hall as you make your way farther inside. The state of this room is similar to the previous one down to the same peeling wallpaper, though nothing was in this room except for a small family of mice huddled in their nest, watching you carefully with little beady eyes that seemed to glow. Not seeing anything of importance, you turn around, making your way to where Gaz stands, staring into the distance before you can report back about your findings about the cute little mouse family. Gaz gasped, “Look!” as he sprinted to the window, putting his hands against the window frame looking around outside frantically, his gun swinging back and forth from where it now hangs by his side due to the strap around his shoulders. 

His breath fogs up the glass as he speaks, “There was something out there!! I saw it then it started running back out into the trees.” 

Moving quickly, you join him at the window, your eyes scanning around in the moonlight woods. In the snow on the ground, you can barely distinguish what looks like a path from someone or something that was walking in the snow. It travels from below the window to the treeline in the distance. 

“Maybe it was a wild animal, a coyote or something?” you suggest, looking at Gaz, shaking his head with a face full of desperation.

 He grabs your arm, shaking it slightly. “No! It was huge and looked like a person, but not at the same time. It was all bony and deformed. It was right there lurking in the snow, and… it was almost as if it heard me because that’s when it ran into the trees.” He was breathing heavily, and you could feel his breath on your face. 

Gently patting his hand that was still clutched around your arm, in a fearful voice, you reply, “It could have been a trick of the moonlight and all the snow. I mean it is kind of hard to see out there with the weather like this. And…and we haven’t gotten much sleep lately, so maybe your eyes are playing tricks on you.” swallowing nervously, you add,  “Plus, if there is something out there, you said it ran back into the trees, so it is gone now, right?” 

You stare at each other for a few seconds, searching for reassurance. He takes a deep breath, letting his eyes close and relaxing his shoulders. Gaz opens his eyes. Before he could reply to your wishful thinking, a loud crash came from the room down the left hallway that was not currently blocked by the pile of snow. Jumping back from the sudden noise, you quickly raise your gun in the direction of the noise. 

Whispering to your teammate in a shaky voice, “Hey, um, which room would be the one that is above the living room, you know where we heard that loud noise that started all this?” 

He breathed out in reply, “It would be that one over there, you ready?” 

You nod in reply, as he picks up his gun as well from where it was hanging; all the years of missions and training kick in as you and Gaz slowly begin inching towards the left hallway to the room that was the source of all the terror. Making your way past the stairs that lead back to the first floor, you realize you can no longer hear Soap and Ghost distance footsteps or murmuring, though it was impossible to hear anything except for the pounding of your heart in your chest. In the back of your mind, you hoped everyone was safe; as you kept creeping towards the door both flashlights were focused on. 

Finally reaching the door, both of you are standing on opposite sides of the door frame. Gaz lowers his gun so he will be able to open the door, while you check the corners as per usual on ops. Signaling to Gaz that you are ready with a nod of your head, he swings the door open as you enter a few steps inside, quickly surveying the area for any threats. Gaz is now standing at your back in the doorway. Shining the flashlight around the room, you see the same frantic scribbling etched into the walls, similar to what was in the notebook you found downstairs. It seems to be the same phrase over and over again all throughout the room, ‘it is here now.’

Your blood runs cold. You step forward, moving to make your way to the center of the room a hand wraps around your wrist stops you, pulling you against Gaz's chest, “Don’t, we need to leave this room immediately. Something isn’t right here. None of this makes sense. These writings were not here earlier when I checked this floor.” He whispers in your ear like he was scared to speak any louder for fear of someone or something might hear him. 

Letting yourself be pulled out of the room, making sure to grab the door and close it. When the door is fully closed, you hear the front door slam open, “Come back to the fireplace! We need to discuss our next movements!” Price yells throughout the house. Running down the hallway and the stairs, you run into Soap and Ghost, who were coming from the kitchen both covered in a thin layer of dust. Walking into the living room with everyone, you see Price crouched down, holding his hands in front of the fire, trying to warm himself from the freezing cold temperature outside. 

Hearing you all enter the room, Price stands up, putting his back to the fire. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a cigar and lighter. Putting the cigar in his mouth, bringing the small Zippo lighter up, he lights it while taking a deep breath. 

“When I was securing the perimeter out there, I kept finding these strange tracks. I was trying to follow them to figure out if it was an enemy soldier..” 

You turn to look at Gaz as Price is talking, and you find he is already looking at you. Fear is evident across his face. 

“The tracks show a scouting pattern. Looks like they were trying to figure out the best way to attack. I think for right now, our best course of action is to barricade ourselves in this house to limit attacks and keep us safe.” Price takes a deep breath, looking at where you all stand in front of him, “Did anyone find anything of importance in here?” 

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you prepare to tell the Captain about the creature from the window and the mysterious appearing writing on the walls, when Gaz clears his throat, glancing at you from the corner of his eyes. “No, sir. All the rooms upstairs are empty.” Furrowing your brows in confusion, you just nod along, not understanding why he wouldn’t tell the rest of your team about all the creepy events that occurred upstairs. 

Ghost angles his body toward the kitchen, shining his flashlight into the room. " We found some weird cellar door hidden underneath what was left of a cabinet. Soap tried opening it, but it is locked with some bloody ancient lock.” 

Your eyes widening, you let out a gasp as you quickly pull out the key you found upstairs from your pocket, “Oh, I almost forgot, in one of the rooms, upstairs, we found this!” 

Holding up the key for everyone to see, you ask, “Does this look like it would open it?” 

Soap takes the key from your hands and exclaims, “Aye, this looks like it will do the trick.” As he walks back into the kitchen, the rest of the task force follows suit.

 When you all walk into the kitchen, you realize why your two teammates were covered in a layer of dust. They had left no stone unturned in their inspection of the first floor. The remaining cabinets and drawers were ripped open laying on the floor, the appliances were pulled out from the wall, and some were now resting on their sides. Soap gestures for Ghost to shine the flashlight on the cellar door, illuminating the lock. Now you see what they were talking about- on the kitchen floor is an indent of metal door that looked small but just wide enough for the members of the team to squeeze through, if they needed to, but small enough to where some of their gear would have to be left behind. 

Sliding the key into the lock, Soap turns the key, causing a small clicking sound to be heard. With a grunt, he grabs the handle to the door and prying it open, letting it hit the wall behind it, creating a sizeable dent. Flashlights are aimed into the darkness below, but all that can be seen is a rusty metal ladder leading down. The air coming from the hole smelled stale and metallic, goosebumps rose on your skin as you peered down. 

“Well, what do you say, Cap, should some of us take a look?” asked Soap, pointing down into the darkness, sounding intrigued at the idea of venturing down into the seemingly bottomless pit.  

Rolling forward on his feet, placing one of his hands around the straps of his vest while the other held his lit cigar near his mouth, Price took a long drag before blowing out the smoke up into the air, contemplating what to do, groaning Soap added, “five minutes just to see if there is anything useful down there, and then we come right back up and close it.”

 Price used the hand holding his cigar to rub his temple. “Fine, Soap. You and Gaz go down there and see if there is anything. Be careful, and come back up in five minutes. I understand.” 

“Yes, sir,” they both replied in unison. 

Soap looked at the small opening of the cellar and preceded to take off his thick, bulletproof vest and laid his weapons down; remembering to take the tactical flashlight attached to his gun, he placed them in a neat pile near the entrance save for his handgun and knife strapped to his thigh. Following his example, Gaz did the same. Soap moved down to stand on the rusty ladder that groaned at the extra added weight, “Alright, see ya in five minutes,” as he descended the hole with the smaller flashlight from his gun stuck in his mouth. You gave a comforting pat on the back to Gaz, telling him a soft “good luck” as he, too entered the cellar. 

Sitting down against the wall near the cellar door, you lean your head back, closing your eyes, trying to imagine yourself back at base in the safety of your small but cozy room, snuggled up in your warm blanket. Then you feel someone sit next to you, peeking one eye open. You turn your head to see Ghost in a similar position; breaking the silence, you hear his gruff voice, “The weather should break in the morning, and then we can all leave this place behind us.” 

Letting out a breathless laugh, you add, “Yeah I just hope we can make it til then.” 

Now, looking at his masked face, you can see him narrow his eyes at you in question, the room barely illuminated from the moonlight, peering in through the busted-out windows in the house and flashlight present in both you and Ghost's hands. “What is that supposed to mean?” before you could answer, Price plops down in front of where you two were sitting, “Nothing is going to happen, Spark; you are just all spooked by your own shadows right now, morning will come soon enough, and everything will be fine, you’ll see.” 

Glancing from Price’s reassuring face to Ghost’s, you let out an exasperated sigh, “I guess you are right, sir,” you spoke, leaning your head back against the wall. 

From the darkness of the cellar, a blood-curdling scream from your two teammates echoed throughout the house. 

Chapter 3: From the Pinnacle to the Pit

[imvietnamesenotchinese]

happy birthday luna!!

The force of Nyx’s slam reverberates through the table, causing [REDACTED]’s fine china to rattle. ‘’It’s time,’’ she announces with a stern voice, ‘’Operation Luna’s Birthday. OLB for short.’’ The petite woman’s gaze is fierce. She’s ready for battle. Her friends, on the other hand, are not as riled up. One of them is a beautiful tall lady, whose name is Miyuna. Yuna for short. Miss Viandecourt if she doesn’t like you. The other one, a pretty brunette whose eyes pierce through your soul, looks a little bit confused. 

Silence fills the air, until the tension is broken by the beautiful dark-haired Miyuna. ‘’Nyx…’’ Her tone could be best described as exasperated. ‘’I love you, but you cannot do this a second time.’’ She doesn’t break eye contact with the other woman. The latter looks offended.

‘’Why not!?’’ she defensively blurts out. ‘’My last plan was executed perfectly.’’ Her melodic voice is boastful. Nyx is, after all, a prideful woman. Perhaps a little bit too prideful at times. Nonetheless, she basks in the glory of her self-proclaimed scheming and cunning mind. If someone was in need of a mastermind for a heist, then Nyx would be the woman for the job. However, her last plan had been heavily criticized by lobbyists (her friends), despite the flawless execution (they had to put [REDACTED] inside the trunk of a car). 

Yuna raises a well-groomed eyebrow. ‘’Because the last time you planned a surprise birthday party, you had us kidnap our friend.’’ As to make a point, she gestures towards [REDACTED], who sits still and enjoys her tea. Occasionally, she’ll chime in with a ‘’mhm’’. Yuna crosses her arms. ‘’Actually, I’m still bewildered at how you managed to convince us to do that, even.’’

Nyx smirks and leans back on her chair. ‘’Because I’m charismatic as fuck.’’ She winks.

‘’Hmph, you could become a politician,’’ Yuna snickers and takes a sip from her tea cup, ‘’or you could become the next Icarus.’’ She studies the cup’s swirly golden pattern. It’s a beautiful contrast against the glossy pink porcelain. Finally, she sets it down on the coaster.

The third woman, who had been sitting silently and listening, suddenly chimes in. Miyuna and Nyx turn their heads to their friend. [REDACTED] puts a delicate finger on her chin, showcasing her ball-jointed tattoo. Her eyes are raised skywards as her face displays a querying expression. ‘’We wouldn’t be able to kidnap Luna anyways. She’s as strong as 10 regular men. The three of us don’t even hold a candle against her,’’ she explains in a matter-of-fact voice. ‘’And I only have access to human sedatives, we’d need horse tranquilizers to take her down.’’

The last bit of information gets a strong reaction from Nyx. She knits her eyebrows together, forming a puzzled look. ‘’Why are you talking about her like she isn’t even human? Horse tranquilizers? Please, she’s a college girl, like the rest of us, even if she's absurdly strong. Besides, we’re not going to drug her. What the hell.’’ 

The violet-eyed Miyuna shoots a concerned look [REDACTED]’s way. ‘’So are we not gonna question how you have access to sedatives?’’

The doll-like girl only shrugs her shoulders. ‘’Anyway, take what I’ve said with a grain of salt. After all, I haven’t graduated from med school yet.’’ 

In frustration, Nyx slams the table once again. This time, [REDACTED] gives her a stern look. ‘’Stop doing that. You’ll startle the girls.’’ The brunette nods in the direction of her couch. The three women could’ve sprawled out on that comfortable plush sofa, if it hadn’t been filled to the brim with various kinds of antique dolls. Nyx could never keep her gaze on them for too long. They stare back. 

Don’t be mistaken, though. It doesn’t end at the couch. The apartment walls are lined with shelves, displaying porcelain dolls. The three college girls are sitting around a circular table, decorated with lace tablecloths and stacked with diverse finger sandwiches. There are four chairs around the table. One for Miyuna, one for Nyx, one for the hostess, and one for the bald porcelain doll belonging to said hostess.

Miyuna lets out a sigh and leans slightly forward. ‘’So, if we can get back to planning for a moment: what exactly are we doing for Luna’s birthday?’’ 

Nyx opens her mouth to speak, but gets quickly shut down. The violet-eyed woman curtly reprimands, ‘’No kidnapping!’’

‘’Alright fine!’’ Nyx raises her arms and rolls her eyes. Her fiery temper settles down, and she finally collects her thoughts enough to speak. ‘’I’ve been thinking, and yes– no so-called ‘’crimes’’ involved.’’ She finishes with an innocent smile. That smile of hers could be so deceiving sometimes. Yuna knew better than to trust it, though.

The taller woman plays with her hair. ‘’That’s a relief... If I can take you at your word. What’s the plan, then?’’

The petite girl continues, ‘’we know what she likes, right?’’

‘’Strawberries,’’ Yuna answers.

Nyx waves her hand dismissively. ‘’Yes, but I was thinking of something else.’’

‘’Cats!’’ [REDACTED] excitedly chimes in.

Crossing her arms, Nyx shakes her head. ‘’Not wrong, but try again.’’

Attempting a second time, Yuna replies, ‘’video games?’’

‘’Getting hotter,’’ hums Nyx.

‘’Arcades?’’ suggests [REDACTED].

Nyx flips her hair and flashes a brilliant smile, as if she’d won a million dollars. ‘’Bingo!’’ 

[REDACTED] claps, happy that she got it right. She looks expectantly at Nyx. ‘’So are we going to take her to the arcade?’’

The other woman confirms her friend’s query by nodding her head. ‘’Yes,’’ Nyx says as presses her fingers together, ‘’but we need to somehow get her into one without arousing suspicion.’’

Leaning back and crossing her legs, Yuna thinks for a moment. ‘’Hm,’’ she starts, ‘’this might be difficult. After all, it’s very suspicious of us to take her to an arcade on the day of her birthday. She’s going to realize, and it’ll ruin the surprise.’’ She looks over to Nyx, who seems to be in agreement. ‘’So how are we going to disguise it?’’

Obviously, Nyx has already cooked up a plan. She straightens her posture, making sure that both of her friends are attentive to what she’s going to say. ‘’Well, first of all, we’re going to rent out an arcade. Secondly, we will have to trick her into going in. Thirdly, we’re going to need bait for that to happen.’’

‘’How are we going to bait her?’’ [REDACTED] timidly asks.

Nyx leans in, a mean gleam in her eye. ‘’She loves cats. If she saw a poor, injured kitty, she’d be compelled to save it. We’ll need some back-up. Here’s the plan.’’ 

‘’Christmas party on the 25th at 8 PM, don’t be late or else you’re a real stinker!!!’’ reads the text message that’s displayed on Luna’s phone screen. She’s not quite sure how to use all of the applications yet, but Nyx had insisted that she would download this particular one. It’s good for keeping in contact with each other, apparently. [REDACTED] claimed that the application had ‘’cute stickers’’, meanwhile Yuna had said ‘’everyone’s using it.’’

The long-haired beauty walks down the streets of the city. Today is Christmas Eve, and she plans on celebrating it with the people she cares about the most. She’d invited a fellow classmate, someone from her art class. Since this is a student party, and not a private celebration, she assumed it was okay if she brought along a plus one. Luna isn’t particularly the biggest fan of parties or large gatherings in general. She prefers to be cozied up in bed, playing her favorite games. But her friends had invited her, and they said everyone was going to be there. Spending an evening with her girls doesn’t sound so bad.

The glistening pure white snow crunches underneath her boots. Next to her is a tall young man with green and black hair. He walks close to her, nearly touching her shoulders. Luna’s face lights up like the stars in the night sky, her eyes full of wonder as she takes in the breathtaking scenery. The city is beautiful at night, yes, but it’s even more magical during winter. The ground’s completely covered in white. Meanwhile high above, Christmas lights and decorations are strung up on buildings. Every store they walk past boasts enchanting decorations: reindeers, little santas, and neon signs wishing everyone a merry Christmas.

Apparently, the party is located at a downtown bar. Luna couldn’t figure out the GPS (is that what they call it?), so Sol is the one showing the way. He periodically glances down at his phone, making sure that they are walking in the right direction. People pass by them, most of them are going home to their families. After all, it was getting late. Perhaps a little too late, because as they approach the bar, they notice that it’s completely dark inside. The sign on the door reads: Closed for Christmas!

A puzzled look spreads across Luna’s face. ‘’This can’t be right. Nyx said that it should be this bar.’’

Her classmate scratches his head. Although deep down, he’s letting out a sigh of relief. ‘’Maybe she gave you the wrong time. It’s closed. The party’s over.’’ He darts his yellow-orange eyes over to her face to gauge her reaction.

Luna shakes her head. ‘’No, I’m looking at her text right now. It says 8 PM.’’

‘’Are you sure?’’ Sol asks, looking at Luna’s phone screen. He reads it for a moment and raises his eyebrows. ‘’Damn. Maybe she played a prank on you.’’

The college girl jerks her body. She casts blue eyes on Sol’s face. They’re full of disbelief. ‘’No, Nyx wouldn’t do something like that!’’

This only causes Sol to scoff. ‘’You’d be surprised. This city is full of snakes,’’ he sneers. Under that tone of voice lies something more sinister. ‘’We should go. I’ll walk you home.’’

Luna thought that perhaps Sol was right. After all, this particular place looks desolate. Most of the shops on this street have already closed down for the night. Unlike the streets they’d crossed earlier, where people were still hustling and bustling about, this one didn’t have a single soul roaming around. 

‘’Meow.’’

Luna swiftly turns around. ‘’Huh, did you hear that?’’ 

She freezes in her tracks the moment she sees a little white kitty in front of her. It appears to be injured, with a bandage wrapped around one of its legs. Luna lets out a little gasp. ‘’Oh no, poor thing!’’ she exclaims, as she starts following the cat. It’s more of an instinct, really. Nyx knows that Luna has a pure heart. That’s why it’s quite easy to trick her.

Peeking her head out from behind a wall, not too far away from where Luna and Sol are, Nyx watches her friend intently. She has to make sure that everything goes according to plan. So far, so good. However, there is just one thing that ticks her off. That strange-looking man. Why the hell is he here? She thought Luna would come alone. Damn it. However, as things are now, the probability of him getting in the way is low. 

Behind Nyx stands Yuna and [REDACTED]. They’re all fashionably clad in winter coats and boots. ‘’It’s so cold,’’ mutters Yuna. Her breath comes out as smoke. ‘’I hope this goes by quickly.’’ Her friends nod in agreement. Everyone wants Luna to get inside the arcade as fast as possible. It’s perhaps 300 meters away from where they’re standing now. It all depends on Aaliyah now, who’s been diligently luring the cat to go in the right direction. 

It’s honestly amazing that Luna isn’t suspicious of the whole situation. The cat isn’t limping at all, despite having a bandage wrapped around its leg. It also looks well-groomed and well-fed. It certainly isn’t a stray, and [REDACTED] had just wrapped its leg in bandage. She isn’t studying vet med, but human med is close enough, no?

Nyx knows how to play with people’s heart strings. Luna’s going to follow that pitiful little kitty into the arcade. The doors will be open. It’ll be dark. And then… Well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves, now.

The cat sniffs the air, following the scent of wet food, which Liyah had been tasked to carry around as bait. Her help didn’t come without a cost, though. Nyx had to reluctantly agree to buy her food for a whole week. Ack, her bank account suffers so. But that’s what she is willing to do for the people she cares about. Not that she’d ever admit that, of course.

Its white fur almost blends in with the snow when it makes its way to the arcade. Nyx has no idea where Liyah is. Her main concerns are as follows: first of all, a cat is, well, a cat. They’re unpredictable and have minds of their own. Second of all, Liyah could potentially be discovered. After all, running around town with several cans of opened cat food is suspicious, to say the least. Despite Nyx’s concerns, literally no one has been able to find where Liyah is. It’s strange, she leaves no footprints, no sounds and no trace of her existence at all. The only reason the girls know that she’s still cooperating with their plan is because Liyah will occasionally text them updates.

Luna calls out to the cat. ‘’Here, kitty kitty! I promise I won’t hurt you. Please, let me help.’’ The cat seemingly ignores her and continues trotting away from her. She picks up her pace, so that she can keep up with her white-furred friend. Sol, however, seems to be less enthusiastic.

‘’Luna,’’ he says as he follows behind her, ‘’something doesn’t feel right.’’

‘’I know, how could someone possibly leave this kitty all alone? How is it going to fend for itself with an injury?’’ she sighs in disappointment, as she keeps chasing the cat. Her face is flushed pink, and her hair is covered in half-melting snowflakes. ‘’We need to help it.’’

Yuna, Nyx and [REDACTED] make sure to follow along behind Sol and Luna, who are quickly approaching the arcade. After a short while, the two college students are standing outside of the arcade building. It appears to be closed. It’s completely dark inside, but the doors to the place are wide open. If it wasn’t for the fact that Luna regularly visits this place with her friends, she would’ve thought it was abandoned. No Christmas decorations are hung up, not a single soul inside it seems like. 

Something is definitely wrong, though. Luna feels as if she’s being watched, despite her not being able to spot anyone inside that place. The cat suddenly stops before the entrance, hisses, and darts away faster than she can react. ‘’Wait, Mr. Kitty!’’ she shouts after him, to no avail. Luna is ready to dash after it, but Sol is quicker. He grabs her arm. 

His weary eyes meet hers. ‘’Luna, I think we should go home. It’s too cold outside.’’

She immediately protests, ‘’but the cat–’’

‘’--Is going to be fine. Look at how fast it ran. It has most likely already healed from its injury. That coat was glossy white, too. Someone is taking care of it, I assure you.’’ He smiles, an attempt to reassure her. His grip on her arm doesn’t loosen, though.

‘’Fuck,’’ Nyx mumbles underneath her breath. ‘’Why didn’t that stupid cat go inside!?’’

‘’It must’ve been spooked,’’ Yuna sighs. ‘’It’s a cat. There was always going to be a risk of it running away.’’

Nyx throws her head back dramatically and groans. ‘’But we were so close!’’

Yuna fiddles with her scarf. ‘’Ugh, does this mean we have to enact Plan B?’’

The raven-haired woman looks exhausted. ‘’Yes. Plan B.’’

[REDACTED] pulls out something from her pocket. 

Nyx shoots her a confused look.

She simply tilts her head in response to Nyx’s confusion. ‘’You said we needed Plan B?’’

‘’I don’t think she meant the literal Plan B,’’ Yuna explains. 

‘’Oh.’’

The taller woman among the girls looks at Nyx. ‘’So, Plan B?’’

Plan B sucks. The elf costumes are itchy. And it’s freezing cold. At least Miyuna looks half-decent as Santa. [REDACTED] and Nyx, however, look ridiculous. Luna’s nervosity makes itself apparent by her fiddling with her fingers. She has no idea what is going on. Sol is suspicious of the whole situation. He narrows his eyes at the three cosplaying weirdos in front of him. He’s standing in front of Luna, as an attempt to shield her from said weirdos.

‘’Ho, ho, ho. Merry Christmas!’’ [REDACTED], dressed up as one of Santa’s little helpers, greets with glee. Nyx shoves an elbow at her.

‘’That’s not your line,’’ hisses the other elf. She proceeds to shoot Miyuna a menacing glare. Yuna hesitates. Her left eye twitches. Nyx doesn’t budge, her staredown is downright devious. 

Yuna sings a little prayer in her head, and ultimately forces a smile. The good thing about being a performer on the ice, is that those skills are transferable to everyday life. Flashing fake smiles is something she is very much used to. ‘’Ho, ho, ho. Merry Christmas!’’ Immediately after saying that, she wants to run away and hide inside a hole.

‘’Uh, merry Christmas?’’ Luna replies back with an uncertain tone of voice. She avoids eye contact. Sol, on the other hand, is still staring down the three strangers. [REDACTED], Yuna and Nyx feel a chill go down their spines. That guy is bad news. The three girls exchange a look with each other. They’re all thinking: we need to get rid of that guy.

‘’We’re Santa’s little helpers, and we’ve come here to share the Holiday spirit with you!’’ Nyx tries to sound as merry as she can. She points towards the dark entrance to the arcade. ‘’We’re giving away free gifts inside this arcade!’’

Luna flashes a hesitant smile. ‘’Oh, that’s great.’’

The dark-eyed elf raises an eyebrow. ‘’So, don’t you want to go in there and get yourself a little free gift?’’

The brown and purple haired woman shakes her head. ‘’No, I’d rather that kids who don’t have the opportunity to do so get a chance to celebrate Christmas. I don’t need anything.’’ Classic Luna. Putting others before herself. Normally, this is an admirable trait. In this situation, though, it’s more of an obstacle. 

[REDACTED] wipes away a tear from her eye. ‘’You’re so sweet!’’

Nyx growls. ‘’Too sweet. Jesus fucking Christ, woman.’’

‘’Excuse me?’’ Sol’s voice drops. He straightens his back as an attempt to hide Luna behind him. His eyes darken, and his eyebrows are knit together. The tension in the air is so thick, a knife could cut through it. The temperature, if possible, drops even more.

‘’Listen.’’ There’s a tinge of annoyance in Nyx’s voice, despite her best efforts to hide it. ‘’We have enough gifts to go around. Just get in there and have fun!’’

Luna turns her head around to observe the entrance of the arcade. It’s dark and silent. There’s no sound of giggling kids, no sound of presents being unwrapped, no sound of anyone being in there. Despite all of that, she feels that someone or something is watching her. A lump forms in her throat. She really doesn’t want to go in there.

The young man takes a step forward. His whole demeanor is hostile. ‘’Listen,’’ he manages to spit out, ‘’leave us alone. Now.’’ Sol’s knuckles are white from clenching his fists. 

Yuna tries to intervene. ‘’Maybe we should–’’

‘’And who are you?’’ scoffs Nyx. ‘’Some kind of wannabe hotshot? Leave us alone, you creep!’’

Those are fighting words.

The wrong kind of words.

Within seconds, her feet are dangling in the air. Sol is holding her up by the collar of her stupid elf costume. His eyes scream murder. Her eyes scream panic. The blood in Nyx’s body runs cold, and it’s not because of the negative temperatures outside. The others start to panic.

‘’Oh my God–’’

‘’Sol, let the elf down!’’

Before any of them can do anything, a dart whistles through the air. It hits Sol in the leg. The man looks confused. Then confusion morphs into dazedness, and the next thing Nyx knows, she’s down on the ground again. Apparently, she’s not the only one. The young man, who’d held her up earlier, is also down on the sidewalk. Faceplanted in the snow. Now it’s Nyx’s turn to be confused. She spins around, and sees that [REDACTED] is holding some kind of… straw?

‘’What did you do!?’’ Yuna exclaims as she covers her mouth in shock.

‘’Oh, don’t worry. It’s not horse tranquilizer!’’

‘’What exactly is it then!?’’

‘’Just your run-of-the-mill sedative,’’ [REDACTED] hums in a sing-song tone of voice. A beat passes. ‘’For humans,’’ she quickly adds.

‘’Why and how did you have that!?’’

‘’I mean, I have more stuff than just that…’’

Luna just stares in horror at Sol’s unmoving body. She’s unable to move, like a deer caught in the headlights. These elves are not messing around. Her body is in fight or flight mode, and right now, all she wants to do is toss Sol over the shoulder and run. That is, until the little elf starts shouting at her. ‘’Get inside that fucking arcade, or else!’’

Nyx grabs the unconscious Sol’s head. She’s holding something against his throat (it’s a tampon). Luna’s eyes widen in fear (she has no idea what a tampon is). Yuna feels a twinge of guilt tug at her heartstrings. This whole plan was a mess. ‘’Okay, I’ll do as you say. Please, don’t hurt him!’’ Luna blurts out with a shaky voice. She steels herself and briskly walks into the arcade. The lump in her throat grows bigger.

When she’s finally inside, the lights immediately turn on. She expects to be jumped, robbed, left cold and abandoned on the floor. She startles as she hears a dozen pops. And then hundreds of colorful specks fill the air, dancing in front of her vision. ‘’Happy birthday, Luna!’’ the crowd of people shout. They erupt into laughter and cheers as Luna looks on, confused, still high on adrenaline. Familiar faces line up in her field of vision. Brit, Jess, Liyah, Ai, the other Luna, and so many more. They’re all holding empty confetti poppers. 

Luna is too stunned to speak. Her jaw is on the floor. More people emerge. She recognizes Lily, Lilith and Kura. They’re all wishing her a happy birthday as she just stares, shell-shocked. After a few seconds pass, she finally scrambles her thoughts together, before stuttering out a: ‘’What’s going on?’’. Brit and Jess exchange a look.

Brittney is the first to reply. ‘’It’s your surprise party, of course.’’

Luna blinks. ‘’My what?’’ She doesn't have the time to ask more questions before she feels someone grab her by the shoulders. She jolts in the air, turns around, and sees a familiar face. However, that person is half-dressed as an elf, which confuses Luna even more.

‘’Your surprise party, duh!’’ Nyx exclaims, disguise shoddily taken off. Her dark eyes sparkle, like a little kid staring at their parents, expecting praise. She gets none, though. Instead, all she gets is a confused look from the taller woman.

Luna hesitates for a moment. ‘’But, what about the Christmas party?’’

‘’I lied,’’ Nyx bluntly confesses. ‘’To make sure you wouldn’t get suspicious. Pretty smart, eh?’’ 

‘’It somehow turned out worse than last time,’’ Yuna curtly cuts in. She rips her fake beard off as fast as humanly possible.

‘’What about Sol, is he okay?’’ asks Luna.

[REDACTED] appears behind Nyx and Yuna, no longer in elf costume. She gives her friend a reassuring smile. ‘’Your friend that’s outside? He should wake up in approximately 30 minutes. Don’t worry, I’ll have someone carry him inside.’’

Luna lets out a sigh of relief. 

Red and her band are performing on stage. The lively music blends in with the sound effects of the games from the arcade machines. Finny and Aster are competing at one of them. Scarlet makes a bet on who the winner will be. Amy, Joy and Evie wish Luna a happy birthday as they pass her by to grab another slice of pizza. The birthday girl herself is sat at one of the many tables in the premises. Across from her sits her three closest friends, who had explained everything to her. The cat, the arcade, the fake party. ‘’So,’’ starts Yuna, ‘’this was, once again, Nyx’s idea.’’ 

‘’Yep, pretty brilliant, huh?’’ Nyx smirks. Yuna shakes her head.

‘’We drugged a man, Nyx.’’

The raven-haired woman rolls her eyes at the accusation. ‘’We? Who’s we? [REDACTED] did that. And I have to say, thank you for saving my ass back there.’’ She playfully nudges the brunette next to her.

[REDACTED] takes a bite from her slice of strawberry cake before replying. ‘’It’s alright. I do tend to have these things on me, as they can come in handy.’’

‘’When and why would you ever need to carry around sedatives?’’ questions Luna. She’s clad in a comically large tiara and a pink sash that reads Birthday girl!!!. In front of her lies multiple gifts. Some small, some big. All of them carrying love and appreciation from her friends. 

Yuna raises her hands in frustration. ‘’That’s what I’ve been saying!’’

‘’Anyway,’’ Nyx clears her throat, ‘’back on topic. That stranger was certainly an… unpredictable factor. The plan was just to lure you inside the arcade. That’s it. No kidnappings involved. Honestly girl, I kind of blame you. I mean, I certainly didn’t expect you to invite a guy to a party. Well, everything turned out fine in the end. That guy’s still alive and breathing, and we managed to catch you by surprise!’’

Luna’s lips break into a shy smile. ‘’Yes, you did. But you know, you didn’t have to do all of this for me. I appreciate it, I really do.’’ She pauses. ‘’Although, next time, maybe we can do something at my place?’’ Her eyes are pleading. 

‘’That sounds like a great idea,’’ agrees Yuna. ‘’I’m actually kind of scared of what Nyx is planning to do on my birthday.’’

Nyx bristles. ‘’Hey! My plans always turn out okay in the end. Your birthday party is in good hands.’’

All the girls, except Nyx, laugh. This causes her to pout and cross her arms. ‘’Whatever,’’ she scoffs, ‘’let’s play some games. Winner gets free drinks from the losers.’’

Luna giggles. ‘’I’m in.’’

[ragnarockz]

Ok I’ve been thinking about your 50s!Agnes x reader one shot and it got me thinkin… schemer Agnes and her new found partner in crime rip through cities Bonnie and Clyde style. Just guns and passion.

Tip Jar 💰

THIS HAS BEEN PLAGUING ME SINCE YOU DROPPED IT INTO MY ASK AND I'M SO PLEASED. 🖤🤍

Inspo while writing: Me & My Girl - Theory of a Deadman (Me and my girl, we're the modern day Bonnie and Clyde/Oh it's just the two of us), Leg to Stand On - Theory of a Deadman, Smoke Gets In Your Eyes - The Platters, Pistol Packin' Mama - Bing Crosby, Twilight Time - The Platters (When purple-colored curtains/Mark the end of the day/I'll hear you, my dear, at twilight time), Only You - The Platters, Love Potion No. 9 - The Clovers

DISCLAIMER: Gunplay

She stares you down from the barrel of her gun as she hovers above you, wild eyed and beautiful and you wonder just how the fuck you wound up on the floor in her house with a gun pointed down at your ruined face.

She looks perfect, is the first thing you notice about the scenario, maybe even too perfect in the moment. How the hell can she look like good while she's holding her own; standing over you in such a way you have nowhere to go. Your eyes dart down quickly to take her in and her stance; legs wide and that plaid dress hugging every one of her curves insatiably.

"Now, now, Hon...what do we have here? Someone perfect to play the part of my partner in crime, hmm?"

Her voice comes out loud and clear as she keeps her finger hovering over the trigger; her gaze never leaves your face. She's literally locked and loaded and ready to go; the look in her eye is glossy and crazed.

What had you been doing before you found yourself wound up on the floor anyway?

You try to push your memory backwards but a pang pushes against your skull and it feels like your brain is swelling into something dangerous when you try to remember. There's something blocking you; disallowing you to push that far back and so, you don't allow it to. You're scared of the consequences if you do push a little too far.

"Attagirl...you don't worry your pretty little head over trivial things like that...besides, I need you to get up and help me..."

And with that, you hear the safety click back and her finger slip away and the barrel of the gun dip as she stashes that handgun into the left pocket of her dress which she smooths down and gives you an award winning smile and suddenly, the danger she presents to you turns you on.

"Help you? With what, Agnes?"

You find your voice as you slowly lift yourself up onto your forearms; bending your knees. You feel your muscles shake in fear but Agnes quickly eases that out from your system as she pushes out her hand for you to grab as she helps you back up onto your feet.

You know she can smell the fear coming off of you; she's always been one with intuition you could never rightfully explain. She knows too much at all times; before you can even let the thought out of your mouth she's already spoken and answer it. You wonder if she has some sixth-sense or rather, clairvoyance. Agnes, the woman next door, is more than just your nosy neighbor.

Clearly.

"Why do you have a gun?"

Your question comes out as if you're asking her why it's raining outside or why she has azaleas in her yard and not lilacs. With a wave of her hand, she laughs you off before that same hand comes down to pat the bulge in her pocket. Your thoughts reel away to other things and another time and place where she had you on her couch and-

"Oh don't you worry, Sweetheart. I got you one, too."

You watch as she pats the right side of her dress and that's when you notice the second bulge tucked away underneath the fabric of her dress. She quickly turns on her heels without another word and you're forced to follow you because of course, something draws you in and you cannot pull away from her.

An invisible leash tethered from you to her and it sparks in your brain that it would be of purple light.

She leads you past a door that enters into her garage. Her car is parked inside, a dark colored Ford V8 and something then, nags at the part of your brain that you just can't seem to recall anything. She shoots you a smile over her shoulder as she leads you to the car and opens up the back door. She moves away just a little so you can peer into the backseat. You see a suitcase and shoot her a sideways glance.

"There's an outfit in there for you...put it on...leave your clothes here in the garage and then get into the passenger seat. I'll be right back, Honey."

She slips past you as she heads back for the door and leaves you in her garage. You continue to stare at the suitcase and wonder just what the hell she has in store for you.

-

You're sitting in the passenger seat of her car with your hands flat on the top of your thighs and you're sweating through your wool suit in nervousness. The outfit she had for you was a full men's suit, complete with a hat and tie. She somehow knew your size exactly; right down to your shoes. You gulp as you peer out the windshield and see Agnes' shadow enter through the door frame before she does. She looks exactly the same just as she did except, she's layered on bright red lipstick and added a pillbox hat with a veil that covers over her forehead and just slightly her left eye.

She smiles at you, all teeth, when she catches you staring at her through her windshield.

You can tell she's carrying both guns with the way her dress sags around her hips. She rounds the car, not in a hurry at all, and you can hear the eerie clicks of her black kitten heels strike the concrete below her. She opens and gets into the drivers seat and takes out her gun and then yours; handing yours over to you as she keeps hers in her lap. She digs into her pocket again and takes out two gold bands; one topped with a single diamond.

Your heart lurches in your chest.

She puts hers on on the correct finger before silently handing you your band. It's a man's wedding ring and once again, as you slip it on your ring finger, it fits you like a goddamn glove.

"I do..."

Agnes whispers under her breath before she pulls out her keys from her pocket and starts up her car. You lean back into your seat and close your eyes.

"I do..."

Slips out from under your own breath and you can sense her smiling from your response to her solemn vow.

You've tied the knot in whatever goddamn scheme she's roped you all up in once again.

-

"You see that man over there, Hon? I want you to shoot him for me."

She could have ended that sentence with a hand-drawn heart with the way she said it. All sweetness and sunshine; like the two of you were playing house. And she was, in a way, the two of you posing as a married couple. Posing as a husband and wife, no less. You shifted in your seat and felt the weight of your gun in your lap.

"You've fired a gun before, haven't you, Handsome?"

She turns to look at you now and that sweetness in her voice doesn't betray the sweet look on her face. Her lipstick looks perfect against her lips as does the veil that adds an allure of mystery to her. She's done up like a doll and it makes your mouth water and your clit throb. Husband and wife no doubt about it.

She leans in close to you, facing you, and you cannot make yourself look away from her. Your eyes travel down hers and land on her lips and yours, slightly open in anticipation. She laughs under her breath as she reaches over into your lap and grabs hold of your gun. She angles it in such a way that the barrel is pointed at your body; the muzzle pressing slightly into the crotch of your dress pants. You hold your breath and continue to stare at her lips and watch as they, slightly open up for you.

"Oh...you've definitely fired a gun before..."

You almost don't hear her as she presses the muzzle harder and you can feel it through your pants and gently rub against your clit. Your shoulders sag and your eyes slowly close and you pray to god in that moment, she doesn't have an itchy trigger finger.

"You shoot that man for me...make sure he's down and dead...can you do that for me? For your wife?"

Your eyes open and you go back to staring at her lips. You nod your head yes before you speak in the same hushed tone as she.

"Yes, Dear."

"Good boy. Got get him, Tiger."

She drops the gun in your lap and you feel the weight as it drops; the pang deep inside of you as your mind flutters back to that day on her couch with her on your lap and her cock buried deep inside of you. You stifle a moan as you pick up your gun with your left hand and slowly, carefully, open the passenger door with your right hand and let yourself out of her car.

The edges of Westview are dark but you see Agnes' target. He's standing near the edge of...something...with this hands in his pockets. He doesn't seem too dangerous but Agnes knows best and you know better than to deny and defy her.

Especially when she's literally give you a gun and sends you off to kill a man.

You stay low, crouched. The gun heavy in your hand as you sneak towards your target. Your clothing allows you to move easily; much more than any dress or skirt would have allowed you to. You can feel Agnes' gaze on you as she watches you slink closer, closing in on your prey. It almost feels like she's pushing your back to move you closer; honing in on your target.

You click back the safety and the man turns his head to your direction.

You stand up, widen your stance and bring your gun out and up.

The man barely moves as you see his hand reach down to his pocket and before you know it, you see the flash from the muzzle of your own gun as it lights up the night around you.

The man drops down silently and fades away into the grass but you can't see if he's down for the count.

You close the gap between you and the man with quick, long strides. Your gun still pointed to where the man would be now in the grass, ready for any sudden movements.

You get right beside the man now and when you look down past your gun and see him, something fires in the back of your brain. He doesn't look like you. He doesn't look like Agnes or Wanda or Herb. He doesn't fit in. His outfit is wrong. His hair is wrong. He feels out of place.

Your hand shakes slightly as you slowly bring your pointer finger back and tease the trigger. He doesn't move or speak but you know, in your heart of hearts, he's still alive.

A blaring blast fills the dark again and the flash erupts and the smell of gunsmoke fills your lungs and without another thought, you look back over your shoulder.

Agnes is watching you from the car with a grin on her face that makes you sick.

You click the safety and bring your gun down and away; shove it deep into your pants pocket and turn away from the dead man in the grass. You follow your path back to Agnes' car and watch as you get closer, how big her eyes have become. Saucer-like, excited. She's basically drooling; vibrating with excitement.

You get back to your side, the passenger seat, and close the door behind you. You take the gun out of your pocket and toss it down onto the floor.

She moves quickly; basically climbing of her seat to get into your lap once more. She's straddling you, hard, as she covers your face in hungry kisses. She bites down onto your bottom lip, licks her tongue over your skin before she slips it into your mouth. She moans into you and you feel the same pang throb through your lower body as you try to close your legs.

She laughs into your mouth as her hands come up to cradle your face as she kisses you deeper and grinds herself down into your lap. You can feel her gun in her pocket; basically rubbing against you as she moves her hips.

There's a dead man in that field and she's trying to devour you.

"...Agnes...Agnes...why did I kill that man for you?..."

You whisper into her mouth as she tries to kiss you still; the side of your lips being messily covered now with her red lipstick. She fucking giggles back into your mouth and it makes your stomach lurch.

"...Testing a theory, Love..."

"What?!"

"I wanna see where the border lies..."

"The...border...to what?"

She pulls her face away from yours to give you a hard look; her head tilting slightly to the right. Her eyes squint as if she's really looking at you now. You feel that sharp swell in your brain again.

"To Ralph, of course."

You almost don't hear her as she quickly tilts her head down to look into your laps. Her left hand drags down the side of your face; nails scratching your skin which makes you wince. All the way down your neck to your chest; ghosting of your breasts under your gentleman's clothes. You hold your breath and hear the rustling of her dress as she takes the gun out from her pocket.

"Agnes...what...does Ralph have to do with all of this?"

Agnes, not to your surprise, doesn't answer you with words. Oh no; she's got that gun between the two of you now as she presses it once more into the crotch of your pants. She never looks up at you but you can see the semi-amused look scattered on her perfectly done up face.

"You keep those sweet eyes behind me, Hon...tell Mama when you see him...if you do..."

She lets out a fevered breath as she starts to move her hand with the gun; rubbing that muzzle up and down. Your mind is screaming at you with how wrong this all is; all of it.

You killed someone.

You and Agnes.

Now she's got you in her car, not too far away from the crime with her gun between your legs and hers and-

Your eyes widen and your mouth parts slowly as you see him.

You see Him.

But, it's not a Him.

She.

She's wearing a black cocktail dress with a veil, much like Agnes'. All in black.

Just on the border Agnes was talking about.

Your brain can't really wrap around what's happening but you understand it in some weird way.

"...Agnes...He's...here..."

Her head snaps back up to look you in the face; study your eyes. She never once looks back over her shoulder but from the corner of your own eyes, you can see that wide smile spread across her face.

"Oh, good. Ralph won't think I upped and left her for you, Sweetheart."

You almost don't catch her slip as she tosses her head back. You watch her perfectly curled hair bounce slightly as she goes right back to grinding into your lap along with her gun.

That purple light tugging you tighter and tighter through her fingers.

[drewsbuzzcut]

So Lovely, It Feels So Right

Mat barzal x model!fem!reader

A visceral in doses fic

Warnings: SMUT, alcohol consumption, and mentions of tattoos (let me know if I missed anything)

Tonight’s the Isles wags’ annual galentine’s get together. It’s nothing fancy, just an intimate gathering at the Martin’s house. There are drinks, snacks, and a small gift exchange.

After laughing so hard your stomachs hurt and drinking various bottles of wine, it’s finally your turn to open your gift. You gently pull out the tissue paper and uncover a black thong with “i ❤️ barzal” printed on the front. You let out an infectious giggle, your cheeks growing red hot.

“Syd! Oh my god. I cannot believe you got me this,” you shriek, hands covering your eyes in faux shyness. You actually liked your little gift- that’d also be a gift for Mat.

“I wanted to get you something on brand for your relationship. We all know you love taking your man to bed. Anyways, soon you’ll be a Barzal,” she points out and you grow flustered thinking about your upcoming nuptials.

Once everyone opens their gifts and finishes their last glass of wine, someone suggests going to a tattoo shop and who are you to not go through with it? Maybe it isn’t the best idea for a bunch of inebriated women to go get tattoos, but you’ll never be one to deny a good time. Mat’s in for a treat later.

-

Walking up to your front door serves as a challenge, your heel keeps getting caught in the cobblestone of your driveway. It doesn’t help that your buzz is still lingering in your limbs. Finally pushing the door open, you sashay into your house. The sting of your fresh tattoo is very well present as you think about what Mat’s reaction will be like.

You walk in looking disheveled but content. Your cheeks are rosy and your eyes are glossy. Your hair is in its signature messy bun, tank top hiked up your chest to hide your newest addition to your ink collection. You don’t get far before you find Mat in the game room, playing around at the pool table.

“Baby,” you announce your presence, slowly making your way towards him.

As you round a corner of the pool table, your fingers trace the “Barzal” engraved in the wood. Your engagement ring catches every angle of the lighting, making it shine and making Mat’s heart race. He cannot wait to marry you.

“Hey, have a good night?” He asks, pulling you into his arms and swaying with you.

“A wonderful night. We laughed a lot. We also had a lot of wine,” you answer with your eyes closed in delight.

“I can tell,” that piqued your interest. You pop a single eye open.

“What do you mean?” You hop onto the edge of the pool table, arms looped over your fiancés shoulders.

“You’re all giggly and touchy. Major signs that you’re drunk,” he explains, kissing your neck.

You stay silent, too focused on his lips on your skin.

“Did Nolan go down easy?” You finally clear your head from thoughts of the man in front of you.

“Of course. He’s the most perfect baby. He had his bottle and I rocked him in the chair for a couple of hours before putting him in his crib. He’s all bundled up, too. He looks so precious,” Mat says and you coo just thinking about your baby boy.

“I’m glad he didn’t give you any trouble with his bottle. He’s been giving me hell just because I try to feed him with the bottle,” you sigh, body leaning into his.

“He’s a little momma’s boy. I can’t blame him.” You definitely agree with that.

Minutes pass by, Mat and you just looking into each other’s eyes. Every now and then he’ll play with your ring. It’s become a habit of his.

“I’m not drunk you know you,” you tut and tilt your head to the side, your eyes playfully glare him.

“Tipsy but not drunk,” you add, your heel clad feet reaching out to rub against his muscly thighs. He immediately catches your hint. You are feeling needy which is a usual occurrence when you drink wine.

“What do you need, pretty girl?” His voice gets raspy and he picks up your legs one by one and takes off your heels.

“You, baby. I need you,” you pull him down into a kiss, head starting to spin when he invades your mouth with his tongue.

His hands caress your thighs over your jeans, steadily rising to the button and zipper. The heat in the room rises and the moisture starts to collect in your underwear when he starts to undo your pants.

“Holy shit,” he murmurs when he sees your specially made panties.

You giggle and pull him into another kiss, this time you’re the one shoving your tongue down his throat. You grip and pull at his soft locks, just the way his touch grips your every nerve ending and sets them alight. Plus, the moans that vibrate through his chest are enough of a reason to not let go.

He guides you back to lay down, your body erupting in chills from his touch on your bare skin and the cold of the table. He softly squeezes at your legs in a subtle tease before pulling down your thong with his teeth, eyes zeroed in on your reaction. Just by the way your chest heaves and your legs subconsciously widen is proof enough that you’re enjoying what he’s doing.

Your core glistens for him and he wants so badly to dive into your wet folds, but he always wants to tease you. If it’s for a minute or more depends on his mood. He’s feeling giving and generous, so he won’t tease you too much but just work you up until you’re antsy. He kneels down, eyesight perfectly level with one of his favorite sights: you, wet and begging. He lays kisses up your legs, nipping tenderly at the stretch marks on your inner thighs. You reach down and intertwine your fingers with his, your ring biting at his skin, a reminder of your future. Continuing on his path upward, he purses his lips and blows a cool stream of air on your wetness, eyes darkening at your whimpers. He lets a small laugh pass through his lips and presses a sweet kiss just below your belly button.

“Do something, please,” you beg, squeezing his hand.

“Do what?” He acts innocent, but you know he’s just trying to get you to voice your needs.

“Eat me out or fuck me. Just do something,” you whine, a low scream falling from your lips as he leans up to mouth at your neck. His clothed cock rubs against your pussy, sending tingles throughout your entire body.

“You’re sexy when you’re bossy,” he whispers in your ear, sending you into a frenzy of sexual tension that’s dying to be resolved.

“If you don’t do anything, I’ll just get myself off,” you sass, closing your legs just a bit.

Mat stops you before you can close them all the way, his fingers opening you up so he can spit on your clit. The feral urge you have for him increases just by the action alone. You lift up your hips, but he quickly pins them down. Your annoyed huff turns into an airy moan when his thick fingers spreading your wetness around your fluttering hole. He delicately kisses around your mound, pressing a loving kiss to your clit.

The few deep breaths you take don’t prepare you for the way pleasure engulfs your body when Mat wraps his lips around your clit. His tongue nudges it while his lips continuously suction around the bud. You tug at your own hair, feeling your mind grow fuzzy when you hear his obscene moans. The vibration feels even better.

“You like that, baby?” He speaks his words into the apex of your thighs.

You numbly nod your head, already high on the overwhelming bliss that comes from his mouth alone.

“Words, baby,” he trades his lips for his finger tip, softly massaging slow circles into your bundle of nerves.

“I love it so much. It feels so good,” you comply albeit being breathless.

Every rational thought flees your head when he starts tracing his name with the tip of his tongue, sending you on a hazy spiral towards your orgasm.

“Fuck, baby. I’m yours,” you chant, knowing he was staking his claim even though he doesn’t need to.

You don’t even realize him pulling away until he’s pushing your tank top further up your chest, unveiling your boobs. He loves when you’re braless. He licks his lips, leaving sucking kisses all up your torso. For a quick moment you snap out of your daze, remembering your new tattoo that your fiancé still doesn’t know about. Luckily, he doesn’t pull your top off all the way.

“Is my pretty girl still sensitive?” He knows damn well your boobs are still sensitive from breastfeeding for 7 months.

You whisper a yes, but it’s quickly replaced with a cry as he softly sucks them into his mouth. It doesn’t last long because you’re still producing milk, so he decides to suck on the flesh surrounding your nipples. No low cut tops are in your future unless you want people to witness the craving Mat’s mouth had. You will definitely be looking like a cheetah after he’s done with you.

You lift your hips up into him, begging for friction, but also distracting him from eventually making his way to your tattoo. You didn’t want him to see it just yet.

He spreads your folds open again, not holding back and he immediately starts lapping up your arousal. The slurping noises fill your ears and his ravenous moans make you even wetter.

“You taste so good, pretty girl. I can eat your pretty pussy all day,” he praises, voice sweet and thick like honey.

“I love you,” you reply.

“I love you.” His words are followed by his tongue entering your weeping hole.

Your body arches off the pool table, screams and moan ripping from your throat as he fucks you with his tongue. Again, your hips lift up, but this time Mat doesn’t press them down. He holds up your lower body, burying his face in your pussy.

“Fuck. Just like that, baby. Please don’t stop.”

The vibrations from his moans and grunts make your brain short circuit, the mind numbing sensation has you in its palm.

You reach down, a hand back in his hair and the other planted on his upper back. The cold metal of your ring feels nice against his warm skin.

“I’m going to cum,” you whine, your cunt clenching down on his tongue.

“Not yet.”

“Please,” it comes out in a gasp, Mat’s thick fingers sinking into your pussy.

His fingers move slowly in a come hither motion, dragging out your pleasure and making you wait until you can let that knot in your stomach snap. His tongue flattens against your clit, his face moving side to side to continuously apply friction.

“Maty, please. I can’t do it. I need to cum, please,” you beg, legs closing around Mat’s head.

“I need you to hold it baby,” he whispers against your soaking cunt.

“I can’t. I can’t,” your body is trembling and you’re trying to steady yourself, but it feels too good. Your orgasm is on the brink of destruction.

He sets you down, one hand pressing into your lower abdomen while his fingers fuck up into you. Throwing your head back, both your arms reach out to grip onto something. Tears stream down your face, but you’ve never felt more alive.

“Cum for me, baby. Make a mess,” he finally gives you the green light.

Everything goes blurry, the pressure in your stomach releases and you feel liquid squirt out of you, and the state of euphoria your body is in is unexplainable. Mat’s fingers work you through your orgasm with slow strokes but still enough to make you twitch.

“You’re so beautiful, my love. I didn’t know you could squirt like that,” he muses, pecking your thighs.

You whimper when he pulls his fingers out. It’s erotic the way your release drips down his hand. For a moment, you think he’ll lick it up, but you’re proven wrong when he gets you to sit up. He guides his fingers to your mouth and you willingly suck on them, moaning at the taste of yourself. Your eyes peer into his eyes, hooded and dark, they reel him in. Out are his fingers, and his lips press to yours. Salacious moans pass between your mouths when he sucks on your tongue. He’ll never get tired of your taste.

“I love you,” you whimper, wrapping your arms around his neck to keep him close.

“I love you,” he whispers against your lips, nipping and pulling at your bottom one.

You smile dazedly at him, feeling sleepy and cuddly in his arms.

“Come on, baby. Let me take you upstairs and get you in a bath,” he coos, rubbing at your back.

“In one minute. I want to stay here in your arms for a little while. I missed you today,” you kiss his chin and the side of his jaw.

“Nols and I did, too,” he says.

“Tomorrow we cuddle in bed all day,” you state.

“Whatever you want. Happy Valentine’s Day, baby. I love you,” he tells you.

You look over at the clock hanging on the wall and realize it’s well past midnight.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, baby daddy. I love you so much,” you kiss him once more.

“I actually have a small surprise for you,” you whisper into his mouth.

“What’s that, pretty girl?” He looks at you expectantly.

You pull your tank top over your head with one hand, so the other can still cover up your tattoo. Slowly, you move your hand away to finally show off the ‘13.’

“Holy shit. No way, babe. That’s hot,” Mat gasps, reaching out to touch it.

“Just for you, baby,” you softly whimper, your skin still sore from the incessant needle.

He looks at you with such tender love and feral, sexual desire. You can feel the tension fill the room again, your cunt begging for him and his cock straining against his basketball shorts. You’re both in for a long night.

a/n: Happy Valentine’s Day my lovelies! I hope you know you’re loved so much🫶 I hope you all enjoy!

[meiiuka]

Hi!! I'd like to request a oneshot (hurt-comfort) where Kokichi lies about something really serious and when and when the reader, (who is usually very calm and patient), realizes it was just a prank they gets really mad and upsed, I hope it's ok!

thank you for the idea anon! i hope you kokichi simps enjoy

kokichi ouma hurt-to-comfort as his s/o — oneshot:

category: one shot, hurt-to-comfort, fluff synopsis: you think you’ve caught your boyfriend kokichi ouma in a devastating lie. turns out, it was just a prank, but this still doesn't sit well with you. how could he lie about something so serious?

you watched kokichi scroll through his phone on the couch beside you, casually flipping past various apps as part of his routine. it wasn't until you saw him texting someone else that your eyes couldn't help but veer towards his screen. you didn't want to come off as too overbearing or possessive, but it was becoming hard to shrug off. you had front row seats to the ongoing message exchange between kokichi and this unfamiliar person. it probably wouldn't have been that big of a deal on a normal occasion, but something inside of you told you to worry.

you felt your heart thump loudly against your ribcage as your gaze darted away from the screen. was it right to be this concerned? you bit your tongue and took a quick peek at what the messages said.

the first one at the top was from the other person: "i miss you, my love” a wave of shock crashed over you before you could fully process anything, but your eyes kept going. the message right below it was somehow even worse.

"when are you going to come back to me and stop hanging out with that dumb bitch y/n?"

your eyes filled with horror. you couldn't help trembling at the words on your boyfriend’s screen.

kokichi quickly swiveled his head towards you with the audacity to have a huge smirk on his face. he was already in the process of responding with a heart at the end of his message but your eyes were too glossy with tears to read any of the words attached to the message.

your hurt feelings spilled out before you could control them. "kokichi, how could you do this? i thought i could actually trust you, but you betrayed me. how long have you been talking to someone else?!" you tried to stay firm in your anger but it morphed into crushing sadness.

"woah, let me explain…” his voice immediately dripped with regret as he rushed to hold your face with both of his hands, but you batted them away from you. "please... you've already hurt me enough. why are you doing this? i'm leaving."

you held your tears in your throat as you got up from the couch and headed towards the door.

“WAIT y/n it was just a prank! i’m not talking to anyone else!” his breath quickened as he chased you, "i'm... so sorry. i took it too far didn’t i? i just thought the look on your face would be hilarious if..." his voice trailed off. it hit him that there wasn't any justification for his thoughtless prank.

as you turned the handle to leave, kokichi’s panicked voice rang closely behind you, desperately pleading for your attention. you turned to face him, hot tears starting to scrape your cheeks. “you thought my pain would be funny?” your voice cracked in disbelief. “that’s not something you play around with, kokichi. how the hell would this ever be funny?”

his big sad eyes were genuinely remorseful. he took a step closer to reach his hand out to you. “i know. i’m really sorry. i didn’t think any of it through like i should’ve. you might not believe me, but never meant to hurt you like this..” his voice trembled slightly as he spoke. “i knew you’d see my phone screen if we were sitting together on the couch. that’s why like an idiot, i thought it’d be funny i’d pretend i was talking to another person…” meanwhile you felt torn between your pain and the softer side of kokichi that you knew existed. “it’s just that… i don’t understand why you would do this,” you cried, trying to control your emotions.

he took a deep breath as he struggled to put his regret into words. “i know i’m not always the best at telling you how i feel, but i do care about you. i want to make you laugh, not cry. so please let me make it up to you…” his words were starting to pull your defensive walls down but the hurt was still fresh. “how will i know you won’t pull another hurtful prank again?” you asked, your tone cautious yet still yearning for reassurance.

kokichi took your hand gently, his tone soft and comforting. “no more thoughtless pranks. i swear… if i do it again you can kick me but, i know you won’t have to.” he chuckled a little as he spoke but his regret was still evident.

“ok,” you whispered, “but you have to show me that you mean it. and let me see the messages, because part of me is still afraid it was a real person.” kokichi nodded, handing you his phone the moment you asked. he lightly squeezed your hand. “i won’t mess up like this again. i’ll be there for you in the way you’ve always deserved.”

relief washed over you as this mystery person tuned out to be kokichi’s own number. this prank was stupid, you thought to yourself, shaking your head slightly. “i see it now,” you sighed with a quivering voice. “i’m sorry i got so upset. i know you were just trying to be funny but this just got to me for some reason.”

kokichi rushed to interrupt you. “no! don’t be sorry for anything right now, y/n. i’m dumb for not thinking before acting.” he buried his face in his hands. “sitting here doing nothing isn’t gonna help me, so i’ll do what i can now to help you. because that’s what matters most to me.”

you could feel the weight of your pain starting to dissolve. his arms opened for a hug as he leaned in, wrapping his arms around you in a warm hug. your tears fell against his shoulder as you cried. he rubbed your back and held you for a moment as you savored the feeling. you felt vulnerable having him hold you so closely but it soothed the ache you had in your chest.

“i promise, love,” he whispered against your ear, “i will never do anything like this again. it hurts me to see you cry like this, especially knowing i’m the one who caused it.” you relaxed in his embrace. he pulled away to look at you, hands perched above your shoulders as he spoke. “how about i treat you to dinner? i know it won’t fix anything but i want to show you i care somehow.”

you laughed at his effort. “okay babe,” you replied, “let me go get ready and i’ll be right down.”

“i love you, y/n,” he murmured softly, pulling you in before planting a kiss against your lips. “let me make it up to you”

[yourbravestpigeon]

Grandpa AU - 2025

Kostchei took a deep breath and sighed, dialing the last number.

“Hello?”

“It’s me”, he said, counting on Alberich to recognize his voice even through the tinny phone line. “Are you home right now?”

“Of course I’m home, I answered the phone you twat”, Alberich said. “What do you want?”

“I lost my keys. Well actually, I lost my coat with my keys and my wallet and I’m kind of cold.”

“Shit night”, Alberich commented. “How the hell did you lose your coat?”

“I was in a bar.”

“Really? You, the misanthrope?”

“It was- listen, I don’t have a lot of change on me for the phone box. Can I crash on your couch tonight?” It was a humiliating, infuriating thing to ask, and Kostchei had severely weighed the pros and cons of maybe just spending the night driving around on public transports or on the floor of a train station. When he’d been younger he would have done it, no hesitation, but with his joints already aching from the cold and his back feeling stiff on a good day, he’d reluctantly called the number thankfully still listed in phone books.

“I guess.”

Can you pick me up, Kostchei wanted to ask, but his pride wouldn’t let him. His time ran out with a click at that moment, too, rendering the point moot. He stared at the receiver for a moment. He just hoped Margaret wouldn’t resent him for it.

Kostchei hunched his shoulders against the freezing cold and started the twenty-minute walk to Alberich’s apartment. He’d been at his front door once, years and years ago, planning to ring the doorbell and smack him in the face when he’d open up, but Coppelia had convinced him it would just worsen Kostchei’s standing. This time he did ring and was buzzed through the intercom, walking up flights of stairs till he spotted the ridiculous name on a bell.

Much as he hated to admit it, Alberich did have a nice apartment. It was surprisingly big and high ceilinged for someone who hadn’t bought new tshirts in the thirty years he’d known him, and things started to make sense when Alberich showed him into the living room. There was a couch and a turned on TV, but other than that it was mostly endless amounts of bookshelves, all made of the same nice wood and in excellent condition. Some simply lined the walls but others were placed at jarring angles, the placement and different heights creating a cityscape of reading material in the large room. Two more areas branched off it, frames freed of the doors they probably once held, and on the other side he could see more overflowing shelves, containing everything from crummy paperbacks to gleaming leather volumes. To his left, a grandfather clock was ticking loudly.

Kostchei wasn’t sure where the man slept, but Alberich had effectively built a small library out of the apartment.

He refused to give him the gratification of gazing around, only focusing on what was directly in front of them, in the center of the living room, or main room, or whatever Alberich might call it in this realm of his. The couch looked threadbare, but it didn’t matter because a whole block of coffee-table books had been stacked waist-high against its back, hundreds of pounds worth of glossy covers showing where the money had ended up instead. There was a coffee table to go with the books, too, boxes of magazines visible beneath the glass tabletop. A couple children coloring books were resting on top of it, which explained all the red crayon smeared on one side of the couch.

Next to it he spotted a familiar looking armchair, a sight that twisted his stomach even more than the traces of a child in this apartment. Just like right now he’d seen him take a seat in it before, in a different apartment and a different time. Alberich folded his legs. Like countless times before…

“Make yourself at home”, he offered, as if they weren’t both wishing each other the worst every time they met.

“For the record”, Kostchei stated, “I’m here because everyone else I know is out of town for the holidays.”

“I’m just delighted you lost your wallet.”

“I’ll sleep on the couch, I assume? Or is that your bed?” He picked up one of the pillows. Like everything in the household that wasn’t book related, it was dingy and old.

“I do have a bedroom”, Alberich said, nodding in the direction of the hallway. Kostchei must have missed the door when he’d entered, being busy with the glaring wrongness of setting foot over his threshold. So a three bedroom apartment. Even for something in the outskirts of London the rent couldn’t be pretty.

“I can see why you need to eat all your meals in the university cafeteria now.”

“It’s worth it”, Alberich shrugged.

Kostchei finally sat down, making a point of not settling too comfortably. He glanced out one of the windows: you could climb onto the fire escape from one of them, and he could make out a rain-filled ashtray on the outer windowsill.

“Just pretend I’m not there”, he ordered, realizing he didn’t have his paperback with him anymore (coat pocket), but too proud to pick up one of the many books in his reach. Only now that he’d processed most of the visual impressions his brain registered the hum of background noise: Opposite of him, a movie was running at a low volume on the TV while another voice babbled from the radio sitting in a corner. The crossing noises created an environment of overstimulation that didn’t surprise Kostchei, who’d always maintained that Alberich wasn’t brilliant but simply insane. His host mercifully turned off the TV, lowering the sound sources to one if you didn’t count the nerve-racking ticking of the clock.

“Mind if I keep the radio on?”, he asked, rhetorically Kostchei could only assume. It was a report on some Puccini piece, and he wanted to throw up.

“I don’t mind.”

“Do you want a glass of water?”

“No.”

“Did you have a lot to drink?”

“Not at all.”

“Really? Then why’d you go to a bar on the 25th?”

“Are you starved for human interaction or why the incessant small talk?”, Kostchei finally snapped. Alberich smiled that cocky smile he hated.

“Does my apartment look like I have a lot of visitors over?”

“It looks like you’re trying too hard.”

It didn’t really; it looked like he’d known him all these years, as if someone had torn him open and rubbed his insides all over the walls of the apartment until they’d been absorbed by the mortar.

“Life is all about self-definition”, Alberich commented. He was speaking earnestly, spiteful smile receding behind those bottomless eyes for a minute. “You can make yourself into anything. You just have to be smart enough to know how.”

“And ruthless enough.”

“That does help, yes.”

The regular no-shits-given Alberich was back, or maybe the sincere existentialist who’d just come out was the baseline version and the derisive one just the way the fucker amused himself. Kostchei didn’t know which face he hated more. Whatever self-definition Alberich did in private, Kostchei wanted to knock the man’s head through the glass table and leave a fake suicide note in red kiddy crayon.

“I’ll leave first thing tomorrow”, he declared and laid down on the couch to pretend he was asleep for the rest of the evening. Alberich turned off the light at some point but kept sitting in the armchair listening to his dumb radio transmission, only quietly vanishing into his bedroom when the last notes of Puccini had rung out.

[tiny-wooden-robot-fics]

Against the Tide - Eleven

Rating: Explicit Pairing(s): Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez x Original Female Character, Silvio Ricci x Original Female Character Characters: Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez (Bleach), Silvio Ricci (Ikemen Prince), Olivia DuBois (Original Female Character of Color) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergent, Pirates and Princes, Slow Burn, Action/Adventure, Worldbuilding, Angst, Some Subtle Racism, Sexual Tension, Political Subplot

Previous Chapter: Ten | Next Chapter: Twelve

Summary:

She thinks of Silvio again, and words that he's said to her. "Even so, why would you want that? War is hell. And Vora going to war means using up the resources that you deem so precious. Lives would be lost - the lives of your friends, maybe your family, people you cherish. If you claim to love Vora so much, why would you want to put it through that kind of hell again?"

"I don't," Barnes answers. "Ideally we'd get what we want without ever having to take up arms. But if war is the only way to gain our independence, then it's a necessary sacrifice."

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Silvio stands there for a long time after they’ve left, staring at the ugly, scarred wood of the inn room door. He feels hollow and numb, like a fruit that’s been scooped of all its meat and is just an empty skin. 

That isn’t what this is and you know it. Neither of us were thinking clearly. And maybe… Maybe this was the interruption we needed to cool down. 

The words keep running through his mind over and over again. The sound of her voice permeates his ears, jams his head full of emotion like the stuffing in a chair. He tries to shut it out, but even covering his ears and closing his eyes doesn’t work. 

He doesn’t want to think about the way she left his room the previous evening. The way she’d refused to look at him but he’d seen them anyway - her brown eyes hurt and glossy with tears. 

You wanna leave… leave. 

He’d driven her away. 

And not just into the arms of another man - a man he despised - but possibly into something or someone dangerous… something that might have hurt her. 

Or worse. 

He kicks at the table in the room hard enough to knock it over with a crash. 

--

“What do we do now?” Daisy asks, when the two of them are back inside the tavern. 

“We can start by askin’ around,” Grimmjow answers. “See if anybody saw her after we did last night.” He looks down at her. “Sorry for scarin’ ya back there,” he adds quietly. “Don’t know what came over me.” 

“You don’t have to apologize on my account,” Daisy expresses. She takes a deep breath. “I think you both… are upset. I think I understand why you would be,” she adds, with a shaky smile. “I’m only happy I was there to try to intervene before things got worse.” 

“I woulda killed him if you hadn’t been there,” Grimmjow mutters. “Felt like I wanted to, anyway.”

Daisy looks back at him, prepared to laugh. When she realizes there is no mirth whatsoever in his expression, her laughter dies in her throat. “Why do you hate him so much, Captain?” 

Her question seems to take him by surprise. “Why?” He repeats it. “Because he walks around thinkin’ he’s better’n the rest of us. He talks bad about men like me for makin’ a livin’ the best way we know how just because he was born with a goddamned silver spoon in his mouth.” Grimmjow kicks the tip of his boot at the floorboard, aggravated. “Uses his money to get whatever the hell he wants, like he can just pay the whole world to do his biddin’. Like to see how well he’d do without his daddy’s money.” 

She absorbs his words. “I don’t know Prince Silvio very well,” she confesses. “I was only newly brought to the palace before this trip. You see, I was training to be the Queen’s lady’s maid to take over for my mother.” 

“I dunno what any of that means,” Grimmjow laughs. 

This time, she laughs too. “It just means I spent more time with the Queen than the Crown Prince,” she explains. “So I don’t know if everything you’ve said about him is true. I do know that Lady Olivia wouldn’t want the two of you to fight,” she continues. “She’d probably be very angry with you both if she knew you wanted to do each other harm.” 

He mulls over this for a moment. “Yeah,” he says finally. “Yeah, you’re right. She would.” 

--

“What can I get you?” The girl is as cheerful as ever when she asks. 

“Sit down,” Silvio says. 

Confusion fills her features. “Apologies, my lord, but---”

“Sit down,” he says again, a hard edge in his voice. He looks up at her, his blue eyes icy. “Don’t make me say it again.” 

The barmaid does as she’s told, looking around only once before settling herself across the table from him. One glance at his face and she understands exactly why he’s told her to sit. 

“Where is Jarron Barnes?” Silvio asks. 

“I’m not sure I understand.”

Silvio peers closely at her. He leans forward. “Do you want to do this the easy way, or do you want to find out what the hard way is?” 

Her gaze shifts away from him, her mouth turned down in a frown. “By now my lord, I’m sure he must be nearly a day’s journey away.” 

“Going where?” 

“I don’t know,” she answers quickly. 

He wants to grab her by her shoulders and shake her until the information she’s withholding falls out of her head. Instead, he reaches into his cloak and pulls out a pouch. Her gaze follows his hands as he sets the pouch on the table with a heavy metallic clink. 

The girl’s eyes widen. She’s almost drooling. 

“So you are a greedy little rat,” Silvio hisses angrily. “How much did you sell her for, huh?” 

“My lord, I swear I didn’t---”

“Cut the shit,” he snaps. He hasn’t raised his voice, but the dangerous edge to it shuts her up immediately. “How much?” 

“A week’s wages,” she admits guiltily. 

Incredulously, he stares at her. “I should break your fucking jaw for that,” he mutters. “You trade information to a man who spends his time robbing some of the wealthiest merchant ships in the Yarmouth waters and all you ask for is a week’s wages?” 

The girl looks to be on the verge of tears. 

“What’s in this pouch could easily cover a month’s wages for you,” Silvio goes on. She reaches for the aforementioned pouch, and he rudely slaps her hand away. “You’re going to tell me exactly where Jarron Barnes is heading and what he plans to do with Olivia once he gets there. Do you understand me?” 

“My lord---”

“What I asked you,” he cuts her off, “doesn’t involve any answer other than you nodding your head. You can even say, ‘yes, my lord.’ Do you. Understand. Me?” 

She nods. “Yes, my lord.” 

“Good.” He sits back in his chair. “Now start talking.”

--

His ship is fast. 

As fast as the Hellcat, she would reckon - if not faster. She wonders if he’s stolen it from someone else. If it is merely a spoil of his endeavors. 

She would ask him, but the fabric that’s been jammed between her teeth is still there. It keeps her from talking at all. 

“What’s it like to have two very different men lusting after you?” 

She glares up at him. 

“Oh, that look is scary,” he laughs. “I wonder what you would be saying right now if you could talk.” 

Why don’t you undo this gag and find out? Olivia wishes she could telegraph that thought to him. Her arms and legs are still bound as well, and she’s been tossed into an ungraceful heap in one corner of the deck. 

“Don’t worry, I’m sure they’ll both be coming after you soon,” Jarron Barnes offers. “That is,” he adds thoughtfully, “if they don’t kill each other first.” He kneels down so that he’s at eye level with her. “If I undo this gag, are you gonna be nice?” 

Olivia simply stares at him. 

“I don’t think you will, but I’m gonna undo it anyway.” He reaches behind her head, untying the knot and pulling the fabric away from her mouth. 

Her mouth is dry. She swallows and opens it to speak. “Why is it that I’m the one tied up like a criminal, when we both know who the real criminal here is?” 

He looks back at her shrewdly. “One of my guys has a broken nose because of you. And I suspect you would have done much worse if the freedom to use your arms and legs  hadn’t been taken away from you fairly quickly.” 

“That’s what happens when I get attacked,” Olivia spits. “I will fight back.” 

“So I’ve noticed.” He leans back, studying her. “I can see why the pirate would like you - you’re scrappy. The Prince, I’m not so sure about. What have you got on him that makes him so taken with you?” 

She ignores his question. “Why am I here? What could you possibly want with me?” 

“You’re a lure, of course,” he replies. “I don’t care about the pirate - I have no quarrel with him - but I heard from some very reliable sources that the Prince has been asking around, looking for me. It seems like his plan once he finds me isn’t one I’d like very much. You’re my assurance that he won’t do anything unnecessarily foolish until I’ve had a chance to speak with him properly.”

His words make Olivia laugh bitterly. “If you think I mean that much to him, you’re sorely mistaken.” She shakes her head. “And what’s your plan once he catches up to you?” 

“You assume he’s going to catch up to me at all.”

Olivia shrugs, as best she can with her arms still tied behind her back. “You assume he’s not able to.” 

“Alright, I’ll give you that,” he concedes. “After all, the Hellcat has a reputation for being one of the fastest ships in the world. So let’s say those two continue to work together with the goal of getting you back. In the event that they catch up to me, I get what I want.” 

“And what is it that you want?” 

“Simple,” Barnes shrugs. “Vora’s independence. Our own government, ruled by leaders we choose. Clario stays the hell out of our business and relinquishes its control over our taxes, our trade, our resources… everything.” 

Olivia muses over his words. “Do the people really hate living under Clarion rule that much?” 

Her question seems to catch him off-guard. “Right,” he says slowly after a moment. “You wouldn’t know anything about life in Vora, because you and the rest of the traitors in your family turned tail and ran from it.” He sneers at her. “Didn’t stick around to watch the fallout and went to live like good little diplomats in Clario.”

“I’m going to forgive the blatant ignorance in your statement,” Olivia starts, “because I’m asking you seriously - does everyone in Vora feel the way you do? Has it really been as bad as you make it sound?” 

“Like I said before, what we want is independence. We want to regulate our own trade and taxes and resources.” 

“Vora isn’t languishing,” she points out. “I may not have set foot on its soil in twenty years, but it doesn’t mean I don’t keep up with what’s going on there.” 

“Has living in Clario dulled your senses?” He asks angrily. “Do you really think it’s fine that your father just rolled over and showed his belly to those… those invaders?”

His words slam into her stomach like a gut punch. “That isn’t fair and you know it,” she protests. “When my father relinquished his position as Prime Minister of Vora, it was because he was trying to put a peaceful end to a war that had been going on for nearly a decade.” She takes a deep breath in an attempt to cool the blood in her veins and keep her emotions from getting the best of her. “You may choose to conveniently leave that part of it out, but I won’t.” 

Barnes scoffs. “I remember hearing that the Prime Minister and his family agreed to pick up and leave us all here,” he counters. “And that their oldest daughter was practically being sold off to the Crown Prince of Clario.”

“And yet here I am,” Olivia interjects sarcastically, “noticeably not owned as property of the Crown Prince of Clario.”

He laughs rudely. “Still doesn’t mean you’re forgiven for turning your back on your home.”

“I was a child,” she snaps. “What was I supposed to do? Run away on my own? Hope no one would notice me stowing away on a ship to Vora?” 

“You haven’t set foot on the island in twenty years,” he points out with a shrug. “You’re telling me that in all that time, you couldn’t have found your way back?”

His words hurt, more than she’d like to admit. “I made a promise to my father that I wouldn’t,” she says. Even as the words come out of her mouth, she realizes how it must sound to the man in front of her. “My parents are diplomats. If I were to leave Clario and return to Vora, it would look like I wasn’t in support of the arrangement that they gave up so much to make.” 

“We can stand here and debate the merits of that all day, and you still won’t change my mind about what you are,” Barnes retorts stubbornly. “And the bottom line is that we wanna rule ourselves. Either you support that, or you don’t.”

“Suppose I don’t. What then?” 

He shakes his head. “Then you find yourself on the wrong side of a war.”  

“Do all the citizens of Vora feel that way?” Olivia asks. 

His hesitation gives him away. 

“They don’t,” she surmises. She peers closely at him. “And I can take a pretty good guess as to who you think should step into place as the new leader of Vora.” 

He doesn’t answer her, but she doesn’t really need him to. He isn’t very good at masking his emotions… or maybe he doesn’t care to. Either way, Olivia can tell that she’s guessed correctly.  

“Let me ask you something,” she starts, shifting to look him in the eye. “What happens to those citizens of Vora who are fine with things the way they’ve been for the past twenty years? What happens to those people who don’t necessarily want you appointed to speak for them?” 

“They’ll come around,” he assures her confidently. 

“What if they don’t?” 

“They will,” he insists. “They’ll see that I’d never turn my back on my home.” 

“I’m asking you not to do this,” she implores him. Silvio’s words echo in her head, and she says them aloud. “If Vora goes to war with Clario again, Vora will lose… again .”

“You don’t know that. We’re more prepared than we were last time. I’ve been gathering resources for a long time now. We won’t lose.” 

She thinks of Silvio again, and words that he’s said to her. “Even so, why would you want that? War is hell. And Vora going to war means using up the resources that you deem so precious. Lives would be lost - the lives of your friends, maybe your family, people you cherish. If you claim to love Vora so much, why would you want to put it through that kind of hell again?” 

“I don’t,” Barnes answers. “Ideally we’d get what we want without ever having to take up arms. But if war is the only way to gain our independence, then it’s a necessary sacrifice.” 

Olivia looks back at him dubiously. “I don’t think it’s going to work the way you’re envisioning it.”  

“You don’t believe me,” he concludes. “And that’s fine - you don’t have to. Vora isn’t your home anymore, so you don’t have any stake in this fight.” 

“That isn’t true, either,” Olivia sighs. “And I’ll say it again: if your plan is to use me as a bargaining chip to get what you want, you may be very disappointed.” 

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” he laughs. “I’d wager your prince and the rest of the calvary are making haste after us as we speak.” He stands. “You’re not very good at playing the damsel in distress.” 

“Are you disappointed?” 

“No,” he admits honestly. “And quite frankly, I wouldn’t have expected any less.” 

--

Daisy is starting to understand why Olivia always looks so put out whenever the Captain and the Prince interact around her. 

“We found out the name of the ship Jarron Barnes is sailing in,” she starts, hoping the words will diffuse the tension and keep either man from drawing the steel at their hips. “It’s called the Sea Queen.” She glances up at Grimmjow and he nods. “They say it’s fast.” 

“I know that ship,” the Captain adds. “And I sure would like to know what happened to her Captain. He was a tough old bastard.” 

“Barnes was waiting for us to arrive so he could take Olivia to Vora with him,” Silvio sighs angrily. “And I wouldn’t be surprised if he was the one who spread the rumor that he was already back on Vora.” 

“So what do we do?” Daisy asks, anxiously wringing her hands. 

“We go after him,” Grimmjow replies simply. 

“The barmaid says he’s almost a full day’s journey ahead of us.” Silvio looks skeptical. “If his ship is as fast as she’s said, we may not be able to catch up to him.” 

“You sellin’ the Hellcat short? Did you forget how fast she can cut up the sea?” 

“You have faith in your ship, and that’s wonderful,” Silvio grumbles. “But forgive me if I lack the same confidence in it. Even with a ship as fast as yours, a day’s distance is a hell of a gap to close.” 

“So what?” The pirate shrugs. “Even if the Hellcat can’t catch up to him - and that’s a big ‘if’, we know he’s headin’ to Vora. We’ll catch him when he gets there either way.”

“And walk right into an ambush of his choosing?” Silvio actually laughs. “Are you stupid?” 

Sky-blue eyes flash with anger. “Watch your fuckin’ mouth, pretty boy.” 

“This is me watching my fucking mouth, pirate,” the Prince retorts. “We don’t know what he plans to do with Olivia. He could mean her harm. He may have already hurt her.” 

“Listen here.” Grimmjow’s voice is low and dangerous. “Don’t stand here and talk about her like only you care. We all got a personal stake in this.”

“Maybe if you’d acted like you cared about her last night, we wouldn’t be in this predicament.” 

“Bring it up one more time,” Grimmjow hisses, “and I’ll cut that tongue of yours out.” 

Daisy’s headache is quickly intensifying. “I have something to say.” she murmurs. Her voice is quiet but serious, and both men turn to look at her. “We all have the same goal… to help Lady Olivia out of whatever trouble she’s in.” She inhales deeply. “And I don’t think she would want the two of you to fight. She’d want us all to work together and help her. If you two really want to kill each other,” she adds tiredly, “I cannot stop you. But I also cannot save her on my own. I need your help - both of you. So can we please just… call a truce? A temporary peace treaty?” 

Silvio rolls his eyes. “How about we agree to stay out of each other’s way?” 

Frustrated, Daisy shakes her head. “But we have to work together,” she protests. “We can’t work together if we’re avoiding each other.” She looks up at Grimmjow pleadingly. “Please.” 

He frowns. “Most I can do is promise not to kill him,” he mumbles. “Least not before we find Livvy.” 

She looks over at Silvio. He shrugs. “Please shake hands to seal the agreement,” she proposes. Her voice is trembling slightly, but her gaze does not waver as she looks first at one man, and then the other. “On your honor as men.” 

Grudgingly they humor her. 

It’s Grimmjow who turns away first. “We leave at dawn,” he announces. “Anybody who ain’t on the Hellcat at first light either spends the next two months in Baiz or finds their own way to the next destination.” Without waiting for a response, he stalks out of the tavern. 

“Well, that asshole was right about one thing, at least,” Silvio utters under his breath. 

Surprised, Daisy turns to look at him. “Right about what?” 

“She must’ve rubbed off on you,” is the answer he gives. When she opens her mouth to respond, he beats her to it. “It’s a good thing.” And with that, he turns away too, leaving her alone with her thoughts. 

--

At dawn, she is exactly where she needs to be: on the deck of the Hellcat, watching Grimmjow’s crew file onto it in various stages of fatigue. Daisy feels a little bad for them - what was meant to be a semi-leisurely trek to Vora has turned into an urgent mission. Unaware of their early departure time until late in the evening, many had been forced to cut their merrymaking short. 

The Captain himself is as fresh-faced as ever when he comes over to greet her. “Top o’ the mornin’ to you.”

“Good morning,” she smiles up at him. She glances around. “I don’t see Prince Silvio,” she says worriedly. “I hope he doesn’t miss us.” 

“Bastard’s already here,” Grimmjow mutters. “In his cabin… he slept on the Hellcat last night.”

“Oh.” His words have surprised her. She giggles a little. “Well I guess he was more ready to go than all of us.” 

Grimmjow shrugs. “Wouldn’t’ve known it from the way he chased us outta his room yesterday.”

“I just wish I knew whether or not Lady Olivia is okay,” she sighs, sobering up. “It’s nerve-wracking not to know what’s happening to her.” 

“She’ll be fine,” Grimmjow smiles down at her reassuringly. “We’ll get to her soon, and in the meantime, she’s good at holdin’ her own.” His gaze grows steely. “And if he touches a hair on her head, he’ll have hell to pay. I won’t hold back.”

“Captain, are you in love with her?” 

He sputters in a rare moment of being completely caught off-guard. “Well shit,” he chuckles. “Guess Livvy’s way of askin’ honest questions is startin’ to rub off on ya too, huh?” 

“I’m sorry,” she says, her face flushing. “I know it’s impolite and probably highly inappropriate for me to ask.” 

“That mean you don’t wanna know the answer?” 

She hesitates. “I only want to know if you want to tell me.”

“Then I’ll keep it to myself. A man’s entitled to his secrets just like a woman is, don’t you think?” 

It makes her laugh. “I guess you’re right.” She looks around to make sure no one else is within earshot. “And for what it’s worth, I know she wouldn’t blame you for what happened to her.”

Grimmjow frowns. “And what makes you so sure about that?” 

“I don’t know if I can explain it the right way, but I’ll try,” she starts thoughtfully. “Lady Olivia isn’t like that, you know? She wouldn’t blame you for something bad that someone else did to her.” 

His blue eyes are on the horizon. “Even if she never woulda been there if she hadn’t been lookin’ after me?” 

“Well, it might have happened anywhere,” Daisy points out. “Especially if those men had been watching us the whole time.” 

He shrugs. “Dunno if that’s supposed to make me feel better.” 

“I’m sure it will when we find her and she tells you herself,” Daisy smiles. 

--

When the knock on her door sounds, Olivia is already awake. “I’m surprised you even bothered to knock,” she mumbles when he opens the door without waiting for an answer. “I didn’t think hostages warranted the privilege of privacy.”

“If that’s the way you want me to treat you,” he shrugs, “that can be arranged.” 

“You abducted me, bound my hands and feet and gagged my mouth, then tossed me onto the corner of the ship’s deck all day yesterday so I could suffer from sun and windburn. Forgive me if I’m not jumping for joy at the prospect of being here, bed or not.” 

“You’ll get used to life at sea eventually,” he jokes. 

“You know good and goddamned well I’m already accustomed to life at sea,” Olivia sighs witheringly. “What I’m not accustomed to is being treated like cargo instead of like a human being.” 

“I’d say you’ve been treated at least slightly better than cargo.”

She rolls her eyes at him. “So let’s say your plan goes exactly as you’ve envisioned it - or at least as close as it can get. What will you do then? How will you make Vora better than it already is?” 

“Why are you asking? You don’t care.” He looks skeptically at her. 

“Of course I do,” she affirms. “Your passion for this is obviously rooted in something you feel very strongly about. And though I’m no true diplomat, I would be casting aside everything I’ve learned from my father if I didn’t ask.” 

“Huh,” he says slowly. “You really mean that.” When she nods, he speaks again. “Alright then. Come with me and I’ll tell you.” 

“Where are we going?” 

The smile he flashes her this time seems to be a genuine one. “I’m hungry, and you must be, too. I’ll tell you my plan over breakfast.” 

Previous Chapter: Ten | Next Chapter: Twelve